Y'dig?

I had been summoned to appear in court for two ‘moving violations’.

The dozen or so cases that came up before mine were duly deemed guilty as charged by the presiding judge, a matronly woman, efficient, brisk and formal, fair, but of the ‘no nonsense type’. Indeed, all the cases were brought by the same policeman, a short, stocky fellow with dark hair, and eyes set too close together, as the afternoon progressed, an unseemly rapport, a buddyness, developed between judge and police officer, that would have caused any right-thinking independent mind some alarm.

Indeed, in the case immediately before mine, the judge went as far as to initiate a few pleasantries between her and the cop – a man for whom the descriptions ‘hobgoblin’ or perhaps, ‘foul fiend’ seemed apt. These terms, from John Bumyan, if I’m not mistaken, popped uninvitedly into my mind.

(Perhaps our language and therefore understanding has been debased by the absence of such words and sentiments. We have become altogether too logical, too rooted in materialism, too bereft of imagination, to consider such entities, even though their affect on our lives is all around us and one of them was standing to my right, on the other side of my lawyer, wearing a shapeless inelegant polo shirt and drill pants that ended some six inches above his shabby, unpolished shoes.)

When my case came up, I was asked to approach the bench. A marked cool breeze cascaded down and enveloped me and despite the fact that I knew what it was, I involuntarily looked up to see if an air conditioner had suddenly switched on.

The cop read out the charges, my lawyer leaned forward slightly and said something to the effect “Your honor, I move that these charges be dismissed.” She asked why, and he said, “There was no mention of ID”. The judge looked at her foul fiend buddy, and said, “It’s Friday afternoon and you seem to have dropped the ball on this one, case dismissed.”

Outside, I asked my lawyer how he’d spotted the error. He said he hadn’t until the judge asked the cop, after he had read out the charges, “Is that all? to which the cop answered ”Yes”.  He thought, “What’s missing? She’s telling the cop he left something out?” And he realized that the cop hadn’t mentioned my name in the charges.

Moral of the story, always work to a check list. And, God works in mysterious ways…..