Note: This entry ended up being a bit long so it has been cut into two entries. The next entry will be posted later today.
When I was five you could have asked me what justice was and I would have been able to give you a cut and dry answer. It wouldn’t have been exactly Webster’s version, but it would have been simple. Justice is when the good guys catch the bad guys. Cops vs. Robbers. The good guys always win and the bad guys get what they deserve.
I wish I could continue using this definition today but I’m not so naive anymore.
I’ll skip the long story and give you the short version: My dad was hurt while working and then couldn’t continue working as a mechanic anymore. We had a small side business of a fireworks store that we had to expand as a central business. The permit was only $50 at that time and we could afford it.
Fast forward four years. I had just graduated high school and money problems were making college seem a lot farther away. We still had the fireworks store but there was an added issue: Thanks to the economic wisdom of our dear Governor Rendell, that $50 permit now cost $5000 dollars.
What were we to do?
A plan was devised between my dad and a man from the state (who won’t be named). The man agreed that we could pay the permit fee after our busy season (June to early July) because then we would be able to pay it. There, that was settled and everything looked just peachy.
On July 3rd, 2007, things stopped looking so peachy.
On that day, my dad had to pick up a shipment and left me and the helm of the store. My friend’s dad stayed with me to keep me company. A little while after my dad had left in that big truck of ours, the phone rang. It was a local calling to say there were police cars waiting in a parking lot in town. Weird, I thought, but I was sure we were fine.
A few minutes later, police cars and a news van were rattling down the driveway. A policeman accosted me, asking where the owner was. A news camera was in my face, and I felt so exposed and used. I was told to open the register and take out the twenties. Apparently one of their undercovers was in the store earlier and had purchased a firework. Apparently the deal that the man from the state had made was now null and void, because there he was strutting around the place like nothing was going on wrong.
Eventually I was able to get a call through to my dad, but for the longest time I was stuck in the store all along. My friend’s dad wasn’t allowed to even wait with me. I was frightened to death of going outside--onto my own property--because there were police and a ravenous news team ready to pounce. I sunk into a corner of the wall and watched the policemen take all the fireworks out of the store.
Jumbled, frightened, confused thoughts fluttered through my head: "This isn’t right. We had a deal with What’s-His-Name. Most of the stock wasn’t paid for yet. We would only have been able to pay for it after selling it. Oh Jeez, we’re going to have even worse money problems now. I can’t go to college. I won’t be able to afford a single textbook. My entire future is ruined because of this one horrible day."
(Part Two will be posted later today. A link will be added at the bottom of this post.)
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
Some people just don't have enough compassion. There's a proper way to handle things and it doesn't include raiding a store while the owner's daughter is there defenseless.
www.progressiveu.org/blog/americangirlinchina
You would think that the cops would be worried about the big fish. Your family was only the little fish. (no offense)You would want to go catch the bad guys like all these rapists , child killers and murderists . The only thing your family did was not pay the fine on time. How is that a crime anyway? Then you talk to one of the enforcement people to give you a little slack,instead they become two faced. How horrible.
I really truly wish they'd been focusing on real issues like drug dealers and rapists and murderers, but apparently fireworks are worse than all of them combined (sarcasm here).
~ *~
This is a signature, an automated thingy that pops up when I comment, not a demand to see my blog!
Mind Control is Easier Than You Think
...with some guy from the State. Did he get that deal in writing? If not, then as sucky as it may seem, the fault here lies with your dad for not paying the permit on time, and not getting official confirmation of your special arrangement. In fact, the need to get the agreement in writing is SO obvious, that frankly I'm a little skeptical of the idea that your dad didn't realize the risky situation he was putting his business (and you) in when he made this "deal" to begin with.
TTFN,
percivale
-------------------------
Check out Progressive PRIDE, a Gay-Straight Alliance for the Progressive U community.
When this deal was made, it was probably over the phone. I wasn't there at the time, but I doubt it was in writing, because we had no evidence of it.
~ *~
This is a signature, an automated thingy that pops up when I comment, not a demand to see my blog!
Mind Control is Easier Than You Think