All personally identifying information on this site discovered utilizing resources readily available to the general public. All publicly-obtainable court documents, media reports, and any content of similar nature, provided herein or linked to were pre-published elsewhere by parties other than myself. General images along with my personal photographs are garnered via publicly accessible sources through legal means. The purpose for republishing or otherwise publicizing the information is simply to support the content contained herein.


The Omen

Yesterday was my hearing date in Woodstock, VA, for the equipment citation bestowed upon me by handsome Virginia State Trooper D.A. Dean, Jr.

I departed my humble abode on March 6, 2012, at FIVE AM! First stop on this obscenely frigid twenty-five-degree morning? Local McDonalds. Didn’t seem decent to begin the trip without iced coffee, another of my favorite addictions. After my order was filled, I pulled into a parking space to assign my new GPS the address for Shenandoah Valley General District Court.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed a couple of men meandering around the fast food joint’s lot. Must be Ronald’s employees. No sooner had I reversed to leave, I realized the Garmin navigator was in night mode. Ugh. That makes me bonkers! For a quick adjustment, I sidled my auto out of the path of potential drive-thru customers and changed the setting. Why do those two guys keep looking at me? There’s only me and one other vehicle here, right? I glanced over at the latter: a large truck. Ohmigod. No way.

Nobody except me could unintentionally cross paths with the Virginia State Police Search & Recovery Dive Team, in Holeandcorner Town, before dawn’s early light, while en route to take on another member of their agency over a traffic ticket. ‘Twas a sign!

Million and a half miles later, I arrived on location an hour ahead of schedule. Hoping to crib a snapshot or twenty, I settled in a nifty spot at the end of the sole convenient street to the judicial building to watch for Trooper Dean’s arrival. A blue and gray cruiser eventually passed by, both occupants of the marked car blatantly staring at me. Well, it’s not like they don’t know what I drive. I assumed they’d also been forewarned about my penchant for toying with Law Enforcement. Happy happy happy. Joy joy joy.

Twenty minutes prior to the nine o’clock docket -- which my name was on -- I maneuvered my wheels between the double white lines and cut off the ignition. The policemen were nowhere to be seen; obviously they’d made a hurried exit from their transportation. Aww... too bad. Undeterred, I shot a few pictures of their ride.

Beyond the wooden doors, I sat and soaked up the scene. Aside from attorneys and lawboys, I was, as usual, the exclusive person wearing full courtroom-appropriate attire. Trooper Dean was standing on the officials’ side, near the judge’s bench; his squad car confrère, Trooper Backup, was seated on us peons’ side, in the last pew. I got a kick out of the notion that, due to moi, the delightful Dean felt compelled to lure some badged buddy into accompanying him. Reminded me of when a spiteful Trooper B. Long, battling me under his guise of “improper stopping on highway” rather than the reality of “how dare you take a photograph of a cop,” brought his pal Sgt. Bailey along to Bedford Court.

Back outside, I noticed another fellow with the State Police showing face. Prolly here for the ten o’clock docket. I added him and his 5227 to my memory card.

I did, via clandestine methods not worth mentioning at the moment, manage to capture on camera Trooper D.A. Dean Jr. However, since he’d testified he’d “cut me a break” by not charging me with speeding, I’ll cut him a break by not publishing his image. (You’re welcome, Officer.) Take my word for it, he seriously is a beautiful example of the male species. Why can’t he reside a smidgen bit nearer by?

If you’re wondering what the verdict was for my violation of 46.2-1003 -- tag lights out:

Case dismissed!

Perhaps if I get a yen to, I’ll type up a detailed account of what transpired in front of Mrs. Judge.

So. Yes, I spent $50 in gas when I could’ve merely paid the $30 fine. Yes, I didn’t have to journey three hours when I could’ve merely stayed home and re-polished my nails. But it’s the principle of the thing. Oh, yeah, plus the entertainment value. And that’s really what’s most important here, isn’t it?