By Charles Kramer
Most people think that the door frame device with the conveyor belt/television monitor that’s located in most courthouses is a metal detector. Not true, says my friend Stan the Security Guy. It’s Stan’s job to man the detector at his local courthouse, and he considers the machine to be more of an idiot detector.
Some of Stan’s favorite stories from his days on Detector Duty involve the things idiots pull out of their pocket to put through the conveyor belt.
Donnie was one of Stan’s favorites. Donnie was coming to court for this third charge of Driving Under the Influence (DUI). He was representing himself, and was going to challenge his arrest by claiming the test was improperly administered, and by claiming he didn’t drink—ever. Unfortunately, when appearing at his first hearing, Donnie reached in his pocket and put his plastic bottle of vodka on the conveyor belt before walking through the metal detector—with the prosecuting attorney standing right behind him in line. Stan wasn’t sure what made Donnie more of an idiot, bringing the bottle with him to court, not noticing the prosecutor, or thinking that a plastic bottle would have set off the alarm if he’d walked through with it in his pocket.
Another guy, who Stan simply calls Meth Max, showed up for court and was arrested when he put meth in the little tray and handed it to Stan. He later claimed that he was set up, because Stan had told him he had to put all his “methallic” items in the tray. Stan swore, however, that he’d said “metallic.”
Then, of course, there are the people who slip through the idiot detector, when they probably shouldn’t. Motorcycle Mike, for example, robbed a bank using a motorcycle helmet as a mask, with the dark shield pulled down to obscure his face. An hour later, police show up at his front door, arrested him and took the helmet as evidence. Mike came into the courtroom without incident at Stan’s post, only to hear the youngest cop testify at his bond hearing that Mike’s helmet’s design included the words “Motorcyle Mike Mason” on the side, and that’s how they’d found him.
Another guy, perhaps Mike’s cousin, broke into a house and confronted the homeowner at gun point. The homeowner said he doesn’t keep cash around because he paid for everything by check. The burglar told him to write him a check for everything in the man’s bank account, which the homeowner did—getting the burglar’s name to put in the payee line. Needless to say, the burglar wasn’t free long.
At least he didn’t pay the victim for the pleasure of robbing him, however. Stan’s favorite story from the courthouse is about the guy who got off. The alleged criminal had gone into a hardware store and asked the attendant for change for a twenty, handing the man the bill. When the cash drawer opened, however, he pushed the man aside, and emptied the register of its entire contents, totaling eighteen dollars, and fled. In court, the hardware store owner had to admit the man left the twenty dollar bill behind. The judge felt he had not choice but to dismiss the charges, since no theft had occurred and the store was actually two dollars ahead.
Of course, I got the last laugh. While I was talking with Stan, my cell phone kept ringing. After I’d ignored literally twenty three calls in a half hour, Stan couldn’t take it any more and asked me why I didn’t take the call.
“Its just a client,” I explained. “We have a hearing on Monday that he wants to talk about.”
“Whats the hearing for?” Stan asked.
“The other side wants a restraining order, preventing my client from continually calling him,” I explained. “I don’t thnk we’re gonna do to well.”
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Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column. Charles Kramer is a principal of the St. Louis, Missouri law firm Riezman Berger PC. You may direct comments or criticisms about this column to the Levison Group c/o this newspaper, or direct to the Levison Group via e-mail, at comments@levisongroup.com.
© 2014 Under Analysis L.L.C.
