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Memorial of Blessed John Henry Newman
More meme-y goodness. A difficult moment that sticks with me at the moment.
( Days of Yore )
Day 08 – A moment, in great detail
The first day of the trial. We heard from three police officers, the forensics tech, and the victim.
The officers appeared in both descending order of rank and increasing order of memory recall.
The first two were the first responders. They arrived within two minutes of the initial call of shots fired to 911. The third arrived some minutes later, alone. All three were professional - they had all obviously appeared in court before. They all looked and spoke like the very epitome of the "urban cop" archetype. The first was the veteran, wily and careful, while the other two still had the "buff rookie" thing going. They might have come straight from central casting.
The forensics tech was a young woman in a black suit, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She clearly took her stark appearance and crisp, clipped sentences from television crime dramas.
The defense attorney, however, reminded me of a slightly wider Tim Gunn, and the prosecutor reminded me eerily of a thinner, fitter version of my congressman.
The thing you don't get from crime dramas is the waiting. The jury was excused after the forensics testimony at about 11 AM. We were called back in at 3:15.
When we returned to the court, the victim was already sworn in.
Wheel chair. Blue shirt runs with the Crips. Rambly, self-interrupting, never finished high school. Now can't finish a sentence without you know what I'm saying? Falls back into sports metaphors mixed like traveling touch-backs from shortstop. You know what I'm saying? Just chilling, relaxing, lounging, I was lounging, you know what I'm saying? Lounging. Squash it 'cos we're family, you… or you take it to the park. Like a man does. You know what I'm saying? He was my guy. We all came a long way. Long way.
Tears and breakdown. Genuine confusion.
Can't understand why this happened. How his guy could do this. Why? The man with the gun has the power. You know what I'm saying? How could he do this? Long way. Lost memory and dreamed of sports, of heroes, of athletes saying good bye, leaving him, forsaking him. He had just met a beautiful lady. Just lounging. Lounging. And how his head is scrambled and he will never walk again. Why? Long way. Break
down
You know what I mean.
( The rest of the days )
More meme-y goodness. A difficult moment that sticks with me at the moment.
( Days of Yore )
Day 08 – A moment, in great detail
The first day of the trial. We heard from three police officers, the forensics tech, and the victim.
The officers appeared in both descending order of rank and increasing order of memory recall.
The first two were the first responders. They arrived within two minutes of the initial call of shots fired to 911. The third arrived some minutes later, alone. All three were professional - they had all obviously appeared in court before. They all looked and spoke like the very epitome of the "urban cop" archetype. The first was the veteran, wily and careful, while the other two still had the "buff rookie" thing going. They might have come straight from central casting.
The forensics tech was a young woman in a black suit, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She clearly took her stark appearance and crisp, clipped sentences from television crime dramas.
The defense attorney, however, reminded me of a slightly wider Tim Gunn, and the prosecutor reminded me eerily of a thinner, fitter version of my congressman.
The thing you don't get from crime dramas is the waiting. The jury was excused after the forensics testimony at about 11 AM. We were called back in at 3:15.
When we returned to the court, the victim was already sworn in.
Wheel chair. Blue shirt runs with the Crips. Rambly, self-interrupting, never finished high school. Now can't finish a sentence without you know what I'm saying? Falls back into sports metaphors mixed like traveling touch-backs from shortstop. You know what I'm saying? Just chilling, relaxing, lounging, I was lounging, you know what I'm saying? Lounging. Squash it 'cos we're family, you… or you take it to the park. Like a man does. You know what I'm saying? He was my guy. We all came a long way. Long way.
Tears and breakdown. Genuine confusion.
Can't understand why this happened. How his guy could do this. Why? The man with the gun has the power. You know what I'm saying? How could he do this? Long way. Lost memory and dreamed of sports, of heroes, of athletes saying good bye, leaving him, forsaking him. He had just met a beautiful lady. Just lounging. Lounging. And how his head is scrambled and he will never walk again. Why? Long way. Break
down
You know what I mean.
( The rest of the days )
