Autobiographical Writing
“Court please stand.”
I almost couldn’t do it, my knees were weak, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I glanced nervously to Luke and Ria who had come along for support, their faces summed up my feelings; despair and helplessness.
“Please state your name and current address.” The judge spat down from her plinth.
I mumbled my way through it, my nerves were very apparent in the faltering of my voice as if it were about to break.
The charges were read out, 8 offences in total. This was my 3rd appearance in court as it had been adjourned twice already while further interviews were conducted and further evidence collected. I knew this time I was going to get sentenced but had been reassured by my lawyer that I was “unlikely” to face jail time as it was my first offence. “Unlikely” is not what you want to hear and I genuinely thought I was going to be sick.
To each charge I had to enter a plea.
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
By the third I was getting annoyed by this formality so interrupted the Centenier. “Your Honour, I plead guilty to all the charges.”
My attempt to garner favour with honesty did not go as expected and the Judge gave me a scornful look while the Centenier kept reading. I could see my lawyer shaking their head in the distance. Bollocks.
A great deal of back and forth then occurred between my lawyer and the prosecutor. All the while I was stuck in the docks, unable to speak and feeling like my life and future was in the hands of this stranger representing me.
It’s May the 26th, 3 months earlier. The sun is out and it’s a perfect day for a ride. My bike is sat in the garage tempting me to take it out even though it’s prepared for the hill climb in the coming weeks and far from road legal.
“Fuck it.” I need the practice and to get a feel for her after all the changes I had made over winter in preparation for the upcoming season. I quickly threw on my leathers, mixed up the oil and petrol and filled her
I almost couldn’t do it, my knees were weak, and my stomach was doing somersaults. I glanced nervously to Luke and Ria who had come along for support, their faces summed up my feelings; despair and helplessness.
“Please state your name and current address.” The judge spat down from her plinth.
I mumbled my way through it, my nerves were very apparent in the faltering of my voice as if it were about to break.
The charges were read out, 8 offences in total. This was my 3rd appearance in court as it had been adjourned twice already while further interviews were conducted and further evidence collected. I knew this time I was going to get sentenced but had been reassured by my lawyer that I was “unlikely” to face jail time as it was my first offence. “Unlikely” is not what you want to hear and I genuinely thought I was going to be sick.
To each charge I had to enter a plea.
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
By the third I was getting annoyed by this formality so interrupted the Centenier. “Your Honour, I plead guilty to all the charges.”
My attempt to garner favour with honesty did not go as expected and the Judge gave me a scornful look while the Centenier kept reading. I could see my lawyer shaking their head in the distance. Bollocks.
A great deal of back and forth then occurred between my lawyer and the prosecutor. All the while I was stuck in the docks, unable to speak and feeling like my life and future was in the hands of this stranger representing me.
It’s May the 26th, 3 months earlier. The sun is out and it’s a perfect day for a ride. My bike is sat in the garage tempting me to take it out even though it’s prepared for the hill climb in the coming weeks and far from road legal.
“Fuck it.” I need the practice and to get a feel for her after all the changes I had made over winter in preparation for the upcoming season. I quickly threw on my leathers, mixed up the oil and petrol and filled her