“Remember that time I bailed you out of jail?”

“… well now I need a favor.”

Frank Jagear is a friend of mine. This week he was at a courthouse, waiting to be arrested on a warrant.

The story goes that he was pulled over by a traffic policeman for going too fast on the interstate. Being Frank, he decided to challenge the ticket (simply because it’s statistically better odds). The officer scheduled his court date for the following month.

January rolled around and Frank forgot all about it. Then, when he realized what was up, he asked one of his cop-friends what would happen. The cop said that Frank probably had a bench warrant out for his arrest.

Frank shows up at my work that day and asks me for a favor. We look up information about bench warrants and call the courthouse asking for our options.

It does not look good.

Having a bench warrant means that the next time a police officer checks his identification, Frank is going to jail. Which, if you know my friend, is a highly likely scenario.

We decide to investigate further.

We go to the courthouse and I walk in, asking to file a motion to quash a bench warrant on behalf of Frank Jagear.

They refuse, saying he must come down himself, which sets my bullshit detector awry.

I call them liars and they give me a sheet of paper with several blank lines and a direction. Apparently I have to fill out the motion myself.

I rejoin Frank and we plan our next action.

The next day I had class all day (and Frank slept in), so we didn’t do anything.

The day after that we decide we’re too old to challenge the system and that we just want to pay everything off and get it done with. We drive to my bank, where I cash my final scholarship check and keep $1000 cash on me, just in case.

We drive to the courthouse and walk in.

Frank waits in line and asks to pay for ticket, the bench warrant fee, and the bail money all in one go, hoping not to have to go to jail.

Ha ha. This is America, buddy, if you’re poor and honest, you get screwed.

The clerk calls security and Frank is made to sit down in a table while we wait for confirmation that there is, in fact, a warrant out for his arrest.

The man next to us is suffering the same fate.

“Did you murder anyone?” the Warrant Officer asks the man next to us, upon hearing confirmation of his warrant.

“No.”

…

“Well, he had a gun, and I had a knife… and I tripped into him.”

I look at Frank. He looks back and mentions that he is the captain of a fire department, hoping to appeal to their better parts.

No luck.

“Did you used to work at NMSU Fire?”

A strange man asks.

“Yes, for two years.”

Frank replies.

“I’m thinking of a name…”

“Corona.”

“That’s the one.”

But still no confirmation on the bench warrant. Apparently, the Bench Warrant says ‘Frank Jagear Frank’ instead of just ‘Frank Jagear.’

While waiting, the man who didn’t murder anyone is escorted to a police car and the man who asked Frank about the fire department speaks to the warrant officer who decides to just let Frank pay off the warrant here.

Forty-five minutes later (literally), we walk out, free. Frank has a new court date to appeal the bench warrant and my pocket feels $550 lighter, but all is well.

We drive to an Italian restaurant to celebrate. On the way we pass an accident. It seems as if the Warrant Officer who was going to arrest Frank had gotten into a crash.

… just another episode in the life of Pixel Q. Styx.

“… well now I need a favor.” Frank Jagear is a friend of mine. This week he was at a courthouse, waiting to be arrested on a warrant. The story goes that he was pulled over by a traffic policeman for going too fast on the interstate. Being Frank, he decided to challenge the ticket…