Courier Chronicles Out of CMPD HQ with a thick heavy stack of criminal records in the bag. As I cross over the short little side street and alley to 4th for the Courthouse and the next order of business I have a conscious thought spinning along. From the saddle things appear extraordinarily familiar to me, have I been to the Courthouse this way 25 times so far this week? If that is the case that is a hundred times a month, over a thousand times a year and perhaps over 10,000 times in this 11 year career that has led to my own awareness. Amazing how familiar the route actually is to me but if I have travelled it anywhere near 10,000 times that would be more than once and since I am taking it in through the visual cortex I am accepting it as real. I get side tracked just before the CH with a call that asks me to check a specific Box at the Register of Deeds. Seeing that facility is one block before the Courthouse I stop there first. As I lock up at the only ROD bike rack I realize that the bolts securing the rack to the concrete slab are loose in place. Up to the vault I check the box, the envelope is there and I bag it turning to head back downstairs for my bike. Down a short steep grassy slope leaning back on the bars I roll across the quad and lock next to an attorney's one speed cruiser in front of the Mecklenburg County Courthouse. I see the gun wearing Sheriff Deputies without vest familiar with me, we make eye contact and I get the nod to lay my bag on the belt. One foot at a time through the human scanner to avoid having a cleat set the thing off. Upstairs to drop at the Chambers first. Next is a pick up form the clerk of room 8150. The Deputy there informed me that who I was looking for had gone down to her auxiliary desk on the 3rd floor behind the Civil Clerk. I have six things to attend to on 3rd floor anyways, perfect. Off the elevator on three and I am staring at the back of a girl who is reading the Civil Clerk Floor Directory. Just as I pass she turns and we make eye contact. She had been crying through the red brown curls and looked tired. The expression of shock on her pale face and in her Chakras made her appear somewhat out of place with no understanding of where she needed to be. "Do you need help?", I asked. Quietly nodding she said what I already knew, "I need to get a Restraining Order". I pointed the way which was the same window that I was going to first. So she wound up in line right in front of me, her confusion with the system via a former ex boyfriend full contact transfer apparent. I volunteered real information based on my experience in already witnessing such cases. As soon as she filed the paper the clerk would give her a court time for the early afternoon where the judge would grant her temporary order. Within hours the accused will be served and locked up in processing by the Sheriff. Then within something like ten days the Court will hear the case in room 4130 where women sit on the left and men sit on the right. One time I went into 4130 in session and tried to deliver photo evidence to a female client sitting on the girl side when out of nowhere a short dark lady deputy intercepted me with a hand on the butt of her pistol. No way, girls to the left, boys to the right. "At that time if the evidence compels the judge his or her honor will sign the Ex Parte granting your order for a year", I said. I knew the process so I told her the truth in the Courthouse. I went on babble style suggesting that she cut all ties with the man who put his hands on her neck. Cut it away and look inward for the safety you desire, it is not as hard to do that as it might feel. The whole point being it is harder to carry it without taking that inner view to get to the next point of not unlearning. She never smiled but I could tell the truth made her feel more assured, a touch of relief against an back drop of pain at the extension of physical abuse. As we walked through the webbing lined Common Feeder line to the window I pulled out my stack of pleadings and put them in order. The victim without a name stepped up to one of the three windows at the clerk and received her packet. Simultaneously I stood at the next available clerk and filed two pleadings. I disappeared around the corner for the newly available Court Calendars, two sets for two different clients. Further into the walls I find the familiar faces of the vault clerks. I pull four civil cases and copy what I found. Out of there at 1142hrs for the Corp Center, the Hearst Tower, Three Wacky Fargo, One Wacky Fargo and then the Courthouse again. Unless the phone rings and things change.
Part III Toonmorrow, this day may last all week.