THE CASE:
There was a serial rapist preying on young women in our city. He would stalk his victims to make sure they were alone in their homes. He struck in the wee hours of the morning and would put a pillow case over their heads to protect his identity and add terror. He would borrow a butcher knife from their kitchen just to add torment to their terror.
His attacks grew more violent as his confidence grew. His 'MO' or signature was grape jelly. He would spread it on then lick it off. So it was quite incongruent to have such a violent act combined with such an apparently childish act. (Unless you have studied sexual deviance. School is good).
He was apprehended after a particularly nasty rape where the victim had an infant in the room with her. He had no compunction about making threats to kill the baby if she failed to comply with his demands. Her experience left her with permanent psychological damage. Today they'd probably label it PTSD. And that would be an understatement.
The case drew a lot of media attention and was followed closely. Especially when it went to trial. The clearance of numerous cases attributed to him hung in the balance as well as some modicum of justice for the victims.
I decided to attend the trial for a number of reasons. Not the least of which was to see justice done and watch how the wheels turned. You can learn a lot about how to investigate, how to write reports and how to testify by watching a good defense attorney try to tear the investigation apart. Attending one good trial is worth more than taking a dozen classes on case preparation and presentation.
Despite her traumatic experience the victim managed to muster the courage to testify against assailant. I was very ispired and moved by her courage and fortitude. It was a testament to her mother instinct and the will to triumph over evil.
THE JUDGE:
The case was presided over by a lady judge. She was really old. She must have been one sharp cookie in law school and a crack lawyer (no pun intended) when she was coming up to have been a female judge in the 1960's. A rare bird to say the least.
Her upward climb in the profession was behind her. Her days of being interested in her cases were behind her. The days of just going through the routine were behind her.
She had seen so much and been on the bench so long none of it meant much to her in the way of paying attention to anything more than being a referee. And seeing the rules were followed to preempt appeals. She didn't display a smidge of interest in the 'case' itself.
But she was very good and she was a hoot. She had a tiny frame, couldn't have weighed 100 lbs. She was obviously in her late 60's or early 70's, though I doubt anyone was brave enough to ask. In her robes she looked like a puff of black smoke.
She wore a short, dark brown wig that was one or two sizes too big. When she bent her head down the wig would slip down on her brow. When she looked up she'd have to push it back on her head. This aroused chuckles and smirks constantly through the day. Some times she'd over correct and push it back too far - funny was an inadequate description of her wig management.
As you are well aware the design of the judge's bench includes a small parapet in front. One of its purposes is to prevent prying eyes from seeing items on the desk. These days she was addressing her boredom by engaging in a hobby to pass the time. Behind the parapet she was working on making Christmas decorations.
Her project du jour was Styrofoam balls. She had a tray with a supply of pins, sequins and beads. She would gather a few beads followed by a sequin and poke them into the ball to make a sparkly decoration resembling a giant snow flake. It filled her time I guess.
THE PROBLEM:
Being old school I doubt she ever truly got used to the new fangled electronics. This would include the microphone on her desk. Some how the thing was picking up transmissions from the Sheriff's Department radio and she swore she could hear it. She complained several times to her Bailiff that she wanted it fixed.
Never mind that every time she stuck a pin into the Styrofoam it made a rasping scrape noise like fingernails on a blackboard. The sound was picked up by the mic and amplified to the courtroom. The audience, attorneys, witnesses and jury were subjected to the annoying screeching noise with every pin jab. Not one person was willing to complain to her about it.
AND AND THEN:
The noise created by her torture of the Styrofoam ball didn't seem to phase her, but the transient interruptions of the faint radio transmissions across her microphone really got to her. She would send the jury into the jury room then complain to the bailiff to 'get this damn thing fixed!'
The bailiff, who could not work magic, would say 'yes ma'm' and whisper to his subordinate who would attempt to do the bidding of the court.
Court resumed and the questioning of the witness on the stand continued. It was punctuated by the constant screeching of the pins poking Styrofoam, the judge readjusting her wig and deputies talking to their dispatcher in the distance.
A maintenance man walked into the courtroom and was discreetly trying to examine the equipment. At that moment a transmission from the Sheriff's radio came over the speaker.
Clearly annoyed, she snapped her head up to address the maintenance man. She'd been so wrapped up in decorating her balls, she completely forgot that the jury was in the room. Her wig was almost completely over her eyes as she glared over the cheater glasses perched on the tip of her nose at the Bailiff and the maintenance man and declared -
"I TOLD YOU THIS FUCKING THING WASN'T WORKING RIGHT!"
GOD I LOVE COURT!
PS. He got 99 years. He was convicted in 1982 and scheduled for release in 2038
