Finding a Purpose in a Courtroom Triumph

My son got a littering ticket recently during a testy encounter with a cop that was caught on videotape. Best thing that could have happened to the boy. How can I thank the officer for helping my drifting skateboarder decide what he wants to do with his life?

Miguel is a college sophomore who turns 19 this month. Like most Latino kids who continue studies after high school, he’s attending a two-year college. He’s been vague about a major. Maybe business. But maybe, he figures, he won’t need a degree to make money in the scrappy skateboard industry.

I’ve been pushing him to transfer to a four-year university, no matter what career he chooses. My fear is that he’ll give up before getting his bachelor’s degree--like most Latinos who start college.

So it was fortunate that one ticket-happy policeman lit a fuse under my son. Miguel was outraged, like that movie character who shouts out the window, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”

Ah, a lawyer in the making.

It happened before midnight one Saturday after a noisy but peaceful party was broken up by police. As my son was pulling away, two cruisers blocked his path from the front, shining bright floodlights through his windshield.

Miguel’s hand-me-down 1989 Mazda had an illegal blue bulb in one headlamp, one officer said. And put out that cigarette, he ordered. So my son reached out the window and dropped his smoke on the street.

“That’s littering,” barked the officer.

When Miguel started to open the door to pick it up, the officer quickly slammed it shut. Try that again, he warned, and you’ll get charged with assaulting a policeman.

OK, officer, you made your point. Party’s over. See ya’ in court.

On the day of the trial, my son pulled a Perry Mason defense. In English so proper it’s considered a foreign language by his skating buddies, Miguel explained that he was peacefully leaving “the gathering” when he felt stunned and disoriented by the blinding police lights. He was only trying to obey orders when he dropped the cigarette, he said, and he waxed eloquent about intent as a necessary element of the law.

In other words, judge, he never meant to litter. In fact, he argued, he never did. From his pocket, Miguel produced Defense Exhibit No. 1--a Baggie containing a half-smoked cigarette he said he had retrieved from the alleged scene of the crime. How could he be a litterbug, he pleaded, if he left no litter behind?

The defense rested, somewhat smugly.

But the officer had a surprise of his own. He played for the court a videotape of the violation, showing Miguel littering in flagrante delicto. The video backfired because it also verified my son’s version of events--the bright lights, the car door opening, the officer shoving it shut.

The judge ruled that the defendant was simply trying to promptly comply with the officer’s commands. Not guilty. Case dismissed.

When I came home that night, the acquitted was exultant.

“I OJ’d it, dad,” said my son, guilty of bad taste in alluding to the exoneration of the former football star.

But you can understand how a teenager--especially a skateboarder who feels harassed by authority--might feel that he got away with murder by defeating the system with its own rules. “Victory was nice,” he declared.

As he left the court, Miguel caught up with the tall, uniformed cop who had tried to nail him. “Thanks for coming, officer,” said my little smart-aleck as he shook hands with the speechless policeman.

Miguel’s day in court was such a confidence booster he decided on a new career. Later, he told the story to his college counselor, Ray Talavera, who described him as beaming. They mapped a plan to transfer to UC Santa Barbara. New major: communications. New objective: law school.

If he makes it, Miguel will be among a small minority. In 1998, Latinos accounted for just 4.2% of the 42,683 doctorates, including law degrees, conferred in the United States, according to the latest almanac of the Chronicle of Higher Education.

“So we [Latinos are] not prepared to assume the faculty positions in universities, or [posts] in government, in science or in any field that requires advanced specialized training,” said Chicano studies professor Armando Vazquez-Ramos of Cal Poly Pomona, who shared the stats with me this week. “We have to motivate our students to look beyond the immediate goals of getting a bachelor’s or getting a job.”

Motivation strikes mysteriously. I would have never guessed that by beating a littering rap my son would learn to be a winner--and not throw away his future.

Agustin Gurza’s column appears Tuesday. Readers can reach Gurza at (714) 966-7712 or agustin.gurza@latimes.com