My Two Cents: Case Closed

Clarksville, TN –  I was the victim of a random assault two weeks ago.

While walking to dinner in Nashville, I was confronted “face to face” by a homeless man.  He was EXTREMELY drunk.

So,instead of just walking past him, or sidestepping him, I decided to let my ego overload my good judgement.  I told him to “step off” and he punched me in the face.

I wanted to share my experience, and you can decide what to take away from it.

I want to preface this article by making a couple of things clear:

First, I have a whole new respect for lawyers.  Especially those who work in the District Attorney’s office and Public Defenders.

They are OVER-WHELMED with cases.

Second, this account, in no way, is intended to pass judgement on anybody, of any color, race or creed or economic circumstance.

Third, we still have the greatest form of justice in the world.  Like it or not, agree with it or not, we can still have our day in court.

This was mine.

I was struggling with what to do about this case.  I felt like this man needed to be punished and taken off the streets so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else, yet like many of you, I didn’t want to be “bothered” or “inconvenienced” by having to appear in court and seeing this case through.  After all, I wasn’t seriously hurt.  The punch never left a mark.  It could have been worse, but it wasn’t, so why bother?

After all, we’re too busy.  We’ve got better things to do, right?

I have a lot of compassion for the homeless. Regardless of your opinion, they’re still out there, trying to survive, and they’ll do whatever it takes to make it through the day.  To get another meal.  To have somewhere to lay their head, and in some cases, they will try to get arrested.

Some of them ARE drug and alcohol addicted.  Some of them DO “choose” to live that way.  Some of them ARE psychologically challenged, I get that.  But they are HUMAN BEINGS, and I don’t know what to do about it.  Just this week, a homeless person was found dead on a park bench in downtown Nashville.

Think about that.

So, I was told that I would be ordered to appear in court.  I was told that someone from the DA’s office would contact me about my case.  I didn’t see or hear from anyone from the District Attorney’s office until I showed up in court.

First, I received my call informing me of my court date.  It was 6:00am in the morning.

“6 FREAKIN AM IN THE MORNING!”

After telling the officer that I would never remember what he was about to tell me, BECAUSE I WAS ASLEEP, he agreed to call back and leave a voice message.

Court date, December 4th 2014, 9:15am, General Sessions Court.

I walked to court, living just two blocks from the facility. When I arrived it was 8:30am, and the number of people trying to enter the building was astounding. There were hundreds of people making their way into court.  There were four lines of security screener’s, and each line was backed up out the front door.

It literally took me thirty minutes to get from the front door of the courthouse, to the third floor courtroom I was ordered to appear in.

I only took me ten minutes to walk from my condo.

Once I made it past the extremely friendly and delightful security check (sarcasm noted), I headed to the elevator.

There were six elevators and people were stacked along the hallway like sardines. No stairs for the public. I can only imagine the chaos if someone shouted “Fire.”

Once I made it to court-room 3-C of the A.A Birch Building, I removed my cap, silenced my phone and entered the wonderful world of American Justice.

(You can choose your favorite TV theme, and insert here).

Now I’ve covered many trials in my career and I’ve seen the wheels of justice turn. It’s a complicated and confusing maze of legal “mumbo-jumbo” that only those in the legal profession can understand. It’s kind of like doctors and pharmacists.  They’re the only ones who can read what’s written on a prescription.

A friend of mine who is an attorney prepared me for what to expect, so I wasn’t really surprised at what happened next.

I took a seat next to the witness in my case.  A sweet young lady who worked at one of the bars along 2nd avenue.  I was thrilled that she showed up.  Most people wouldn’t. She had been there an hour before me.  She had to find parking, and she waited.

They didn’t need her and that REALLY upset me. Couldn’t someone have called and let her know she wouldn’t be needed?  I can understand why most people won’t get involved.  They even dismissed the police officer who arrested the guy, and even though he was getting over-time pay for being there, he still had to get up and come down there.

So I sat, and I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It’s now 11:00am, and I haven’t seen a judge anywhere.

Finally, the attorney assigned to my case called my name.  I raised my hand, and he said, “come here.”

Okie-Dokie.

Without even introducing himself, he simply asked,  “so, what do you want out of this?”

“Well, I’m going to offer 5o days in jail.”

“Is that all?” I countered.

“That’s a lot,” he said.

I said, “let’s go for ninety.” (I’m dealing now baby!).

Ultimately, I told him that I wanted him punished for what he did, and hoped he wouldn’t do it again.  Maybe the time in jail will help him “detox” and realize he needs to try and turn himself around.

I know, right?

Anyway, after waiting some more, the DA came over to me and said, “he’s accepted 50 days.”

I said, “well, I didn’t think he was in a position to accept anything, why don’t we let the judge decide?”

He said, “Mr. Bonecutter, that’s not how this works.”  “I’m basically in charge of what happens here, and this is what’s going to happen.  I’m sorry if you’re not happy with that, but that’s the way it is.”

I thought, “Hell son, I didn’t even have to get out of bed.  Why didn’t you have the officer call me at 6:00am this morning and save me the trouble?”

So, a Mr. Jonathon Floyd, will spend fifty days in the Davidson County jail for assaulting me in an unprovoked attack.

I spent two hours in night court, the night of the incident.

I spent nearly three hours at the courthouse, where I NEVER saw a judge, only to be told by the District Attorney that, “this is the way it is.”

Ahhh, the wheels of justice.

What I take from this experience is we never feel as if justice has been served.  I came away feeling like Mr. Floyd didn’t get the punishment I wanted him to get, but seriously, wouldn’t you feel the same if it was you.

When I step back, I realize that it was a simple assault, and fifty days IS a lot of time to spend in jail.  Even though he probably considers it a night at the Hilton.

Getting involved IS inconvenient, and it IS a pain in the ass, but we HAVE to do the right thing.  When you’re a victim, it’s a stressful time, but you just have to ride it out and let the system work.

I’m not happy that I had to go through this.  I was minding my own business, but I probably deserved a good punch in the face.

I realize it’s not that big of a deal, but until it happens to you, you don’t realize that IT IS a big deal.

Mr. Floyd would have hit somebody again that night or even something worse, if it hadn’t been me the he assaulted.  He didn’t care.  He couldn’t care. He didn’t have a clue what planet he was on.

Most likely, he will get out and go back to living on the streets, getting drunk, and fighting again.

I hope he doesn’t, but I’m not optimistic.

I appreciate the police, the District Attorney, and all the lawyers I saw in court this morning.

I feel bad for all the victims, and their perpetrators. I feel bad for drug-addicts and alcoholics.

I feel bad for the homeless, and I feel helpless on what to do about it.

But, it’s against the law to hit someone.  People have to be punished for their crimes.

I just wish it wasn’t so painful to turn the wheels of justice.