There is a guy out there causing all kinds of mayhem among the “Not Guilty” population. He (the guy) is generally described as black, white, Hispanic, blonde, red-headed, dark haired, somewhere between 5’6” and 6’3” and favors jeans and a t-shirt. The name of this trouble maker: “Some Dude”.

I observe courtroom drama from a judicial bench. “Some Dude” is a frequent visitor in my court. Recently, a man charged with drug possession slouched* his way to the witness stand and, against the strongly-worded advice of his appointed defense lawyer, proceeded to prove the value of the Fifth Amendment. The conversation went as follows:

District Attorney: “You had drugs in your car when you were pulled over, right?”

Defendant: “Yeah”

DA: “Where did the drugs come from?”

Defendant: “I gave a ride to Some Dude. He must have been the one that left them in the (locked) glove box.”

DA: What did this guy look like?”

Defendant: “Don’t remember exactly. Think he was a white guy. Probably in his thirties. Had a tattoo.”

DA: “What did the tattoo look like?

Brain Surgeon: It was on his face or something. I didn’t really look at it.”

DA: “What about that crack pipe found in your pocket?”

Mensa Candidate: “That Dude showed it to me and I didn’t know what it was. I was taking it home to my poor, sick grandmother to ask her if she knew what it was…
Nome sane?”**

District Attorney: “Was this the same grandmother you said had died when you asked for a continuance in this case?”

Guy-That-Is-Smarter-Than-His-Attorney: “She got better.”

“Some Dude” has a redeeming quality. Though he routinely forgets where he left his drugs, he is generous to a fault. In fact, if a guy needs a ride, “Some Dude” is there waiting with a car to lend.

A guy charged with driving a stolen vehicle slouches his way to the stand.

District Attorney: “How come you were driving Joe Blow’s car?”

Defendant: “I was passin’ by the country club, nome sane, just passin’ through, and Some Dude walks up to me and asks me if I need a ride. I said “Sure” and the Dude hands me his car keys and says, “Here, take my car. Just bring it back when you are through with it.”

DA: “Why did you take the police on a high speed chase when they tried to pull you over?”

Future-Vice-Presidential-Candidate: “I didn’t know they were back there. I was in a hurry to get to my poor, sick grandmother so I could take her to the hospital.”

DA: “What was wrong with your grandmother?”

Rocket Scientist: “Did I say grandmother? I meant my baby-momma. She was having female problems. She needed to go see her dermatologist.”

If I ever find “Some Dude”, I am going to hold him accountable for all the wrongs perpetrated on these innocents…Nome sane?

*“Slouching” is like sauntering except it requires the sloucher to exude a gotta-show-the-judge-he-ain’t-the-boss-of-me attitude with each step.

** “Nome sane”…You figure it out.