It was early on the morning of Thursday, May 20th. After only three hours of sleep, I rose from my bed, ready to take on what would become one of the largest battles of my life…

Okay, that’s a bit melodramatic. It may not have been my largest battle ever, but dang it was fun! I got dressed quickly, pulling on my most appropriate spring “legalesque” suit (white suit jacket fitted perfectly around the curves, white silk shell underneath, and a black mid-calf length skirt), and set to work applying make-up. Everything, right down to my choice of eyeshadow hues, was aimed toward one goal: the element of surprise. Surely no one would expect a thorough thrashing in the court room from a nineteen year old girl in pink lipstick.

What was my court room strategy for? Something altogether serious and life-altering… a speeding ticket. Not only was it my first, but I believed it was unjustified. And my aim was to see that justice was served.

I’m afraid that court room didn’t know what was coming to it. Was I perhaps taking out years of pent up frustration on an innocent traffic court, the left-overs of a messed up and unjust malpractice suit spilling out on the city of Manassas Park? If that was the case, so be it; that police officer who gave me that shady ticket, he deserved what was coming to him. And by heavens, I was going to be ready for him. Staying up far too late the night before, I was preparing everything I possibly could to counteract any possible rebuttal from the officer or the judge. I had photos, I had a written statement, I had detailed information and measurements of where I allegedly sped, I even got a satellite photo of the intersection from the US Geological Survey. I may have been awake until 3:30am, but I was ready. I was a rifle; locked, loaded, and ready to fire. And pink.

I had to drive an hour to the city of Manassas Park to be on time for the 9:00am docket at the Manassas judicial center. I was on time, and as I sauntered through Security, I asked one of the guards where Court Room 4 was located. As he was kindly giving me directions, another guard peered around a corner and began to laugh. He pointed at a very large piece of foam-core board I was carrying, with my aerial photo tacked onto it. He exclaiming, “You brought a visual aide! In all my years here, I’ve never seen *anyone* bring a visual aide… what’s it for?” When I told him it was for a speeding ticket I didn’t deserve, his laughter became louder and all the more belly-tumbling. As the elevator doors closed behind me, he said, “Let me know if you get off!”

With that jocular encouragement, all doubts were erased from my mind. I was fully prepared, I knew what I was going to say, and I knew I had them. The facts were behind me, and justice would prevail. Or dang it, someone was going to hear an earful if I got messed over by this system twice. But, of course, the system had other plans. If it couldn’t mess me over justice-wise, it could at least make me sit on a hard wooden pew for two and a half hours as other cases in the docket were sorted according to plea.

At long last, after many expired registration cases, a couple DUIs, and even one irrate man who had to be forcefully removed from the court room, I finally had my turn on the floor. My name was called, I rose from my seat, and I approached the defendant’s table. I officially entered my plea of “Not Guilty”, then the police officer was allowed to make a statement.


He read from his notes, a row of nearly a dozen other police officers seated on a bench behind him. He stated that on the fifteenth day of March, he witnessed a black BMW 318i going at a speed of 38mph in a 25mph zone on Euclid Avenue. He presented the calibration certificate for his radar, and then said he was done. The judge then turned to me and said that I was allowed to question the police officer. The pink lipstick facade was about to be wiped away.

Very calmly, I turned toward the police officer. Standing with the best posture I could muster, and in my most professional voice, I said to the officer, “Were you correct, as you stated at the time you issued the ticket, that you were parked in front of 8503 Euclid Avenue?” He answered exactly was I wished he would, with a clear and simple, “Yes.” Hoping to trap him in his own words, I led him further on: “Could you please tell the court where exactly you were parked in that parking lot?”

“I was parked,” he said, gesticulating with his hands, “parallel to Euclid Avenue, as close to the road as possible.”

Time to pounce. I fixed him with as cool a stare as I could muster and said, “Are you aware, sir, that that is an illegal parking space?”

The police officers seated behind him began to snigger, even the sheriff of the court tried to stifle her laughter. The police officer in question – let’s call him Officer Michaels – began to fumble, his eyes darting around the room. “Umm… uhh… no.”


For some reason, he failed to understand my final question. I said, “Can you explain to us please, Officer Michaels, in which direction my car was facing at the time you issued the ticket, in relation to which direction I was facing when I first passed through the intersection of Manassas Drive and Euclid Avenue.” What I wanted him to explain was that I was about to enter the intersection for the second time, as I had just executed a U-turn. But he seemed unable to understand the question, so I simply withdrew it and ended my questioning.

At that point, I was allowed to tell my side of the story. Up until this point, I had cleverly hidden all of my photographic evidence, including my satellite photo. Instantly, I whipped out the foam-core board with the illustration of the intersection (which you can see here, if you want to follow along.) It was at this point, upon revealing my satellite map of the intersection in question, that several of the prosecuting attorneys who lined the walls of the court room began to mutter. I heard a distinct, “Holy shit!” come from my left, along with another voice saying, “Someone should hire this girl.” My Mother also informed me later that the man seated in front of her turned and asked her, “Who is that?!” My Mother simply smiled and replied, “You never, ever want to make her angry.”

Using two color-coded lines illustrated on the map – the red representing my route, the blue representing the only possible route taken by Officer Michaels – I clearly explained the events of the day in question. I had been lost, I was looking for a car dealership. I was in the left-hand lane. I was trying to go into the right hand lane to enter the very parking lot where Officer Michaels claimed to have been parked, but I was prevented from doing so when a black Honda Accord sped past me and ran a red light. I was forced to slow down even more and stop at the red light, scanning the intersection for the best possible way to turn around and get back to that parking lot.


I went through the intersection of Manassas Drive and Euclid Avenue, quickly executing a U-Turn only a few seconds after passing through the insection. Immediately after completing the U-turn and entering the left-turn bay of the intersection, Officer Michaels pulled up behind me.

But bear this in mind – Officer Michaels did not follow me through the intersection. Instead, he approached my car from the exit of a 7-11 parking lot, located on the opposite corner from the parking lot where Officer Michaels later claimed to have been parked. Having not followed me through the intersection, that left only one other possible route that Officer Michaels could have taken – a journey over three times the distance of my route. I proved concretely that it was absolutely impossible for Officer Michaels to have tagged my car from where he said he did, because he simply couldn’t have made it from point A to point B in the allotted time.

But I didn’t stop there. Oh no. I examined the parking lot as well, just in case somehow Officer Michaels could prove that he had a police car that could defy the laws of time and space. Using the satellite photo from the US Geological Survey, I measured the distance from the parking lot to where my car was located when I was allegedly speeding. I calculated that there was only one possible parking space where he could have possibly scanned me at the specified distance of 362.2 feet. The only problem was, that parking space was blocked by a rather substantial hill. Clearly, the only thing his radar could have possibly scanned – had he been parked in that space at all – would have been the hill. (Somehow his car that defies time and space also lives in a galaxy where grass travels at 38mph.)

The only problem was, that’s not where he said he was parked. So what of that distance of 362.2 feet that he wrote down on the speeding ticket? Well, as I illustrated on the map, the only allowable distance of 362.2 feet would have placed his scan directly in the right-hand lane – that same lane where I was overtaken by that black Honda Accord. All other possible directions for that radar gun would have been blocked by a very large bush. He had scanned the black Honda, and instead placed the blame on me.

Having disproven his ability to both scan my car and adequately give chase, I had one more issue with Officer Michaels. Why was he driving so erratically? Once again turning to my map, I illustrated quite clearly that Officer Michaels had two opportunities to follow me directly, but he for some reason chose not to take advantage of either. Firstly, if he had indeed scanned me from the parking lot, he could have pulled out directly behind my car and followed me through the intersection. He didn’t. Instead, he went the long way, approaching the intersection from Manassas Drive rather than Euclid Avenue. But again, at that intersection, he could have turned right on Euclid Avenue and still had some slim chance of catching me.

Instead, he didn’t follow me directly, he went through the intersection, turned right into the parking lot of a 7-11, and then happened by some strange stroke of luck, to catch me as I did a u-turn. Funny, because if he had intended to follow me in the first place – even forgiving the two missed opportunities – there’s no way he would have been able to follow me from the 7-11 parking lot. If I had not done that u-turn, he would not have been able to pursue me from the 7-11 because he himself was blocked from making a left turn out of that parking lot! He would have had to go into the intersection for a second time, do a u-turn, and follow me further south on Euclid Avenue. Therefore, he had successfully ignored three potential routes of pursuit. If he had truly scanned my car from where he claimed he had, if he had truly intended to issue me that ticket, then his behavior clearly says otherwise, discrediting his prior statements.

Once I had finished my side of the story, the Judge’s mouth was wide open in shock, the sheriff was still trying to stifle her laughter, and Officer Michaels was being poked and prodded by sniggering colleagues. The judge asked if I would like to call forth any witnesses. I called my Mother forward, asked her a few quick questions, verifying that we had not been followed by Officer Michaels, and that she had indeed witnessed him pull out of the 7-11 parking lot. After those questions, she returned to her seat, and I said that my case rested.

At length, the Judge said, “Well, I’m not even sure if I understand all of your evidence, but you have certainly proven that you deserve the benefit of the doubt. I’m dismissing the charges, and I hope that you have a clean record.”

It was so hard to contain my pure, unadulterated glee! His statement had been so significant – every case prior to mine, in every instance, the Judge had always asked to see the defendant’s record. He didn’t even look at mine, yet he dismissed my case immediately. No fines to pay, nothing on my record. I’d won! Not only that, but I had slaughtered my opponant, given him that thorough thrashing. And oh how I wish I could be a fly on the wall back at that station when Officer Michaels is ribbed by his fellow officers for being castrated in the court room by a nineteen year old girl in pink lipstick.

Once I exited the court room, several people in the hallways were smiling, laughing, and a few even gave me the thumbs up. I felt lighter than air – my heart was still pounding, but I wanted to jump around the hallway, shouting my victory at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t help but laugh as my Mother repeated, “Are you aware, sir, that that is an illegal parking space?” Everything was laughter, smiles, and absolute, 100% victory.

I drove home in pride that day. I drank a celebratory root beer. The satellite photo is still leaning up against the wall of my room, and every time I see it, I’m filled with pride at my accomplishments. Not only did I get my case dismissed, but I conquered traffic court, I enduced a district attorney to a pair of expletives, but most importantly of all, justice was served. And it was served with a side of Kick-Butt. Mmm, tasty.