Muni Court: A View from the Other Side of the Bench - Softcover

Bluth, Robert

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1440164940 ISBN 13: 9781440164941

Publisher: iUniverse, 2008

Synopsis

While most people will never be charged with a serious crime, either you or someone you know has appeared in a Municipal Court. Municipal Court is usually a city court that handles traffic tickets, lots of traffic tickets, and ordinance violations such as accumulation of trash, and neighbor issues such as trespass and barking dogs. Fines are imposed on the guilty. Those who work there refer to it as "Muni Court."

This court should not be confused with the television courtroom shows where two people ask a judge to resolve an issue that usually requires payment of money to one or the other of the participants, those are small claims courts. The patrons of Municipal Court are ordinary citizens who usually appear without the benefit of an attorney and provide their own defense in a forum with which they are not familiar. A few do very well in their own defense. Most simply want to get the matter behind them. But some provide a fascinating display of human ingenuity, ineptness, self rationalization and much unintended humor. Muni Court shares a few of author Bluth's experiences as a muni court judge in two rural communities.

About this title

About the Author

For almost two decades, Robert Bluth has been an attorney who practices general business law, litigation, and corporate law. For over sixteen years, for a few hours on most Wednesday evenings he has served as a municipal court judge for two small rural towns. He and his wife have seven children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Muni Court

A VIEW FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BENCHBy Robert Bluth

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2009 Robert Bluth
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4401-6494-1

Contents

Introduction.....................................................................................1Hell Hath No Fury ...............................................................................3My Home, My Castle, My Wheels....................................................................7To Err Is Human; To Avoid the Consequences-Well, That Would Be the Challenge.....................14Mama's Little Girl Done Grow'd Up................................................................31What Friends Are For.............................................................................40Honest ... But ..................................................................................45No Good Deed Should Go Unpunished................................................................49Yes, I Am That Bullheaded........................................................................56Occasionally, a Phoenix Does Rise................................................................68Just a Good Ole Country Kid......................................................................78Never Judge a Book ..............................................................................82So, Who Will Show Whom???........................................................................89Group IQ Is Not Cumulative, or Most Apples Fall Close to the Tree................................94Sometimes, the Words Are Worth a Thousand Pictures...............................................112A Penalty Earned Saved Nothing...................................................................116Dirty and Justice Just Do Not Mix................................................................119You Earned the Right How??.......................................................................130It Just Is Not Over until Mama Says It Is Over...................................................133The Young and the Prepared.......................................................................140Out of Sight ... Dang ... Still a Problem........................................................148Not Every Dog Has Its Day, but Every Dog Owner Does..............................................159Mister Mini-Not-So-Tough Guy.....................................................................175A Short Primer on Municipal Court Procedures.....................................................185

Chapter One

Hell Hath No Fury ...

In small towns with limited shopping availability, the grocery store tends to be one of the intersections at which all paths eventually cross. When there is only one place to get disposable diapers, eggs, milk, chips, pop, cigarettes, or beer, the question is not who will be at the store, but when will they be there and whom will they see. For that reason, Murphy (of Murphy's Law fame) dedicates particular attention to this location of infinite possibilities.

Standard evening in court. The parade of unfortunates responds as their names are called. The usual speeding, failure to obey traffic-control device, etc., etc. The next citation has an investigation report attached (not common on traffic citations). Whoa-an Assault III. It is unusual for the officers to cite an assault into muni court. But momentary relief from the mundane is always appreciated. The court also notes that the citation was issued only two days before court.

"Ms. Touch," calls the court.

On the far right of the courtroom, she stands. Age nineteen to twenty one, five feet three, maybe five feet four. Dressed in jeans and boots (western boots of course), stocky but not overweight, broad shoulders, would have made a good linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. Clean and well-groomed, hair short but well done. Tasteful makeup, soft eyes with a calm, self-assured, confident attitude. She approaches the bench. Stops, faces the court, places both hands on her hips, fingers forward, thumbs back. I note a slight smile; sort of a grin on her face.

"Ms. Touch?" asks the court.

"Yes, Your Honor," she politely responds.

"Ma'am, you are appearing on a citation for Assault III. How do you plead?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," she responds.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"Well, Your Honor," she begins slowly. "I had been going out with this guy for a couple of months. We were just starting to get real serious, you know. That evening I had been talking to him on the phone to see if we could get together. He told me he had to do something at his dad's house but that he would call me later. So I watched TV for a while and then my sister wanted me to take her to the store to get some ice cream. We go to the store and park and, as we are walking up to the door, I see my boyfriend's car. He is in it and this girl is in the passenger seat. I know her. She is a real tramp, if you know what I mean."

At this point, the tone in her voice is getting more, shall we say, more tense.

She continues, "Well, I know what is going on here. So I go over to the car to tell him to go to hell and to tell her what I think of her. When I got to the passenger side of the car, I started to tell them off. She could see I was really mad, and she started to try to roll up the window. So I reached inside to stop her and we were sort of batting each other's hands around when he reached over to try to help her."

She pauses for a moment, then holds her hands out in front of her about waist high as if she were holding a basketball and continues, "His head was right there, you know. Just right there. So I grabbed a hand full of hair on the top of his head, pulled his head out the window and turned his face up a little, and hit him hard in the face three times. Once in the eye, then in his nose, and then I smashed his mouth. I shoved his stupid head back in the window and told him we were through and went in the store with my sister. When we came out, this nice officer (she then points to one of the officers in the courtroom) was waiting for me and gave me this ticket."

Having had her say, Ms. Touch inhales deeply, exhales, and then seems to brace herself for the consequences of her choice in reaction to having been the victim of a cheating, no-good dog. I note the skinned knuckles on her right hand. The tension leaves her body and with a quiet, contented resolve, she awaits the imposition of the sentence.

I take a moment to review the investigation report that confirms her statement. I use the time to collect my thoughts, try to maintain judicial composure, and review her criminal history. No prior arrests or convictions, not even any traffic tickets. A clean record.

"Ma'am," I begin, "you know this kind of behavior is not acceptable and cannot be tolerated"

"Yes, Your Honor," she responds sheepishly.

I then impose the minimum fine and give her sixty days to get it paid. She politely thanks the court and leaves the courtroom.

I call the name on the next citation and while that matter is being handled, I notice a young couple in the back of the courtroom stand and head toward the door. His left eye is black and swollen and the left side of his mouth has been split and is swollen, but healing. The "victim" and the "tramp." Him I recognize from numerous previous appearances before the court, one of "those." And based solely on "her" appearance ... a tramp, to be sure.

Though not acceptable conduct in this society, it seemed to me that in this experience, Ms. Touch won two times: first, she found out what a bum the boyfriend was and, second, the penalty imposed did not outweigh the true satisfaction she got from smashing his cheating face. On some level, in the great quest and pursuit of justice, the balancing of the yin and the yang, Ms. Touch has helped to balance the scales.

Chapter Two

My Home, My Castle, My Wheels

One can argue the merits, benefits, infringements on freedom, or inequities of the legislation resulting from the temperance movement. However, it is indisputable that a zealous effort was made to discourage- well ... no-more like spank those who insist on driving with a blood-alcohol level above that legislatively defined, yet strongly debated, standard. Traditional temperance sentiments have recently been bolstered by a group of "mad mothers" and supported by an increased awareness of the devastation caused by people operating motor vehicles under the influence of alcohol. Legislators respond well to large blocs of voters, so the laws on the books are extensive, specific, and aimed directly at all aspects of alcohol consumption and all opportunities to consume alcohol. They carry heavy mandatory penalties.

One of my favorites is the "Open Container" law. Basically, if the driver or any of his or her passengers has an open container that has any alcoholic content within their care, custody, or control, or within reasonable reach or access, the driver can be cited. This is an easy law to comply with or even get around in almost all situations if it were not for the fact that most of the culprits are under the influence of alcohol and therefore not coherent enough to put two reasonable thoughts together. Thus, the stage is set. A low hurdle being challenged by a bumbling fool stumbling and thrashing around trying to get over it, while all the time continuing to be his/her own worst enemy.

"Budunwiser" is a late-middle-aged, slender, gaunt-faced, gray-haired, mildly disheveled gentleman with what appears to be a three- to-four-day growth of beard who likely does not commune with warm water and soap on a regular basis. He appears, and with a great deal of fanfare, including a sweeping arm gesture and a slight bow at the waist as he introduces himself to the court. Of course, he entered a not-guilty plea to the citation for open container. As the court attempts to advise him to appear for trial on the scheduled date, the odeur d' alcohol overpowers the olfactory organs of everyone within twenty feet him. The officer who wrote the citation stands in the back of the courtroom, shaking his head in disbelief and grinning.

Time passes. A couple of weeks later it's time for the trial. We have saved this case for the last to minimize the size of the audience to witness the fiasco that we expect to unfold. The court calls the case: The city v. Mr. Budunwiser. The officer and Budunwiser approach the bench. The officer is poised and ready, composed and confident; Budunwiser is righteously indignant and swaying while standing with his feet spread wide apart.

"Is the city ready to proceed?"

"Yes, Your Honor," responds the officer crisply.

"Mr. Budunwiser, are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Once again, the sweeping arm gesture and the bow and returning to what appears to an uncomfortable pose. Chin elevated and extended, eyes bloodshot and trying to focus. Dramatic.

The officer is sworn in and proceeds: "On blankety-blank date while on duty in the city, in a marked patrol car, in full uniform, badge prominently displayed, I observed a conversion van weaving within its lane of travel. As I caught up with the vehicle, it pulled off the road in front of an auto-repair shop. I noted that there was no right turn signal for the turn and when the vehicle came to a stop, the right brake light did not come on. I made contact with the driver and identified him as Mr. Budunwiser from his driver's license. As I approached the driver's window, there was a strong odor of alcohol emanating from the vehicle. I noticed a glass of liquid in the cup holder in the center console that appeared to be wine. Upon further examination, I smelled it, and it was determined to be wine. The vehicle was impounded due to Budunwiser's failure of field sobriety tests, and while inventorying the vehicle I located an open, partially filled bottle of wine at the back of the center console and well within reach of the driver. I cited Budunwiser into this court on the open-container citation."

"Mr. Budunwiser, do you have questions for the officer on anything he said? This is your opportunity for cross-examination."

Mr. Budunwiser ponders for a moment, composes himself, and blurts out, "Yes, Your Honor, I do. How can you ... you know ... you are lying ... Hummmm, well, it's not right that you come in here and lie like that...."

The court interrupts, "Mr. Budunwiser, it appears that you are going to testify as to what happened. Why don't we put you under oath so you can just tell me what happened?" The stench of alcohol has engulfed the entire courtroom by now. Budunwiser's speech is slurred and deliberate, and his eyes are blinking. Standing still is not within his ability as the swaying continues and becomes more pronounced. This will be interesting. One wonders, had he used alcohol to muster courage to appear, or was this the result of a spontaneous celebration, or more likely, the most common state of being for Budunwiser? The court asks Budunwiser to raise his right hand and acknowledge the oath and then asks Budunwiser to proceed.

He inhales deeply and begins, "I write music, beautiful music. (Relevance to the issues at hand? Unknown. But one never knows and must give the defendants every opportunity in their defense.) I had driven up to a place in the mountains that I found a while back with my son. It is a beautiful place, quiet and nice and a ... a ... a ... a ... inspirational for me. Yes, I did have a glass of wine. I was writing a new score or something, it was really going well. I do write beautiful music. And, well, later, sometime later, I got out and walked around in the woods. Then when I got back in my van I discovered that the door things, you know, a ... a ... a ... a ... all the things on the door did not work. It is the, the, the, locks, yeah, the locks and the thing that makes it go up and down, the thing, a ... a ... a ... the glass thing, a ... a ..."

"The window?"

"Yeah, the window, none of it would work. So I got out and checked the van and the taillight on the right side was not working either. So, I am very conscious ... conscious ... conscientious and careful to take care of my van. I came back into town to see my good friend who runs the auto shop to get the van fixed. I had just pulled off at my good friend's shop when this officer pulled up behind me. Your Honor, are you responsible for how these officers are trained?"

"No, Mr. Budunwiser, that would be the chief's job."

"This officer was very rude to me, rude and arrogant, and ..."

"Mr. Budunwiser, why don't you just tell me what happened in regards to the open-container citation."

"Well, OK, there we are in front of my good friend's place and this officer has me doing all these tests, which don't make any sense to me, and he asked me what is in the glass in my van. I tell him it is wine from a long time ago this morning when I was up in the mountains writing music, like I told you. I told him I want to have my good friend fix my van. Your Honor, can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, sir."

"Thank you." (The sweeping arm gesture and the bow again. Cool, huh?) "Is it not true, Your Honor, that it is not against the law to drink a glass of wine in your home?"

"The court would agree with that general proposition."

"Well, at that particular time I was living in my van and considered it to be my home. And it is not against the law to drink a little wine in your home. So, this ticket should be dismissed."

"Mr. Budunwiser, how about the bottle of wine found by the console in your van?"

"I keep my wine in my home with me."

"Where do you live when you are not living in your van? What address is on your driver's license?"

"I live with my son most of the time. Just sometimes, I consider myself to be living in my van."

"OK. How long had you been living in your van on the day when you got this ticket?"

"All that day."

"And where were you going to spend the night that night?"

"Oh, back at my son's house."

"So, you were just considering yourself to be living in your van for the day?"

"Well, I had not really decided at that point for how long."

"OK, anything else you would like me to consider?"

"No, that's pretty much it."

"Based on the evidence before me, I will find you guilty on the citation as charged. Despite the novelty of your defense, I will impose the minimum fine of $___. Can you pay that now, or do you need to make payments?"

"That's not right, I don't see ..."

"Mr. Budunwiser, this no longer the time for discussion on the matter. I only need to know if you can pay the fine or if you need to make payments."

"This is not fair. I am on disability. I only get $549 a month. I have a lot of bills to pay also. I can't make any payments hardly. I pay a lot of things. I pay my son $350 a month for rent, I pay $85 a month for insurance, I pay $40 and $60 something for medical coverage and over a $100 a month for prescriptions. I got to buy gas and food and clothes ..."

He goes on and on and on. Drunks under the influence, knowing that they are under the influence of alcohol, tend to overcompensate. By so doing, usually they are their own worst enemies. A payment schedule is set and specific instructions are given, although I am certain they will not be remembered, at least not accurately, by the next moment of sobriety. Yes, I can do the math as to Budunwiser's income versus his payments. And while I am tempted to ask for an explanation of how Budunwiser is able to pay for over $635 of bills with $549, it is not likely that Budunwiser can explain or that I will be able to understand any explanation offered. We will just have to save that for another day.

Chapter Three

To Err Is Human; To Avoid The Consequences-Well, That Would Be the Challenge

Most cases come before the court for only one appearance: for arraignment. They plead guilty. We do the fine thing. They pay within thirty days or there is a payment plan. Justice is satisfied. Life returns to normal, and the world moves on.

A not-guilty plea requires at least a second appearance for the trial and, if the defendant is found guilty, once again we do the fine thing and he/she pays within thirty days or on a payment plan. If there is a not-guilty finding by the court, of course, we skip that whole fine thing. That is the average case. However, some cases are not average. Some cases tend to create a life of their own. Some cases you cannot seem to get resolved even if you could beat them with a stick.

Some cases go on and on, but they are just plain interesting. As these types of cases unfold, we are just waiting to see what the next chapter will be. This case was one of those.

Mr. Shuckin, (as in shuck'n and jiv'n) needs some discussion and description before we get into the facts and events that follow. Mr. Shuckin is a young man. Just over eighteen years of age. Large, six feet two or so. Round everything, round face, round waist, round arms, round legs. Like I said, Shuckin is round. Shuckin is the kind of person who has managed to keep girth ahead of vertical growth. Very pleasing personality, very personable. He has avoided most of life's responsibilities by smooth-talking or sweet-talking or just plain shoveling bovine dung. His gift of gab has managed to get most folks to like him and let him off the hook time after time after time, and again and again and again and again. An intelligent kid, but the lack of diligence in education is reflected in his redneck vocabulary and his presentation is compensated for with "aw shucks, gee golly darn" and "life has been tough for me" explanations. From the first time he appears in front of the court, I genuinely like him.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Muni Courtby Robert Bluth Copyright © 2009 by Robert Bluth. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: iUniverse
• Publication date: 2008
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1440164940
• ISBN 13: 9781440164941
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 200