When
I
first
skimmed
this
order
from
Judge
T.
Kent
Wetherell
II,
I
thought
it
said
“Things
would
have
been
considerably
worse
for
Plaintiff
had
she
not
admitted
it
because
the
courtroom
security
video
clearly
shows
her
placing
the
GUN
under
the
table.”
How
could
a
judge
respond
to
someone
sneaking
a
firearm
into
a
courtroom
by
threatening
to
make
them
write
“I
will
not
do
it
again”
100
times
like
Bart
Simpson?
But
then
I
saw
it
was
the
Northern
District
of
Florida
and
thought,
“that
tracks.”
But
it
turns
out
the
event
behind
this
order
wasn’t
a
Second
Amendment
test
but
a
party
sticking
their
GUM
underneath
the
table
and
leaving
it
for
the
next
unsuspecting
litigant.
Less
bazooka
and
more
Bazooka
Joe.
And
now
the
incident
can
live
on
for
posterity,
to
be
dug
up
to
flesh
out
a
footnote
in
a
future
student
law
review
note:
Justice
Is
Hungry:
An
Postsemantic
Analysis
Of
The
Edible
Hermeneutics
Of
Food
Narratives
In
America’s
Courtrooms.
After
the
sentencing
hearing,
I
was
informed
that
the
Assistant
United
States
Attorney
(AUSA)
who
was
sitting
in
the
chair
in
which
Plaintiff
sat
during
the
morning
hearing
got
gum
on
her
skirt
when
she
brushed
her
leg
against
the
underside
of
counsel’s
table.
It
was
at
that
point
that
court
staff
determined
that
chewed
gum
had
been
stuck
under
the
table.
Look,
this
is
disgusting
and
contemptuous
but
also
something
that
could’ve
been
handled
—
forgive
me
—
under
the
table.
Send
a
letter
to
whoever
sat
there
earlier
and
maybe
assess
some
small
fine.
Not
everything
needs
to
be
enshrined
on
PACER.
Some
issues
can
die
in
silent
shame,
like
the
Blackberry.
The
gum
that
was
not
stuck
to
the
AUSA’s
skirt
was
still
stuck
to
and
hanging
down
from
the
table
after
the
incident.
See
Doc.
51
at
3
(post-incident
picture).
The
court
custodial
staff
then
had
the
unenviable
task
of
removing
the
remainder
of
the
gum
from
the
table,
which
they
dutifully
did.
Why
is
there
a
picture
on
the
docket?
We
believed
you!
And
I
don’t
want
to
downplay
the
hard
work
custodial
staff
bring,
but
the
order
makes
it
sound
like
they
were
handling
vials
of
Sarin
Gas
when
they
probably
ran
a
putty
knife
over
it
and
then
rubbed
it
down
with
Fabuloso.
Court
staff
and
I
inferred
that
the
gum
had
to
have
been
stuck
under
the
table
at
some
point
during
the
morning
hearing
because
there
had
been
no
hearings
in
that
courtroom
since
Tuesday,
and
the
gum
was
still
fresh
and
stringy.
Thus,
to
get
to
the
bottom
of
the
incident,
I
ordered
Plaintiff
to
“file
a
notice
identifying
who
stuck
the
chewed
gum
under
the
table
and
show
cause
why
the
Court
should
not
impose
appropriate
sanctions
on
the
person
who
did
so.”
It’s
like
Encyclopedia
Brown
but
thankfully
the
judge
didn’t
have
to
send
that
goon
Sally
out
to
break
someone’s
legs
off
stage.
The
plaintiff
in
the
civil
matter
fessed
up
in
a
written
apology,
promising
it
won’t
happen
again.
Presumably
because
someone
turned
her
on
to
Altoids.
Her
lawyer
vouched
for
her.
The
judge
forwarded
it
to
the
affected
Assistant
U.S.
Attorney
for
potential
dry-cleaning
restitution,
and
decided
“a
simple
admonishment
will
suffice.”
No
kidding.
It’s
appropriate
that
the
judge
didn’t
try
to
stack
a
penalty
atop
someone
who
already
agreed
to
pay.
You
don’t
want
to
punish
someone
twice…
that
would
be
Double(Mint)
Jeopardy.
Even
though
this
ends
this
chapter,
the
judge
has
ideas
if
this
comes
up
again:
That
said,
if
anything
like
this
happens
again,
I
will
come
up
with
sanctions
that
are
commensurate
with
the
schoolchild-nature
of
the
violation—maybe
sitting
in
the
courtroom
under
the
supervision
of
a
court
security
officer
handwriting
“I
will
not
stick
my
gum
under
a
courtroom
table
again”
100
times
on
notebook
paper;
an
afternoon
of
helping
the
court
custodial
staff
clean
the
courtroom
and
adjacent
public
areas;
and/or
a
couple
hours
of
scraping
gum
off
the
sidewalk
in
front
of
the
courthouse.
Real
“disgruntled
vice
principal”
energy.
Again,
this
is
disgusting
and
it’s
entirely
appropriate
to
admonish
the
party
responsible
—
if
not
necessarily
publicly.
But
this
is
Florida.
It’s
hard
not
to
feel
a
touch
of
vertigo
watching
the
judiciary
leap
into
action
over
Juicy
Fruit
while
the
legal
system
has
a
“get
out
of
murder
free
card”
if
the
killer
can
prove
they
were
scared
enough
and
libraries
purge
Heather
Has
Two
Mommies
like
it’s
a
national
security
threat.
It’s
not
Judge
Wetherell’s
fault
—
he’s
just
trying
to
keep
his
courtroom
a
step
above
the
floor
of
a
Greyhound
—
but
there’s
something
to
a
system
that
elevates
the
little
things
while
bigger
injustices
thrive.
Something
to
chew
on.
Ugh.
(Check
out
the
order
on
the
next
page…)
Joe
Patrice is
a
senior
editor
at
Above
the
Law
and
co-host
of
Thinking
Like
A
Lawyer.
Feel
free
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