Big Thug loses another one! Stein schools Willie and Amanda on the Georgia Open Records Act.

Sorry to keep ya'll hanging, folks. The thing did not bust up until 6:12 PM. I had not eaten since 11:30. Had to stop for supper at Sonny's. Just walked in the door. Well, fortunately I got out of my 1:30 doctors appointment at 2:10. I scooted on up to Woodbine, getting to the courthouse at about 2:45. Now, let me set this up for you. At the 4th of July parade, everybody was putting Tommy Gregory decals on the back of their Tommy Gregory tee-shirts. Nella Rogers put one on the back of the seat of my power wheelchair. I rolled right on into the courthouse, totally oblivious to the fact that it was there. The deputy at the front gave my wheelchair the once over, including checking down in the storage compartment on the back. His face was no more than six inches from the decal. Nothing. I went into the courtroom and took a seat - at a bailiff's instruction, out in the center aisle, about halfway down to the railing. Now, at that point, there was no sign of Big Thug anywhere in the courthouse. At about 5 minutes to three - the time the hearing started - the same black bailiff who had told me to sit in the aisle, tapped me on the shoulder to tell me that I had a sticker on my chair which was not allowed in the courtroom. Just behind him, out of my line of sight, stood Big Thug, who was obviously highly pissed off after having walked in a sighted the Gregory decal. The deputy had hardly finished telling me before Big Thug leaped into my peripheral vision, just behind my chair, and in a loud, explosive voice, at a decibel level clearly intended to play to everyone then gathered in the courthouse, the silly ass yelled "Hello, Jay. How are 'ya? Glad to see all of those things you've been saying about me. They're actually helping me quite a bit." I immediately responded, equally loudly, "You're welcome, Bill. I'm gonna help you a helluva lot more before it's over with!" Realizing that I was not even in the same zip code as intimidated, like most bullies, he skulked off to his seat. I then told the bailiff that I could not stand up to deal with it and asked if he could remove it for me. He pulled out a pocket knife and got it off of there. I have no idea what the back of my wheelchair looks like now. Sure hope he did not cut the leather. No hard feelings, bailiff. Judge Williams started off by poo-pooing the merits of the case, saying her law clerk had checked it all out before hand, told her there was not much of a case, and that therefor, she hoped it would not take long. WRONG. Jim Stein had subpoenaed a gaggle of witnesses. Let me think. There was "Colonel" Charlie Easterling. Picture an aging "Link Hogthrob" from "Pigs-in-Space" in a cheap suit two sizes too small. There was Easterling's wive, Wanda. Picture that woman in the James Bond movie with the dagger in the toe of her shoe. There was Bill "Simper Fido" Terrell. Picture a retarded Frankenstein's monster with a monster hangover. There was a professional looking bank V.P. from Darien - Mr. Cox, as I recall. Sleazy Talker Walker was there, all GQ'ed in Brylcreme and a teal blazer. Smith's secretary, a middle aged black woman named Edna something was there. The coroner, L.W. Bruce was there. And of course, the star of the show and the first witness called, was Big Thug himself, who apparently was going for a dated Don Johnson as Detective Crockett look with bone chinos and a sort of a square blue horse blanket with white hatching stitched into a Miami Vice sport coat. Really accentuated his deathly haggard pallor. Well, of course, Thug was defiant on the stand. Tried to dismiss it as all politics. Had remarkable lapses of memory as to where he's been lately - here or Charleston. Seems he did not get a single one of those messages from L.W. Bruce, even though Link Hogthrob and Edna testified that they had both repeatedly taken messages from L.B. Bruce and relayed them to Smith. Bruce testified that he had personally left 3 or 4 messages on Thug's cell phone voice mail - which had always elicited a response from Smith for the last ten years or so - but turns out Smith got none of those either. At one point, in exasperation, Bruce had called the 911 center. They said that they would input Bruce's phone number on Smith's pager. Turns out, according to Smith's testimony, he never carries a pager. If there had been some kind of a fool-proof lie detecting device there, the whole damned bunch would be doing life for perjury. Stein was absolutely masterful. Let me tell you, if you ever get your butt in a serious crack, Stein is the guy to call. Just don't mess with his dog. To make a long story short, the judges clerk did not know his butt from first base on this one. Hell, I could have advised her better. In the end, it turns out that Williams was not all that conversant with the particulars of the Open Records Act, as she openly admitted. But Stein educated her over the course of the hearing. In the end, she told Smith's counsel, Terry Reddick, that it looked to her like under the law, she had no choice but to award attorney fees to Stein, paid directly out of Smith's PERSONAL pocket, but that he could have up to 14 days to file a brief convincing her that she was wrong. It was obvious from his tepid response that he knew he was beaten. Stein has another 14 days to respond, but trust me- it will not go that long. Smith knows he's licked. He will have to pay Stein for all expenses and billable hours form the time he took Robbie Morgan's case until the moment Link Hogthrob delivered the subpoenaed documents to Stein's office. This little humiliation was good training for what is coming next Tuesday. Addendum, Friday, 07/11, at 1458 HRS. Gordon's coverage: http://www.jacksonville.com/tu-online/stories/071108/geo_302491357.shtml