The End of the Story is…I LOST

I figured I’d start from the ending and work my way back to the beginning.  Because I can. 

Intro: The courtroom

Tight-shot as scene opens with the female African-American Judge (completely bamboozled by the story she’s been told) shaking her head. 

Pan out to see the Plaintiff & Defendant seated, backs turned toward the viewer, staring straight ahead as the verdict is read:

Judge - Having heard the believable testimony from the Defendant, I have to agree that the Plaintiff was negligent in that she did not have a receipt or work order to show as proof that the Defendant was going to work on the car.  Past history, according to both sides, dictated the nature of the friendship and I believe that as a friend, the Defendant acted as such.  He has sworn and testified that he does not provide the service that the car needed.  The law in the state of NJ is very clear that if any work is intended, that a receipt is provided to the customer.  In addition, the law is clear that the Plaintiff must prove a preponderance of the evidence, meaning: tipping the scale in their favor, and I believe that in this case there isn’t enough evidence to prove that any agreement was made to issue repairs on the car in question.  Case dismissed.

Plaintiff turns to the Defendant (whispering) - No hard feelings, eh?

The Defendant - You did what you had to do.  You need a ride?

Both parties, exit quickly, but not without a final blow from the Defendant.

Defendant (smugly) - Hey, judge, I’m gonna give them both a ride home!

<Voiceover>

Backstory:  The story changed many times before the Defendant won on a technicality.  First, he didn’t know where the car–that went missing–was.  Just a few weeks earlier, he knew exactly which car it was and was planning an assessment of the car, and was due to change the tires.  Next, he said that the car was inoperable.  Again, he didn’t argue then that he couldn’t repair the car or that the expertise that it required was beyond his scope.  He was told by the police department to give me a replacement car.  Unfortunately, he didn’t feel that he should give us a comparable car and offered us a hoopty that wouldn’t get us anywhere without extensive repairs.  After another month or so of being left at his establishment, the Defendant opted (without the owner’s permission–me!) to strip the car of its parts and scrap it; all while the car was registered and insured.  There was no way around the mystery of what had happened to my car.  Months afterwards, I would get suspension notices from the DMV for defaulting on the return of the license plates.  Yet there in the mediation room (prior to the trial), he fibbed again and said that he never had the car in his possession.  That was lie # 3.  Just a few weeks ago, I had spoken to him on the phone as he apologized that it was all his fault and he wished that it didn’t go this far.  Now, under the heat of those dim-room lights, he lied again.  Finally, as our case was called (one of the last wasting an entire day sitting on hard, stiff benches) he changed his story again.  Only this time, the Judge bought it.  He had won.

I thought I had everything that I needed for this case but I was missing some crucial evidence:

1.  
   1. A receipt.  This mom & pop shop never provided one as long as I’ve been bringing my cars in for repair.
   2. Photo of his establishment.  At the time, it just didn’t make sense to, but in retrospect, I believe it would’ve helped my case.  If his defense was that he doesn’t provide transmission repair, I think the sign in front of his building shows “transmission repair” in the list of service they provide.  Would’ve helped.
   3. A witness.  I tried desperately to get a written statement from some people who swore that they recalled the car being stripped, but I needed to get this information closer to the date when everything happened.  It was my fault for dropping the ball.

Finally, the experience showed me that the justice system sucks.  It’s the slowness of it all, the snail’s pace in which everything seems to go.  Although a lot of cases managed to be weeded out through mediation, the rest are forced to sit and wait.  It’s not by appointment only, you know what I mean?  And basically, anyone can literally sue for just about anything.  A guy about his poorly laudered shirts was there, a woman who hadn’t paid her rent since September of ‘06.  But the processing period, the gathering of evidence, the length of time that it takes to do everything involved doesn’t always seem worth it.  I wasted a day of work, had to haul ass there and do all of this legwork just to be told that I was negligent.  Gee whiz!

Hindsight is always 20/20 so I think that the experience as a whole was part of this ongoing learning curve.  In that way, I’m thankful that I did have this experience even though the judge didn’t rule in my favor.  No harm, no foul.  Even the mock-graciousness of the Defendant kind of provided a sense of closure to the incident.  That’s why I’m writing this.  I want to at the very least provide some advice to anyone in a similar situation.  I may have lost, but the knowledge I’ve gained feels more like winning.

<Fade to black>

Proud To Be Your Bud, or, Tonight Is Kinda Special:

When the evening’s early, above the sound of local crickets chirping, there’s a harpy screaming at the top of her drunken lungs.  That was last night: piss and vinegar (the day before it was only vinegar).  The mayhem began with a whole lot of threats, cursing and regular rowdiness where sounds like this can be heard any day of the week.  The bar is a regular haven for mayhem which “yes, yes, y’all it don’t stop until the break of dawn”, even on weekdays.  The skirmishes, the rough-housing and the overall sloppiness provide endless hours of entertainment as the regulars duke it out, engaging in all sorts of deviant behavior in and around the neighborhood.  But on this night, there was a yelling redhead sans shoes barking at her ex-boyfriend and his new love interest.  The latter had returned after mouthing off to bring her daughter into the action so it could be a complete three-way catfight.  Eventually, the cops arrived and began to calm the lady down.  The ex, new girlfriend and daughter had retreated to their home (much like roaches in the light), leaving the drunken idiot outside explaining the situation in her half-threat, half-slurred speech.  Here are a few gems: 

Redhead - “But, Officer, he threatened my daughter!  And when you…man, when he hung that letter on my door…”

Officer - “You saw him leave a threatening letter on your door?”

Redhead - “No.  But it was his handwriting and he should consider himself lucky because…I’m sorry Officer, but I’m so upset because when you threaten my daughter, then you got problems.”

Officer - “Ma’am?  Ma’am, calm down.  I’m trying to follow you, ok?”

Redhead - “Ok.  Ok.  But when you go and do…and he threatened my daughter’s life too!  He wrote that he’d kill her on the letter and…”

Officer - “So you or somebody saw him doing this?”

Redhead - “I know it’s him.  I know, see? And–” (yelling) ”she ain’t nothin’ but white trash anyways…”

Officer - “Ma’am?  Where are your shoes?”

Oh, I’m trying not to be judgmental, you understand, but when some woman is calling another woman “white trash” but doesn’t have any shoes on and is not really coherent, I’d say that the whole scene doesn’t work to her advantage.  After several attempts, the policeman finally got the woman to admit the reason why she was even in the area:

Redhead - “This is my street!  I’ve lived in this neighborhood for years!  This is my neighborhood and I can walk wherever I want to walk, goddamn it!”

Officer - “Yeah, but you don’t even live around here.”

Redhead - “I live a few block away…”

Then, the foot-in-mouth diseased woman continued with these lines:

Redhead - “I don’t even care…this” (pointing to a disheveled woman standing next to her) “this here’s my friend and I don’t care!  She’ll bail me out because that woman’s gonna get her ass kicked tonight.”

Ofiicer - “You can’t threaten her in front of me, ma’am.”  

Redhead - “I’m sorry.  I just don’t wanna lie to youse.  I am definitely gonna kick his and her ass and I don’t care if I go to jail.  I’ll be out in five hours anyway.  It doesn’t matter, you understand because you can’t just go and threaten my daughter and get away with it…”

Officer - “Ok.  Let me get this straight: you don’t care if you get arrested but who’ll take care of your daughter then?  You say you’re concerned about your daughter but you can’t help her if your in jail, right?”

Redhead - “I don’t give a shit, Officer.  I really don’t.  I’m sorry for cursing by the way.  So he can just threaten my daughter?”

Officer - “No, but I think you should go home and sleep this off.”

Redhead - “No.  He’s gonna get his ass kicked!  I’m not gonna lie, Officer.”

Officer - “How much have you had to drink, ma’am?”

Redhead - “You see?  You see that bastard’s laughing at me and that whore…I’m gonna beat her ass because they’re both threatening my daughter!  Do you see them??”

Officer - “Ma’am, didn’t I arrest you last weekend?”

Redhead - “Yeah.  Yeah.”

Officer - “So that doesn’t make any sense.  Go home to your daughter.”

After about 20 minutes of the readhead’s cyclical reasoning, the Officer managed to get her to leave.  Oh, but the night was young.  She returned an hour later, this time with more friends who were instigating a fight.  There was hooting and hollering and the daughter stepped out, walked to her car and drove off, but not before giving the Redhead the middle-finger.  Redhead, on foot, continued to harrass her ex and his new love until in a bold and incomprehensible move, called the cops ON HERSELF! That was just beautiful.

Officer - “Didn’t I send you home?  Do you want to go to jail tonight?”

Redhead - “I called you because he continues to threaten me and my daughter.  I told you that these folks’ll bail me out and I’ll be out in five hours anyway.”

Officer - “You won’t be out in five hours.”

Redhead - “Yes, yes I will because they got the bail money all set.”

The two other drunken weirdos stood by the Redhead doing the dance stance you see in Michael Jackson’s Beat-It video.

Officer - “Nothing’s gonna happen tonight because you’re gonna calm down and go home.”

Redhead - “Oh, no I’m not! Is it alright for him to just get away with this?”

Officer - “Ma’am we have no proof that he ever threatened your daughter.”

Redhead - “I got proof!  You want proof?  He left the note on my door!  I’ll show youse.”

Officer - “Just go home and get some rest and don’t cause no trouble tonight.  Ok?”

After some more convincing the woman finally left for the evening.  What a show though!

Now, just about every day you can catch the wafting fumes of cigarette smoke and potential controlled substances floating in the backyard or the musical stylings of the caterwauling crew singing such contemporary songs as Coldplay’s “Spies”, anything by The Rolling Stones, or “Bye, Bye Miss American Pie”.  Sometimes the boisterous gang of alcoholics sing in unison about friendship, love and life. That is, when they’re not screaming at each other or threatening violence.  Here’s to good times, tonight is kinda special…