Many years ago, I grew up on a farm near Curtisville and when I became a teenager, Dad would let me drive the farm truck when the need arose, even though it was illegal. I was on my way to Anderson for a sales deal one afternoon and was stopped by a state policeman in Alek for speeding. Panic struck directly in my gut because I knew I was in deep trouble.
“Can I see your driver’s license please?”
“I don’t have a license. I’m only fifteen.”
I was scared. I wondered if I’d be going to jail. After some routine questions from the trooper he said, “I’m citing you for speeding, 46 in a 35 and for no operator’s license. Your court date is in two weeks as printed on your tickets and you’ll appear in Alexandria, traffic division. I’ll wait behind you until you pull out.” I could hardly believe it! He’s letting me drive on my way with no license!

I told Dad what happened when I got home. After the obvious lecturing, he said, “You be here when I get home from work tomorrow and we’ll go over to Tipton.” (Huh? I was puzzled.) The next evening we got into the truck and drove out to a big farm outside of Tipton. I was totally confused. My court appearance was in Madison County and we’re going to see a judge in Tipton County. What did he possibly think he was going to accomplish by coming over here? He was savvy! He knew how the world worked and how to grease the wheels on the justice machine.

Dad knocked at the farmhouse and an elderly lady came to the door.
“Is Judge Holmes here?”
“Yes, come in. Just go on into his office. He’ll be with you in a minute. He’s just finishing supper. He’ll be right with you there if you’ll just have a seat.”
I was surprised at the house. The outside looked like an average farmhouse but inside, this place was lavish! Carved mahogany panels lined the ceiling and walls. The floor was fitted with expensive looking rugs and every available place was crowded with bookcases all filled with books. The desk was huge with a polished, inlaid top. The chair was one of those high-back affairs that you’d expect to see in the oval office at Washington. He had a huge world globe in a carved mahogany floor stand. Everything in here dripped of money. Lots of money.

The old judge came in, straightening his jacket as he sat down, without introductions. “Now, then, how can I help you fellows today?”
Dad handed the tickets to the judge, explained the whole affair and asked, “How much is it going to take to settle this?”
“Well, let’s take a look at what you’ve got here. Okay, I know the judge over in Madison County that is presiding over this court. We’ve done business before. Well, what the state is going to do is take his license until he’s twenty-one. That’s what we’ll need to take care of.”
“Well, how much is that going to cost me?” asked Dad.
“Oh, I believe we can take care of this okay. Can you come up with two hundred dollars?”
“Allright.” Said Dad, counting out the cash onto the big, mahogany desk. I felt awful. I looked at dad in his worn work clothes with sweat marks on the back of his shirt and threadbare edges on the cuffs of his pants. Dad apparently knew how this ‘honorable’ high official of justice that would react with an opportunity to grabbing some dollars. The transaction was apparently as common as buying a pair of socks at Penny’s. Taking the stack of my dad’s money from his desk and folding it into his vest pocket, he commented,
“He’ll still have to appear in court at Alek on the speeding ticket, but you won’t hear anything more on the driver’s license.”

I still didn’t fully understand just what all had taken place but it made me feel sick. My friend, Eugene, drove me to the court in Alek. We went into the room and sat on one of the benches. After several other cases had been completed, the judge called out my name.
“Will you please approach the bench?”
I walked up and looked at the judge while he scanned the pages in front of him. He was a little man wearing a big, black robe with a gathered collar. His hands appeared never to have touched the handle of a shovel. I couldn’t help but think, “I’ll bet this poor excuse for a man has never worked for an honest dollar in his entire, miserable life.”
“You’re being charged with speeding 46 in a 35. Is the arresting officer present?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Said the state trooper who had written the tickets and had allowed me to drive on. He didn’t mention my age or the other ticket about the driver’s license.
“How do you plead?”
“Guilty.”
“Step over there and pay the clerk thirty five dollars and costs.”
That money could have bought groceries for our family and paid the cattle feed bill at the elevator. I felt awful. My dad was paying for my bad deed. Eugene took me by the arm and said, “C’mon man, let’s get out of here!”
My greatest disappointment in the lawyers, judges and cops is that they sell themselves so cheaply. For the price of a traffic ticket, they display absolutely no integrity! These honored professionals, the bastions of law, order and the American Way are debauchers of justice, and morally destitute.

If ‘Contempt of Court’ is a crime, I’m in violation of that one also. That guy’s court is about contemptible as having to call him “Your Honor.”
Eugene commented as we continued on toward home; “The icing on the cake is the fact that these people who are professionals at dispensing justice are the perpetrators who thumb their noses at justice for the sake of slipping a few bucks back and forth under their mahogany desks! These guys are rotten to the core and we go to school to learn about how wonderful they are!”
I would prefer to have been punished for the illegal driving instead of contributing to this atrocity, but for the time I just put it away in my mind.

I suppose the electronic tickets of this day and age will make the whole system more efficient.

Hector

The truth is that no matter how efficient it is still a crooked system
because of the ones that participate in running it.

...But I'm sure as intelligent as you are, you understand that regardless of the occupation some bad apples exist. To judge is ambigous. To judge all by one is prejudice. Good people exist in all facets. Bad people exist in yours too.

what are you nuts ..lol..it would have been so cool if my dad knew people like that lol..no body told your dad to do that but he was doing you a favor..he loved you enough so you could get your license..im not saying that it is right, but sometimes you do everything in your means to help your family out..lighten up its just a traffic ticket...at least you didnt kill someone..your dad knew how tight it would make it at home with the money, if you feel bad, buy them something nice or treat them to a nice dinner..

Sounds like a good thing to me.I believe anything that reduces an officers time doing paperwork would be a good thing.