I had planned to use the space this month to write a "year in review" piece, updating readers on all the goings-on in varmint County over the past twelve months, but the tragic shooting out in Arizona brought my mind around to our own politicians here at home and our little controversy regarding courthouse security.
Actually, the term "courthouse security" has always been more or less a misnomer in Varmint County, a place where citizens from age eight to eighty have a long tradition of going armed at all times. The National Rifle Association and all the other so-called "gun nuts" who have advocated for the right to bear arms may well have taken their cue from our humble little community, which has a remarkably low rate of gun-related violence.
You don't draw a bead on somebody when the odds are, that particular somebody is not only prepared, but eager to shoot back. Alcohol, predictably, results in most of the gunshot incidents hereabouts, generally occurring in the home during bouts of domestic dispute or in the parking lots of bars.
Seldom does anyone pull a gun inside bars around here for a very good reason. To own a drinking establishment in Varmint County requires a certain level of toughness - generally the meanest hombre in the bar is the proprietor. Corney "Little Poison" Haig is a good example. Owner of the Dead Rat Tavern, Corney is commonly considered the second meanest man in the county, surpassed in cold-hearted killer instinct only by his pappy, Elijah "Big Poison" Haig.
The Dead Rat has a sign over the bar that reads, "Loafers will be beaten, brawlers will be shot, shooters will be castrated." Early on, Corney showed the seriousness of his threat by shooting a couple of fellows in the posterior while they were pummeling each other. A couple of months later, Quint McClaren pulled a gun on Corney and was promptly conked on the head with a 45-ounce Louisville Slugger and dragged into the back room.
Quint vanished from Varmint County but one of the Pinetar boys swears he ran into him over in Burrville. "I had to look twice before I recognized him 'cause he had this high-pitched voice, didn't sound at all like Quint," Toby Pinetar recalled.
But I digress. The point is, nobody much worried about courthouse security until a disgruntled husband halfway across the state took aim at a Sessions Court judge and his ex-wife's lawyer right in the courtroom, with tragic results. Next thing you know, the State Supreme Court ordered that all courthouses improve security for "members of the judiciary and other officers of the court."
"We don't have much money in the budget, but I'll do what I can," County Judge Hugh Ray Jass told Criminal Court Judge "Hard Time" Harwell.
"Hell, you know I'm not worried about it, Hugh, I've always provided my own security," Hard Time replied, lifting his robe to display two fully loaded .44 magnums strapped to his waist. "But some of those wimpy circuit judges from Burr County want to feel protected."
Varmint County's response to the order for increased security was to install bullet-proof plates behind the judge's benches in both courtrooms. "If anyone pulls out a shooting iron, the judge can hunker down behind the bench until the Sheriff's deputies take care of the problem," Colonel Hugh Ray pointed out. "That's the best we can do until the next budget is passed."
That was all the security that Varmint County provided for the next six years, right on until Hugh Ray retired, through the term of Joe Bob Biggs and until Clyde Filstrup Junior assumed the office of County Judge last year.
One of the first surprises that poor Clyde faced on taking the oath of office was a notice from the Federal District Court, putting the county on notice that the jail failed to meet federal standards.
"Just what I need," Clyde told his less than sympathetic father. "One week in office and this federal judge tells me if we don't build a new jail, he's going to take over our county and order us to add a five million dollar jail to the budget."
"You were on the county commission that voted down Sheriff Smoky's request and Sheriff Potts' request for money to upgrade the old jail, Junior. Matter of fact, I seem to recall that you led the opposition to spending the money. What was it you said, `Jailbirds can sleep in a nest, they don't need beds?'" Doc Filstrup chuckled. "Looks like the jailbirds have come home to roost."
So, first the squires met and after much hand wringing, agreed to borrow enough money on a 20-year bond to build a new $6 million jail. A month later, the State Supreme Court landed on Varmint County as well, ordering increased courthouse security to include metal detectors at the main entrance, closing side entrances to the public and hiring a half dozen retired deputies to man the security gates and patrol the courthouse.
This set off a tremendous wail among the public, as citizens just wanting to renew a license plate, make an alimony payment or check a property tax map found themselves forced to leave their precious firearms in their vehicles and be subjected to a metal detector. The squires were even more enraged when they saw the $200,000 bill for all the increased security.
"We just need to expand this new jail into a justice center and move all the courtrooms, judge's offices and lawyers in with the convicts," Squire "Little Hair" Pennywell argued. "Then we can open the rest of the county offices back up without all the security mumbo-jumbo. Getting in to do business with the county is as bad as trying to get on an airplane."
And so the architects were brought back in and asked to re-design the new jail to include the entire judicial system. The bill for such an expansion left the county commission wringing its collective hands, however.
"I don't care how much trouble folks have getting through the security points, the county can't afford a $10 million justice center, Chairman Belinda Bandit pointed out. "We just need to build the jail and be done with it."
As a result, the squires voted instead to simply remodel the existing jail to accommodate the overcrowding problem, and delay the inevitable, but it wasn't that simple to get out of a tight spot.
"I just had a meeting with Chancery Court Judge Colbert McCurdle from over in Burrville. He says that he's going to order extra security for the judge's parking areas and a private, secure entrance for judges and the DA's office," Junior Filstrup announced at the monthly commission meeting.
"How much will that cost?" Little Hair asked.
About another $100,000 or so plus two more security guards," Clyde Junior replied.
That was the last straw for most squires, They voted 14-1 to ask the county's architects to design the justice center combining jail and courtrooms and come up with a price tag.
The next month, the architectural firm of Baggins, Cockle and Sweeny presented its plans and cost estimate.
"We calculate the justice center will cost approximately $12 million," Herman Cockle reported.
"Two months ago it was only going to cost $10 million," Belinda Bandit protested. Where did that extra two million dollars come from?"
"Costs for construction have skyrocketed in the past month," Herman pointed out. "All wallboard made in China has been rejected because it contains at least seventeen toxic substances, and the domestic product is much more costly. Also, all the finance companies that handled our county bonds have gone out of business and it's going to cost ten percent more to borrow the money."
"Go back to the drawing board, boys, and come up with a revised design that only cost the $10 million you estimated at first, or you'll never get our approval," Belinda advised.
And so this past Monday, the county commission at last approved a plan for a new justice center that will cost only $9.6 million, separate the judges and courts from county offices and provide nearly 100 new beds for the jail.
"I'm actually very amazed that the architects were able to find that much that could be shaved and still meet the letter of the law," Doc Filstrup told Hard Time Harwell at the weekly poker gathering.
"Well, it's not so amazing when you look carefully at the plans," Hard Time observed dryly, but I'm not so sure Judge McCurdle or District Attorney Calvin J. Colvin are going to be amused."
"Why's that?" lawyer McSwine asked.
"Well, the DA and judge's offices are down in cellblock B, right next to the drunk tank," Hard Time replied. "They wanted a secure space and I can't think of any place more secure than being behind bars."
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