The ordeal began earlier this year on my way to ride my mountain bike in the boonies. On this particular day, the California Highway Patrol took issue with my alleged rate of closure on the boonies. I decided to fight. Here's how it all went down.
January 29, 2002: Initial Traffic StopThis was the simplest part of the whole mess. Officer B. Lee stopped me, claiming his radar gun read 69 mph as we passed. The speed limit on the road in question is 55 mph. Simple enough. I must be speeding. Lee was polite and efficient. He wrote the ticket, there was little discussion on the scene and we both went our separate ways.
In the weeks following the stop, I thought it over. My speed is really irrelevant. I hadn't had a good old-fashioned knock-down, drag-out with the state recently. So I secured an attorney and called the National Motorists Association to rent its legal defense kit. Then the courtesy notice listing my options arrived from the state.
First, I was eligible for traffic school, therefore I could pay the $138 traffic school fee, go to traffic school and forget the whole thing. If I chose to attend traffic school, the offense would never go on my record. This is the state's secret weapon. The coffers are filled when the state extorts extra dollars from alleged speeders with promises of no points on their record and no insurance premium increases. Or, I could pay the $87 bail, take the points on my record and risk the insurance rate hike.
In tiny print at the bottom of the notice were the directions to appear in court before a judge. Nowhere does the courtesy notice explain how to plead not guilty. It does, however, list numerous payment options. Alleged violators can choose what they pay for (traffic school or bail), how much they want to pay (in my case $87 or $138) and in what form they make payment. But choose not to pay, and things get tricky.
I chose not to pay.
Then I called the number on the notice and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, after 12 voice mail prompts, entering my citation number, my initials, and the date of the citation, I reached an actual person. She told me I could see the clerk at the courthouse to plead not guilty.
Perfect.
February 27, 2002: First Courthouse VisitThe Central Justice Center doesn't smell like justice. I wormed my way through the crowds, the metal detector and the man barking unnecessary instructions at the door and found the clerk's office. I waited in line. And waited. And waited.
Eventually, I reached a clerk who did a lot of typing. I pled not guilty. She informed me that the balance on my case was still $87 and told me about the many ways to pay. For my convenience, there was even an ATM on site, or they could take my credit card or a money order.
Shortly thereafter, I met with my attorney and began to design a defense. I submitted a written request to the clerk for a copy of the citation since mine was illegible and I requested copies of the calibration records of the radar gun used to calculate my speed and the officer's training records. At the same time, I requested and was granted an extension of the court date to give myself time to prepare. Then things got complicated.
The clerk could only produce a copy of the citation. For the calibration and training records, I'd have to go to the highway patrol. However, in the letter informing me of this I was again given the option to pay the bail amount or opt for traffic school and pay an additional $51. Apparently, they still thought I would give them my money.
For the subpoena to the highway patrol, I used my attorney. He submitted a request for a second continuance since the highway patrol didn't have time to prepare the requested information before the next court date. With this continuance granted, we were finally scheduled to appear in court on July 8.