Cold granite walls encased the tiny gate into the courthouse…

She walked through the doors with head hung low – duly chastened as her bag is searched.

– embarrassed for the crime that brought her today

– prepared to endure the pain that is due

– marching up three flights of stairs as she does not feel worthy of an elevator

– she moves to the end of a long line of humanity awaiting justice to be doled out

– a clerk down the hall spots her… white face among the dark… the diamond in the rough…

The clerk coyly calls out the code …

“If you have a private attorney, please come to room 401!”

They all turn to her.

The all know who the clerk is calling…

– and she pauses

… then steps past the brown faces… the frightened eyes… the surrendered hope

– and her tears begin to flow

– and she shudders uncontrollably as she recognizes she is now walking the path she so despises…

– she becomes a white SUV slowly halting traffic along an LA highway with helicopter escort

– a slave owner walking to a fat dinner after a good day at the auction

– a man boarding a bus, barking at a frail woman to yield her seat

and she is escorted into the courtroom by her attorney.

She is the first to see the judge –

He smiles warmly and welcomes her

… and her sickness deepens.

She is granted probation…

for one year she must make a 1 minute phone call on her birth day.

The judge thinks he is setting her free…

but there could not be a worse punishment.