About a year ago, I sort of ran a red light. I was turning left and the light turned red before I cleared the intersection. When I started to make the turn, I didn’t realize traffic had backed up because of a turning vehicle further up the road. No matter, you have to clear the intersection before the light turns red or you’ve run the light. That’s what I learned as the police officer wrote the ticket.
All of the above is backstory that explains how I ended in up traffic court. I was there with a room full of other people, most of whom where ready to plead guilty and who wanted to spend an evening in traffic school vs. paying a fine, getting points on their license, and seeing an increase in their car insurance. There were several young people under the age of eighteen, and the judge’s objective seemed to be the same for each: he wanted to scare the hell out of them.
I do not presume to judge this judge. I’ve tried the same kind of thing as a parent, and I experienced the approach as a teen myself.
Last week, I stood in traffic court with my son, Sam. He had a wreck on August 28, and he had to appear before a judge to make his plea regarding the failure to yield citation he received. I told Sam about what I observed during my previous experience in traffic court. I expected Sam’s experience to be similar. I told him to be contrite, say “yes sir”, and not to be argumentative.
Sam’s experience in in court (different judge) was very different. The judge took what felt like fifteen to twenty minutes to get to know Sam. He asked about Sam’s grades, his extra-curricular activities, and his plans for college. The judge asked three different times, “And you are pleading guilty?” The judge repeatedly looked at the documents before him and shook his head as he confirmed that a Ford Focus had clipped the back of a Jeep Grand Cherokee with enough force to break the rear axil. As the judge made his ruling, he required that we only pay court costs, made a note recording the fact that, in his opinion, there were other circumstances contributing to the accident, and he commended his mother and me for having raised such an upstanding young man.
It was a moment of unexpected grace.
Being 17, Sam probably had three points added against his license as a matter of state law. (This is yet to be confirmed.) However, that’s not why I found myself holding back tears on the way to the car and taking a moment before I could talk to Sam. I was overcome emotionally by the unexpected presence of grace in traffic court. I remain thankful for an experience that taught Sam (and me!) to respect the law out of grace, instead of fear.
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