05 April 2008
 
Half a Loaf

It is the weekend of the infamous Hash Bash at the University of Michigan. The protest began after the arrest of White Panther Party leader John Sinclair, sent up to Jackson for ten years for the possession of two joints.
 
In 1972, users of cannabis began to flood the crossroads at the heart of campus (“The Diag”) on the first Saturday of April to light up their favorite smoking material in defiance of Sheriff Doug Harvey, the tough anti-hipster Washtenaw County lawman.
 
They have been doing it ever since, with the University playing passive-aggressive host.
 
I could use a trip back to the Diag, since I could use a little reality after traveling to Fairfax, where they all appear to be doing drugs in the judicial buildings. I am still trying to process the whole affair in Courtroom 4D and 5F before the Fairfax Circuit Court, so bear with me.
 
I have to tell you that the people at the domestic hearings are a much better class than the ones in criminal court or the DMV- though there were plenty of them in the courthouse. There were some thugs around, but mostly not on the fourth floor. The people I saw were all well heeled, and so were their lawyers.
 
There were some very attractive women there, both professionals and predatory, and I made a mental note not to hit on anyone while I was there- the same advise I got from a friend who is sober now, and from his experience, you should never marry anyone you meet in AA.
 
We could not reach an agreement in the hallway, which is how these things are done, apparently. My lawyer had a calculator on her stack of papers, which is something that instills dread and fear into any right-thinking citizen.
 
We re-capped the bidding as she jotted numbers on a pad. I offered an enormous amount of money from my 401k in “permanent and final” settlement of the “arrears” the ex alleges I owe her.
 
I am, of course, of a different opinion. The gist of it comes down to two little words in the divorce decree; “inclusive of” or “exclusive of,” referring to the amount of monthly payment I am obligated to provide in addition to the stream of cash that comes to her from the fat slice of my military pension.
 
It is quite a large amount, either way, though the one is inconvenient and the other is breathtaking.
 
The ex couldn’t order lunch at a McDonald’s without getting herself in a knot, so the hallway deliberations did not progress well. They got sidetracked on an explanation of why I was not likely to go to jail that morning, which seemed perfectly reasonable to her, and one of those out-of-body moments for me. I realized I should have brought a toothbrush.
 
But the clock was running on the matter, and the consequences were larger than which size fries to order or whether it was a chicken sandwich or a burger. We were summoned back to Judge McSweeny, who had some Koreans arguing a matter that looked like it would run into a luncheon appointment he had, so we were assigned an alternate magistrate on the fifth floor.
 
We soon found ourselves without an agreement and in front of Judge Jane Marum Roush. My attorney whispered that she was a no-nonsense, type, out of Wellesley College and the University of Virginia who had been on the bench since 1993. She had mousey brown hair and an air of bemusement at the antics of the citizens of the County.
 
The whole thing took about ten minutes. The Ex’s lead attorney mis-stated some facts, and was rebutted tepidly by mine. I was doing the math; the original demand of $86,060.15 had mushroomed with some numbers I had not seen before, which I jotted down on a pad in front of me. The gavel came down without emotion, and I was impressed by the lack of emotion and matter-of-fact disposition.
 
According to the math, the judgment was a shade north of a hundred grand.
 
I had to walk past the Ex on the way out, one of those awkward facts of courtroom appearances. I did not look at her.
 
My attorney was upbeat, since this means a new stream of work for her. She said there was a definite bright side to all this.
 
“First, you are not in contempt, which is a leg up. They will have to do several things to get to that, and you do not have strike one yet.”
 
I had to agree that it was better to be headed back to the office than the Men’s Detention Center, which is conveniently located adjacent to the Courthouse.
 
“She only got a small slice of the legal fees she asked for, and is out of pocket for the rest. She should have taken the money you offered. That was almost the whole loaf, and now she is in a pickle. The court cannot touch your retirement account 401k without your  consent, and you can string this thing out with a “good faith” effort to pay until you are both dead.”
 
“So, even though she got a bigger number, she can’t collect it?”
 
“Well, they can try. But you only have what you have, and the biggest chunk of it is off limits. You might want to think about a vacation.”
 
“This means more court nonsense, doesn’t it?”
 
She smiled and gestured toward the exit around the metal detectors. “I’m afraid so, but if they won’t negotiate, you can arrange a re-payment plan that is in accordance with the guidelines will settle the judgment in 2072 or so.”
 
“I imagine a half a loaf is better than nothing” I said, “or even better than a whole loaf doled out one slice of bread at a time. It will get pretty stale in a few years.”
 
I waved good-bye to my attorney, making a note to call her on Monday to discuss slicing up loaves. I walked toward my seventeen-year-old truck. You want to be careful what you are driving when you go to court, since you don’t know who you might see.
 
You would certainly not want anyone to get the wrong idea about how you are doing, you know? 
 
When I finally got back to Big Pink, the phone was blinking. There was a message from my younger boy, who said that someone had taken a pry-bar to the door of his apartment while he and his roommates were at work.
 
It was a Red Letter Day for the Socotra men. All the electronic stuff belonging to him and his roommates had been stolen, the whole loaf in one shot. Big screen high-def TV, Computers, X-Box, the whole works. The thieves had dumped out his dirty laundry and used the hamper to haul it all away.
 
He was pretty upset when I called him back, but he could not talk long since the Police were coming to shake their heads and tell him there was really not much they could do about it. I certainly don’t blame him for being outraged. Being robbed can make you downright hostile, if you let it.
 
Copyright 2008 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com