Quote:
Originally Posted by AndyTheDude
So I went to the court office last Monday to see what I can do to clear my name. I was given three copies of a document and a brief instruction in writing of how to go about the whole thing. Seemed a bit complicated, but since I was busy at work I didn't think much about it until today. I took a day off and firstly popped in to the local garda station to get the documents stamped as explained in the instruction. The Garda glanced over the papers and said "Nah, we don't deal with that. You have to go and see a peace commissioner". I asked for the address of one in my area only to hear "It's just down the road, next to the b&b". Not really knowing what to look for I headed towards the b&b, but found absolutely nothing. Luckily I got a lost of piece commissioners based in D7 from the court office, so I dialed the first address on the list into my sat nav and I hit the road. I was expecting an office or something, but what I found was just a normal house. No sign on the wall, no doorbell, nothing. Knocking on the door had no effect apart form waking up the neighbor's dog. Pointless waste of time.
I got back to my car thinking about it all and decided to give in. It was a short and very uneven fight.
I expect to be arrested around 17.07. I still have 4 or 5 days of freedom left. I 'm going to spend most of this time in the garden, quietly contemplating the seriousness of my crime. Who knows, maybe I really need resocialization? I am very hopeful that, if I work hard, the time in prison will make me a better resident and I will be returned to the society as a better, improved Andy.
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I've completely forgotten about this little thread, I am ashamed to admit.
It's been a while, so things are a bit blurry in my head right now, especially that I wasn't too shy with forbidden substances since I've posted on here, but I'll try to be as precise as I possibly can:
Eventually I put myself together and found a peace commissioner who signed the forms for me. He was an oldish fella, clearly shaken after hearing my accent, but he let me in and placed his signature on the form. As he explained, he had bad Latvian neighbors, and he hated Eastern Europeans wholeheartedly. Fair enough, don't we all do?
Few weeks (or months) later I showed up in the criminal circuit court of justice in Dublin, ready for the final battle.
The courtroom was full of poor souls just like my good self, awaiting to be convicted and sent out to jail. Roughly around 40-50 people. My case was 27th if I remember well, so I had a while to enjoy my last moments of freedom.
Finally it was my turn. My line of defense was simple: I was never approached by a tv license inspector and I never got the summons, it was my beloved housemates who simply framed me in. (which was true, let's not forget about it)
The judge seemed to believe me and asked me a few questions. The an post solicitor produced a page of those little stickers with signatures on them to prove that I had received the summons by registered post. Obviously my signature was forged and my name was misspelled on my slip... surprise, surprise. Then it was easy: I quickly produced my drivers license and my passport so the judge could compare the signatures. And bam! the case was closed and I walked out as a free man.
It's unbelievable that I was charged by a partially nation-owned company that it's not even able to deliver a registered letter to the right person.
How was my name obtained by the tv license inspector? We'll never know.
Anyway, this whole thing was ridiculous.
Now, if you excuse me, my swan is getting cold...