MISDEMEANOR’ed!!!
In a strange way, I feel a little more American after my court appearance yesterday. THE PEOPLE OF NEW YORK STATE VS. AMY MIDDLETON, read the summons. That’s right. A force to be reckoned with, I arrived promptly at 9:30 in my Sunday best.
You may not know what it’s like to go to court, so for those who choose to abide by the law*, let me explain what it’s like to fight it. First I stood in a post-office-style line that was far more efficient than any post office line I’ve ever been in. Within minutes the next available window was tolling for me; I handed in my summons, printed my name on a piece of paper, and was directed to Courtroom 2.
Courtroom 2 had several dozen wooden pews, and was filled to near-capacity when I entered. I found a seat, stood with my fellow outlaws when the judge entered a few minutes later, and sat back down to watch guy after guy get called to the bench. Vending without a proper license, public urination, disturbing the peace…
There were three or four attorneys who would take turns before the judge. The attorney would argue on behalf of the defendant without the defendant ever saying anything. That threw me off. The night before, I had done my best to research possible outcomes of the trial, which are dismissal, ACD, and trial. I wasn’t sure how the attorney could appeal to the judge without having spoken to the defendant, and I was a little worried that I had missed a step somewhere, but I just sat and read Lance Armstrong’s autobiography and didn’t think much about it. As Lance began preparing for his first post-cancer Tour, my name was called. I put the book in my backpack and approached the bench.
“Your honor, I suggest that this be dismissed…” said the bright attorney on my right. He started to say something else as he ruffled some papers, and the judge said, “ACD,” and that was it. It seemed awfully fast, and I hadn’t been asked to testify or say ANYTHING. I turned to the attorney and asked, “what?” He explained that the records would be sealed for six months and then destroyed. “You’re free to go,” he said. So I did.
It was a waste of time, taxpayer money, resources, and all the rest. But I’m glad about the experience. It felt like a field trip…I got to see the inside of a court room. But more than that, I got to participate in it. It was a sobering but respectful environment, and people worked on my behalf to ensure that justice was served. What I’m saying is ultimately this: I think I prefer court to the post office.
*The law I broke was crossing through Morningside Park at 10:15pm, when apparently the park closed at 10pm.
