The Wheels of Justice

The court appearance was down by the airport, and as it happens, I've got a friend who lives close by: Monica Kim, the production designer on Zen Noir and, as it happens, our new business partner. (Say wha? Yeah, I'll get to that in a couple days--not much time to write today, for reasons that I will also talk about in a couple other days.) And since Monica has a three year old (the delightful Alexander), she's always up pretty early. So I was able to beat the worst of the morning traffic, visit with nice people, have a gooey cinnamon bun, and then went off to the courthouse to do my part in making a Bad Guy go away.

Or not.

See, a while back I picked a face out of a photo line-up, but only with about 60% confidence that he was actually the right person (turns out that when there's a knife involved, the only thing you really pay attention to is the knife). The person that face belongs to was arrested for a home-invasion robbery. But since my ID wasn't conclusive, he was never charged with my robbery--therefore there was no reason for my being there. Or, as the young and harried Assistant D.A. said to me, "Geez, I have no idea how you ended up on the subpoena list. I'm very sorry."

And so I nodded, assured them I am happy to help in any way I possibly can with any other aspect of, you know, my case, got back in my car and drove away in what was now height-of-rush-hour traffic.

Never even got to see the accused. Maybe the sight of a real person, rather than a photo, might have triggered my memory more effectively, but I'll never know. The wheels of justice, they are made of stone. Grinding slowly along a stone road. And they're square.