Let me give you an illustrative piece as to why I am both a staunch Republican and against the death penalty.
It starts upon the fateful day of September 11th, 2001. A day of great national tragedy. Of amazing pain and suffering. Of terrible loss, both of innocence and sense of security.
I had my own personal tragedy that day: a speeding ticket. Which compares to the rest of the day’s horror like a paper cut compares to an unanesthetized appendectomy, so it’s not like I’m really comparing except for the sake of humor.
I expected to beat that ticket, or at least have the fine reduced- go to court, explain how I was distracted by listening to new reports of what was going on, beg for mercy, the standard stuff that gets most judges to drop the fine a level.
But as time grew closer to my court date, I realized that I really just didn’t have the time or the energy to spend half of a day sitting in District Court waiting for my name to be called so that I could save $20. So I bit the bullet and paid the fine- in full amount, doubled due to lateness- by sending a check off to the Court along with a copy of the ticket, as instructed to by the ticket.
Fast forward now, to this weekend.
My weekend up to Saturday night had been, to boil it down to a single word, shitty. I had gone up to my cousin’s wedding; she lives in the middle of Pennsylvania, so I had spent five hours driving up there Friday night and was on the tail end of driving five hours down Saturday evening. My girlfriend was with me, sick as a dog with laryngitis. Which of course made the trip that much more fun, as the only person I could then carry on a conversation with was myself, and I find myself an incredible bore. I would occasionally attempt to force a conversation with my gf, which invariably led to her croaking out an explanation of how much pain she was in, which did little to put me in a happy, guilt-free mood. The wedding had been okay, but given the ten hour round-trip it could have involved dancing poodles, strippers, and Bruce Springsteen playing live and I still would feel it wasn’t really worth it.
So. I’m driving through a somewhat rural part of Maryland when a police car ends up behind me. This leads to ten minutes of being very stressed out because no one can drive with a police car right behind them without being worried about whether or not one is actually driving well and not about to get a ticket. Just about the point where I’m starting to feel complacent, bam, on go the flashing lights. What follows is about twenty seconds of “Aaaah! Gotta fucking pull over! No, wait, shit, no real side of the road here, gotta get back on the road, find a place to pull over, fuck, please tell me he doesn’t think I’m trying to ignore him, shitshitshit!” I don’t normally freak out that bad, but again, I’ve had little sleep, I’ve been driving for nearly three hours straight (the GF had thankfully been able to pull a small stretch so I could take a nap), and I’m this close to being home where I can curl up under the covers and just sleep.
So. Officer comes up, driver’s liscense and registration are passed over. Turns out my left brake light is out, so he needs to write me up a repair order for that. That’s understandable. Annoying to have happen then and there, but understandable, and if I get it fixed in a week, no points or fine. So he wanders back to his cruiser to write the citation.
Then I see another cruiser pull up behind him, lights also flashing. Something inside of me tells me that this isn’t good. My gf states that it’s nothing big- it’s a rural area, and the cops don’t have much to do except sit around and talk near the latest guy they’ve pulled over. The officer steps out of his patrol car and walks up to my door. Thankfully, this will all be over soon and I’ll be able to get home and
“Sir, please get out of the car.”
Let’s go back to that check I sent off to the District Court. Upon careful inspection later, I noticed that the case # written on the back- what it was actually applied to- was mistyped. It ended in a 1, while the citation I had been trying to pay off ended in a 7. Apparently, I paid off someone else’s ticket. And as far as the District Court and the MVA were concerned, I was a scofflaw, thumbing my nose at authority by not bothering to pay my speeding tickets and then skipping out on court dates. Do you know what Maryland does to people who don’t pay fines and skip out on court dates? It suspends their driver’s license. Do you know what happens to people who get caught driving on suspended licenses?
They end up handcuffed, having their vehicle searched, and spending a bit of time in the back of a patrol car. Luckily, either because I was as polite/obviously confused/really scared and confused as I could be, the arresting officer took pity on me and did not decide to incarcerate me overnight. Rather, he let me go home so long as my extremely-freaked-out-girlfriend would drive the car.
So. A very large fuck you to the typist at the District Court who- despite the check and the citation and the notation on the envelope being very clear that the ticket ended in a “7”- typed a “1”. I hope someone does the same to you, and so you end up standing handcuffed on the side of the road while your very ill girlfriend is crying hysterically and confusedly. And I hope you also have panic attacks all through the next day as you worry about ending up in jail because a check got lost in the mail, and more panic attacks as you try to figure out how to arrange your life in the public-transit-unfriendly Maryland suburbs without having access to a car.
But because I’m not really very vindictive, I also hope you have people willing to help you out as much as people were willing to help me out- parents willing to drive me places, bosses willing to let me come in a bit late, police officers willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, extremely apologetic and helpful District court officials willing to rush paperwork to get my license back into shape and willing to write up letters explaining how the whole thing wasn’t my fault.
So, in the end, the only downside was having a hell of a lot of stress on Sunday.
But mistakes like these happen all of the time. Errors of judgement, simple typos leading to misfiled paperwork and misapplied monies. Government employees are only human, and sometimes all too human.
And we’re willing to give them the power of life and death? Or control over vast amounts of money because we believe they know better than us in how to spend it?
Doesn’t make sense to me.