A Close Call: Navigating the Legal System
As I stood in the cold, impersonal hallway outside the conference room, anxiety began to creep in. Bernie, my lawyer, reassured me that he would advocate for me as soon as we returned to the meeting. After 10 minutes of pacing, we were called back in, and Bernie launched into his well-rehearsed argument.
A Skilled Advocate
Bernie highlighted my responsible nature, pointing out that I was a 22-year-old who lived on my own, paid my own bills, and held a job that required daily commutes. He emphasized that I was not driving recklessly and had stopped quickly to avoid hitting an elderly woman who stepped out from behind a snowbank. Bernie also noted that I had no prior record and had never been arrested.
A Different Story
The Magistrate listened intently, then responded, “I’m hearing two completely different stories, both believable, but only one can be true.” After a pause, he announced that he would dismiss the charges of driving negligently and failure to stop for a police officer, but the charges of speeding and passing in a restricted area would stand.
A Heated Exchange
I immediately objected to the passing in a restricted area charge, explaining that I hadn’t passed anyone and that the broken white line indicated it was allowed. The cop grew agitated, yelling out, “Hit him with all the charges and pull his damn license!” The situation escalated, but Bernie intervened, whispering in my ear, “Vin, it’s called compromise. They dismiss the heavier charges in favor of the lighter ones. You keep your license and your job, and they still get to charge you with something. It’s a win-win.”
A Financial Hurdle
When the Magistrate announced the $150 fine, I realized I didn’t have the money on me. Bernie stepped in, offering to pay the fine, but he only had $147 on him. I was surprised, but I handed him the remaining $3 from my wallet. The tension was broken, and even the angry cop couldn’t help but laugh.
A Bond Forms
On the way home, Bernie and I shared a laugh about the ordeal. When I asked him how much I owed him, he replied, “Three hundred for everything. Just stop in and make weekly payments until you’re paid up.” My first experience in court with a lawyer had its moments, but overall, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Bernie and I had bonded, and he looked comfortable riding shotgun in my Cuda.
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