Proof of Guilt

Aug 16, 1999 was a bad day for me. I had spent the previous 5 days in San Diego, selling 'jolly roger' VHS tapes at the yearly ComicCon- after which my boss and I went to Tijuana and got severely wasted; my boss' pal lived in S.D. and knew his way around Tijuana maybe just a little too well...heh

Anyway, I had to catch a red-eye flight from San Diego to Baltimore, it left at some unholy hour- midnite, 2 am? I dunno.
It 's all kinda blurry.
I took a late train from the Mexican border back to the airport (via a quick taxi to the hotel) , got on the flight and kicked back to snooze.
I was drunker than a roomful of priests, but I figured I'd sleep and sober up on the flight home, arriving around dawn in Baltimore and then driving back to Richmond.

Wrong.

Somewhere in the mucus mess that was my 1990's sinuses, a giant lump of something dislodged itself and starting trickling down the back of my throat. It tasted like a combination of
crystal meth, cocaine, heroin and powdered Xanax, but that's only a guess- all I know is that I was suddenly wide-eyed and weird enough for the Magic Bus.

The stewardress refused to serve me a drink, so I had to break into my bottle of souvenir Tequila - after all, I needed something to wash down the benzedrine I had bought in Mexico. I had put a sizable dent in the bottle by the time the attendant warned me that she would have to notify the Captain if I didn't put the hooch away.

Good idea. I had to drive in a few hours.

I made it to my car , got on the highway and promptly blew out a tire. I used a nearby highway sign to get my car back under control, bouncing off of the sign and back onto the shoulder. This was quite the hardship for my vehicle, but the engine was still running and I wasn't hurt.
Fuck. I hope my spare tire has air, I thought.

When I got out to change it , I realized that I might not be too drunk to drive, but I was way too fucked-up to change a tire. Looking closer, I saw that there wasn't really much wheel left to attach a tire to anyway.
Then I fell down and had a hard time getting up.

After a while -9 A.M. according to my citations- Officer Kleb arrived and helped me to my feet long enough to read me my rights. Then I fell down again, only this time I was handcuffed.
It was a bad day.

I went to court facing five Federal charges- two of them DUI's: one for driving drunk and one for driving under the influence of narcotics. I faced a maximum of 125 years if convicted.
I had a good Federal job at the time and had secured a pricey lawyer and an impressive sheaf of Letters of Character from my Government superiors...everything was dismissed except a pot possession charge.I have no illusions about the equality of our correctional system. If I hadn't been a white man with some money and connections, I probably would've done time or at least had my driver's permit threatened or revoked.
Instead, I had 18 months probation and mandatory drug rehab.
All history now.

I thought the 'system' had lost all record of this, as I have passed numerous background checks since then and couldn't even find the records myself, but today I had my Security interview for my new job and the Capitol Police dredged up the unpleasantness.

The Sargeant asked me about the charges- yes sir, that is accurate , I have served my sentence and have a letter attesting to that...

He waved me off- eh, "shit happens" he said- he actually said that- all would be OK as long as my conviction was over 5 years ago, and since I was busted in1999, that shouldn't be a problem- I just had to prove my date of conviction and sentencing.

OK, so I went home and grabbed my letter of completed term of supervision...
...that's not good enough. I need something that proves when I was convicted and sentenced,
not when I was released. I don't have anything that contains that info- I know my court date was 11/15/99 because that is the date on my Notice(s) to Appear, but I apparently didn't keep my terms of supervision/sentencing papers, just my release.
Sarge told me that I would have to call the District Court.
So I did that.

At first I was told that there were no records from that long ago. Huh? Seven years? It showed up on the State computer, so I know it's out there...
*transfer* hold* transfer*hold*...
A voice told me to send an email to the court- gave me very precise info on how to format the request, which I did.
I got a denial reply- this service is available only to Gov't agencies. There was a number to call.
At that number, a voice told me to send a fax to (XXX)-XXX-XXXX with all the violation numbers on it.
And?
And what? asked the voice.

How will I receive the documents? How long until I do? Should I include my mailing address and/ or phone number?

The voice didn't know. It did warn me that there was probably a fee, but it couldn't tell me how much it was or how to pay it.
Fuck.
Send a generic fax to some gubbermint cube farm and wait until I hear something from someone? Oh , yeah, that's gonna work just grand...man, I might as well start filling out my F.O.I.A. requests now...

I called my former Probation Office. They were actually pretty helpful and said that they'd get my sentencing papers "right out to me." Good. Thank you.

I called Sarge and asked if the papers from the P.O. would suffice.
He didn't know. He'd have to see them first.

"OK- I'll come down as soon as they arrive", I said.

"No, you'll have to get your employer to re-schedule your interview", he replied.

So I had to call the new Boss and tell her that I was unable to get a badge, and worse, I had to explain why, and that once I got the papers, she would have to re-schedule my interview.

"Shit happens," she said, echoing Sarge's remark from earlier,"it's no big deal- we don't care about what happened seven years ago.
"Just get your papers as soon as you can so we can get you in there and working."

So here I sit, unable to work until I prove myself guilty of crimes I'd have rather forgotten. It doesn't matter when my sentence ended, all that matters is when it began.

What a great system.