Free Dying Declaration by Randy Singer Page B

with?”
    “A wooden spoon,” Tiger said.
    “I see,” the lady said, as she made some notes on her legal pad. “And how many times does she hit you with a spoon when she spanks you?”
    These questions were getting harder. Tiger didn’t know he was supposed to count.
    “’Bout four or maybe six,” he said, just to be safe.
    “And your dad, what does he use to spank you?”
    Should I tell her about the belt? Or will I somehow get my dad in trouble? He looked at Miss Nikki, who smiled without opening her mouth. No help there. He looked at the fat little man in the room,
the guy they called “Harry.” He had his head tilted sideways like he might be feeling sorry for Tiger. No help there either.
    “Sometimes his hand,” the clever little guy said.
    “And other times?”
    Tiger’s eyes darted around the room from adult to adult, searching for allies. Finding none, he stared back at the floor.
    “And other times?” the Mean Lady repeated, this time without sugar in her voice.
    How does she know about the belt? “Sometimes his belt,” Tiger admitted. “But it doesn’t hurt very bad,” he added quickly.
    “I’m sure it doesn’t,” the lady said, as she scribbled some more notes and frowned at her legal pad.

12
    “YOU’VE BEEN SWORN IN , Officer Thrasher. Why don’t you just tell me what happened,” Judge Silverman suggested, resting his chin on his hand.
    It was nearly noon, and Thrasher had just taken the stand to testify against Charles. Judge Silverman had first required that Charles sign a document waiving his right to counsel, on the basis that Charles would act as his own lawyer.
    “You know what they say about lawyers who represent themselves?” Silverman asked.
    “That they’ve got a fool for a client,” Charles replied. “But at least in this case, he’s an innocent fool.”
    “We’ll see,” Silverman said.
    Charles felt his palms go moist as he sat at the defense counsel table, his right leg bouncing nervously up and down. Crawford and her entourage had returned to the courtroom and were waiting for the chance to resume the Hammonds’ hearing. Charles noticed Crawford squirming in her seat, signaling her anxiousness to return to center stage.
    First, Charles thought, I’ve got some fireworks of my own.
    He rose behind the defense counsel table just as Thrasher turned toward the judge to start his narration. “Before he does that, Your Honor, the defense would like to challenge the constitutionality of this statute.” His voice sounded louder than he had intended. It boomed through the courtroom and echoed back at him.
    All eyes turned to Charles. Silverman raised a bushy eyebrow.
    “You want to challenge the constitutionality of the Virginia Beach noise ordinance?” a skeptical Silverman asked. His chin still rested on his hand, and he added an eye roll at the request. It was getting late.
    “Yes, I do, Your Honor.” Charles was nervous, but he was also getting a little irked. It was the court’s job to consider legal challenges, even for misdemeanors. He saw no reason for the judge to act so put out by the notion.
    “On what basis?” the judge mumbled.
    “Excuse me, Your Honor?”
    “I said, on what basis?” This time Silverman took his chin out of his hand and spoke up. There was a slight edge to his voice.
    I thought you’d never ask.
    “The ordinance as written violates the free speech clause of the First Amendment, and as applied in this case, it violates the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.” Charles pulled copies of cases out of his briefcase and dropped them on his counsel table. He noticed Judge Silverman eye the papers suspiciously.
    “The ordinance requires that anybody using amplification equipment on the streets, sidewalks, or parks must first obtain a permit,” Charles continued, unfazed by the whispers and snickers behind him. “There are no objective guidelines for when the permit should be issued, leaving it in the total