a story about Walter, enemy of parking meters and hero of the people

For one semester during law school I was a Certified Law Student, which means that through a law school clinic I could represent indigent clients in criminal court under the supervision of an attorney. Looking back, it was probably my favorite thing in all of law school. We represented clients on misdemeanors, although I think one can also do felonies in California in this context.

My first client’s “crime” – if you can call it that – I thought of it as more like a karmic good deed – was stealing quarters from parking meters. Yep, that’s right folks. I doubt that there are any real criminals in San Francisco, so of course it makes perfect sense that the cops and DA’s office would spend their resources arresting and convicting people who steal….quarters. From parking meters. (Just by the way, Walter explained to me that his procedure didn’t affect the time on the meter, and so he didn’t cause unwarranted parking tickets.)

The irony about this particular violation of the law is that the immediate “victim” of the crime is that public object of affection, known as the Department of Parking & Traffic. The DPT is more widely beloved even than MUNI (SF’s public transportation system that is similar to the efficient and functional system in Tokyo in that they are both on the earth). Now anyone who has lived in San Francisco knows that this is a fascist organization, possibly led by Satan, whose unrelenting persecution of the citizenry and cunningly-designed labyrinthine bureaucracy has caused a respectable share of insanity, general despair, and bankruptcy. I suspect that its ultimate goal is the mass and grisly suicide of all car-driving, -owning, or -parking individuals within city limits.

From no parking signs (or is it yes parking signs) whose interpretation actually requires a law degree, to street cleaning signs that promise (and deliver) $30 tickets between 12:00 a.m. – 2:00 a.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays (which of course means you can’t park there on MONDAY or WEDNESDAY night – gotcha!) to a $150 ticket for the tow (by a city-contracted towing company) of a non-running car parked too long on the same street because it was waiting for a scheduled tow from the same city-contracted towiug company so it could be donated to the “Give it to the Kids” program – yes, this really happened to me – the DPT’s practices surely violate several Geneva Conventions. The DPT is not, then, among the world’s most sympathetic victims of crime and mayhem.

But I digress. Anyway, to a person, those who heard about my client’s “crime” expressed regret that he hadn’t embezzled the DPT profits from fiscal year 1999 and bought crack for his entire neighborhood. Suffice it to say that while some people felt that Walter should be knighted, no one felt that he should – as the DA proposed – go to jail. I won't use this particular post for any pondering about the criminal justice system and the related issues of mental health, drug addiction, and homelessness.

With all this digression and such perhaps you are expecting something very amazing. I’d like to adjust any wayward expectations at this point. It was an interesting and rewarding experience that I thought I would recount. No one becomes president or wins the lottery. OK, now back to our regular program.

So, I don’t mean to paint Walter as some saintly individual; from his record, it appears that Walter was a bit too comfortable on the fuzzy side of the criminal code, mostly as a result of what appeared to be a substance abuse problem. Apparently he had gotten a few warnings about his parking meter habit, and I guess the police finally decided to take a bite out of crime by taking him in.

Anyway, during my first meeting with Walter, we went over the charges against him, which included the parking meter thing as well as “possession of paraphernalia for smoking crack” or some such thing. Knowing that you can smoke crack out of any old glass tube, and it’s not necessarily against the law to have a glass tube, unless of course there’s actual crack in it, and figuring we could get this part dropped at least, I asked, “What did this so-called “crack pipe” look like?” Walter helpfully reached into his pocket in the middle of my office at the law clinic, pulled out a glass tube with some burned residue of something that I’m sure lightens the mood and said, “Oh, just like this!” Ha. OK then. That clears that up, and, a picture’s worth a thousand words, as they say. All the same, you can go ahead and just put that away now, oh there goes the dean, how’s it going, sir, fine here, thanks so much.

Anyway, in my discussions with Walter, in reaching for some signs of stability to tell the judge about, such as residence, or employment, or family – we uncovered the fact that he had worked at a carnival that sets up in Chinatown/North Beach area for awhile each year and that it was in town right now. I went to the carnival director person and got a letter from him, stating that he would hire Walter back if he came to him for a job.

Armed with the letter, I eagerly went to court on our scheduled date. Walter didn't show. He also hadn't shown at our scheduled meeting at the law clinic, but I hoped he was saving his bus fare for the big day. I was able to reschedule and prevent a warrant, but I wasn't sure what I would tell the judge if he failed to appear again. There wasn't a way to call Walter, as he didn't have an address, much less a phone. So, armed with his mugshot photo, I took to the grimier streets of downtown and asked around.

Walter wasn't a handsome guy, at least anymore, but his photo really did not do him justice. Mughshots rarely do, as any visitor to the Smoking Gun can attest. I found myself in the unlikely position of defending him to laughing transients who wondered why anyone would trouble themselves to look for someone who looked like THAT. These comments from people for whom a shower is a luxury and a change of clothes a distant memory. After they stopped joking about the branches of the ugly tree, et cetera, several people did say they had seen him around. I felt like I kept just missing him. I never did find him on that trip, but he mentioned that he heard I was looking for him when he finally showed up at the clinic one day, unannounced.

I learned that for someone addicted to rock cocaine, too high or not high enough is a bad time for a court appearance. These things are hard to manage, as the time your case will be called on some date in the future is as hard to predict as how much crack you will have that morning. Although Walter seemed to be mostly passed out while we waited through the calendar, he was able to perk up during our appearance. We got the paraphernalia charge dropped, the theft charge reduced, and his sentence cut to probation. Considering that the DA was recommending something crazy like three months locked up, I considered that a victory, and Walter definitely did. As probation is one misstep away from losing one's freedom, I did worry about what would happen the next time he decided to take $1.25 that didn't belong to him. However, Walter had a plan to go to somewhere in Southern California, where I think he had some family. I hope he made it.