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Show Reading On Takes A Radical Twist At this point, Reading on takes a flying leap at departing de-parting from the previous weeks. The other .night, Carol King was singing away on the FM, while the color TV screen showed officers dusting dust-ing for prints in a theft case and the agility of a second story man scaling the brick side of a house and disappearing dis-appearing through a transom. tran-som. I thought about the fact that I had turned up in the Park City crime file. It was stupid. I was stupid. I was a thief. At least that's how it turned out last Thursday night. Very early Friday morning. At 1 o'clock .in the morning, morn-ing, Pete Martinez brought me before Judge Lence, who had been wakened by the late night call to duty, and I heard myself plead guilty to the charge of petty theft. Ali Manteghi had pressed charges against me for stealing four wine glasses valued at two dollars from the Christopher restaurant where I worked in the evening. eve-ning. I had been foolish. At 11 o'clock I ran out to take down the open sign and ditched down shut to sleep. I was exhausted and tired and feeling feel-ing the inner gnawing that was my due. I had no defense. Judge Lence explained to me my rights and asked if I wanted to proceed. 'Yes," I said. The judge asked if I wished wish-ed to make a statement. "Your honor, the only thing . I can think to say is that this is a result of my own stupidity," I said. Only it didn't come out that simple, the words were jumbled and they ran together. I wanted to go home and hide in the world of sleep, but I already knew I wouldn't sleep well that night. I would lay awake and think about everything. Judge Lence talked with me further, then let me walk out free on my own recognizance. recog-nizance. I had been fortunate. It was then I had a glimmer of an understanding of what justice is; and I knew that this town didn't have the "justice mill of the big city. Justice in this town is in the hands of compassionate men who are concerned about the people who live here, the old time residents as well as the arrivistes. It was very late whenlleft the courtroom. The wind was picking up as I walked back to the Christopher for my car. Pete Martinez came around the corner in the patrol pat-rol wagon and offered me a ride. It was warm inside and we talked about the whole affair. He let me off by my car. "Stay out of trouble, Joe, will you?" he said. "I will" I promised. I got in the car and went home. the glasses in the bushes. I had thought to take them home, it seemed the only sensible way to drink wine, especially if you could get the glasses for free. At the same moment I cached my loot I barely noticed the Camaro that went by and turned the corner by Slim's Chevron and sped away up the street. By the time I walked inside in-side to the kitchen the phone was already ringing. The lone soul driving by had spotted me and phoned in an anonymous report. I was confronted. The speed with which my folly overtook me amazed me. I was fired on the spot. Minutes later, Ali came in the door with Pete Martinez close behind. "Are you pressing charges?" I asked. Ali only nodded. Forms were filled out, my car was searched, I was frisked and taken into custody. cus-tody. It was at the station on Main Street that I learned what capable and just and compassionate law enforcement enforce-ment Park City is lucky to have. Officer Martinez spent two hours on the phone trying to locate the county attorney so I would be spared a night in the Coalville lockup. While most of the town slept, the judge came from his home to conduct the midnight mid-night arraignment. Judge Lence and Officer Martinez conferred upstairs in the courtroom while Ali and I waited, unspeaking and avoiding each other, in the squad room. Then the judge summoned Ali into the courtroom court-room where he signed the complaint against me and left. It was late. My eyes were heavy and were ready to roll |