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.

J'accuse!

There was that first twinge of worry when I came home last week and found an envelope from the L.A. Police Department wedged into the doorjamb, because that's just one of those things that will always make you nervous, like your phone ringing at three in the morning. But inside the envelope, I was delighted to find a witness subpoena from the detective in charge of my robbery case. (This link should bring you to a page with all my previous posts on this subject.)

Someone has been arrested and arraigned, and the preliminary hearing is tomorrow. Curiously, his name isn't Hispanic at all, which might just mean that the person arraigned is the ringleader, which would suit me just fine. (I will hold off on actually recording his name in a public place until he's a little further along the road toward establishing his massive, overwhelming guilt.)

(I am so tempted to pull a Python here [from "The Mouse Problem" in episode two]--"A typical case, whom we shall refer to as Mr A, although his real name is Arthur Jackson, 32A Milton Avenue, Hounslow, Middlesex." But I won't.)

At the prelim, they are (according to the court's website) chiefly interested in determining whether there is sufficient evidence to bind the accused over for trial, and I hear from the detective that there is one other victim who will be testifying. So this is just the beginning of a long process, and there are a thousand ways it could all fritter away into nothing. But here's hoping that tomorrow I get to do my part, my tiny part, to make it that much less likely that someone else out for a nice walk doesn't have to deal with thugs with knives.