Law
of forfeiture a harbinger of future past
Reading
Chapter 59 of Title 1 of the Texas Code of Criminal Procedure as creative writing...
It's
a generation that grew up as felons. - Dr. Hunter S. Thompson,
Professor of Gonzo Journalism, once a candidate for Sheriff of Aspen,
Colorado
(Click
on the arrow below, and listen to Big Brother and the Holding Company
– loud – while you read this)
Waco
- The Society for Creative Anachronism had it going on.
Here
was this big, beefy porker dressed up in leotards and a funny
looking, floppy little velvet cap, his tunic bloused at the
shoulders, ruffles at his wrists and a sword and dagger dangling from
a belt girding his loins.
He
had by the hand a redheaded chick, her face powdered white as snow,
with pearls in her hair and two little girls holding the hem of her
skirt up out of the dust, and there were flautists, drummers and
trumpeters tagging along, flanked by armored footmen wearing padded
armor, bearing halberds and pikes.
“Prithee
– all draw nigh and speak well of the Queen!” he cried out loud.
With a sidelong and sinister look at the crowd, he glanced about with
a menacing brow raised under his beret, “And darest anyone speak
ill of the Queen?”
They
all responded immediately, speaking as one, “Nay, m'lord. Nay!”
That's
when they drew up in a semicircle, the backup singers blew the bugles
in fearsome alarum, the drummers banged on the bongos, and the
heavies with the sticks beat on their shields, their arms at port.
There,
in that pasture among the scrub oak and manzanita, one was
transported back to the hick cowtown old London must have been –
her grubby citizens and overdressed gentry pandering about the place
over just whose crotch they pulled some dame out of, and in what
order as to her brothers and sisters, while this bully sauntered
around threatening to take their property and cash, tools and homes.
“Silence!”
shouted the head badass. “The Sheriff of Nottingham is here to
inveigh in the name of the Queen. God Save the Queen!”
All the men bowed; all the women curtsied, and the kids raced around, wide-eyed and excited with all the noise and nonsense. Like kids always are, they were ON, Jack! In their eyes, it was as real as real can get while the Sheriff gave a long recital of the complete beneficence and nearly unbelievable munificence of the Virgin Queen, Elizabeth, her many accomplishments and victorious endeavors – kind of a spoken resumé.
As
Mr. Gershwin had written so eloquently, “It ain't necessarily so.”
And,
so, this exercise in total fla-hooey, a conceptual combination flea
market, bazaar, and exercise in alternative taxation - hand to hand -
began to take shape while the tourists gnawed at turkey legs, drank
beer from cups shaped like steer horns, and jugglers, gymnasts and
tumblers did their tricks among tables laden with handmade silver and
gold trinkets and baubles, native jade, blood coral, turquoise,
obsidian, opals, garments tailored in raw cotton and silk, leather
goods of all types, books, comics, posters, toys and oddly shaped
furniture hewn from burls of cedar and cypress.
But,
above all, lurking like an undercurrent, one was reminded of the
near-total tyranny masquerading as law and order while these heavies
gleefully relieved the folks of all the chump change in their coin
purses in the name of God, Country, Destiny – and all that jazz –
and the hip crowd of craftsmen and artisans dealt both above and
under the table, on and off the books, just trying to get by.
Good
schtick, even better street theater.
Showmanship
goes for something, for sure, for sure, and it goes a long way.
Meanwhile,
the folks doing the real deal were helping themselves to fleets of
Mercedes Benzes, entire encomiendas of prime acreage, millions
stashed in bank accounts far and wide, objects d'art, paintings,
furniture, houses – anything of value – and turning that golden
country, the land of the free and the home of the brave, into one big
old pawn shop on a chessboard where they played for blood, money, and
broken dreams. Just like old times.
It's
all as legal as the hawks on the quarters, and you don't have to be
guilty of anything particularly wrong – or even charged with a
crime – if you read the law carefully - very carefully.
What's
more, it can happen as quickly as you can say decree nà si, as in
damned if you don't, or invoke the kind of now for then doublethink
of the judgment nunc pro tunc.
You ought to see the definition of what is considered contraband. It goes on and on – and on - at Article 59.01 of the Code.(click here to read the law)
Those
deeds?
They'll
get to all that later, but for now, the funds are frozen, the deed is
encumbered, the title is revoked and the assets have been seized - in
the name of the law.
The
cash is placed in escrow, the cars, tools, and other goods in
storage, the deeds of the real property encumbered, and we're off the
races, in which the – ah, well, you know – the subject of the
investigation may enter a suit of replevin to recover his property -
if he can show it was taken unlawfully - but, in any case, the matter
is carried out by the criminal prosecutor under the rules of civil
procedure.
That
means the criminal prosecutor need only show unto the Court by a
preponderance of the evidence that the assets seized and then
forfeited were contraband and should be retained by the People of the
State of – whatever.
Bit
of a sticky wicket, doing all that from a jail cell where all phone
calls are made collect at rates anywhere from 5 to 20 times the going
rate charged a free man or woman, and all the mail is opened and
read.
Should
have thought about all that before – ah, well, whatever.
“It
is the intention of the legislature that asset forfeiture is remedial
in nature and not a form of punishment...On final judgment of
forfeiture, the attorney representing the state shall dispose of the
property in the manner required...”
It's
the law. So saith Art. 59.05(e) of the Texas Code of Criminal
Procedure.
At
any rate, the funds thus obtained are divided between the
prosecutors, the cops, the courts and other governmental entities,
and recorded as available funds for certain purposes come budget
time.
And
that, dear hearts, is what all the fuss is about at the McLennan
County Courthouse.
Stand by for the fireworks. The item is on the Commissioners Court Agenda for Tuesday morning – again - under “Items Deferred,” for, like, the past couple of weeks.
Sheriff Larry Lynch let the Court know he has the money; he recorded $50,000 in forfeiture funds for “personal services” on May 8.(click here to read a previous report)
So does this mean that Lynch will cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadings, and call off Christmas?
ReplyDeleteBy Jove, you've nailed it, old man. Come again, early and often - we'll leave the light on for you. - The Legendary, reporting from the Rockhewn Memorial Jail Cell Suite-on-the-Brazos at Wacko, Texas... etc.
ReplyDeleteLook at the website for Sheriff Bell county and look at Sheriff Lynch,looks like Bell county got less officers and a better department.
ReplyDeleteIt's all about priorities. Lynch's priority is to document crimes then act as a clearing house for the cases to give to other departments. That's what administrators do, because they've never personally worked a case, so they don't know what to do with them other then give them to someone who does. That's why I voted for the lawman over the administrator, to cut out the middle man.
ReplyDelete