I woke up at 5:30 the morning of Monday, February 4th to go back to the worst place in the entire world: Neosho, MO. My elusive court date had been rescheduled so many times that I was bracing for a call telling me it had been moved for what would have been the eighth time. That call never came.
I had spoken with my lawyer on the phone for the first time ever the Thursday before. I’m disappointed to report that she was actually quite pleasant during our brief conversation despite my determination to hate her. She assured me my appearance would be uneventful and that this would all be behind me soon. She went on to say that the only witness the prosecution could call in would be the police officer who made the initial arrest, but she doubted he would show. He had been fired from the force since.
I asked if she had any more insight into how this happened in the first place. I was still fuzzy on some of the details and the story I had in my mind didn’t quite add up.
“You didn’t get a discovery packet with all that information in it? You should have received it a couple months ago.”
“No.”
“Oh. Well we’ll have that sent over.”
She told me mostly what I already knew. A man named Steven Hurley cashed a forged check at a bank in Neosho, MO for $38 on October 15, 2015. It’s her belief that when Hurley recited his driver’s license number to the bank teller, the teller mis transposed what he said and messed up the last digit, making it my driver’s license number. So the check was written out to “Steven Hurley” but had my license number on it. For some unbelievable reason the police decided to pursue the driver’s license number on the check as opposed to the ACTUAL NAME WRITTEN ON THE CHECK!?????
INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT — NIGHT
OPEN ON TWO POLICE OFFICERS STANDING IN FRONT OF AN EVIDENCE BOARD WITH NOTHING BUT A CHECK PINNED TO IT. IT’S SIGNED IN BLUE CRAYON.
OFFICER 1: Well sir, it says Steven Hurley right there on the check. I think we have our man.
OFFICER 2 STARES OFF INTO THE DISTANCE AS HE TAKES A LONG DRAG FROM HIS CIGARETTE.
OFFICER 2: It’s too goddamn obvious.
OFFICER 1: Sir, I don’t thi-
OFFICER 2: I SAID IT’S TOO GODDAMN OBVIOUS, JACKSON!
OFFICER 1: Shouldn’t we at least check out Steven Hurley first? See if the teller can ID him? He lives right here in town.
OFFICER 2: Get the Hell out of my face before I rip yours off.
OFFICER 1: B-
OFFICER 2: OUT!!
OFFICER 1 LEAVES FRAME. OFFICER 2 SITS IN A CHAIR FACING THE EVIDENCE BOARD. HE LEANS BACK AND TAKES ANOTHER DRAG FROM HIS CIGARETTE.
OFFICER 2 [TO SELF]: I’m going to find you, you sonuvabitch.
My lawyer told me to meet her at the courthouse at 9:00 am on the 4th. I agreed. We hung up.
The drive to Neosho was as forgetful as I remembered. I’m convinced God made the drive as boring as possible as a way to deter unknowing travelers from accidentally ending up in Hell on Earth. As we pulled into the outskirts of town I observed a series of open trash bags strewn along the side of the road. It was a pretty fitting welcome, and if I’m being honest they actually spruced the place up a bit.
Lauren and I found our way to the all-too-familiar courthouse where my lawyer was supposed to be waiting for us. First we had to clear security, and by security I mean a man who looked as if he had just eaten another man sitting in a folding chair next to a metal detector (this may seem like a mean and unfair description but trust me, he was kind of a dick). We rid ourselves of any metal on our person and went through the detector. Each time, the detector’s alarm went off. Each time, the man who looked as if he had just eaten another man half-heartedly patted us down. He shrugged and let us through.
I signed in and went to the waiting area just outside the courtroom. For a moment I thought I had walked in on a town hall meeting because of how packed it was. The room was lined wall to wall with denim and I immediately felt over dressed. As I surveyed the room I couldn’t help but wonder if Steven Hurley was there. Given his track record it seemed like more than a possibility.
Lauren and I wedged ourselves between a couple of potential convicts. It was 9:25 and my lawyer was nowhere to be found. At 9:30 there was an announcement over the intercom for anyone with a 9:15 or 9:45 hearing to enter the courtroom. You could see how this would be confusing because, again, they made this announcement at 9:30. The room cleared out except for an older woman sitting across from us to the left and a young man with glasses sitting across from us to the right.
My lawyer still hadn’t arrived so we continued to wait. I knew I had a 9:30 hearing, but I was becoming uneasy that I was supposed to be in the courtroom at that time. I called my lawyer’s office to see if they could put me in contact with her.
“She should be there by now.”
“She isn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“……”
I went back to the sign-in desk and asked the woman behind it it if I was supposed to be in the courtroom or not.
“Have you signed in?”
Surely it was a joke. This was the same woman who had just signed me in not 15 minutes earlier. I stared at her waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come:
“Yes.”
“One moment.”
She began clacking away on her keyboard. I stood by anxiously. With each second I became more convinced I was supposed to be in the courtroom, and I wasn’t about to miss my appearance because my lawyer didn’t show up on time. The woman behind the desk told me she wasn’t able to confirm whether or not I was supposed to be in the courtroom and encouraged me to go back into the waiting area until my lawyer arrived. Unpleased with the answer, I did as she suggested.
I sat back down next to Lauren on the wooden pew and relayed the lack of news. The waiting area was quiet except for the sound of the broken metal detector going off whenever someone new would walk through it. They either didn’t realize it was broken or they didn’t care. I tried to distract myself by fiddling with my phone.
“I don’t know if I’m in the right place.”
I looked up. The older woman across from us was looking at Lauren and I, a strong indication that the comment had been directed at us. She was clutching her purse in her lap with both hands and wore a long floral dress. Lauren engaged, because she has a heart of gold.
“That’s okay — we don’t know if we’re in the right place either.”
“I was told to be here at 9:30 and it’s 9:45 now. I have no idea what’s going on.”
Lauren and I silently reacted to the information. 9:30 was the same time my case was scheduled to go in front of the judge.
“We were supposed to be here at 9:30, too,” Lauren told her with way more sweetness than I could have mustered. “All we can do is sit here until someone tells us what to do.”
This seemed to comfort the older woman, at least temporarily. Lauren and I took to our phones.
Lauren: 9:30 — who do you think she is?
Me: Idk the bank teller maybe
Lauren: Ooooooh I bet
Me: But [REDACTED] told me the only witness they had was the police officer so..???
Not long after this exchange my lawyer made her grand entrance. She was accompanied by two other attorneys from her firm, both men. I couldn’t help but read into it. Was this whole thing a bigger deal than they made it out to be?She formally introduced herself and told me she was going to go into the courtroom to speak with the prosecutor. On her way out of the waiting area, she dropped a line to the young man who had been sitting across from us.
“We’re going to need to speak with you here shortly.”
As quickly as she had arrived, she was gone. Someone had turned on a radio over by security. Country music quietly played in the background as we resumed the waiting.
“I’ve got friends in looooow places…”
I was surprised by how nervous I was. I was moments away from finally being able to put this behind me and move on with my life. This case was a slam dunk. I had been reassured it was a slam dunk. Yet something about the whole thing stunk.
“I just don’t know what’s going on.”
It was the older woman again, only now she had tears in her eyes.
“Oh, it’s okay.” Lauren to the rescue. “I’m sure someone will come talk with you soon.”
“I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.”
My heart legitimately broke for this woman. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know her situation. I didn’t even know if she was involved in my case or not. But I could empathize with the feeling of being alone in the dark. I had been in the dark for the previous nine months. But by then I had at least evolved into one of those creatures from The Descent and knew how to navigate it.
It wasn’t long before my lawyer emerged from the courtroom and called back the young man across from us. After he got up and left Lauren and I speculated who he may be. My best guess was the police officer, but my lawyer had been confident he wouldn’t show.
As the young man with glasses entered the courtroom, a woman we hadn’t seen before exited. She wore heels with her pantsuit and carried a portfolio of some sort. She strode over to the old woman across from us and began talking with her. She spoke lowly but was no match for the otherwise overwhelming silence. Lauren and I hung on every word as we live-texted the interaction.
What we learned was that the old woman was in fact the bank teller who had accepted the forged check. She had been called in as a witness for my case, but my lawyer was requesting a separate court date at a later time to bring her back in. They needed to “gather more information” before speaking with her. My heart sank when I heard that. That was not in line with my plan to never enter Neosho city limits again.
The old woman didn’t understand. “Do they want proof? I have a picture if they want proof.”
The old woman’s lawyer, sensing the in-no-way-subtle eavesdropping Lauren and I were doing, ushered her outside to continue their conversation. They got up, left, and Lauren and I gossipped like school girls. I didn’t know what to make of what we had just overheard. I was too concerned with the news that my lawyer was pushing for another court date.
My lawyer came out of the courtroom not long after. I stood as she walked toward us down the long hallway. I hated her body language. She wasn’t looking me in the eye. She looked as if she had bad news.
“Ok, so…”
I swear to God. I swear it. If you tell me that this is getting rescheduled, I will personally make it my mission to destroy this town. I will infiltrate ISIS. I will attend their meetings. I will climb the ranks. I will make Neosho our sworn enemy. I will-
“…the prosecutor has agreed to dismiss the case.”
Oh.
“He looked at the evidence, determined this couldn’t have been you, and is going to drop it. Let’s go outside and I’ll tell you more.”
We stepped outside and she caught me up to speed. Apparently they had switched the prosecutor on my case. The new prosecutor took one look at the evidence and agreed this was a no-brainer: I couldn’t have done this. His decision was reinforced when the police officer (the young man with glasses) said he didn’t recognize me and that I wasn’t the person he arrested back in 2015.
This was all good news, but as expected there was a hitch. Just because they were dismissing my case didn’t mean my record was going to be cleared. I would still have to go through the process of expunging the felony and misdemeanor charges. That process could get started once the case was formally dismissed, which the prosecutor was expected to do by the end of the week. My lawyer said she could help me with the expungement which would only require a couple of signatures on my end. I told her that would be fine.
Before we parted ways, she told me one other thing: that I should sue the shit out of the local police department. She said there was more than enough evidence to prove the case had been grossly mishandled on the most basic level and that if anyone had done their jobs none of this would have ever happened.
I was skeptical at first since Nick had told me suing would be a lost cause. (“Unfortunately you can’t sue someone for being shitty at their job.”) Also because I assumed she just wanted to milk me for more money. But she said she wouldn’t be able to represent me if I were to go down that route. Her husband had worked for the police department in the past and she didn’t want to be the one to go after them for small-town political reasons. I warmed up to the idea knowing she had no skin in the game. There was something about the way she said it — almost as if she was withholding a bombshell — that made me consider. I told her I would talk to some people and see if they thought it was worth pursuing.
Driving home I didn’t know how to feel. The prosecutor had verbally dismissed the case, but it still wasn’t officially official. Once it was, I would still have to go through the process of getting the felony taken off my record. And even then it wouldn’t officially be dropped until 180 days after that goes through. I had expected the resolution to feel anticlimactic. I didn’t expect whatever feeling this was.
That was Monday, February 4th. On Sunday, February 10th my lawyer sent me an email with a recommendation for a lawyer in Kansas City in case I were to sue. I replied asking if my case had been dismissed yet. I didn’t hear back until eight days later on Monday, February 18th. She told me she still hadn’t heard, but would let me know as soon as she did.
On Wednesday the 20th I decided to call the lawyer she recommended. After a game of telephone tag I was able to get in touch with her assistant. I downloaded her on everything that had happened, all the way up to the prosecutor agreeing to dismiss the case. She asked me if I would like her to see if it had been dropped yet. I said “yes, please.”
“This is odd,” she said. “Did you know you have a dismissal hearing scheduled for May 27th?”
I passed out. When I came to, I told the assistant that no, I was not aware of that. My lawyer told me I would never have to go back to Neosho, and that this was supposed to be done by the end of the previous week. I had even gotten an email from her two days earlier that made no indication anything had changed since we last talked. The assistant said she would reach out to her on my behalf to get things cleared up, as well as let her boss know what was going on.
She called me back the next day saying she couldn’t get in touch with my lawyer. I wasn’t surprised. I was her client and I couldn’t even get in touch with her. She said she would keep trying and let me know if she heard anything. I haven’t heard from anyone about it since.
This is likely my last time writing about this. I still don’t know if I’m going to sue, but even if I do, this has started to feel like homework. I’ve had people tell me I should try to sell my story to various publications, but I know better than to believe anyone is going to care that a white straight male got screwed out of a couple thousand dollars by the legal system.
In hindsight I suppose I’m lucky. I’m lucky I never got pulled over while the warrant was out for my arrest. I’m lucky I have a job that allows me to pay my legal fees and take time off to deal with this. I’m lucky I have a network of friends and family who support me and were willing to help, including but not limited to Ben Grace, Heather Field, Molly Hastings, Laura Brand, Nick Brand, Ethan Sageser, and Maren Ozier. I have a lot of favors to pay forward.
I’m not sure what the takeaway is. I guess it’s to not let a stranger forge a check using your identification in a town that happens to be run by a particularly incompetent police force. But for the most part, I feel like I’m living out the final scene of Burn After Reading.
“What did we learn, Palmer?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“I don’t fucking know either.
I guess we learned not to do it again.
Though fuck if I know what we did.”