I laughed in his face.

Rachel had a nice car for a poor person.  I came to learn that Rachel was always on her A game when it came to material possessions.  I also came to learn that the poverty in which she was raised deeply affected her and she had a tremendous drive to not appear poor.  If one is in debt, one is still poor, just without the appearance of being so.  She wanted nice things, cars, clothes, furniture, etc.  It was her drive for going to college, her drive in life, and even though she fell from the path a time or two, she saw it through in the end.  Being 18 years old, no one really knows what is going on though, else she would not have been with me. 

We both partied a lot back then, it was the thing to do.  There wasn’t really anything else to do in our minds.  Sometimes there would be people at our apartment partying before we would even get off work, but this time we went to a country bar some thirty minutes from home. 

We were both intoxicated when we left the bar, and neither of us was old enough to even be in there.  I was in rare form like I so often am.  This did not stop me from driving though; I would just drive with my left foot.  I was speeding to get back to Fulton, drunk, being a typical dumb ass.  Drunk as I was I didn’t notice the highway patrol cruising along between two other cars, and Rachel didn't notice him either, so obviously I just blew right past him.  I was driving over 95 mph on I-70 heading back towards Kingdom City. 

Thinking back now, I am lucky I didn't die or kill someone else because when I hit that exit ramp I never really slowed down.  I almost lost control of the car at the top of the ramp because I was going so fast and I couldn't maintain the turn.  I had veered completely out into the oncoming lanes.  Had it not been so late at night someone would probably have died.  I have always been thankful, thinking back that no one was in the oncoming lane, and even better was that the highway patrol didn't see that bit of complete and utter stupidity. 

A deep part of me simply wanted to die, but my guardian angel just wasn't going to let that happen. 

As soon as I got the car righted again, I saw the lights coming up behind me.  I immediately pulled over and began trying to stash the beer.   Rachel had an open can between her legs and we had an open 12 pack in the back.  Our drunkenness didn't allow us to do a very good job of hiding what was going on.  We were busted.  The fact that I was in a cast and on crutches saved me from getting a DWI right on the spot because this prevented the officer from performing his field sobriety tests.  But since I was exceeding the speed limit by more than 30 mph he decided to take me in which would also allow him to use the BAC machine at the station.  Rachel rode with us back to the Calloway County Jail where she had some friends come and pick her up.  Because she was so obviously drunk the officer wasn't going to allow her to drive the car back to town. 

When we arrived at the jail the officer immediately had me do a BAC.  Somehow I blew under the limit.  How I passed this I still have no idea because I was very intoxicated.  Possibly those machines are a scam. I have always been, and still am to this day a light weight, but that night I had over a 12 pack of beer in my system, so I should have easily blown over the limit.  The officer was visibly pissed off and letting me know it too, but some legal technicality prevented him from drawing blood to prove how drunk I was.  This is the same jail that my mother had worked at so the jailers called her personally, but she told them to just keep me; she wasn't going to post my bond. 

The woman who bailed me out was also named Rachel.  Her ex-husband was a local cop and he informed her that I had been arrested.  She had let me stay with her for a bit when I first moved back to Fulton because Rachel was staying with her sister and her sister didn’t always want me around.  We all worked at Golden Corral together so we were pretty familiar with one another.  She took me back to her place afterwards and I crashed.  Everyone agreed with me on not liking JoAnn.  I think the only people who liked her were the ones she fucked.

It just so happened that the same day that I robbed that bank on Feb. 11th 1993 was the same day as my court date for speeding on the highway that night.  I had been charged with a minor in possession as well.  I obviously didn't make it to court that day even though I did make it safely to the county jail.  After being arrested for the bank robbery I would be making it to the next hearing no matter what. 

None of my family was willing to pay for a lawyer for any of my legal difficulties so I was awarded a public defender.  Awarded is a good word I think when said with a sarcastic tone.  The criminal justice system is a scam and is possibly the most unfair institution in our country.  Justice does not exist, it is purely political.  It is just certain people providing for themselves by throwing others under the bus.  There is no difference between a modern judge and an 18th century king.  Judges love to convict and fine ignorant poor people so that they can maintain their paycheck.  My public defender didn't even talk to me about the driving violations.  I was just ushered in and ushered out of the court room.  Expedient is the word.  They just want that paycheck.

Being incarcerated for a serious crime like I was did not excuse me from having to appear in court for the driving violation and the MIP.  The good part was that I got to get out of the jail for an hour or so to appear in court.  Even though it was very humiliating to be seen publicly in a green jump suit shackled and chained, at least I wasn't in a cage.  I could see the sun.  I could breathe fresh air.  I got to be outside for the briefest of moments; from the van to the door of the courthouse.  The jailers never fail to make sure you feel like an animal. 

I have never forgotten the look on the judges face though, when he read off my penalty for the driving violation and MIP.  Can you believe it?  He took my license for 90 days. As soon as he said this I just busted out laughing right in the middle of the court.  I knew I was not going to be driving a car for years, but apparently he did not know I was about to be sentenced to a minimum of 10 years in the Missouri Department of Corrections. 

In my mind at the time, none of these people cared about me or anyone else in that room for that matter, and this is still my point of view now.  It wasn't my angst blinding me to the situation.  It was the situation generating my angst.  The justice system is a business and it has nothing to do with justice.  It is simply a business.  It is merely a means for a few people to feel powerful and maintain wealth. 

I've spent some time in a court room in the past year of my life.  It’s been over two decades since then.  I am in a small town much like Fulton, and I can assure you nothing has changed.