(Years ago, a young friend gets her first moving violation. She is nervous so I agree to go with her for moral support. It is my first time live court-watching in years, so I look forward to it. Most of the cases that day are all young drivers. One case is a young guy, maybe 18. He is dressed casually, but clearly isn’t poor. His answers to the judge seem like he is avoiding answering and is trying to go off-topic. I think to myself, “This young man is an idiot.” No sooner do those words go through my head than I hear the judge say, “Young man, you are an idiot!” Go, Judge! He throws the book at the idiot. My friend, also roughly the same age, is a good kid, behaves properly with the judge, and leaves the court with just a fine. After the cases are cleared, I am still there. I go up to the bench.)

Me: “Judge, I have to say that I’ve done some court watching over the years; some are good, some are bad, but I must say you did a good job handling those kids today.”

Judge: “Thank you very much.”

(We talk for a little while about this and past cases.)

Me: “Is there ever anything you regret dealing with here?”

(The judge looks at me for a moment, but it isn’t to collect his thoughts. He actually has an answer ready for me.)

Judge: “Yes. There was one girl, just 16. She had already been my courtroom several times for speeding, reckless driving, and so on. Each time she said she had learned her lesson, but I had to escalate fines and give her community service, and I finally had to threaten her with jail time. When she did it again I was ready to put her in jail. She pleaded with me not to and since there had been no injury, I gave in. I gave her another fine and community service. She thanked me, and then left, and on her way home decided it was a good idea to race a train to the crossing. If I had given her the jail time, she’d be alive today.”

(Heartbreaking. And this is just one reason I didn’t want to pursue a career in law.)

(The defendant has been found guilty of public urination. After a police officer was requested to make him leave an event at the local community center, [Defendant] insisted on taking a long piss out of his wheelchair in the community center parking lot, all captured for posterity on the officer’s body camera. This is his fourth arrest — and conviction — on misdemeanor offenses in the last six months. [Defendant] is representing himself.)

Judge: “Ready for sentencing? Does the State have any recommendations?”

State’s Attorney: “Well, Your Honor, [Defendant] is a frequent flyer in the criminal justice system. Over the years, he’s been found guilty of…”

(The list the State’s Attorney reads from has 48 convictions that range from public drunkenness to felony possession and ingestion of controlled substances, with forays into disorderly conduct, various levels of theft, violation of a protection order, simple assault/domestic abuse, and driving while intoxicated.)

State’s Attorney: “…recommend [maximum jail time for the crime].”

Judge: “Do you have anything you’d like to say, [Defendant]?”

Defendant: “People can change, Judge.”

(My boss, a lawyer, has given me written-up notes on the different judges he goes in front of, so I can type them out. As I read through the notes, I find interesting nuggets of descriptions he uses for different ones. These, so far, are my favorites.)

Note #1: “Sits there like a hairy Yoda.”

Note #2: “C***sucker hairstyle.”

Note #3: “Prejudiced down to her heart. What an a**hole.”

Note #4: “Monkey face to match his monkey fumbling.”

Note #5: “Attractive brunette. She gets flustered around me; I think she has a crush! I know I do.”

Note #6: “Has hair like a troll. I think he is a troll; lives under his desk and smells like he sucks on his feet.”

Note #7: “Don’t say boo — already so pale, a ghost is darker.”

(I work for the court service. I am on the phone with a defendant in the court foyer. Believe it or not, this is one of the smarter conversations I’ve had with a defendant.)

Me: “The email is ‘enquiries’ at—”

Defendant: *interrupting* “What’s an enquiry?”

Me: “Er. It’s like a query, I guess.”

Defendant: “Oh. What’s a query?”

Me: “It’s like a question.”

Defendant: “Oh.” *long pause* “What’s a question?”

Me: “…how about I write down the email address for you?”

(I’ve been selected for jury service at the local Crown Court, which is a big old building. The courtroom assistant is leading a bunch of us to the courtroom. We go through lots of dark, twisting corridors and staircases to get deeper into the building. Almost every fire extinguisher and hose reel we pass has ‘out of order’ on it.)

Juror: “I guess we’re screwed if any fires break out, then?”

Assistant: *happily* “Oh, definitely! Even the ones without ‘out of order’ labels don’t work!”