The Po-Po’s Ho-Ho

Commonwealth's Attorney to Run for Re-Election
February 7, 2011

Denise Lunsford, the Commonwealth Attorney for Albemarle County plans to announce her decision to run for re-election during a press conference on Thursday.

Lunsford will make the announcement in front of the Albemarle County Courthouse at 12:30 p.m.

Lunsford says she appreciates the opportunity she has had to serve Albemarle County and wants the chance to do more for the community.

"During my time as Commonwealth's Attorney I have raised community confidence in my office and greatly improved relations with law enforcement. I have appreciated the opportunity to serve the citizens of Albemarle County and hope to continue to enhance our community through my work in this office," said Lunsford.

Lunsford has served as Albemarle County's Commonwealth Attorney since 2007.

(Source)

Is it too very vain of me for thinking Miz Lunsford should give some credit to I HeArTE JADE for her ameliorated bond with Law Enforcement? ;)

La-Dee-Da-Dee-Dee La-Dee-Da-Dee-Da

Mkay here’s the story on the five days:

Remember back in July of 2009 when I sat in jail for, like, a month? All those days trapped in there? Well, that time apparently counts for…

Nothing!

When I was arrested this past March for the “violation of court order,” Denise Lunsford, the Albemarle County Commonwealth Attorney, had the charge amended to the original obstruction of justice charge -- purely so she could invoke the six month suspended sentence I’d been given in that case. In order to still have a remaining amount to hold over my head (dare I continue endlessly teasing the police via the Internet), Miz Lunsford asked the General District Court judge that I be given only sixty days out of the six months; instead the judge, the man who found me guilty, gave me ten days -- which I’m told is pretty standard for violations.

At some point it dawned on Miz Lunsford -- presumably when word trickled back to her I was making inquiries into it -- that by her having the charge amended, I would be entitled to credit for the time I’d already served.

This is how my attorney put it

“Under Virginia Law the Violation of Probation and Good Behavior is not a separate new offense, but merely the imposition by the court of all or a portion of the original sentence.” “Under Code Section 53.1-187, time must be credited for all time spent in confinement with respect to a charge and [I am] clearly entitled to a credit of 29 days…”

So this month Miz Lunsford went into Albemarle Circuit Court, where, of course, a different judge, a woman, was presiding, and rabidly insisted I was arrested under the charge she earlier denied in General District Court that I was brought in for. Not only that, she demanded the judge not rule on the matter at all and leave it up to Albemarle-Charlottesville Regional Jail’s discretion whether I get the credit!

Obviously the only reason the CA would ever request such a thing is because she already knew what the jail’s position would be. I later learned she had, in fact, been burning up the phone lines with the facility.

The judge ruled she didn’t have to rule. My fate to be determined by the detention center.

Wait, it gets better.

My lawyer asked for one week to allow us an opportunity to work out the applicable credit issue with ACRJ. The judge refused and declared she was not going to allow for that “because someone else might ask for the same thing.”

That’s seriously what she said. “Someone else might ask for the same thing.” She considers that a legitimate reason?! That’s the kind of hairball “logic” coughed up from authority figurines these days?! And women wonder why men deprived them for so long of even the right to vote. Really. The judge didn’t even bother trying to look sensible.

Denying me a week’s extension doesn’t prevent anyone else in the future from asking for a decent minimal amount of time to sort a questionable situation out. And why should anyone be thwarted from doing so regardless? More importantly, what kind of judge bases her decisions on hypothetical other people and what they may imaginarily do?

I can’t even ridicule it; it’s so perfectly ridiculous on its own.

The end result is that I am to serve weekends until five days total incarceration is achieved.

What happened to my ten day sentence, you ask? Well, there’s this systemish thing about time for good behavior; the gist is you serve half and you get credit for half -- one serves six months for a year-long sentence, thirty days for a sixty-day sentence, five days for ten, et cetera.

That’s right folks; I don’t get credit for the time I already spent on the inside, but I do get credit for the time I’ll never have to spend there.

‘Tis too bad I don’t have unlimited funds to take these malevolent people to task in a lawsuit. Lucky for me I’m content forthcoming mild mockery of five specific officers will somewhat balance the injustice of it all. What fun! On that note, can you believe one of Charlottesville’s policemen is highfalutin enough to live in a gated community?

5 For 5

If anyone wants to know why five non-Task-Force Officers -- represented by the accompanying pictures -- are soon to have every ounce of information about their respective lives efficiently rifled through by yours truly and potentially subsequently dispersed as humorously as muster-able in a feature spread on I HeArTE JADE, just ring up Albemarle County Commonwealth Attorney Denise Lunsford and ask: 434-972-4072

Oh, and, while you’re on the phone with Miz Lunsford, would you please tell her I thought the femdom-evoking-yet-flatteringly-flirty heels she wore today were waaaaay to drool for?

Someone Went To Court And All I Got Was This Lousy Post

Per my request, my court date was swapped from tomorrow, Tuesday, May 18, to today, Monday, May 17.

Being that I’m female, I have to start by telling you what I wore: fitted jeans, army-patterned Converse, a thin long-sleeve burn-out pullover topped by a snug short-sleeve white tee with a risqué Vargas picture on it. Normally I would never never never set foot inside a courtroom -- even as a spectator -- so dressed-down, but since I knew I wasn’t going to beat the charges regardless of my attire, I skipped the “pretty.” I didn’t even stress about covering my tattoos. Ha!

I was expecting a third of the JADE Task Force to testify against me. 1/3! Can you imagine? Instead, nearly half and a wife showed up! Half the effin’ Task Force! Who apparently had nothing better to do today -- or tomorrow, for that matter, since they were all available for then, too. Guess it’s kind of tough for them to slip back in the swing of things after having the complete weekend off. Again.

The wife, I’m told, was only there to see what I look like, which is kinda amusing ‘cause she barely looked at me. What woman waits years to get a glimpse of the chick her husband screwed, anyway? Whatever. She’s short and cute, though, and I can totally get why Detective O’Donnell digs her.

Oh, and all the officers were, of course, decked out in suits -- each man uniquely handsome, despite one of them still being yucky-fuzzy-faced. Wife had something lime green, and blocky-chunky-thingies for shoes; I don’t remember anything else she had on.

Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement members present: Albemarle County Detectives Tavis Coffin, John Baber, and Jon McKay; Charlottesville Detectives Brian O’Donnell and Paul Best. Prosecution by Denise Lunsford.

Tavis Coffin testified first. He stated that he recognized my vehicle on Monticello in part because “detectives are trained to be observant.” That made me laugh, given that pretty much this whole I HeArTE JADE site is a testament to how unperceptive these guys are. It was even funnier when slick ol’ Cruiser Crasher subsequently admitted that none of the other three JADE men in the van with him at the time had observed me there. Glad I thought to scribble that question down for my attorney. Mr. Coffin either contradicted himself or lied, a lot -- it’s hard to distinguish the difference between incompetence and corruption. He’s young, so inexperience might explain the incongruities.

John Baber was up second. He didn’t say much, probably didn’t bear witness for but three seconds. He appeared as bored as I felt. I zoned out on his tie which was bright yellow with colorful aquatic creatures or something on it.

Next came Brian N. O’Donnell. The thing with Mr. O’Donnell is that he wasn’t there to testify to the alleged following. Rather, he spoke about my linking an image of his car to the St. Anne’s-Belfield School website, the educational institution where -- as he publicly declared, under oath -- his children are enrolled. Shoot, even I didn’t reveal that sort of information in the post in question. He also talked about my linking another photograph of his auto to an entry I made about him on here last year. Miz Lunsford claimed these links constitute “indirect contact” -- an additional “violation” she tacked on at the last minute, otherwise known as Friday, May 14.

For some reason, Miz Lunsford and Mr. O’Donnell made a point to discuss that he no longer uses his white Taurus for work anymore. It’s unclear to me at present why they dwelt on that element.

Jon McKay and Paul Best did not take the stand. It’s my understanding that Mr. Best couldn’t identify me on the date of the so-called following, and I have no clue what Mr. McKay’s failure was. Naturally, if they might’ve offered a mere inkling of doubt to her case, Miz Lunsford wouldn’t use them. I do give her bonus points for putting them on display with the others for the judge. Five sturdy Law Enforcement males in business attire… in front of the bench… standing shoulder-to-shoulder… spanning the courtroom… each with his right hand up… being sworn in… ‘Twas a highly impressive sight to behold.

I did not speak on my own behalf. I was ready, willing, and able. Boy, was I all three of those things! I was long ago convinced I would be found guilty; I wanted to get some enjoyment out of the process. My sole -- perhaps soul -- fear was that if I took the stand, I would be put in a position of having to name my sources. My lawyer couldn’t promise that wouldn’t happen and he and I were positive that’d be exactly the information Miz Lunsford would aim for. I didn’t want to be found in contempt; what if the judge incarcerated me until I responded to the prosecutor’s inquiries? I would die in jail because I don’t betray people who trust me. Heck, I don’t betray people who don’t trust me! On the flip side, it’s rough for me to back down when I’ve been challenged. Ultimately my sense of loyalty rose above my ego. And I don’t deny I struggled with it. You-know-whos better drop to their knees and thank me profusely.

I was found guilty by His Honor. I nodded and shrugged, semi-smiley. I’m not troubled by it in the least. There was no way I was going to take on multiple officers in their holy kingdom and be victorious. Those guys could’ve come in and avowed I was an enemy alien from the star Alythika and the entire courtroom would’ve been like “guilty!”

Miz Lunsford announced that she did not want me to serve the full six month, previously suspended, sentence, confessing she wanted to have something left to hold over me for the future.

Let’s play make-believe for a moment:

Let’s pretend I have a glass sphere. Let’s pretend it’s got both incredible financial and sentimental value to me. Let’s pretend I live for this glass sphere; I’d die for it. Let’s pretend it’s that important. Got it? Okay, now let’s pretend someone comes along and takes possession of that glass sphere. Said someone communicates to me if I don’t X or Y or I do this-n-that, said someone will shatter my sphere of significance into two million pieces. Can you guess what I will do? I will tell you what I will do. I will knock that glass sphere out of someone’s hands and smash it myself into four million pieces just so it can’t be used against me a second time.

With that in mind, can you infer how I feel about Miz Lunsford’s incentive plan? Yup.

Moving on.

I am mildly disturbed with the broad “indirect contact” nonsense. That I ostensibly can’t link to external sites or to my own old entries without risking an accusation and conviction of “indirect contact” is annoying. To say nothing of Free Speech trampling. Yet it does persuade me to get creative. So it’s all good.

Additionally, I’m all the more confused over how I am supposed to not conduct surveillance on the Task Force yet apparently I’m expected to -- what -- psychically? -- know where its members are in order to avoid “contact” with them.

I did re-propose, via counsel, the amicable method to put an end to all this. The arrogant Mr. O’Donnell remains resistant. He avers his unwillingness is due to his belief that I won’t keep my word to cease I HeArTE JADE activity. Bulloney! Always with the excuses, him. He fulfills his obligation and I don’t stop, well, what’s the difference? I’m not stopping now. He fulfills his obligation and I do stop, well, that’ll be that. What does he have to lose? I reckon just he and I know the answer.

The one -- the only -- thing that truly bothers me about this morning’s act is that it was not entertaining. The JADE fellas, as beautiful as they are, were humdrum. The testimony was mostly dry. The information was exceptionally worthless. The humor -- a most vital aspect -- was vacationing whereabouts unknown.

In conclusion, I got a ten day sentence. If you heard a thunderous bang slightly before noon today, that would’ve been JADE. Intentionally slamming the courtroom door as they left. Sheesh. Ya’d think they’d be happy. But, evidently, they’re even sore winners.

Of Purses And Public Buildings

I almost never carry a pocketbook. I really despise carrying a pocketbook. This day, because of too many errands to not, I had to carry a pocketbook.

Inside mine are a few common-to-handbag items: make-up, keys n wallet, sunglasses, pens. It also contains cameras, flashlights, a digital recorder, and beaucoup batteries. Plus, two screwdrivers -- the tool, not the drink. Don’t judge me. If I were a guy, no one would think anything of me toting around a full-size Philips and flat blade -- unless as a guy I was toting them around in a pink purse, in which case, yeah, I can see some judgment there.

All right, so I’m in the Albemarle General District Courthouse to find someone.

I walk up to the two Sheriffs? Deputies? whatever-they-ares -- I don’t think I’ve come across either gentleman before -- at the metal detector and hold out my portable pouch for them.

Before they even touch it, I say “There’s nothing in my purse I can bring in there” gesturing to the closed door that leads to the courtroom. “Can you just look through it then stick it in the corner?” I motion to the place on the floor off to the side where other officers have allowed me to store the cumbersome object in the past. The two men stare at me like I’ve asked them if I have snot oozing out of my nostrils.

As neither Officer Sit nor Officer Stand make a move to take and examine it, I deposit the purse on their table next to their tiny plastic bucket and explain “There are screwdrivers in it. And I know I can’t bring those into the courtroom.” Now it seems I’ve told them my snot is radioactive.

They refuse to let me leave my as-yet-to-be-probed purse behind -- something about it being against a rule; one which, they inform me when I inquisitively press them, happens to have been made this very morning! Gee.

At this point Officer Sit opens my carryall and pokes around. It makes no sense why he’s bothering now since it’s clear that not only can’t I bring it in there, neither can it stay out here. The act does, however, instantly give me an idea. “Hey! While y’all go through the bag, ya know before you tell me I can’t take it in there, I’m just gonna check to see if the person I’m looking for is in the courtroom, mkay?” With that, I pass through the metal detector.

Obviously I don’t set it off. Though I guess Officer Stand isn’t expecting the silence because he concurrently moves to block my path once I’m through. This time it is I who searches their faces for radioactive snot.

I mean, I’ve made it a point to not only let the uniform-clad duo know about the contraband, but also that I do not want -- in any way, shape, or form -- to bring it, or even the container it’s in, inside the courtroom. The metal detector isn’t bleating that I’m concealing anything, let alone a weapon, therefore what the hell is the problem?

I justifiably ignore Officer Sit and Officer Stand, rotate the doorknob and peek at the courtroom. Every Law Enforcement member in the place fixes eyes on yours truly. As does Commonwealth Attorney Denise Lunsford -- who, by the way, moments earlier had taken the long route to get into the building just so she could say “hello” to little ol’ me. But I don’t spot the right person.

I let the portal shut, reverse through the security device, smile at the matched set, retrieve my belongings, and sashay away.

A short time later, I find out Lunsford and the rest of the court folks are all in a tizzy because OH MY GOD SHE WAS TRYING TO SNEAK SCREWDRIVERS INTO THE COURTROOM!

Sigh.

On the one hand, maybe, maybe, if these people didn’t treat others as badly as they do, they wouldn’t have all that pent-up paranoia. On the other hand, isn’t it absolutely hilaridiculous?