She whiles away the day puffing gleefully in obvious disregard for the non-smoking policy of government offices. The smoke detector in her office has been dismantled in such a way as to expose the crawlspace above the detector's former installation point. It is dangling sadly from the ceiling suspended by a red wire.
On her bookcases are the various no smoking signs that have been given to her as gifts over the years. All of them sport a cigarette burn or two. Though I do not know how the burns were acquired, I like to imagine a scene in which the judge unwraps the gift, taking note of the no smoking sign. She smiles politely and puffs on a freshly lit Pal Mal to expose the cherry. Then in full view of all she dabs her cig out on the sign in a manner calculated to scar it. Then I imagine she says something quippy like "I'll take it under advisement," or "denied, with prejudice."
One of these no smoking signs has been turned into an ashtray. At one time a sturdy aluminum square, its corners have been hammered up to form a bowl. In the center of the bowl a two pronged ciggy fork has ben affixed, seemingly with some sort of apoxy. The words "no smoking" are clearly visible until the bowl fills with butts.
I just went in to deliver a draft opinion to the judge. We chatted about the document for a minute or two. I couldn't help but notice the smoke smell was stronger than usual. That was when I realized she had two cigarettes going at the same time, one on her lip, one in the tray. Yesterday evening, I noticed three empty packs in the trash.
The judge has a raspy cough that sounds much worse than she claims it is. She tries not to laugh too hard or drink too quickly for fear a coughing fit will start. In addition to the cigarette smoke, she often smells like cough drops. She coughs unnatural stuff up, some of it tinged red with blood.
About fifteen years ago she stopped smoking. Had it beat for almost seven years. I'm not sure why she started up again, but her addiction came back in full force and her appetite for nicotine has been on the increase ever since. Her children are at wits end with the smoking business. They beg and plead but to no avail. When they come to visit her at work, they never come empty handed. They bring her patches and gum and tapes full of music and subliminal anti-smoking messages.
Today the judge's son, Eli, called. "Yeah, hi Brian. Listen, this is her off week, right?"
"Yeah, she's got an easy week ahead."
"Ok good. I made an appointment with this place down the shore, this Meadow Grove place. Have you heard of it?"
"No. What's that?"
"It's basically a detox place for smokers. They have a really high success rate."
"That's great. Is the judge checking herself in?"
"Well, that's where it gets tricky. See, she's going in, but she doesn't know it yet."
"I'm sorry, Eli, I don't follow. How could she not know that?"
"Well that's where I need your help. I'd like to arrange to have the judge down on the parking level at about 2 tomorrow afternoon and then me and a guy from the clinic are gonna put her in a car and take her there. I've just been by the house and told the maid to quietly pack her a bag."
"I'm sorry, I guess I'm not following you. It sounds like you want me to help you nab the judge so you can deprogram her at some hospital."
"Yeah. That's basically it. But they don't use the word deprogram. They say it has negative connotations. They use detox."
"Oh. Well, I'm still back on the part in which I assist you in kidnapping a judge. That part."
"Just make something up to get her down to the parking garage. Tell her her car got damaged. A little parking lot ding. Tell her she needs to go inspect the damage."
"I've only been here a month, but I know that she only leaves her desk when she has to be in court and when she goes to the bathroom."
"Well, you gotta make up something. We'll never be able to take her straight from her chambers. Can you imagine? Dropping a burlap bag over a judge in her own chambers?"
"Hold please."
I shifted the call to Ellen. I told her what was up and what I was being asked to do. Ellen handled it by rolling her eyes and hanging up on Eli.
I'm torn. I'm not sure if I should tell the judge what just went down or not. I mean, what would I even say? "Hey judge. Might wanna hire a body guard to get you through the weekend." Would you tell? What would you say? Sign my guestbook and let me know. Any advice is welcome.
Posted at 12:59 p.m.
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