It happened

This is my first column as a civilian. Feels odd, discomforting, that "Ret." after one's name. Notice the period after "ret"?   Look up "ret" in any dictionary without the period and the definition is unsettling. For example, The New Collegiate Dictionary defines "ret" as "to soak (something such as flax of hemp) to loosen the fiber from the woody tissue."  It kind of applies--I don't care to elaborate. But put a period after ret, as in ret., and all dictionaries state it means retired. And the definition of "retired" is unnerving. For example, according to Oxford Languages, it means "withdrawn from or no longer occupied with one's business or profession."  Merrian Webster defines it as "secluded, a retired village." And the insidious A.I. begins with "...someone has permanently stopped working, usually due to period age, health..." I stopped reading.

Many retired judges simply put Ret on their letterhead without the period. But is it not egotistical to hang on to a title?  It's like saying, "I am still somebody even though deep down I know I am not. I need a title to define myself." Maybe I should delete the "Ret." after my name as author of this column. Naw, I just retired a few days ago and I am a bit insecure. On the other hand, when one is an active sitting judge, is it not a little showy to try to be of the guys, whoops, I mean a regular person by introducing yourself at a bar function as Jim?  Years ago, I attended a local bar luncheon. A well-known federal judge sat down at the table where I was sitting and said, "Hi, I am Jim."  Jim is a made-up name to protect someone, more likely myself. I said, "Hi Jim, nice to meet you, I am Presiding Justice Gilbert."

You may be wondering why the title "It Happened"?  My first column, 370 columns ago, was titled "It Never Happened." Granted, the connection is tenuous, but why not?  The first column in 1988 was supposed to be an article about the California Supreme Court's insidious practice of "depublishing" heretofore published Court of Appeal opinions. Those depublished cases could not be cited because they were ostensibly right for the wrong reasons. To this day our high court has not told us how it comes to that conclusion. Digression: as I write this column, I make a mental note whether, on rereading it, I should delete certain words or phrases. "Insidious" is such a word. If you just read "insidious," you know my decision. The article back in 1988 was supposed to be ...you know an article--citations, the usual. It didn't turn out that way. And so began the longest-appearing column in the history of the Daily Journal.

Let's move on. This is the first column of the year, and for the moment, I can only think of one New Year's resolution that I cannot keep, not to criticize or express my bafflement over Supreme and appellate court opinions. Notice I did not indicate the particular Supreme Court.

And finally, one never knows what happens with the opinions that one has written in the past. Take, for example, McDonald v. John P. Scripps Newspaper, 210 C.A.3d 100, (1989). In 1989, one of my research attorneys was noted present day appellate practitioner Herb Fox. The McDonald case landed on Herb's desk. I credit him with some of the initial research. It wound up on the front page of an edition of the Los Angeles Times. San Francisco columnist Herb Caen devoted his column to the case.

I learned it received national attention. Herb recently gave me a book as a retirement present. It is entitled "Corpus Juris Humorous: A Compilation of Outrageous, Unusual, Infamous and Witty Judicial Opinions from 1256 A.D. to the Present," compiled and edited by attorneys John B. McClay and Wendy L. Matthews (Barnes and Noble, 1994). The McDonald case appears on page 156.

But what caught my eye on page 192 was In Re Gilbert of Niddesdale, Assize Court of Northumberland County Northumberland Assize Roll, 40 Henry III (1256). "Gilbert of Niddesdale, a stranger struck up an acquaintance with a certain hermit whose name is Senannus of Bottlesham, and as they were walking together in a certain moor, when this same Gilbert laid hold of that hermit and beat him, wounded him and left him for dead, and stole from him his cloths and one penny and fled."

 Looks like opinion writing today has not changed much since the 13th century. On second thought, in some ways, it might be an improvement. Though the language is quaint, we do not have to puzzle over what happened. To partially summarize more of the rest, as Gilbert "was fleeing he ran into Randolph of Beleford, a sergeant of our lord the King, who laid hold of him and charged him with being a criminal and took him to Alnwick. The aforementioned said hermit came to Alwick and said [not testified] that that other robbed and beat him. Gilbert confessed and received his punishment. The victim got to cut his head off and receive the property of the criminal in place of what was stolen from him. It doesn't look like the criminal had much to give in the way of compensation. The authors' notes to the case inform us that, under ancient English law, crimes that were committed in "the realm had to be vindicated either by means of some punishment "imposed upon the criminal or, if the criminal escaped, by means of a fine payable directly to the Crown."  Darn good way to cut down on crime.

I feel quite at home being cited in a book alongside cases from centuries ago. I mention the Gilbert case for obvious reasons. My ancestors had nothing to do with the horrendous crime committed against poor Bottlesham. And only for a penny. Wait, that didn't come out right. Gilbert is a name conceived at Ellis Island or some other place. I do not steal money, only an idea now and then.