Excerpt...

Spent the day in Brest today. Lots of interestig things happened. But I am really tired right now and after sittig here for more thn an hour and not really being able to get my head into this, I am going to pass on this post untill tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, Check out this excerpt from the book: Being Had

Chapter 47
Warsaw; March 27th, through the 31st, 2003

On the day of what would be the final court session I met my new attorney for the first time and even in the court's corridor she refused to even speak to me. I knew that she had not read a word of the case, but I also knew that to her mind and to the whole of the justice system that this meant absolutely nothing. My absent translator showed up and apologized for not being at the last meeting. Her daughter was a diabetic and she had to give the insulin shots at a certain time of the day and that this is why she could not come. The court was going to fine her for not coming. It was going to be a lot of money. She looked into my eyes for sympathy and forgiveness.
Zaremba showed up and kept nervously to himself. There was a long period of time while we waited for the case to begin. My attorney and the translator were gabbing together across from the door to our courtroom. After a while Zaremba joined them and the three of them chatted amicably. I thought I was going to lose my breakfast. When I couldn't take it any more I went to Zaremba and asked if he spoke any English. My translator was standing just to his right.
“A little.” Is what he said.
“I just want to know once and for all why you hit me with your car.” He looked at me and said he didn’t understand. The translator said a few words in Polish. Before he had a chance to answer I went on: “Was it the money? Was it just a stupid traffic move? Did someone pay you? I just want to know why you did it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Pochemoo te mnye beet c cvoya samachodi?" This was a mix of Russian and Polish but it meant simply; Why did you hit me with your car? "Pochemmo? Bila dgenghi? Kto sprocile?" Why? Was it money? Who asked? His eyes flashed about and he smiled at my translator.
“I didn’t.” he said. He started talking quickly with his hands, demonstrating I suppose his final version of the traffic incident he had been telling about for nine months. I didn’t understand much of what he was saying except that it was all bullshit. I asked the translator how to say the world "lied" in Polish. .She told me and I interrupted Zaremba and said straight into his face that he had lied and now his daughter was a liar as well.
He started talking really quickly to the translator, begging her to see the reason behind the situation. It was all simply a mistake, an error in interpretation. I didn’t want to hear the sound of his voice any more and I didn't want to look at him. I walked away, down the corridor and around the corner and found a seat. I could hear him still explaining, still lying. Krzaczek followed and looked at me sitting there. I wondered if this little burst of truth had swayed her sympathy for me any. I doubted that it did though the expression on her face seemed to say that she understood.
The court fined my translator 300 zlotys for her absence and then went straight on to business. I was asked if there were any new witnesses or new evidence to submit. I said that I had. I had never shown my bike and mentioned that it was downstairs at this time. Zurawska told me that would not be necessary; motion denied. I offered that Drezek, Tatyana, several of the messengers and a friend who owned a bike shop had contributed statements on my behalf. I wanted these submitted to the courts as evidence of competency and experience in the field of bicycles. Zurawska told me that only oral testimonies would be accepted; motion denied. I explained that no one had told me that this would be the time for them to come. This drew a laugh from the judge as well as my attorney. I was advised that if I called them as witnesses and they were accepted, it would be a minimum of another month’s sitting. Most of the money I had gotten from teaching was now gone and logically, none of these people were eye witnesses and would only refer to character and details that I could show myself here in court. I let it go.
I was asked if I had any other motions. I asked them to recall Zaremba to the stand. I was told that this request would be denied on the grounds that the time for this had long passed.
“But he lied about everything.” I said, pointing my finger at Zaremba. This drew a laugh.
"Why am I not allowed to question again? If I have questions, why can't they be asked?"
"You are too late!" Zurowska said.
I said that I wanted to say something. The court said they were listening.
“I turned in three separate essays about his testimonies and I want them entered into the court record.” Zurowska repeated that only oral arguments were allowable. Motion denied.
I started to simply tell them about the lies and the stories. Zurowska stopped me asking if I have any new evidences.
“This is new evidence.”
“Do you have anything new to add?”
I started in again to point out the some of the inconsistencies and I was stopped again. New testimony would be limited only to moments of the altercation.
"But these are about the incident. False evidence is is evidence. Purgery is evidence. False charger are evidence.
I was silenced. They asked if I had any other motions. I asked to question Zaremba again and this motion was, again, denied.
“Why am I not allowed to defend myself?” I asked. Zurowska told me that if I didn’t settle down I would be removed from the court. She asked again if there were any more motions. I looked around at the courtroom. It was a nightmare. It was a nine-month long nightmare. There had never been any hope of reality. There wasn't anyone, anywhere in Poland who was interested. There was nothing else to do.
I asked that the case be closed. The secondary judge who told us she “good believed us” nodded her head as if to say this was a good thing to do and probably should have been said on the first day of the hearing.