The Courtroom Crapper

Perhaps this is not a story I should share.  If you are squeamish, or take great offense to bathroom humor, stop reading now! (But please do take the time to comment below as I need comments for the class I am taking which requires this blog.)  If you continue to read, I will assure you I am not going to try and document this story with realistic photos. 

Early on in my career I learned that there are some people who will find a way to get their revenge on the system… no matter what, even if they just get themselves in the end. (How was that for a set up?  Just a hint, I made use of foreshowing.  My 10^th grade English teacher would be so proud.  I did it Mrs. Marshall!)

Now in fairness, I must confess this experience pre-dates my days as a prosecutor.  Right after I graduated from law school I was hired by the Twin Falls County Public Defender’s Office.  While I wanted to prosecute, my only job offers out of law school in criminal law were defending, so I took the job.

This was without a doubt one of the best decisions and most positive experiences of my entire life.  I was taught how to be a lawyer by veteran public defenders John Hansen, Casey Robinson and Marilyn Paul.  They are amazing people and truly gifted advocates.  What they taught me, set me up for my career.  While I did not continue with defense and I jumped to prosecution as soon as circumstances permitted, to this day I am proud of the work I did and will be eternally grateful for the people who taught me.

Back to the point.  In addition to the three senior attorneys I mentioned, there were three of us who were younger lawyers and would defend the misdemeanor cases.   Christa, who was younger, but more a seasoned attorney than I, was the one who showed me the ropes day to day.  She taught me so much and trained me and another newbie how to defend misdemeanor crimes.  Once we got up to speed and could handle things on our own, she jumped over to the juvenile court. 

One of Christa’s clients was a kid who did not want to be in jail.  Heck, no one does, that is not surprising.  What was surprising was the extremes this young man would go to in order to retaliate against those who jailed him.  As a means of revenge and protest, he would… well, stink up the place.  His best devised means of protest was to defecate in his jail jump suit.  He was a master of his craft.  The bowel control that he possessed was legendary.  He could always do his business, no matter time nor place.     

While initially this plot to protest sounds extremely childish and disgusting, it, well, after reflection… nope, still does.  WORST PROTEST EVER!

Anyway this kid was so bad that the juvenile detention facility determined that the only way to keep this kid in clean shorts was to put two guards on him and attempt to intimidate him in to well… using some restraint.

The juvenile transport van that shuttled the kids from the detention center to court was so smelly after this kid’s reign of terror that our office considered filing a motion to dismiss the cases pending against all the juveniles who had to ride in the van.  Our argument was that being forced to endure the six minute ride form the jail to the courthouse in that van was a clear violation of the eighth amendment’s protection against cruel and unusual punishment.    

After the guards were positioned and remained on contestant watch, the protest was quelled for a time.  What the guards did not realize however was that our courtroom crapper was simply biding his time.  He was waiting and plotting, while I don’t know this for sure I suspect he was loading up on the beans and hot sauce.  Planning for a time of his choosing to strike when it would have the most impact, and be the least expected.  The juvenile, and his entire digestive system was waiting to attack the Courtroom. 

While in court, and during a hotly contested release hearing between Christa and the prosecutor, the Judge ordered the attorneys to the bench.  While I was not present, this is how Christa explained it to me: After leaving counsel table, both attorneys went to the Judges bench.  The juvenile remained seated at council table.  After a couple of minutes of discussion between the Judge, prosecutor and defense attorney, the smell hit them.  As Christa explained, in unison all three caught whiff of the juveniles protest and turned to look at him at the same time.  What they saw was the juvenile laughing uncontrollably and in a self-congratulatory manner at the realization that his bomb detonation had been a success.       

The smell did not get out of that windowless courtroom for a week.  Halftime score: Juvenile 1, criminal justice system 0. 

A few weeks after the incident, the juvenile was again in court and sentenced to the juvenile department of corrections.  (While I will sum things up at the conclusion of the blog, I must editorialize, maybe don’t stink up the room that the guy who gets to decide the next three years of your life has to spend eight hours a day in.  Just saying, not a good strategy.)  AS I suspect you may be able to guess, the juvenile was ordered detained until he turned 18.  As often happens, the protest was unsuccessful and all the juvenile got for his efforts was diaper rash and a restitution bill for $62.50 to cover the cost of the jumpsuit he was wearing when the bomb went off.  He lost his liberty, his part time job and even the freedom to go to his junior prom.  That being said, considering the juveniles personal hygiene habits I not sure the courts really played a factor in that prom thing.      

The moral of the story… there is not one.  Don’t crap yourself!  Hopefully you did not need to read this blog to learn that.  If you did, I fear for your children.  Just remember, if you do, it will always get you in the end.  (See foreshadowing.  Don’t you feel bad about giving me that A- now Mrs. Marshall.)