Something came up yesterday that reminded me of a court story. When cleaning out the garage, I found a stack of transcripts from trials and depositions. I was reading about a custody trial I did in 1996. It turns out I have a ton of stories—some funny, some not so funny. 
This morning, I recalled a traffic trial around 1985. It was an improper right turn by a truck driver. A young girl, newly licensed, was sitting next to the truck to its right. She either didn’t see or maybe did not understand the sign on the rear that the vehicle makes wide turns.
They both turned right, the truck from the center lane. The young girl’s vehicle somehow became affixed to the truck, and the trucker dragged her a hundred feet up the hill. The trucker didn’t see her because she was in his blind spot. Another driver flagged down the trucker.
An improper right turn is a minor misdemeanor carrying a penalty of a hundred-dollar fine, court costs, and two points in your driving record. Unless there’s a requirement to appear, people sign they’re guilty and mail in the fine and costs.
However, points can be problematic for a truck driver and the driver’s livelihood. Sometimes, deals can be cut to change the charge to a non-moving violation. No one was dealing, so the choice was to plead no contest and throw yourself at the court’s mercy. We decided to go to trial. Usually, the court would look at about 30 minutes, certainly less than an hour.
There are no juries for this, but my first request is for the court to view the area to fully understand the defense. The judge just looked at it and finally said, “Counselor, it happened right outside the building. I walk in every day past the area. I know exactly what it looks like. Denied.”
Not to be deterred, I told the judge that the placement of the phone pole was important. That’s why we need to go out and get a feel for it. Again, the judge looked down from the bench, not amused.
“Counselor, you do understand we can look out the window and see it?”
He was right, but I felt I would only be doing my job if I asked if we would go to the window and look. That brought a quick, “No. Is the state ready to proceed?”
So, the trial commenced. I relentlessly cross-examined the state’s witnesses. I was particularly hard on the car driver. Even though traffic cases don’t allow much room for the defense, my theory was it was her fault. What I didn’t know was her father was sitting in the courtroom. Later in the hall, he was angry at me. He was a farmer, and his daughter had been driving for years.
Because it was clear he wanted to cause me physical harm, dads are too protective of their daughters, although I was the same way with mine. Simple fix: throw him off his game and attack him for failing to teach his daughter how to drive right. It worked.
Back to the case. Three hours after we started, it was time to give my closing argument. Of course, I stressed what the points would mean to my client and his job. The fact is, a truck could not possibly make a proper right turn. But then I launched into how our city’s traffic laws violated the Constitution’s interstate commerce clause. I know, it’s not. But I got carried away in the moment and couldn’t stop myself.
More than three hours later, the judge ruled from the bench. Guilty. No fine, pay court costs, and no points. Looking back, we could have gotten the result by pleading no contest with a few words about the points. It would have taken ten minutes. But it was sure more fun. It wasn’t entirely over. The judge had a few words for me.
“Counselor, some of the issues you raised would be better addressed to the city council. I suggest you go there. We’re finished here.”
By the way, if one finds it interesting to see an attorney, not me, have a meltdown in court, the custody case had an interesting aspect.