In Game: at Richmond
Posted: Fri Feb 23, 2024 1:56 pm
It never ceased to amaze me what people chose to wear to court. My personal thinking was that if I were out on bail and charged with a felony, I would want to make my appearance the best I possibly could when standing in front of the guy who could take away my liberty. The public defenders had the toughest task when it came to advising their clients on sartorial matters. Many of them told me that no matter how hard they urged them to dress properly, they came into the courtroom looking like something the cat dragged in.
One week, I was in High Point doing guilty pleas. To bring a semblance of order to what amounted to a cattle call, the defense attorneys signed up their non-custodial clients to a court schedule, delineated by fifteen-minute increments. The public defenders, overburdened by their punishing caseload, were always harried by their clients' failure to follow instructions. One veteran assistant public defender (whom I later appointed the chief public defender for the County) rushed in with his client, who had arrived late for his allotted time. As they made their way to the front of the courtroom, I couldn't help but notice the defendant's T-shirt. It read, "Things That Make My D**k Hard," followed by an explicit list. (I won't enumerate the list, but if you are intrigued, you can see the T-shirt here: https://www.carousell.ph/p/things-make- ... 201452663/ )
Some judges consider it a mark of disrespect if the defendants don't tuck in their shirts, and make them pause to stuff them in their pants. I had long ago given up trying to impose any sense of fashion decorum on defendants, but this affront to courtroom dignity couldn't be ignored. I assumed my sternest countenance and asked the public defender if he'd seen his client's shirt. The attorney said, "I'm sorry, your Honor, I'll make him tuck in his shirt." I responded, "No, that's the least of his problems. Look at the front." The attorney threw a sidewise glance, grew pale, and said, "One moment."
He led him out into the hallway and returned with the defendant wearing the shirt inside-out. He apologized profusely for not noticing the offense earlier and said his client had come straight from work and arrived late; in the attorney's haste to get him before me, he hadn't noticed this blatant faux pas.
I accepted the defendant's guilty plea to the original charge and gave him a probationary sentence, but I warned him that I easily could have held him in contempt of court and sentenced him to thirty days in the local jail. I said, "You should give a bit more thought to your choice of apparel when you get dressed in the morning."
GO CATS!
One week, I was in High Point doing guilty pleas. To bring a semblance of order to what amounted to a cattle call, the defense attorneys signed up their non-custodial clients to a court schedule, delineated by fifteen-minute increments. The public defenders, overburdened by their punishing caseload, were always harried by their clients' failure to follow instructions. One veteran assistant public defender (whom I later appointed the chief public defender for the County) rushed in with his client, who had arrived late for his allotted time. As they made their way to the front of the courtroom, I couldn't help but notice the defendant's T-shirt. It read, "Things That Make My D**k Hard," followed by an explicit list. (I won't enumerate the list, but if you are intrigued, you can see the T-shirt here: https://www.carousell.ph/p/things-make- ... 201452663/ )
Some judges consider it a mark of disrespect if the defendants don't tuck in their shirts, and make them pause to stuff them in their pants. I had long ago given up trying to impose any sense of fashion decorum on defendants, but this affront to courtroom dignity couldn't be ignored. I assumed my sternest countenance and asked the public defender if he'd seen his client's shirt. The attorney said, "I'm sorry, your Honor, I'll make him tuck in his shirt." I responded, "No, that's the least of his problems. Look at the front." The attorney threw a sidewise glance, grew pale, and said, "One moment."
He led him out into the hallway and returned with the defendant wearing the shirt inside-out. He apologized profusely for not noticing the offense earlier and said his client had come straight from work and arrived late; in the attorney's haste to get him before me, he hadn't noticed this blatant faux pas.
I accepted the defendant's guilty plea to the original charge and gave him a probationary sentence, but I warned him that I easily could have held him in contempt of court and sentenced him to thirty days in the local jail. I said, "You should give a bit more thought to your choice of apparel when you get dressed in the morning."
GO CATS!