Arraignment Day

I had been arrested on a Sunday around 6 PM. About 11 PM that evening I went before the Penntown judge, the honorable William A. Judgeson, who entered a not guilty plea for me before I was sent to county jail for the night. Monday morning my boss and my next-door neighbor arrived simultaneously at the county jail to bail me out. By Wednesday I had hired a lawyer, seen an eye doctor and my primary care physician, enrolled in outpatient group substance-abuse therapy, and engaged an anger management counselor. I’d also arranged with the sheriff deputies to go, escorted, into my house and get some clothes and other necessities, since I had a two month no contact order of protection. Thursday was arraignment day.

I got there an hour early, went through security, then took a seat in court. I sat in the closest empty row to the front and waited there for my attorney. Several cases were called before the judge as I waited. They all were prisoners, wearing orange jumpsuits and handcuffs and/or shackles. I realized the importance of making bail. I was free to come early, to wear my own clothes, to get a coffee or go to the bathroom, to mingle with other free people. Nobody knew by looking at me that I had been arrested four days prior and was waiting for my my turn to go before the judge. In fact, perhaps because I was wearing a suit, a couple of people had mistaken me for an attorney and asked me court related questions. I felt grateful to have this edge, for however long it might last. I presented a not guilty look.

Eventually, as I sat and watched and listened to attorneys, defending young adults, burglars, my attorney came in and saw me, walked over and tapped me on my arm. He pointed to the hall and we walked out to chat.

“You look good. Nice suit.” he said. “When it’s our turn, you don’t say anything unless the judge addresses you directly. I do all the talking. If I need you to talk, I’ll give you the nod. If you do talk to the judge, you say ‘Yes, Your Honor. No, Your Honor.’ Always address him as Your Honor. You don’t have to say much, probably just confirm your name and address. this shouldn’t take long.” I acknowledged and had no other questions. We went back inside the courtroom and sat down. My attorney went to check in and see the schedule. Before long, it was our turn.

“The people versus Justin Marlin” read out the court clerk. My attorney and I stood up and approached a podium. To our left was another podium, where stood the ADA, the Assistant District Attorney. He looked to be a 30 something white male about 5 foot 10. “Your Honor, the people are charging the defendant, Justin Marlin, with felony assault with a deadly weapon and resisting arrest. The People have requested a 60 day no contact order of protection from the victim and the family.” The judge, William A. Judgeson, acknowledged this then looked to my attorney.

“Your Honor, we believe these charges are exaggerated and will not stand up to the scrutiny of a trial. While it is imperative that a child is safe within his or her own home, we believe The State must tread lightly in cases of household discipline such as this. My client has never been in trouble with the law in his entire life, and I believe he will not be found guilty of felony assault should this matter go to trial, if indeed any assault has occurred at all. As for the resisting arrest charge, we believe the fact pattern to be quite different from that presented by the arresting officers. My client did not resist arrest, but rather he allowed himself peaceably to be handcuffed and placed in custody in the back seat of the patrol car.”

“Discipline?” I thought to myself. “d”Discipline? I was still uncertain about exactly what I had done, but even I wasn’t sure I’d describe my actions as “discipline.” I felt somewhat guilty, just not guilty at the felony level.

My attorney continued. “My client has consulted his doctor, and has voluntarily sought treatment at an outpatient substance-abuse program, and begun anger management counseling as well. He is working at his full-time job and is a respected member of the community at this time. I am requesting that the 60 day order of protection be amended down to a two week no contact order of protection, followed by a 60 day no offensive contact order of protection. Judge Judgeson nodded, and then looked back to the ADA.

“Your Honor, The People feel that the no contact order should remain at two months, not two weeks and that, regardless of the defendant’s standing in the community and his clean record, he represents an unacceptable risk to both the victim and the family.”

At that point, my attorney absolutely amazed me. He turned to the ADA and said, sarcastically, palms up, shrugged shoulders, almost laughing: “You have no case!”

The ADA looked down, then away, and back to Judge Judgeson. The Judge spoke: “In light of the defendant’s clean record and previous good standing, I’m going to agree to the amended order of protection; two weeks of no contact followed by two months of no offensive contact. Mr. Marlin, do you understand that if you violate this order of protection, your bail will be revoked and you will remain in jail awaiting trial?” I looked to my attorney and he gave me the nod. “Yes, your Honor.” “OK. It is so ordered. Clerk, issue a new order of protection, as noted, at this time. The two parties will consult with the clerk and find a mutually agreeable time for the next hearing in this matter, and will meanwhile confer regarding any possible plea agreement which you may reach to avoid an unnecessary trial. If there are no further comments this matter is adjourned until our next hearing.”

My attorney and the ADA thanked His Honor, and that was it.

“You did fine.” McMurphfree said, shaking my hand. “I’ll get you a copy of the amended OOP, and I’ll let you know when our next hearing is. Get me a few paragraphs of whatever you remember from the day of your arrest. I have to run, I have another hearing downtown. Good job.”

Now back to work, only had to waste half a vacation day.