All Rise

The courtroom was chilly and crowded with a diversified array of plaintiffs and defendants. Evictions were heard first, a long line of real estate owners and agents against a longer line of renters and their families. Each and every cause was failure to pay rent, some for as little as 30 days, one for as long as 14 months. The witnesses were sworn, the judge read each complaint as if it were a shopping list, judgements were passionlessly delivered. Two were dismissed, one was continued, all the rest were swiftly and routinely ruled on in favor of the plaintiffs. I felt my muscles and mind falling asleep with the boredom of it.

Somewhere around the 30^th case, I began to nod off and Michael had to give me a sharp poke in the ribs. A sturdy black woman was at the bar, railing incoherently about the unfairness of the system and begging for more time. The judge heard her out until she ran out of breath and dramatics then listlessly explained why none of what she'd said made the slightest difference and gave her the standard 24 hours to be moved out or face physical dispossession by the marshals. She screeched, she wailed and she protested until His Honor raised a hand to her and nodded to the bailiffs who escorted her out. This brief tirade was the only flash of color to be had in the drab, uninspired courtroom. If Lady Justice is indeed blind, the law she serves is wretchedly sterile and monotonous, often as far from real life as you can possibly get.

Eventually, Michael's case was ruled on, more or less in his favor as the judge decreed that a settlement agreement could go forward. His lady lawyer assures him he should see settlement money in the near future. Like all lawyers, she brims with assurances, knowing I suspect, that any money Michael actually sees is far more likely to go toward her fees than anything else.

Justice and the law don't appear to be on speaking terms these days and the truth, it would seem, barely gets past the door.