A Day at the Courthouse

Those tire tracks on the front lawn were becoming an eye sore. I couldn’t avoid staring at them every time I took Roscoe out for a walk.

“So, the kids did a job on your lawn,” Curt said one day when I was out with Roscoe. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Are you going to fix the lawn?”

“There’s plenty of time. Besides I don’t know if there will be court hearing and I’ll see what happens.”

“I’ll sue them for damages, if I were you.”

When I didn’t respond he said that he hoped I get compensated well and went inside his home. I continued my walk.

Roscoe was barking at some runners on the other side of the road. I had not heard anything from the court or from Officer Jackson.

I avoided making eye contact with my neighbors lest I be dragged in sarcastic conversation about my lawn and what I was going to do to the kids or how I was going to be compensated. I wondered how victims of serious crime feel and deal with the situation.

 

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