Falsely Accused by Robert Tanenbaum

all he was going to get. Pruitt was dressed in his honest, somewhat ill-fitting, workingman’s best suit, in dark blue, with a white shirt and a red striped tie He had heavy black lace-ups on his feet. His hair, cut in humble, honest, Italian-barbershop style, was combed flat with water.
    A court officer yelled out a docket number and Pruitt’s name and the charge. Pruitt and his lawyer stepped in front of the judge’s presidium. Marlene’s heart sank further when she saw who was representing the People of New York. She didn’t know him, of course. The turnover in the lower reaches of the Criminal Courts Bureaus was too great to make this at all likely, but she had hoped at least that Luisa had been able to talk one of the more senior people into taking an interest. She pushed forward and touched the A.D.A.’s arm. He was a weedy kid with a mottled nose, a moderate Jewish afro, and thick glasses marked with fingerprints, who obviously wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up but was still struggling with the basics. “Excuse me? I’m Marlene Ciampi, I used to work here. You’re on the Pruitt case? Did Luisa Beckett talk to you about this one?”
    â€œBeckett? Oh, yeah, she called. I haven’t been able to get back to her yet. Sorry, I’m real busy now.”
    He turned to find out what was going on, at the same time wrestling the half dozen case folders he was carrying so as to float the instant case to the surface.
    The judge was saying, “You’re charged with burglary and assault, and criminal contempt in that you’ve violated the terms of a protective order. How do you plead?”
    â€œGuilty, Your Honor,” said Pruitt, then added, “With an explanation.”
    The judge shot him a sharp look. “This is not traffic court, sir. You stand accused of serious felonies.”
    â€œI love her, Your Honor. I’ve loved her for years. I know I shouldn’t have gone in there. I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to see her.”
    The judge resumed a stern look. “Well, she didn’t want to see you. That’s why there’s a protective order. You still want to plead guilty? You understand what it means?” He looked at the defense lawyer. “Does he understand what a guilty plea means?”
    The lawyer assured that the consequences of such a plea had been explained in detail to Mr. Pruitt.
    â€œOkay, let’s dispose of this right here. Do the People intend to prosecute these felonies?”
    â€œUm …” said the People, shuffling his notes. The judge refocused his stern look on him. “Was the girl hurt? What was the nature of this assault?”
    â€œI would never hurt Carrie!” cried Pruitt.
    â€œQuiet, you!” said the judge. To the People, “Well?”
    â€œNo, Your Honor, the complaint says he stroked her hair. And her arm.”
    The judge snorted and looked down at Pruitt. “Stroking, huh? Mister, don’t you know stroking is bad for your health?”
    Polite titters. The judge grinned and addressed the People. “Okay, let’s say, criminal trespass, assault in the third degree, and the contempt, I’d say that was good for about a year, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œUm, yeah, I mean, yes, sir, Your Honor,” said the People. Marlene could only with difficulty stifle her shout of protest. They were dropping all the charges to misdemeanors, a common method of disposing of cases in the Criminal Courts. She knew what was coming next.
    â€œAnd I’m going to suspend that sentence and give you three years’ probation,” the judge continued. “I assume that’s agreeable?”
    The defense lawyer’s head had started nodding as soon as the word “suspend” had first danced upon the air, and it kept on bobbing.
    â€œOkay, Mr. Pruitt,” said the judge, “I want you to stay away from this girl. If I see you