This represents what I’ve been up to for the past five days or so. Long nights, little sleep, and lots of coffee.

Monday I spent the morning at the Baltimore County courthouse as a witness against the fellow who broke into the Honda and stole my iPod. The subpoena said 8:30 so I got there on time, but then realized half the shit in my backpack would set every alarm in the building off, so I had to run back and empty it in my trunk. (in hindsight, I should have just left the whole thing there). The courtrooms have as much personality as a sheet of drywall. Apart from the judge’s perch, hard wooden pew-like benches, and all-weather carpeting, there is nothing else to look at; no windows, artwork, or embellishment. I sat and waited through a dozen or so cases: A father of three had been in jail for 40 days for stealing four newspapers. A kid from Essex was popped for driving on a suspended license for the fourth time. A confused man who spoke no english listened as the proceedings went on around him. As far as I could gather, he had touched a 15-year-old girl inappropriately. He muttered to the DA through an interpreter as the girl and her family glared at him from the far side of the room.

I spent the first half hour wondering which of the rough-looking gentlemen they brought in would be my nemesis. It turned out it was none of them; I had to wait until the third batch filed in sullenly before he was called. It turned out he is a schizophrenic who hasn’t had a job in twelve years, who lives with his mother, and who has a rap sheet longer than my arm. The judge patiently listened to the case, was made aware there was a witness in the room, and then offered him a choice: three years in prison or admittance to a program for mentally ill recidivists. While I wasn’t happy the guy had stolen stuff from my neighbors, I was glad they didn’t just throw him in the clink and forget about him. I hope he and his mother get some help.