January Sucks

"I don't know, Linda." I honestly responded. "If you had come home with me instead of staying with LaValliere, I think the answer would almost certainly have been 'Yes.' It would have taken a lot of talking, and crying, and probably months or years of counseling, but I could see us surviving. But now, I just don't know."

Linda jumped off the bed and threw herself on me, burying her face in my shirt. She was shaking all over. I'd never seen her so undone, or even imagined she could be. I wrapped my arms around her. Even if I hadn't loved her, I'd have done at least that much. Finally, I could make out words through her sobbing.

"I never meant this... never, never this! I didn't go looking for this, never. Him or anyone. You know I didn't, you saw it all. I never would have done that. I... I... I love you so much, Jim, and want you. Only you. Jim, please believe me. Please tell me I didn't ruin everything. I'll die if I have, Jim, truly I will. You're the strong one, Jim. Please tell me we can fix this. Please give me some hope. Please, dear Jim, please tell me you love me."

I sighed. I couldn't see her face, but I could still feel her shaking. My eyes filled as I grieved over what we once had. Still, I couldn't lie or avoid her request.

"I love you, Linda." My own tears fell into her hair, as hers soaked my shirt. But all of our tears, and I knew there were many more tears in our future, would never wash out what she did. It would always be a part of us. What did that mean for us, for Emma and Tommy? Heaven only knew. And so far, at least, it wasn't telling.

"We'll just have to see how things work out. But I'm sure that, even in the darkest night, there is always a little hope. A little space for a miracle." I sighed. "But I need to be up early tomorrow to meet with Derek before we go over to the courthouse, so I need to go to bed. Have you decided if you are going to attend the hearing?"

"Of course." Her response was instantaneous and unequivocal. "My place is wherever you are, unless and until you tell me differently. The one thing I want in life right now, is to do whatever it takes to get us past this so we can move forward together. You're stuck with me, buster." There was a smile on her lips as she said it, but her eyes had never been more serious.

I nodded. "Goodnight, Linda." I said as I took her in my arms and gave her a hug. And with that, I released her and moved to open the door. Linda walked out like a woman on death row returning to her cell. I was no longer angry with her. Even my pain seemed less intense. But in its place was a cold emptiness. Like I told her. I had no idea how things would play out. I just hoped that things worked out for the best, especially for Emma and Tommy.

Almost the minute my head hit the pillow the alarm went off. I had set it for 5:00 hoping to get a jump on the morning. It was Monday morning and I was a man on a mission. I headed into the in suite to get dressed and by 6:00 I was out the door, leaving the whole house sleeping behind me.

I will admit I was nervous as I drove toward Derek's office, which was only a couple of blocks from the courthouse. I drove by my favorite diner but realized that I had no appetite. Just to buy a little time, I stopped at a convenience store, topped off my car with gas, and bought a Diet Coke. I looked at the rack that held various newspapers of the day and smiled as I saw LaValliere's picture next to another lengthy article on the Sentinel's front page. It seemed that Janet Norton's original tale was turning out to be one of the City's biggest stories of the year.

Of course I bought the paper, even though I had another one at home. I drove to Derek's office and, after texting that I was in his parking garage, I sat with the article and my drink until he arrived.

About 7:30 Derek texted that he was on his way down the elevator and just a few minutes later he appeared at the glass doors at the front of his building pulling behind him an extra-large briefcase on wheels, for all the world looking like a business traveler dragging his carry-on luggage onto a plane.

We talked as we walked, and it was clear that Derek thought his main job was to keep me calm. Over and over he explained how the proceedings would unfold. I just let him talk, hoping that his repetition would also somehow calm him.

There were only a few other people in the lobby other than the deputy sheriffs who were screening everyone as we came in. If you think the TSA at airports are intense, these guys were unreal. But, since the courtroom handled criminal cases as well as civil ones, I guessed that some unsavory characters probably passed through those doors. And these guys with badges and guns would almost certainly prefer to deal with them here at the door rather than in an isolated courtroom.

From the lobby we got on an elevator and headed up to the third floor. We stepped out into a long wide hallway stretching the entire length of the building. On one side was a bank of windows and on the other a wall of dark paneling with an alcove containing double doors about every 30 feet. There were two women and three men milling around a few of the doors. As we approached the next to last door at the end of the hallway, Derek spoke to a middle-aged woman in a dark business suit.

"Bobby. Not surprised to see you got the jump on me this morning." I noticed that he made no effort to introduce me.

"Well I had been planning to have an easy day, but you certainly ruined that, didn't you?"

Derek turned to me, excused himself, and began walking in the other direction with the woman speaking in hushed tones. I pulled out my cellphone and texted Linda.

"Just got to the courthouse." A few minutes later it "pinged" with her reply.

"I'm at the office. Let me know when you find out when your hearing starts and I'll be down."

I texted her the "thumbs up" emoji. I then pulled out the citation I had been given and looked up the Code that I had violated. It read:

Vehicle Code 30661. "No person shall with intent to commit any malicious mischief, injury, or other crime, climb into or upon a vehicle whether it is in motion or at rest, nor shall any person attempt to manipulate any of the levers, starting mechanism, brakes, or other mechanism or device of a vehicle while the same is at rest and unattended, nor shall any person set in motion any vehicle while the same is at rest and unattended."

It sounded like what I did. So I looked up the elements of the crime needed to convict me. It read:

"The State must show that the accused was properly arrested; manifest the intent to commit any malicious mischief; and, acted without the vehicle owner's consent."

It wasn't hard to see why Derek thought the prosecutor had me dead to rights. So, what about the penalties?

"A violation of this section is charged as a misdemeanor, as opposed to a felony or an infraction. As a misdemeanor, the crime of malicious mischief to a vehicle is punishable by imprisonment in a county jail for up to six months; and/or, a fine of up to $1,000."

Now I was worried. It looked pretty open and shut to me. I wasn't worried about the $1,000 fine, but I was planning to plead guilty to something that could have me being Bubba's cellmate for half a year! Just as my anxiety level had reached Maalox levels, Derek returned but "Bobby," who turned out to be Roberta Malenkov, Assistant District Attorney, was nowhere to be seen.

"Good talk." Was all he said. I told him what my 10 minutes of research had turned up and he just looked at me like I was a petulant child.

"Jim, I'm your lawyer. You're a smart guy, but you're not an attorney. How about you let me take care of this like I'm supposed to and you just worry about not digging yourself any deeper. Okay?"

I nodded.

Derek then led me into the empty courtroom. I was surprised that it looked exactly like the ones I had seen in movies and on television. The judge sat behind a huge desk on an elevated dais, a large open box on his left which contained some presentation equipment, file cabinets, and desks for his clerk and bailiff. To the judge's right was a small witness box and further to his right was another box that appeared nearly identical in size to the clerk's station, except that this one was raised just slightly below the judge's platform and was filled by 12 black leather chairs.

Derek pointed me toward a seat in the first row directly behind the defendant's table and began spreading our materials out, apparently attempting to dissuade any squatters from commandeering any part of our claimed seating.

Over the next 45 minutes the gallery slowly filled. A few minutes before 9:00 an older woman and a young male deputy entered the courtroom.

"Have all the attorneys signed in?" He called out. A few of the dowdier looking ones approached the clerk's box and signed their names on the line next to the name of their defendant and his case number.

At precisely 9:00 the bailiff announced. "Please silence your cell phones. If your cell phone rings while court is in session, you will be asked to leave and will not be permitted to return." Immediately several dozen hands, including mine, grabbed for our cellphones. It was comforting to see that Derek was not one of them, having previously performed the deed unbeknownst to me.

The bailiff's voice called out again. "All rise." And, with that, the entire courtroom stood in unison as a tall middle-aged man in a black robe entered and sat down.

"Hear ye. Hear ye. This Superior Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Marvin P. Roberts presiding." Then, as the Judge was seated and with the same authoritative voice, the bailiff called out. "Be seated." And again, as if orchestrated, everyone sat in unison.

Derek leaned over and whispered that there were 12 cases set for hearing this morning and, as he had expected, my case had been pushed to the last. "Bobby," had returned to her office in another part of the courthouse but asked the clerk to call when my case was coming up. In her place sat a very young-looking woman who appeared to be just a few years out of law school and was surrounded by a large stack of thick, legal-sized folders.

For the next two hours we sat. And sat. And sat. I don't know if they planned it this way, but it seemed like the cases were increasing in severity, each successive defendant looking more intimidating than the last, and the judge's patience getting shorter and shorter with each one. I was seriously afraid that by the time they got to me, he would take one look and sentence me to "life"!

By 11:20, all the other cases had been cleared and nearly everyone else had left the room. "Bobby" or Ms. Malenkov had arrived with an assistant and immediately began setting up at the prosecutor's desk. Derek had moved up to occupy a similar position, standing behind the table marked, "Defendant."

I looked around and noticed that Janet Norton had slipped into the room and was sitting unobtrusively in the back row near the door. I also noticed that Linda had not arrived, although I had texted her almost an hour earlier.

"Bailiff. Please call the next case." The Judge said in his authoritative voice.

"Case M92014. The State versus James Thomas Lewis is now before this Superior Court."

Without prompting, the clerk's voice spoke up.

"Mr. Lewis is charged with Vehicle Code 10853 VC -- Malicious Mischief to a Vehicle. To wit, at approximately 3:10 on the morning of March 1^st of this year, he did enter the property of one Marcus Allen LaValliere and caused damage on a vehicle belonging to Mr. LaValliere in the amount of less than $500, as cited per statute."

The judge then spoke to the prosecutor. "I understand that you and Mr. Miller have spoken about this case and those discussions have caused you to believe that this matter can be disposed of today. Is that correct?" He asked. Both lawyers' heads nodded in unison and each responded, "Yes, Your Honor."

"Well, since it appears that we might be able to save the taxpayers the expense of a trial, I'd like to see both counsel in my chambers." And, with that, he stood and walked through the almost hidden door behind his bench through which he had entered the courtroom a few hours earlier. Derek and Ms. Malenkov both picked up a handful of files, but Derek grabbed a small tape recorder as well before following Ms. Malenkov out the same door through which the Judge had passed.

A few minutes later two uniformed city police officers entered the courtroom; I recognized them as the two officers who had arrested me a week earlier. Neither looked in my direction and both sat in the empty row immediately behind the prosecutor's table. One at a time, two young men and a scruffy looking older man entered the courtroom and took up seats disbursed among the back two rows but all near the door.

Just as I was about to give up on Linda the double doors swung open and in walked in LaValliere and following closely behind like a lost poodle was my wife. She tried to space herself to make it look like their entering at the same time was a mere coincidence but it was clear from the guilty look on her face that they had spoken to each other before entering.

Linda came over and slid into the seat beside me. LaValliere took up a similar position behind the two officers. A few minutes later LaValliere's agent walked in and took a seat closer to the wall leaving one empty seat between himself and his client. As I looked past Linda toward the Asshole, I could feel his anger as he glared at me. He was an imposing man, alright. But it was also clear that he was uncomfortable in this unfamiliar setting.

"Has it started yet?" Linda asked obviously hoping to distract me with conversation.

"Yes." I whispered. "It started about 20 minutes ago. The Judge is meeting with Derek and the prosecutor in his chambers." I then lifted a finger to my lips, hoping to dissuade her from further attempts at conversation.

We waited for another 15 minutes in total silence. Then the door opened again and Derek and the prosecutor walked to their respective tables and stood in their places. Derek signaled me to join him, pointing to an area in front of the seat next to him. As if signaled telepathically, a few seconds after I took my place, the bailiff announced. "All rise." And, once again the Judge entered the courtroom and took his seat.

"Mr. Miller." The Judge called out. "Do you need time to confer with your client?"

"No, Your Honor."

"Is your client prepared to enter a plea to the charges before him?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Mr. Lewis, your attorney has done an excellent job of representing you. I do, however, have one question regarding restitution that I would like answered before I pass sentence. Mr. Miller, do you have the repair estimates that you presented in chambers? Would you please give them to the Bailiff?"

Derek handed a small manila folder to the bailiff who, in turn, handed them to the Judge.

"As I understand it," he began, "Mr. Lewis damaged four rubber valve stems for which you have three estimates showing prices between $88.78 and $112.14. He also broke the driver's side window for which you also have three repair estimates between $242.99 and $348.59. So, the minimum restitution I could order would be $331.77 and the maximum would be $460.73. But your attorney contends that you offered Mr. LaValliere restitution of $500, which he declined. Is that true, Mr. Lewis?" He asked.

"Yes, Your Honor." I replied. At that the Asshole jumped to his feet.

"That's a lie. He never offered me a penny!"

"Is that true, Mrs. Lewis? Did your husband offer $500 to Mr. LaValliere as restitution?" The Judge asked Linda.

Linda looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. She had obviously not thought she might be brought into the proceedings. She first looked at LaValliere, who gave her a look communicating what her response should be; then at me, but I stood stone-faced; and, finally back at him. Then, in a clear voice, she said. "No, Your Honor. Jim didn't make any offer to Marc."

The Judge asked again. "Are you sure, Ms. Lewis? Your husband could face a more serious sentence as well as be found in contempt of court if I find that he has perjured himself."

"I'm sure, Your Honor. I was standing there the entire time. If anything like that had happened, I would have seen it." It was clear that Linda was still mesmerized by the hold that she had experienced at Morrison's last Friday night.

"Very well." The Judge intoned. "Ms. Malenkov, I understand you have two witnesses who might have some testimony that bear on this subject."

"Yes, Your Honor. I would like to call Officer Maria Johnson to the stand."

The female officer rose, was seated in the witness stand, and placed under oath. LaValliere suddenly seemed nervous.

"Officer Johnson," the prosecutor asked, "on the night that you placed Mr. Lewis under arrest, did he ask you to take note of anything in particular before you took him into custody?"

"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Lewis asked me to look at something he had placed under the windshield wiper of the car that he damaged."

"And what did you find?" Ms. Malenkov asked.

"I found a check from Mr. Lewis made out to Mr. LaValliere in the amount of $500."

"And what did you do with the check?"

"I took a photograph of it with my personal cellphone and placed it back under the car's windshield wiper."

"And did you see the check again after you did that?"

"Yes, Your Honor. As I was backing out of Mr. LaValliere's driveway, I observed him hold it out in the direction of Mr. Lewis and tear it up."

"And where was Mrs. Lewis when this occurred?"

"She was standing next to Mr. LaValliere watching him do it."

"Thank you, Officer Johnson. You may take your seat." The Judge directed. Then looking directly at me, he spoke. "Mr. Lewis, you have been charged with violating Section 10853 VC of the Vehicle Code -- Malicious Mischief to a Vehicle. How do you plead?"

"Guilty, Your Honor." I stated. And then, more confidently than I felt, "But, with the Court's permission, I would like to offer an explanation."

"Thank you, Mr. Lewis. But that will not be necessary. Your counsel has done that on your behalf and this Court is now prepared to pass sentence." He then looked back and forth between Derek and the prosecutor.

"Do I hear any objection?" He asked.

"No, Your Honor." They repeated in unison.

"Then, without objection, Mr. Lewis, you have pled guilty to violating Section 10853 VC of the Vehicle Code -- Malicious Mischief to a Vehicle. I accept your "guilty" plea but will defer sentence for a period of one year during which you are to serve unsupervised probation. You are ordered to pay all court costs, as has been explained to your counsel, and not initiate any unprovoked physical altercation with Mr. LaValliere for the period of your probation. If you are unable to successfully complete your probation, I will terminate it, accept your "guilty" plea, and set a hearing at which time you will receive your sentence. If, however, you successfully complete your probation, your "guilty" plea will be changed to "not guilty", your case will be dismissed, and the charge will be stricken from your record. Do you understand, Mr. Lewis?"

But before I could answer, LaValliere was out of his seat.

"You mean that you're not even going to fine him or send him to jail? That's bullshit!"

"Mr. LaValliere." The Judge thundered. "You will not use that kind of language in my court. As the victim, you are not a party to these proceedings; you are a guest of the court.

"To be honest, I'm not even sure that a crime was committed here. While Mr. Lewis obviously did not get your permission to damage your vehicle, it is not at all clear from the facts and the recording that was reviewed in chambers that he ever manifest the intent to commit any malicious mischief. In addition, it's also clear that, even before he damaged your vehicle, he offered you restitution that exceeded the value of the damage he eventually carried out. Restitution which you declined."