Back to the Big Chief and #2 Yellow
By Spencer Farris
I was thrilled to pull into the court house parking lot today. Although I was only about 20 minutes early, the lot was empty and I was able to park by the door.
The docket sheet in my briefcase showed a case management conference. These are meetings where the judge makes sure his docket is moving properly and takes care of any problems that might have arisen. It is an opportunity for the defense lawyer to bill her file and for me to catch up on my Angry Birds. A case management conference is a low grade evil—it takes up my time but rarely advances my cause. I usually don’t get excited about case management conferences but good parking is a salve on the wound. Perhaps that is the blessing of middle age—even little victories count.
My victory dance was short-lived however as the courthouse doors were locked. I’d been listening to stories about Martin Luther King Jr. on NPR during my morning drive. I finally made the connection as I tugged on the unyielding doors. Today was a state holiday.
This court date was set in the fall of 2013. Neither the court’s automated calendar system nor mine reflected the 2014 holidays at that point. This didn’t happen with paper calendars. We carried two copies of our “books” from October through January for just such an emergency. Score one for low-tech.
I may not be able to play games on them, but paper calendars have other advantages. Spilled coffee makes a mark, not a spark. If you lose one, you are out ten bucks instead of hundreds. They also provide ample excuse not to do something—“I can’t schedule that without my book.” My smartphone is omnipresent and usually omniscient. Just not today.
Locked doors at the courthouse are a bit ironic. For many, those doors seem perpetually locked. If you can’t afford a lawyer, you have a small chance of getting inside. Of course, this isn’t always true.
When I was first admitted to the federal bar, I was appointed to represent a prisoner on a civil rights issue. His years within the legal system made him a much more experienced litigator than I was right out of law school. I went to the prison to meet him.
It was my first time in a lock up, believe it or not. I walked through the windowless tunnels to meet my client. Inside the meeting room was a “panic” button on the wall. The guards, feigning interest, told me how it worked and to push it if there was any problem. Why would there be a problem? I was appointed to represent this man, why would he quarrel with me? The suggestion, meant to calm my nerves I am sure, made me instantly nervous. Ironic, since I had been calm the rest of the time.
Fortunately, there was no problem. My client was friendly. He told me his story. I promised to do what I could. And I left.
His demeanor gave me more peace than did the low tech button on the wall. I was pretty sure that if I pressed that button, I would already be dead before help arrived. Low tech is no more reassuring than high tech, and a low tech prison knife (I imagined) worked as well today as it did one hundred years ago.
I feel betrayed that my technology let me down today. It is not as though I am Amish. I buy beta versions of devices and software. I create documents with voice to text software. I am usually more distressed about my smartphone not working than my kids missing curfew. No cell or wifi service is cruel and unusual punishment to me. In short, I am the ultigeek. Shouldn’t my gadgets be more responsible?
Maybe it isn’t technology’s fault that the King holiday was missed. It isn’t his birthday exactly—that was last week. Then again, I have no idea when Washington’s birthday was. Or Lincoln’s for that matter. Truth be told, the date we celebrate Christmas is a little sketchy as to the birth at issue. A celebration day doesn’t necessarily have to track with a birthday. I will try this logic next time I miss my wife’s birthday. Once again I will expect locked doors.
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Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St. Louis, Missouri. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent to this newspaper or directly to the Levison Group via e-mail at farris@farrislaw.net.
© 2014 Under Analysis L.L.C.
