Photo Pulled Over
Back in the early 1980’s, before the world became civilized, I was working for the police service and driving a 2 door Mustang with a 351 Cleveland engine. When I bought the car, my boyfriend at the time had tried to steer me towards a 4 door Dodge Dart – I steered him towards the door.
Right off the bat I got myself a speeding ticket – $75.00. This was a fortune to me because my entire grocery bill for 2 weeks was $60.00. I forgot to pay the ticket and back then, it went to a Warrant for Arrest. I knew about the warrant and I was kind of laying low, but every day I worked about 4 feet from the filing cabinet where the warrant was filed. Maybe I wanted to get caught, I don’t know – it would take years of therapy to know the truth, but bottom line is that my Sergeant overheard me mention it to someone and he arrested me. Handcuffs. Booking. I got the whole package. I paid my fine, was released from custody and went back to work, relatively unscathed but considerably rumpled in spirit.
So I have been good about speeding for about 36 years. Then it happened again! Crimewave.
A few months ago I was going to work and decided to take the scenic route through a small town that would hook me up with the city street that ran by my workplace. I turned left, heading toward Calgary and a Sheriff’s car, coming the other way, turned on his overheads and did a U-Turn. I was watching and I said out loud – WHO, ME? He pulled in behind me and I pulled over to let him pass, that last bit of hope that there was an emergency up the road. Nope. He parked right on my ass.
When he came up to the window he was young and very nice. He told me I was doing 76 in a 50. I actually thought I was doing 76 in an 80. We discussed that for a minute or two and then he asked for my documents. I told him that my driver’s license was kind of dusty – I hadn’t used it in quite a while. I was actually trying to remember if I had renewed it in the last 36 years and I was pretty sure that I had. I carry the insurance and registration in my purse so anyone who steals the car can’t produce the documents and will get a harder look if they’re stopped. I just didn’t think that harder look would be at me.
Here is what happens when you haven’t been stopped by the police in 36 years.
You have a special card case where you carry all the cards and stuff you don’t use every day. Then you go through that OH, HERE’S THE INSURANCE FROM MY MUSTANG FROM 1980 and then you go OH, I REMEMBER THAT CAR…I LOVED THAT CAR.
Then you find a gift card from Tim Hortons and you become distracted as to whether there is anything left on that card and if so, how much. The same happens when you find the Wal-Mart gift card, and the second Tim Horton’s gift card.
All the while the Sheriff is standing at the window of your car waiting for your documents.
In this case, I presented him with my proof of everything. I sat waiting for him to accuse me of fraud when he saw my year of birth and saw me in person, but he didn’t actually say anything about that, now that I think about it. Hmmm.
While he was in his police vehicle with the lights flashing I realized that I was now THAT PERSON. The one who is pulled over that we all stare at, trying to see if they are crying or have tattoos. And that is just what every single driver did as they went by me on the other side of the road. They looked right at me. I just eyeballed them all back – YEAH, I HAVE A TATTOO – IT’S ON MY ANKLE AND I’M WEARING BOOTS AND I MIGHT HAVE TO SHAVE MY LEG, BUT IT’S THERE.
I also noticed that all of those other drivers did what we all do. They DROVE THE SPEED LIMIT while they were passing us, and if they could say something it would be LOOK OFFICER, LOOK AT ME AND HOW I AM OBEYING THE LAW – NOT LIKE HER. Like he cares. Really, if they were going to speed, now would seem like a great time because he’s not going to get any busier than this. He has all of my documents, he’s writing a ticket and he’s facing in the opposite direction of these do-gooders. Hit the Gas. Go. Save yourselves.
So he finally came back and gave me my ticket. $211. That’s 2 weeks’ worth of groceries. I continued on my way to work and he did a U-turn, likely to avoid a second encounter with me, I’m sure.
Now I have to decide what I am going to do about this ticket. Do I go to court and plead insanity? Do I tell the Judge that I had been drinking and therefore my judgement was clouded? My demerit points have remained undisturbed for 36 years and now 3 of them are in danger of being removed from my collection. I don’t want to give up 3 demerit points. I want to cash them in for prizes and jewellery. The trauma of this event just continues to grow and ebb as new information comes to light.
I have heard rumors that my insurance rates could go up. What’s this now? I don’t even qualify for Grey Power anymore. I’m at Thinning White/Greyish Power now. Maybe I’ll plead myself as being the Owner of the vehicle that was speeding. That way, my demerits remain intact so I can cash them in for stuff, and the fine might be reduced.
But I think I have to call someone Your Worship to do that and I may have a bit of a struggle with that, especially if their shoes need shining, or if they need a haircut. I would be standing there in court and beginning to plead my case; YOUR WORSH… when I would notice a spot on his tie and stop and say – I CAN’T DO IT – I’M JUST GOING TO CALL YOU BOB.
As an aside, how does someone who is referred to as Your Worship all day just get in their car and go home and have someone tell them to take out the garbage?
So this is where I am right now. Court date is July 11, 2018 here in Strathmore. Of course I will need a new outfit, probably new shoes; definitely new jewellery.
I could just forget about it too and see what happens, but these days, they just get you when you register your vehicle.
I’ve given it a lot of thought and all the signs are there – I may just have to take responsibility for this thing.
TWO WEEKS LATER
So now I’ve had this ticket on my desk here in my office and I checked it over carefully for mistakes. Did he spell my name wrong? Did he write the wrong court date? Did he write the incorrect violation? Perhaps he still couldn’t believe the year that my driver’s license insisted I was born and he wrote in what year HE thought I was born. Nope. This guy was good. He dotted every ‘i’ and he crossed every ‘t’. What man does that? Most guys I know spell radio as radeo so it matches stereo.
So that line of defense went up in smoke. Then I drove back to the crime scene to check out the signage and see if there was perhaps some Tom Foolery at work there, but no, everything was as it should be. The sign said 50 KM; it had not been tampered with, there was no spray paint, no bullet holes to mislead me, nothing. I was actually going down for this crime.
I decided I wanted to plead the fine down from $211 to something more reasonable, like 10 bucks and save my 3 demerits that were in jeopardy of falling into the wrong hands. That was really what this was all about – the demerits were mine – I had worked hard to keep them all these years and I didn’t want them going up for auction to some irresponsible person or whatever happens to demerits when they get taken away. Maybe they are all kept together in some kind of compound on an island somewhere until they are given back to the driver that lost them. What guarantee would there be that I would get my original demerits back? What if they gave me 3 random demerits that had bad habits because they had been taken away over and over again, and then they mixed with my good demerits and turned them all bad? Then my original 3 demerits would be waiting for me to come and get them and I wouldn’t know where to go. ENOUGH. I had to fight this ticket now.
I checked out the court date – July 11, 2018 – a Wednesday – a day off for me, tragically, because now I was out of excuses. It didn’t matter. The fight was on.
That morning I dressed up and I went to court. I instantly found out that the doors do not open to the unwashed public until 9 AM sharp. As the criminal element, we are to line-up outside and wait our turn. I also noticed that a number of people may have attended in clothing that they had slept in.
When the line starts to move, some people will go into the actual court room where they will never be seen again and others will check in at a window (that was me) if they want to speak to a First Prosecutor.
Simply put, you are not going to speak with a Judge or a Justice but you will speak with a representative in his office. You don’t plead a full case, you just basically beg for mercy, and hope that he will be lenient. Most people want their demerits back so they are trying to have the charge read that they weren’t the driver of the vehicle, per se, but the owner of the vehicle that committed the offence, therefore, they haven’t been convicted of a moving violation and their demerits are safe until their next crime spree.
So I checked in and sat with an odd assortment of young and old, people with children, people talking on cell phones, people looking bored, scared people, and someone with big cardboard diagrams and photos. I’m not 100% sure on that last one, but I think I caught a glimpse of the Grassy Knoll.
I was sitting next to the office door of the Czar of Forgiveness and his door would open, a criminal would come out and the Czar would bellow another name and someone from the crowd would go in, be there for about a minute or two, leave, bellow, next person, and so on. It was fairly slick in time management. The guy beside me was quite friendly so we talked a bit before I went in. He was a teacher and he passed a school bus that had the stop sign out. I looked at him and said – Hey, I think that might be a bad thing to do. He agreed. The fine was up there to just under $500. That is a lot of money and I was surprised they couldn’t buy us better chairs to wait in.
So my name was called and I went behind that grand door and saw the Wizard for the first time. He was a youngish guy in a shirt and tie. Quite regular, really. No crown or scepter or anything like that. No bodyguard or big white dog standing there. He confirmed who I was and he asked me how fast I was going and what the speed limit was. I promptly replied 76 in an 80. Which was a huge lie but I was flustered because I expected at least a court jester or something and I was still coming to terms with the fact that he was in there alone. I meant to say 76 in a 50. Then I asked if he could cut down the fine and charge me as the owner of the vehicle to save my demerits. I should have also ordered some toast and coffee for all the cooperation I got out of that request.
He didn’t even look up and my hair had actually turned out not too bad that day so that was his loss. He said NO to the fine reduction, and said he would change the offence to something inane like ‘allow cattle to cross highway’, I don’t know – I didn’t hear him – he was writing madly on my file and he was mumbling. He said I could have my demerits back and I could pay my fine of $211 today. I said I would be happy to do that. I was then dismissed.
So I left the chambers and went back out to the main hallway and decided to go outside and have a cigarette. Clearly I was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress so I walked over to my car and just sat in there, enjoying a few moments of quiet, puffing away, and then I returned to the courthouse. I got back in line for the little window and when I finally got up to the front and gave my name, the Wicketeer told me she had been waiting for me. She seemed unhappy with my lack of attention to the rules that I knew nothing about. Turns out you leave the sacred chambers and go directly to the Wicket so the paperwork stays in order. I figured they would probably fine me for that too. But they didn’t, which was so very nice for the gal on the other side of the glass because I’m not sure she would have wanted to hear my opinion on that and I didn’t need to spend the day in jail.
So I paid my fine, left the court house, leaving all of my new friends behind to move on with their lives, while I moved on with mine, knowing that when that little old lady gets in there with her diagrams and photos, she is probably going to have a bit of a surprise waiting for her too.
As I sit here now, late into the night, I know that my demerits have all been returned to where they belong, never to be parted from each other again. They have been together for over 40 years and this must have been very scary for them.
As an aside, when I took my driving test at age 16, I drove my mom’s car alone down to the Motor Vehicle Branch, took the test, failed, and drove home. They’ve probably cracked down on that now too.
Hahahaha.