You Don't Have to Live Like This
“There was a motion hearing, to determine admissible evidence, and I went along to see what everyone had to say. The Frank Murphy Hall of Justice looks a little like a parking garage built in the 1970s, concrete with horizontal windows and those broad courthouse steps you need in the movies, to show the defendant tumbling down them into freedom or trapped halfway up by reporters.
Inside the place was done up in brown and beige. Everything was carefully coordinated, brown tables and chairs, beige... walls, brown carpeting, nothing that shows stains. I guess the idea is to depress people into submission. The judge was an overweight black woman; her accent ranged from sonorous to nitpicky. A placard on the table in front of her had her name on it: Judge Liz Westinghouse. It seemed funny to me that she used her nickname—I tried to work out what that meant. Maybe her full name didn’t fit. But she had also clearly acquired what the self-improvement gurus try to sell you, strength of personality.MoreLess
Inside the place was done up in brown and beige. Everything was carefully coordinated, brown tables and chairs, beige... walls, brown carpeting, nothing that shows stains. I guess the idea is to depress people into submission. The judge was an overweight black woman; her accent ranged from sonorous to nitpicky. A placard on the table in front of her had her name on it: Judge Liz Westinghouse. It seemed funny to me that she used her nickname—I tried to work out what that meant. Maybe her full name didn’t fit. But she had also clearly acquired what the self-improvement gurus try to sell you, strength of personality.MoreLess
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