Thanks everyone. Feel free to forward this.
It was an incredible feeling to win by defending myself. I'd won cases before due to officer absence, and had the luxury of Tom McGrath's attorney's defeating "illegal" helmet tickets. But for this one, I had to put on the boxing gloves myself. That said, many many thanks to Brad for standing up there with me.
Here is how it went to the best of my recollection:
I'd been to the Alhambra Superior courthouse once before, since they make you go to "Window 2" to request a trial (when you comply with your "notice to appear.") I could have requested my trial by mail (enclosing a check for bail), but I wanted to see the courthouse for myself. Either way, they tell you that you must post bail to request a trial. The bail amount, coincidentally, is the same amount as the fine.
NOTE: I know that it's possible to avoid paying bail, since one of today's defendants hadn't. And I also doubt their legal authority to impose a fine ... oops, I mean "bail" ... before I even stand trial. But that's another story, and I decided to fight for myself during the trail rather than each and every step of the way. My call.
Once I posted bail, they set a court date based on the convenience of the police officer. How considerate.
Mark provided tremendous help upon request, by the way, and some of the material he sent me was in my folder in court today. I also reviewed a very helpful website called http://www.helpigotaticket.
I was determined to accomplish one goal in court, and that was to use every available resource in my defense. After all, from the speed trap ambush used by the motorcycle cop, to the psychological tricks the court system uses to wear you down, they made good use of their tools to assault my rights. I can play that game too.
I read my name listed on the court docket. On to the show...
Cops came drifting in, jovially greeting each other, and sitting along the left wall behind (I assume) bullet proof glass. Or at least it was a sneeze guard. Probably about a dozen showed up from various agencies, bumping fists and such.
The bailiff played a pre-recorded message on a boom box that described what to expect in court, along with a lot of reasons why pleading guilty and going to traffic school would be the easiest and most sensible thing for us to do. After all, once your trial starts, you no longer have the "right" to go to traffic school. Simply pleading guilty would save us so much time and trouble. It's no use fighting. You can't win. Give up while you still can. Then you can get back to a normal life.
After the tape played, people couldn't line up fast enough to plead guilty and request traffic school. I don't blame them. They were scared, intimidated, and weary. Classic psy-ops is removing your enemy's will to fight. Well done, I say.
Then they swore us all in en masse, and I proudly held up my right hand and said "ABCD." Then the Commissioner (Bruce Williams, I believe) came in wearing a black robe. He proceeded to explain how we still yet could plead guilty, and how expensive our insurance premiums would be for the next three years (about a thousand annually). He again welcomed anyone who wanted to plead guilty and go to traffic school ... while they still had the chance. A few more threw in the towel.
Then he proceeded to call roll. I was surprised to hear how many people were dismissed outright due to officers not being present. I'd say about 10 cases (and about $5,000) walked out the door right then and there, scott free. One of the absent officers apparently wouldn't be available again until October, but then the bailiff said he'd actually retired. More cases dismissed.
Next came the lawyers, some of whom got their client's cases dismissed. It was happening so fast I can't recall the reasons now. I was trying to read my notes, watch the proceedings, and keep an eye out for Officer Baker. He was the one who ambushed me, and he had called ahead to say he'd be arriving late.
I was hoping the clock would spin a little faster, but eventually Officer Baker arrived. But since he had called ahead, the Commissioner pushed all his cases to the end. That meant all the officers were gone and he was the only one left.
Of the previous cases, the judge wasn't too lenient. Some would try to argue with the officer, or with the Commissioner, seemingly for the sake of arguing. Others would dispute the officer's account, sometimes even with corroborating witnesses. Very rarely did anyone get any slack and, even then, it was mostly combining multiple offenses to reduce the total penalty.
The police officers had a pretty standard routine. They got to speak first, since there wasn't any prosecuting attorney. They'd state their qualifications to use the laser, that it had been calibrated and tested. And in the course of each trial, the officer's word prevailed.
Finally the Commissioner called my name. I wondered if I could object to the officer (who is present as a witness, not a prosecutor) reading from his notes, which some of them did. Fortunately Officer Baker didn't, so I didn't have to risk jumping the gun like a TV lawyer. "I strenuously object!" didn't work too well for Demi Moore, after all.
I let him talk uninterrupted, and started jotting down notes on each point I wanted to challenge. The first was that he pulled me over just after rush hour started (6:47am). This one would come in handy. He also recited his and his laser's qualifications. More notes.
When it was my turn to speak, I explained that I was unfamiliar with the area that I rode through, since I was in the process of moving to California. I observe the speed limit was 40 as I traveled south on Rosemeade, and that the cross streets had higher or lower speed limits based on what type of road it was. When I turned onto Las Tunas (the scene of the crime), the road was significantly wider and clear of traffic. I was just about to meet Brad at the Airstream dealer, and my left turn was coming up fast.
Suddenly the officer pulled me over, and I was pretty surprised. Brad had his camera running, right across the street from us, catching the whole scene. After getting ticketed, I redrove the route with Brad and saw he had pulled me over just past a 35 mph sign ... but he had written me up for doing 48 in a 30.
Then I changed the subject. I asked the officer to provide documentation that proved the laser was calibrated. He seemed miffed that I would dare question him. He stared digging into his metal case, reassuring us all that he kept records of everything. Then I asked for his laser training record. He stammered that the Personnel office had it. I turned to the Commissioner and said "I would like it noted that the officer has no proof of his training qualifications.
The judge said "we know they're all trained" with a slightly irritated look on his face. I decided to hold off challenging the evidence for the moment. Instead, now that the officer was rattled, I stared asking him a few more questions.
"What was the weather like that morning?"
OB: "Absolutely clear." And to the judge, "A perfectly clear day, your honor."
(Actually, it was overcast ... but I'll take "clear.")
"You said it was just after rush hour started. How would you characterize the traffic volume when you pulled me over?"
OB: "It was the morning rush, plenty of cars."
"Was the volume heavy, moderate, light, or what?"
OB: "There was one car in front of you, and a whole bunch right behind."
"So the volume was heavy?"
OB: "I didn't say that. The important thing was the car in front of you."
I casually took the CD of Brad's video out of my folder, and placed it on the table.
"How about moderate. Was it moderate?"
Officer Baker wasn't going to give me an answer, so I shifted gears. I must admit I was enjoying the act of tormenting him.
"Could you please tell me the location of where you were concealed when you observed me?"
He was miffed! I had simply asked for his location, but all he heard was me calling him sneaky. He rattled off the address, but he was fuming.
"How many citations did you issue from that location that day?"
Looking right at me, he said "I don't know."
"How about just that morning?"
OB: "I don't know" (coldly)
"Was it zero? Ten?"
Same deadpan response, "I don't know."
The judge interrupted my line of questioning, saying the number of citations had nothing to do with my case. True, but the damage was done to Officer Baker's composure.
"Yes, your honor. I know. But I do have a point, which I will come to quickly."
Then the judge bitched about having 50 cases yet to hear, and how it was getting close to lunch. Once he finished whining, I cut to the chase.
"Your honor, I believe the speed limit signs were ambiguous, given the sudden change from 30 to 35, and being inconsistent with the type of roadway I was driving on. But Officer Baker cited me under California Vehicle Code 22350, which makes no mention of a posted speed limit at all."
"Your honor, I'm sure you've heard the arguments before ..." and then I proceeded to read CVC-22350 to him, verbatim. Apparently he had heard it before, because from that point forward he only talked in terms of what the specific language stated.
The judge held up an engineering survey (I had one at the ready, but he already had his own), and he said "The survey says the nominal speed is 38, which is significantly higher than the posted 30." Then, to me, he said "I'll give you 41, for the benefit of the doubt." I knew that was a lot better than 48 in a 30, so I was happy about that. But I was still prepared to argue the ticket as it was written, and adjusting it during trial was like charging me with a new offense. So I kept my mouth shut.
To Officer Baker, he asked, "What was it about Mr. Findlay's speed above 41 that was inherently unsafe?"
Officer Baker started replying that I had a car right in front of me, but the judge interrupted him:
"No, you cited him specifically under CVC-22350. What was it about the weather, visibility, road surface, or road width with that made his speed above 41 unsafe?"
Officer Baker said he talked to the highway engineer, who said he could only do the survey on one particular day, and the engineer also said it was the #1 place in the entire city for accidents.
I chimed right in, asking "Do you have any evidence to support that claim?" I didn't bother mentioning that it was all hearsay anyway.
Officer Baker started talking about the car in front of me again, and the judge cut him off again ... with finality:
I'm going to find you NOT GUILTY. This case is dismissed. You will receive your bail in about 3 to 8 weeks because we're short on staffing. Case dismissed."
It took every ounce of strength to maintain a "poker face" posture. I was glowing inside though. Brad had a grin that was bigger than his entire head. I didn't even look at Officer Baker or the Commissioner, for fear of losing my composure.
Once I turned, I was grinning like a possum. And EVERYONE in the courtroom awaiting their own trial was grinning like Elvis just gave them the keys to the caddy. I saw thumbs-ups from all directions, and I was walking on a cloud.
Only after I got outside the courthouse did I give a hearty YEAH!
Brad and I enjoyed lunch at a favorite nearby Mexican restaurant. I had to keep shushing him. But what the hell. Victory is soooo sweet.
Douglas
