No Second Chance

Last week, I took a couple hours out of my schedule to go to the county courthouse to cover a trial. I hadn’t planned out what kind of trial I wanted to attend, so I picked one at random. Turns out, it was a drug possession court hearing. A man, in what looked to be his early 20s, was caught with drug paraphernalia in his car. A police officer had pulled him over on suspicion of driving under the influence, and while the young man was handing the officer his driver’s license, the cop noticed two clear bags with white powder in them on the passenger side dashboard. Using probable cause, the police officer searched the man’s vehicle and found a total of three small bags of white powder, which later was confirmed as cocaine.

I entered the courtroom just before the bailiff closed the doors to the public. There were few people present; just the family members of the man, and what looked to be the man’s wife or girlfriend. A few other on-lookers sat in the back of the courtroom as I did. The trial itself started bad for the defendant. First of all, he was late to his hearing. When he did finally meander into the courtroom, it was ten minutes after the judge had been introduced. He came in looking like he had just shot up in the court bathroom minutes before. His clothes were wrinkly, his hair uncombed, and he had bags under his eyes like you would see if someone was sleep deprived. He walked like he was trying so hard to keep his balance and not stumble into a chair or desk. It was pretty pathetic. I could see his public defender talking to him. He looked agitated. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but I knew it probably wasn’t good.

The trial began with the arresting officer on the stand. He gave a detailed report of the incident and the prosecuting attorney in the case presented to the judge the evidence collected at the scene. The evidence and testimony of the police officer was very substantial, and I could sense that the defendant was going to jail. His public defender called the defendant up to the stand and asked the man to give his interpretation of the events. I wouldn’t say the public defender did a good job either. He often fumbled through his notes, mumbled when he spoke, and on two occasions, mispronounced the defendant’s last name. He looked extremely nervous. Maybe it was his first case, or maybe the evidence against his client was so great that he gave up.

After all the evidence was presented and both sides were through with questioning, the judge made her decision. The judge ordered the man be put in jail for six months. Once released, he was ordered to complete 250 hours of community service. A few hugs were exchanged between the defendant’s family members and then the man was put in handcuffs. Another life in shambles because of drugs.