Micah Jennings

1.12.05 Wednesday [finding Reginald - I]

Today I made some phone calls looking for Judge Memphis. Apparently he can no longer be contacted though the court he used to reside in, where my mom had been tried. They gave me some other courthouse numbers, so I spent the afternoon using the best I could remember of court terminology:

“Hi, my name is Lawrence Jordan—I’m an attorney scheduled for a hearing with Judge Reginald Memphis at 4:00 today—what was that?… Oh, no judge by that name? I see, I must have dialed the wrong number.”

I went through this routine several times before suddenly hearing:

“One moment sir…I’m sorry, I don’t have your name listed on Judge Memphis’ itinerary for 4:00—“

I hung up in a panic. I had found him!. It turns out he’s still doing the same thing, serving as a criminal ‘justice’ judge, swaying the jury whichever way suits him, as he did with mom. It was so painful to see the way in which the prosecution wheedled information from her and then accused her with her own words. (But I must put that behind me, for they have paid their dues.) Anyhow, it’s clear now that the judge was just as much to blame. He wouldn’t allow the prosecution to be silenced when they unfairly took advantage of my mother!

Then I got online and looked up the directions to the courthouse. It was about 12 noon this time, and I knew I had a chance to see him, since the woman on the phone had said that my name wasn’t on the 4:00 slot, meaning someone’s name was. That gave me several hours to get down there, wait for the judge, and follow him home.

The area surrounding the courthouse was strangely crowded with people; I guess someone important was being tried. I immediately realized it would be difficult to spot the judge in the mass of people, so I decided to find a better vantage point.

Across the street I noticed a building under construction, laced in several stories of scaffolding. It didn’t seem to be in use at the moment, so I scaled it to the third level and began studying the court doors. Suddenly I heard a clanging noise and found that, to my horror, someone was climbing the scaffolding behind me. My eyes darted around looking for an inconspicuous escape, but there was none. I was too high up to jump, and climbing down would surely alert the person. Besides, I needed to watch for the judge!

Then I saw my solution. Hanging off of one of the scaffolding bars was a hardhat and drill. I reached quickly for the hat and slipped it on as I picked the drill up with the other hand. My heart beat furiously as the clanging grew louder. Then a head popped up from the boards.

“Who’re you?” Demanded an overweight man in need of a shave.
“Mike,” I said.
“I don’t know you.”
I forced down the knot in my throat and found it impossible to speak.
“Wait,” he suddenly said, “you one of Tony’s friends?”
I nodded desperately.
“He told me about you. Get back to work.” With that he climbed back down the ladder.

I was still a nervous wreck, but turned my attention back instantly to the courthouse, and just in time. There was Judge Reginald Memphis, pompous as ever as he strode down the steps and over to the parking deck.

With that I excitedly went to replace the hat and drill, but I was in for a final surprise. It came in the form of a jean-wearing ape of a man, capped in a hardhat and drenched in his own sweat. He looked at me unhappily until I finally said:

“It’s ok, I’m with Tony.”
“I am Tony,” came the bellowing response.

It was time to run again.

But that’s enough for tonight. I’m wiped out, as anyone can imagine, and you haven’t even heard half of the day’s exertion. I’ll continue tomorrow.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 1:17 AM