Stages of Guilt

I got my first speeding ticket a few weeks ago.  32 in a 20.

A 20 because it was a school zone.  And I was speeding in it, if the radar gun is to be believed, which brings me to the topic of this post:

There are Stages of Guilt.  I'm not sure if they apply to all guilt, or just moving-violation-guilt.  You tell me.


Stage One:  Your Gut Tells You That You Are Guilty

You make the turn from a busy road onto a residential road and a moment later see 4 motorcycle-cops lined up, lying in wait. Your foot jerks to the brakes.  Your stomach sinks.  Your eyes darted to the rear view mirror.  Guilty. 


Stage Two:  Someone Else Points Out That You Are Guilty

That someone else could be your 5-year-old son sitting the backseat, asking 'What's wrong?' because you've just cussed and are now pulling over. 

Or, it could be the cop who informs you of the Big 32 and then asks, in a tone that does not bode well for your ensuing relationship with him, "Any reason for the speed?"

Is there any answer you could give that would make this go better? 



Stage Three:  You Believe it is Classy to Admit Guilt and to Apologize for it, Thinking that Consequences of Guilt Will be Lighter if You Do So.

While awaiting results of your classy reaction, as cop is fiddling with paperwork, you move onto--



Stage Four:  Question Whether You are Really Guilty

4 cops?  Full time officers?  Setting a speed trap for all the soccer moms there to pick up kids from school?  You're the tax payers, for goodness sakes!  Shouldn't these guys be downtown, arresting miscreants?  Pulling over people who run red lights?  If they wanted to maintain the school zone, all they had to do was put one of those "YOUR SPEED IS" machines on the road because soccer moms in minivans don't gun it to get the highest number on those things, only the soccer dads do. . .

Yet there you are. . .with 3 more minivan drivers now pulled up behind you, getting tickets as well, you figure.  Because writing up a warning should not be taking this long.



Stage Five:  Decide to Take a Principled Stand Against Injustice

The whole conversation isn't relevant.  Just the good part. 

The officer explains that you've been assessed 4 points (4 points!) on your insurance, fine yet to be determined (it's that bad!) with a mandatory court appearance (court?! stay cool, do the Principled Stand thing first, freak out later.)

You say, "You might want to suggest to management that this is not the relationship the Colorado Springs Police Department wants to be cultivating with citizens."

He says, "What relationship is that?"   It was with a smirk.  It was with one eyebrow up and his aviator shades still on.  It is totally OK for you to say the following:

"Oh, I think you know what I mean."

This stage lasts a while.  Plenty of mental fuel for it.  No one to argue with you as you drive on, having gotten your other child and continued back through the school zone at a sarcastic 10 mph. 

You didn't give him the finger on your way out, either, which means that you are even less guilty than before. 



Stage Six:  Grief

You get home.  Your husband gets home earlier than usual.  Just in time to see you fall apart. 

Yes, you really were speeding and yes you are guilty and it's fine that you got a ticket, but, really?  You were going to pick up your kid from school--she only goes to school one day per week!--and you had spent the whole rest of the day getting your other kid signed up for this same program and every other day you're educating them at home and it's not like you were speeding to get your hair done, or to get to the office for some fancy career--and that a**hole cop had the nerve to snap at you, "So you just stay home?" when getting your phone number, can you believe that?--you were just taking care of your kids which is what you do every single fricking day--everything you do is for someone else and you were ticketed for that and you feel betrayed.

The Holy Spirit reminds you, "But for this ticket, you love your life, and there's nothing you can sacrifice that God does not make you glad for."  Ignore Him.  Something about this tantrum is too irresistible.

Your husband's mouth is hanging open, his brain furiously calculating what to say and not say next.  Don't say, for instance, "Have you taken any crazy pills?"

He decides on, "Don't take this ticket personally.  You're just a quota." 


Stage Seven: Fear

Lose sleep for the next two nights because you fret over the coming court appearance.  You know you shouldn't be anxious--you've done breast cancer, for goodness sakes! this is just a ticket!--but there's an authority-pleaser buried deep within you that fears Court.

Decide to google the terms, "speeding  school zone penalty colorado springs"  --

Oh.  Not so bad.

Arkansas, however.  Yikes.  Potential 1 to 10 days in jail.

But Colorado?  You're looking at a massive fine.  No beatings.  No de-lousing chambers.  No fitting for orange jumpsuits.


Stage Eight:  Acceptance

You now have a traffic ticket story to tell.  Being a quota means you're part of the cool crowd, now.  You mentioned your story.  They all tell theirs.  And they're on your side, too. 

A speed trap catching Moms on their way to pick up kids?  So bogus.  This is why they didn't vote for the bonding issue from 2 years ago to increase CSPD funding.  You did vote for it.  But now?

Heh.  You now see what they mean.



Coming Soon: Your First Court Appearance