I Swear

October 17-23, 2016

Courtroom couplet

By Vic Fleming

One of my I Swear Crossword test-solvers—a male musician from San Francisco by way of New York City—wrote, with regard to the current puzzle, “I don’t think I understand the quip.”

My other test-solver—a woman copy editor from Ann Arbor by way of New England—wrote, “Funny couplet!”

Actually, the guy also wrote that he was familiar with the saying “I want to throw myself on the mercy of the court.” Thus, he asked, “[T]his is a malapropism?”

So, they both got it. She in one way. He in another. Collectively, their comments nudged me to write this column.

In 20 years of running a high-volume criminal court in which people are charged with violations and misdemeanors (no felonies), on a few occasions I have actually had someone say to me, “I want to throw my mercy on the court.”

When I heard it the first time, in late 1997, I didn’t know what to make of it. I knew that a verbal miscue had occurred. I could tell from the speaker’s facial expression, and other nonverbal indicators, that he had no idea he had misspoken.

I didn’t want to embarrass him. Thus, I glossed over it. I ignored the inherent humor of the imagery—a defendant’s hurling at the judge an intangible blanket made of forgiveness in lieu of punishment. And I resisted the urge to correct him. As in, “Don’t you mean that you want to throw yourself on my mercy?”

I was polite. I went forward with the proceeding as though nothing were amiss. But later … not so much. For, if this could happen once, I reasoned, then it well might happen again. And I wanted to be ready next time around.

I wish I could remember specifically how I came to treat the defendant’s in-court remark as the first line of a rhyming couplet. Perhaps there was something in the rhythm with which he said the words.

Perhaps I was channeling some archetypal childhood energy—the ultimate game of pitch and catch—caught up in the visual image conveyed. If someone throws me something, on receipt thereof, shouldn’t I at least make use of it?

Whatever the specifics, a few months later I wrote a song for my mother—a ditty entitled “Deep Docket Blues.” By then I’d thought up the rest of the couplet. By the time I first sang the song, the second occasion of someone saying this in court had occurred. At least, I think it had. But if not, then chalk the lyric up to poetic license:

I had a case just the other day

And I heard a young man say,

“I want to throw my mercy on the court.”

I said, “Throw a lot, we’re a little bit short.”

That’s how judges get confused.

In all honesty, the few times that I’ve said “Throw a lot we’re a little bit short,” it has gone completely over the defendants’ heads. Because they haven’t a clue anything they’ve said is amiss in the least.

Ah, what bliss there is not knowing!

Vic Fleming is a district court judge in Little Rock, Ark., where he also teaches at the William H. Bowen School of Law. Contact him at vicfleming@att.net.