Cat and Mouse

A case an attorney friend once told me about reminded him of his 20's. The client had the bad luck of being good and drunk, crossing over the road median and slammed head on into an oncoming car. The other driver was killed and the client arrested for DWI and vehicular homicide.

As all attorneys do, they get the “story” from their client, including their life in general. The lawyer can form an opinion on just who they are representing and use that when bargaining with the AG's office. “Look, my client screwed up, but he's not Hitler.” That sort of thing.

The guy he represented was your average Joe, in his 20's, out for a good time on a Saturday night. He, through bad decisions and bad luck, ended another life. Tim, the lawyer, told me there were many times he himself drove home from parties, or flying up 95 to Boston lit and somehow managing to “make it.”

He says, “Ronnie, it's amazing. You and I both, your brother and others we knew did the same thing as my client has done when we were his age, except the win the Bad Luck Lottery and kill someone.  I swear it's plain luck we didn't.”

He goes on, “I had to do a ton of leg work to get my client down to four years! He'll do about ¾ of it. The guy's an emotional wreck now too.”

I ask, “What about the guy he killed? He's in worse shape.”

Tim answers, “Ronnie, I make no apologies for being a defense attorney. It's why I am here. Had I not accepted the case, someone else would. Without a doubt...without a doubt. And you, I and many others have done what this guy did too, driving nearly wasted...even the head of the RI Republican party, Bob Watson was busted...Wait, wasn't he your attorney you used at times? Don't get all moral on me now!”

I have to admit that Tim was right. This is the way things are.

I tell him I have done it too, when younger. My probably worst sin on that count was when my friend and I used to hit Misquamicut beach early in the morning, start drinking before noon and do so all day in the summer sun, which makes you stupider. Then at night, switch over to nightclub mode and drink till 1AM. Then I'd have to get him and myself home without attracting too much attention.

Weaving up lonely country roads on my way to Coventry isn't easy when you're not used to it. They're unlit and twist and turn and dip down into ground fog banks that develop on ponds and streams. Your headlights do a great job illuminating them and blind you in the process. Add to that, I'm driving in hick towns staffed with a few cops on patrol from 11-7, who are bored and will take keen interest in any car traveling at 2 AM.

By all rights, I should've been arrested on nights like that, though never happened. Pure chance didn't work against my favor. Ah, I have to add that the attitude toward drunk driving then were far more lax, but I still was aware of the threat.

I've known several people in my life who have been busted. It's not the moral implications but the attendant bullshit that comes from paying fines, losing your license and it's reinstatement that worries me. I just said the moral implications didn't bother me...God, I've become more jaded as I've grown older. That's another subject I can write about. “How my belief in innocence, fair play and do-gooder-ism was ruined by experience!” I'll entitle it, “How Being Truthful isn't Profitable Anymore...Depending on Who You're Dealing With.” And another subject I can write about is justice, God, religion and Does Any of This Matter?

One girl I knew was hit twice on a DWI charges. It took her Dad $12,000 to work the charges in both cases down to a reasonable level. A nice high price to party hardy on a Saturday nights. He loved his daughter and what do you expect? He'd defend his daughter on murder charges if it came to that. Others I have known were hit similarly with the same crap to overcome. The costs associated with this spook all people.

Nowadays, I can't drink like I used to. Beer turns into Ambien for me after a few and all I want to do eventually is crawl into bed. Perhaps that's a good thing and I leave the party before I get soused. My blood alcohol level won't register shockingly on some breathalyzer. Even so, I'm still paranoid as hell about driving on two beers. I have developed route home where the likelihood of my running into police is lessened. I have in my wallet, my attorney's number and I know the 5^th Amendment. Yep, I'm scared shitless about this.

There's a phrase I've stolen from an old butcher I knew long ago. His daughter claimed he was too protective of his only grandson by purchasing him all sorts of safety equipment for his new bike. “Dad, you're older now, you're afraid of everything!”

He replies, “And I have good reason to be! I've lived long enough to know that shit can hit you from any direction! I'm going to make sure my grandson is safe!”

I still go to Irish pubs, I still attend parties and I still might drink in the summer sun at a beach. But I'm afraid of everything now too, especially of sliding my car into a State-y