The tension and anxiety are over, only frustration and some
anger remain. My second court appearance worked out almost as I had hoped. With
several coaching sessions from public defender friend Risa I was able to get my
“possession of knife” summons dismissed.
The Crime:
It’s the end of July, Friday evening, leaning against a
column reading the New Yorker waiting for the 1 train to take me uptown. A
sleazy looking shaven headed character sidles up to me with something cupped in
his hand held at his side. He moves his hand close to me and I realize it is a
small gold colored badge. “Why are you carrying a knife?” he asks.
There is a small pocket knife clipped to the inside of my
back pocket. Apparently the clip, much like the clip on a pen, is visible. I
explain that I occasionally use it at work, opening tape boxes and dvd
packages. He asks me to give him the knife. At this point I am puzzled. I have
carried a pocket knife of some sort since I was a child. I ask if he wants to
keep the knife remembering a baggage inspector in the Delhi airport who was very interested in a
bike tool I had with me. The baggage inspector let me proceed to the plane only
after I suggested he keep the tool
Rather than accepting my offer he asks me to come over to a
bench where another shaven headed man in three quarter length shorts and
sweatshirt is standing. I am asked to produce identification and if I have ever
been arrested. I tell them I haven’t been and the second man begins to radio my
id info to the mother ship.
While this is happening the first man is attempting to open the
knife by flicking the blade with a wrist action. This does nothing as the knife
is a tiny simple model with a 2.25 inch blade. While I mention this and say
that I was under the impression that knives with blades of less than four inches
are legal, they start to fill out a summons. They have me sign a voucher and
they keep the knife. The second man with the radio tells me all I have to do is
appear in court on the date on the summons and probably pay $20 and I will get
the knife back. They thank me and move off. By this time four trains have gone
by. When I eventually reach the party I was heading to uptown, I have a great
conversation starter and am surprised by how many other people have had similar
demeaning and baffling encounters.
The Ticket:
The summons states that I am in violation of section 10133
sub section c and the description of the criminal offence is “possession of
knife.”
After Googling the NY Administrative Code I become convinced
that I have done nothing wrong. It says knives with blade length over four
inches are not legal unless they are used for work. After speaking to several
lawyers I am even more convinced that I have been misused by New York’s finest.
Arming myself with a copy of the Administrative Code, spec
sheet from the knife company and a ruler, I head to court.
The Ordeal:
After the now usual airline style security there are the
expected long lines and in about half an hour I show my summons to a man behind
a little window and get a piece of yellow paper instructing me to go to court
room #2. Here is another line but eventually we file into the court room. The
place is staffed by large people stuffed into uniforms who seem to enjoy
telling everyone what to do. Sit down, remove your hat, no gum chewing, no
talking and no cell phones even if you are just reading your book on it.
It’s hard to tell what is happening from the audience
section of the room. People are called up. There is a sign on the left side of
a podium facing the elevated judge’s desk. The sign reads: Defendant Stand
Here. A man stands on the right of the defendant and some whispering goes on
followed by the man speaking to the judge who then responds, often with a
“dismissed” which gives me courage.
It’s finally my turn and I realize the man on my right must
be a court assigned lawyer. Without identifying himself he asks me what kind of
work I do that involves the use of the knife. I can only assume my statement
that I use it for work has somehow been translated to the lawyer with my
paperwork.
The procedures here seem to be known by everyone except the
defendant whose job is to figure out what is going on and what is expected.
I explain that I must open boxes of tape and DVDs
occasionally in my job as video editor. The lawyer repeats this to the judge
who says something I cannot hear. When asked to repeat it he says “$70.”
In shock I say I think that based on my reading of the
Administrative code this case should be dismissed. The judge responds with “no,
this is a good ticket, $70 unless you want a trial.”
I ask for a trial and am told to wait outside the courtroom.
After another wait my name is called and I am given a piece
of paper with a court date explaining that if I don’t show up, a warrant will
be issued for my arrest.
Part Two:
Eight weeks go by and I am back for a second try.
Here is the blow by blow:
This time I knew the value of arriving early and was sixth on line to
enter Court room #2 in the SAP part at 346 Broadway. The courtroom opened at 9 am.
We were let in, told to drop our paperwork into a basket, turn off cell phones,
remove hats and be seated. During the half hour wait for the judge to appear
another court officer requests those of us returning for a second date hand in
paperwork. A man sitting next to me pointed out that he had left his paperwork
in the basket up front as previously instructed.
The court officer who had made the request responds by
saying “oh that must have been what I threw into the garbage”. She retrieves
the forms from the wastepaper basket and returns them to the appropriate bin.
My seat mate and I exchange glances and disparaging comments about whose hands
our fate is in.
Judge Ross eventually appears and court is in session. He is the same judge who presided over my first appearance. This time around the
process makes a bit more sense.
The defendant stands facing the judge and a court appointed
lawyer stands next to you.
This lawyer does not indicate who they are or that they are
there to represent you.
About two hours pass and a lawyer calls my name and asks me
to join him outside the courtroom. He has my paper work and I explain what
happened. He expresses only doubts about the outcome of the case, but when I
explain that I have read the Administrative Code he perks up, and when I say I
have a copy he is really attentive and asks to see it. He thinks he can ask for
an ACD based on my using the knife for work. Adjournment in Contemplation of Dismissal
allows the case to be dismissed in 6 months if you don’t get in any more
trouble during that time. It’s a bit more face saving for the court than an
outright dismissal.
It’s finally my turn up at the bench. Now there is a new
judge, Mr. Delury. My lawyer, Mr. Sandamin, uses my words introducing me as a 61
year old semi retired guy who uses his 2.25 inch knife for work. He attempts to
hand the judge the spec sheet indicating the size of the blade. The judge, who
is in a jovial mood, asks me what I do. When told I am a video editor he says
“Oh you take out all the good parts”. My
response is “as often as I can” which gets a laugh.
At this point he asks the policeman, who is now in uniform
and standing next to the lawyer, if I was polite. He responds that I was and
the judge agrees to the ACD. I am thrilled, so thrilled in fact that I thank
them both and leave.
As I am leaving I realize that I have forgotten the knife. I
head back up to the bench and a new case is already underway. I get the
attention of a court officer, the same one who threw everything away earlier. She
explains that the only way you can get your property back is if your case has
been dismissed. When I mention the ACD she asks me to wait and shoves my paper
work back in front of the court clerk. The situation is explained to the judge
and he says fine, dismissed. OK, yay now it’s dismissed. Wait outside again I
am told. I will have to pay $10, in cash to get a document indicating the
dismissal, which I can take to 1 Police Plaza to reclaim my knife.
Now I am really ecstatic. Another wait and names are called.
I join a line of eight people who are led by another uniformed court officer
across the building to a clerk behind a barred window. I pay my $10 and get a
form with a seal and signature and I am on my way to Police Plaza
to be reunited with my knife.
Once again there is security. Xray machine, metal detector,
the works. I punch my name into a computer kiosk and have a photo taken. A
printed receipt pops out and I am directed into the lobby. Here I am pointed to
a gate where I exchange my receipt for a sticker imprinted with my photo and
the floor of the property clerk.
With the sticker on my chest I practically run down the
stairs to a room with several clerks behind a wire cage.
The clerk tells me the knife is probably not here and if it
is I cannot take it out of the building because you can’t have a knife in
Police Headquarters. I suggest that it can be mailed to me. The man behind the
cage laughs and says maybe someone can escort me out.
In a few minutes he returns to tell me that yes it is in
fact here but he has to talk to someone else to see if he can give it to me
because the officer has indicated it is arrest evidence. Evidence cannot be
released. I explain that I wasn’t arrested and the summons was dismissed. He
leaves to talk with a supervisor.
When he finally returns he explains I cannot have the knife
because it is a dangerous weapon and it is NYPD policy that dangerous weapons
are not returned. I again point out that the summons was dismissed because I
use this 2.25 inch dangerous weapon for work. The best he can offer, after I
ask who is going to pay for the knife, is a claim form that he hands me
suggesting I get a lawyer to fill out and send to the comptroller’s office.
Game over.
