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The Tale of the District Attorney and the Judge

By Punkerslut

From RadicalGraphics.org
Image: From "Cops" Gallery from RadicalGraphics.org

Start Date: February 16, 2009
Finish Date: February 16, 2009

     The prosecuting attorney fixed his gaze on the floor, inhaled, and then released. A second passed, and he looked up. "Your honor, there is no reason to suppress the evidence. Yes, there was a terms of service agreement between the defendant and the corporation, which stipulated that no monitoring or access to monitoring would be allowed. But it doesn't matter -- corporations have the right to lie. We all know that, because they do it all the time, in their advertising, their mission statements, and the information manufactured by their news companies. So, what's the big deal about lying in a terms of service agreement?"

     "Your honor," the defending attorney stood up, "The terms of service agreement is a binding contract. If you do not suppress the evidence, it will leave every consumer under this service agreement at the mercy of the district attorney's discretion."

     "Is it really a contract? Did your client sign it?"

     "Yes, he signed the agreement when he installed the internet service," the defense responded.

     "But did the company sign it?"

     "It was the company's contract! It was signed by a field technician."

     "Your honor," the prosecutor turns away from the defense attorney, "It's obvious that the terms of service so-called 'agreement' was just a lie put up by a corporation to lull people into a false sense of security. Nobody's bound by it!"

     "A contract is a contract, the motion to suppress the internet records is granted," the judge drummed out with his monotone.

     "Your honor, you're making a mistake!" the prosecutor approaches the bench.

     "The law is clear about contractual behavior; the evidence is suppressed."

     The prosecutor turned, as though to throw off one face and to put on another; he readjusted his tone, and slowed his walk to the bench, quieting even his footsteps. In a voice that only he and the judge could hear, he spoke, "Look, my salary, your salary, even the defense's salary, all of it is paid by the same, abstract person: the state. The money you got for your campaign funds, that I got for mine, that everyone got -- it all came from the same exact place. From the wealthy, rich class, and they don't give anything away without expecting something in return. From the lowliest police chief, to that bailiff standing right there, there's a handshake and a wink. The wealthy don't just hand out millions for nothing. And if someone doesn't want to play ball, there's always senators, congressmen, governors, and the president who can step in, with their powers, and completely smother the dissident. Play along to get along. Now give me a motion to grant this piece of evidence, and things will be fine."

     "I'm sorry to say, but the law is clear about this issue. There is nothing I can do. Do you understand?"

     "You were funded primarily by three investors, two of which are local real estate dealers. That can be taken away in two seconds, and you'll be left to fend against a quarter-million funded Garry Beaumont for place of district judge."

     "Don't try to threaten me with elections," the judge tried to stand firmly.

     "You need to look at the facts, your honor," the district attorney retorted, "The masters of the military, the administration, the political parties, the police departments, the intelligence bureaus -- everything is bought and paid for. When we grab this guy for murder and prove it, we'll execute him. It gets out in the news. People start to feel worried about murder happening in the country. They support their police, their armies, their politicians even more; because it is necessary to stop the insatiable orgasms of the lawless mobs. Now they look the other way when they see police brutality, because pedophiles are crawling out of the woodwork. They have a blind eye when our military launches an invasion of a Third World country. The phrase preemptive action comes to mind, and 'Imperialism' is never thought of as a correct term. By convincing the people that they're a danger to themselves, they make you and I necessary. So, we need to keep feeding them that illusion, even if it means taking innocent men and executing them; at least it proves that society is haunted by these monstrous demons and we must be dutiful in exorcising"

     "Those are some long, drawn-out suggestions," the judge replied.

     "More people die from starvation caused by our national, foreign policy in a single day than all of the murders we experience in a single year. Even on days where there's a plane crash with five hundred killed, or even on the day where terrorists killed three thousand on September 11th -- thirty four thousand people starved to death on those days[*1]; they were each inhabitants of countries with long, cruel histories of imperialism. Why would we spend hours and hours of investigation into the deaths of fifty in a plane crash, when in this amount of time, several thousand die from starvation in the third world? Are we saying that our people are better than those people -- that our local news is more important than the global news? Come on, you know exactly why it's never reported: it's because it doesn't help the party-line of the wealthy and rich class, who have their sweatshops, factories, and dictatorships in those countries. Why would you want to make our politicians, our district attorneys, our capitalists, and even our judges look bad? Now allow this evidence, or you'll be messing with the entire food chain, and we are a hungry group."

     "I'm not allowing the evidence," he said, "The case would be thrown out, and I'd be disbarred."

     "Thrown out by who?" the district attorney responded, "It could only be thrown by an upper court, and why would they do that? Why would they even accept the petition? If they did, they'd probably rule on some small insignificant matter, like procedure and method, the order evidence was presented or some trivial point. And then they'll swear off any other matters on the case for decades. By then the feeders, our capitalist masters, will have you slotted off at another position, where you work less, and make more. I know the workload of a judge, something like 11:00 AM to 2:30 PM, is quite harsh, especially when all of the attention is focused on you; but what if it was 1:00 to 2:00 PM? You know it could happen."

     For a second, the district attorney changed faces, again. "Look, there's a lot riding on this case. Many outside sources think that it's about time the government looked good in ringing up some murderer. Confidence is failing, in all ranks of the social order. This will make all of us look good. And it'll make our friends look better. They give us our campaign funding, almost guaranteeing us the office. But more importantly, they then give us meaning by telling us what to do. Now we need to guarantee them a verdict."

     Speaking in a tone so that all could hear, the judge said, "The evidence is suppressed."

     Still in his quiet voice, the district attorney replies, "By the way, it's 3 to 3:30, right?"

     "What?" the judge turns.

     "The time you get up in the middle of the night to take a piss, right? It's about 3:30-ish, sometimes as late as 3:38 AM, right?"

     There was a moment of a blank stare, and the judge finally said aloud, "The evidence is allowed."


*1. As quoted from "Confessions of an Economic Hitman," by John Perkins, Preface, page xii. Original source: The United Nations World Food Programme, http://www.wfp.org/index.asp?section=1 (accessed December 27, 2003). Also, the National Association for the Prevention of Starvation estimates that "Every day 34,000 children under five die of hunger or preventible diseases resulting from hunger" (http://www.napsoc.org, accessed December 27, 2003). Starvation.com estimates it to be 50,000 people per day (http://www.starvation.net, accessed December 27, 2003).

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