TO-WIT: THE BIG KAHUNA
Fighting is by rounds, and Round 1 was no fun at all. I started off with a complaint in federal court on behalf of three students who had been expelled without benefit of any form of due process hearing. Well, actually, they had not been expelled; as the Big Kahuna – the high school principal – testified on the witness stand, the school district had merely “suspended all forms of service.” The distinction made sense to him, and I thought, “Hmm, I should rest my case right now.”
Their crimes were heinous all right, especially to a high-school principal who used to be a gym teacher. They had violently assaulted the principal in absentia with barbed verbiage, on the school bus, laughing, kidding around. And because, in Kahuna’s own words, their conduct presented an immediate security threat to every soul living within a 20-mile radius of the high school, they were dragged into his office the following day, searched, placed under “principal’s arrest” and removed from the school premises by members of the school’s elite security force. I assume that the initials they all wore on the shirt collars of their brown uniforms stood for “School Security,” but I’m not certain.
It was zero tolerance amplified by zero intellect, but, alas, the hearing that took place months later was not a pretty sight. On the day before the hearing, two sets of parents told me they had already placed their respective children in private schools and had no desire for any kind of Kahuna relief a court could offer save capital punishment.
Alas, the only remaining student had orange hair and lip, tongue, nose and ear rings, and for some inexplicable reason he insisted on telling the judge exactly what parts of Kahuna’s body he would thoroughly love to excise with a dull Exacto knife. It was at about that time that the judge began to stare out the window, and I sensed we had irretrievably lost his attention.
Indeed we had, and it took him only five minutes to render an adverse decision. Now maybe it was my imagination, maybe not, but I swore I could see flecks of foam forming at the corner of the Kahuna’s mouth as the judge announced his decision.
You know what the biggest problem with crusades is? It’s the losing of them. It’s that crushing, numbing feeling you get when the banner that took so much emotional energy to hoist in the first place comes crashing down around you. It took me days to get over it, I couldn’t help but feel I could have won that case if only I had done something differently, like maybe sent the kid to a good hairdresser.
But you know what’s good about dealing with despots? They always give you another shot. And sure enough, not two weeks later, I got a call from another client in that school district. At the beginning of the school year, Kahuna had suspended their boy from all extracurricular activities for the remainder of the school year for leaving study hall to go to the bathroom without a hall pass. Oh, he had asked for one, but the teacher hadn’t believed he really had to go. They must be putting something in the water fountain in the facility lounge.
Now that graduation time had arrive, Kahuna had decided that commencement was an extracurricular activity and refused to allow the kid to attend his own graduation.
“So,” said the judge after the close of testimony on my petition for preliminary injunctive relief, “I have to decide if commencement is an extracurricular activity. Does that about sum it up?
“Yes, Your Honor,” I replied.
“I am so impressed with how quickly the court has grasped the delicate nuances of this proceeding,” replied opposing counsel, a smarmy little guy who must have been charging his client by the snivel, “and I have prepared a 75-page trial memorandum on that exact issue.”
He handed it to the judge who promptly threw it in the waste can and said, “This is the most outrageous case I have seen in years. This kid will attend graduation with his class and court is now adjourned.”
Oh, oh, oh, oh, would that I could prolong such moments for an eternity. In a heartbeat, the anguish of Round 1 was washed away and there stood I, Ali standing over Liston, snarling triumphant, taunting him to get back up.
Oh, I know, it was just a little case, one of a series of little cases in a quietly desperate career that hasn’t much to show for it save such occasional glories. It was momentary, with a half-life less than that of a decaying muon, yet it was a decisive victory of good over evil, the stuff that makes crusades ever worth the effort.
Kahuna and I, we’re not done yet. As I said, despots, always give you another shot, and more likely sooner than later, he’ll do something else he can be sued for. I can hardly wait.
Until that fortuitous event, I’ll keep my lance at the ready. However, lest any of you recognize a good thing when you see it and are thinking of horning in on my good fortune, let me give you a word of advice. Keep your hands off. Remember, I found him first.
© 2000, S. Sponte