AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve been encouraged to share more of the experiences I had during my career as an assistant district attorney. Most people who have prosecuted criminals can relate such narratives, both humorous and sad. The following story is based on actual events.
Many years ago, at the time of this tale, I was working in the district attorney’s office in a small city south of Atlanta.
An initial appearance calendar was scheduled for just after lunch that day. I was at my desk, going through the few police reports I’d received ahead of the hearing in order to familiarize myself with and assess the cases with which I would be dealing.
Allow me a brief explanation of a legal term. An initial appearance refers to a hearing where a defendant is first brought before the bench after being arrested or charged with a crime. During it, the person is informed of the charges against them. At that session, the judge may set bail, appoint an attorney, or schedule future court dates. The main purpose of the procedure is to ensure that the accused understands the allegations and their rights and to make sure that they have adequate representation in the criminal process. In the judicial circuit where this took place, these proceedings were held in a room at the county detention center.
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Now, to the incident at hand. Among the write-ups was the arrest pertaining to a young man who had been apprehended for dealing narcotics in the town’s public housing development comprising apartment buildings. According to the account, two police officers had observed the arrestee as he made a drug sale to a local under a streetlight. When the cops approached him, he fled. After a fairly lengthy foot pursuit through the project, the officers caught him. I was unfamiliar with the policemen involved. The facts seemed pretty straightforward.
The remaining reports covered entering automobiles, shoplifting, forgeries, and other drug offenses.
* * *
Half an hour before the hearing was to begin, I settled into a chair at a table in the small courtroom. Law enforcement officers trickled in. A few spoke to me briefly before taking seats in the gallery area.
When His Honor took the bench, he had the inmates listed on the calendar ushered in. It was the usual mix of ethnicities among the fourteen prisoners present. All of them were male except a female who’d been taken into custody for shoplifting. They were seated on folding chairs against the far wall under the watchful eyes of several deputies.
As a deputy announced their cases, the detainees came forward to a chair at the opposite end of the table I occupied. When the aforementioned drug dealer’s name was called, a young, athletic-looking black male joined me. I stood up to ask questions for the court as two city police officers followed one another to the witness stand and testified. Having read the circumstances leading to the capture, their appearances took me somewhat aback. Both men were in the late thirties or early forties. To be kind, I would describe them as stout.
Each in his turn related the events of that night. The two had witnessed the defendant complete a drug transaction under one of the few streetlights in the complex. They approached him, identifying themselves as policemen. The young man ran away, and they gave chase. The lawmen said they knew the project well and anticipated where the fleeing person had to go at each turn to continue his escape. To catch him, the men attested that they “leapfrogged” each other in their pursuit until they finally captured their target.
During their testimony, I noticed the judge glancing from the stocky officers to the slender prisoner. When his eyebrows arched, it occurred to me he had the same thought as me: despite the strategy used in their effort, how did these two older, less fit men overtake the younger fellow at night? The other inmates, especially the black males, were glaring at the offender with what appeared to be expressions with a mix of disbelief and contempt. Regardless, His Honor completed the procedure and granted the man’s appeal for court-appointed counsel.
When the inmate returned to his seat against the wall, there arose sneers and muffled derisive comments from his fellow jailbirds.
Meanwhile, my curiosity was killing me. When the officers finished their testimony, I got their attention and whispered a request that they stay until I could speak with them after court.
In time, we concluded the calendar. The pair of cops approached me, each wearing a wry smile.
“We figured you’d want to ask us something, like how we caught him.”
“Yeah. No offense, but that has been on my mind. I read your reports. It was good work, but I still have the question.”
“No problem,” the second officer offered. “We had a lot of snickers at headquarters when the facts of the arrest became known and they saw the culprit. Our lieutenant questioned it, too. We told him that everything there was to tell could be found in our accounts of the takedown.”
“Okay…,” I said uneasily.
“But,” the first patrolman resumed the narration, “we’ll give you the entire story, so you’ll feel better about going to trial if we’re required to. But you have to promise not to let the kid know the truth until that time. We’d rather have him live with the ‘shame’ of having two old, fat ‘crackers’ run him down.” The pair gave each other happy sideways glances before continuing. “The guy was wearing a pair of sneakers that lit up when his every step hit the ground. It was a cinch to follow him in the dark, splitting up and getting ahead of him, eventually. We’d never seen anything like them, but there they were, showing us the way. And the shoes are in evidence.”
We shared a laugh. I later learned the footwear had only recently been put on the market.
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Before the case reached the discovery stage, the defendant, who had a record of drug offenses, pleaded guilty at his arraignment on the advice of counsel. As a result, the true reason for his capture never came to light, so to speak. ©
