A Fortunate Few Discover That Traffic Court Is Just the Ticket

It wasn’t the money, Donald Gadsden insisted, it was the principle.

He did not run a stop sign one morning in February on his way to work, he said, and he’d come to traffic court Downtown to confront the police officer who claimed he did and issued him a $178 ticket.

It was with a certain anxiety that Gadsden did this. He knew the old I-didn’t-do-it defense usually falls on deaf ears. But as it turned out, he never had to sing that refrain. His case was dismissed when the officer failed to appear.

Thus did Gadsden, a 42-year-old attorney for CBS, become one of the thousands of motorists each year in Los Angeles County who challenge their tickets--and win.

“I expected to lose,” Gadsden confided afterward, his 26-year clean driving record kept intact by the officer’s absence. “But I wanted to, if nothing else, tell my story.”

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Plenty of others feel the same way, but not all enjoy the same success. In fact, be warned that the numbers aren’t in your favor if you’re thinking of taking on the justice system over a moving violation.

Of the 13,779 traffic infractions that went to trial last year in Los Angeles Municipal Court, only 3,049 were thrown out--fewer than 1 in 4. Plus, by opting for a court appearance, you forfeit the right to attend traffic school, which may not be the most stimulating way to spend a Saturday but keeps your record clear and your insurance premiums lower.

Perhaps that’s why half of the 533,478 people cited last year for everything from speeding to honking their horns unnecessarily take the path of least resistance and pony up the fine through the mail--in effect admitting guilt. (The others plead guilty during a court arraignment or have their tickets tossed out before trial for one reason or another.)

For others, however, battling the ticket becomes a small legal crusade.

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Consider the case one recent afternoon of the City of Los Angeles vs. James Ray, a Glendale broadcast engineer who came to court accused of whipping along Forest Lawn Drive at 68 m.p.h., well in excess of the 45-m.p.h. limit.

Ray, an electronics buff, argued that the police officer’s radar gave a false reading. Did the officer know, Ray asked during cross-examination, that the fence along Forest Lawn Drive has metal spikes running along the top, and that those spikes could alter the reading of the radar?

As his trump card, Ray produced Exhibit A, a hand-held video camera containing footage of those very spikes.

“If you have a video monitor here, I can feed it through,” he said helpfully in a courtroom where a cushioned seat would have been the height of luxury.

“Yeah, sure we do,” Traffic Commissioner Allan Lasher replied in sarcastic amusement. “I’m getting cable next.”

Making do, Lasher squinted through the camera’s viewfinder to watch the tape. He listened to Ray explain the foibles of radar waves. And then he pronounced Ray guilty.

Afterward, the defendant couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“I believed if I came in and defended it honestly, I’d be relieved of being found guilty,” said Ray, 46, who had posted--and now lost--$136 in bail. “So now I have a blemish on my record. My first.”

His trial lasted an uncommonly long 20 minutes. Most of the cases that afternoon were adjudicated in less than half that time, including a woman who persuaded the commissioner that the real recipient of her ticket was her sister, who liked to use her identity and was in fact in jail under her name at that very moment.

In eight of the cases--about half of the total--the defendants won by default because the ticketing officer didn’t show up. Gamely, Lasher offered each person the chance to come another day and argue the case on its own merits for a more satisfying triumph.

No one took up his offer.

“I’ll just wimp out,” 25-year-old Emanuel Jones of Los Angeles said, loath to explain why he was clocked at twice the speed limit in a 35-m.p.h. zone. “Forget the thrill of victory.”

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Banking on the absence of an officer at the trial is risky business. The 50% absentee rate on the afternoon described here seemed a little higher than usual to Lee Rittenburg, a lawyer with Traffic Defenders in Encino.

By his informal count during his days in court, Rittenburg estimates that officers fail to appear 20% to 30% of the time. But there are ways to increase your chances, Rittenburg said, such as requesting well in advance of the trial that it be postponed.

“The advantage to this is that the officer’s memory might dim by the time you come to trial,” Rittenburg said. “Also, it’s possible that the officer could be transferred to another division, making his appearance on your ticket more difficult.”

Traffic attorneys also know of other ways to improve your chances of an acquittal, such as demanding a copy of the officer’s notes (to which you are entitled) or asking for the trial to take place in Downtown Los Angeles, the county seat, even if the ticket was issued in a distant city, like Lancaster.

But such legal expertise does not come cheaply, which is probably why the overwhelming majority of motorists who fight their tickets in court do so the same way they drive: solo.

It’s worked twice in two months for Regina Davenport of Pacoima, who successfully contested a ticket in Newhall in May and then another in Los Angeles last week.

In the more recent incident, Davenport contended that the very officer who had cited her for impeding traffic in a parking lot was in her way--the cause of her stopping her car in the first place. To make her point, she submitted to the court an extensive diagram, which Lasher described as “suitable for framing” before dismissing the ticket.

“I said to myself, ‘I know the truth and he knows the truth, but by him being the officer, they would probably believe him,’ ” Davenport said, visibly relieved that she had escaped car insurance purgatory for the second time in such a short period.

“I hope it doesn’t happen again.”