A last goodbye

Last Tuesday, I was sitting in the third floor courtroom, watching the festivities, waiting for my client's case to come up for trial. As I sat in one of the few comfortable chairs in the courtroom, the judge was hearing guilty pleas for a variety of the defendants on the calendar that morning. A variety of defendants, some clad in jail stripes, others in street clothes, stood before the judge and tried to avoid the eruption of his wrath. Some more than others.

At one point, the sentencing was completed, and several of the defendants headed outside the courtroom to meet with probation officers. The others walked slowly over to one of the bailiffs to have their hands shackled for the short ride out to the County Jail.

As the shackles were placed on their hands, one of the defendants turned and looked over his shoulders into the audience. He raised his bound hands in a last goodbye to his family, a slight smile crossing his lips. I looked back into the audience beyond the bar. A young woman waved back, a mixture of affection and concern crossing her face. Her face was red; obviously she had been crying. She seemed to be trying to be brave. Both of them were.

I wondered at where this road would lead him, other than to the Diagnostic and Classification Center in Jackson and some c.i. around the state. Where would his family go? It was an awfully somber morning on the third floor superior courtroom.