As far as I know, there are no skeletons hiding in my closet. My wife, children, and friends know my strengths and shortcomings. I’ve told them most everything there is to know about my early life including the following.
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It was a beautiful, sunny day in Anchorage, Alaska. To be exact, it was 1:00 in the afternoon, on June 9, 1979. I was shopping with my wife, Joleen, and young son, Gunnar. As we started to exit the Montgomery Ward parking lot, a fellow in a red convertible MG Midget pulled right up to my front bumper, blocking our path. With no arrows painted on the asphalt, it turned out that I was accidentally going the wrong direction. Even so, there was plenty of room for two cars to get by.
This man and his blond female accomplice sat there, both pointing to a sign at the entrance saying – One Way. The driver then flipped me the middle finger while yelling obscenities. I quickly backed up and drove around them. A bit incensed at this jerk, and wanting to give him a tongue lashing of my own, Joleen pleaded with me not to, but my mind was set.
Reentering the Ward’s parking lot from Northern Lights Boulevard, I hopped out and confronted the fellow, who was now parked and sitting alone. He mouthed a few more profanities at me, along with claiming that I needed to learn how to drive, this while puffing on a thin Cigarillo cigar.
Blowing thick tobacco smoke, or second-hand carcinogens in my face, I instinctively slapped the cigar from his mouth. At that point, Steven Anonymous jumped from his topless car, brandishing a small aluminum baseball bat. Running for about fifteen feet, I turned, and then grabbed the bat as he swung, the bat hitting my leg, causing nothing more than a sting.
No more than five seconds passed before I had this mouthy individual pinned to the ground. No punches were thrown before or after he went down. Looking back on this, I encountered rougher skirmishes as a kid on playgrounds in elementary school.
Out of sight to me, the fellow’s female accomplice came up from behind—smacking my head repeatedly with a heavy purse. Joleen quickly got out of our Chevrolet Vega and grabbed her hands. The woman yelled curse words back at her and me.
A Montgomery Ward security officer came out of a door to see what was going on. With both of us wrestlers getting up, dusting off pants and shirts, at that point, I figured the fracas was over. For those watching this melee, undoubtedly, more violent things are seen each Sunday, on the sidelines of an NFL football game.
Believing that was the end of it, Joleen, Gunnar, and I left. Two days later, at work, two Anchorage Police Department officers showed up with a female in tow, walked into my store, with the petite blond quickly sandwiching herself between both uniformed men.
This gal, who I recognized from two days earlier, pointed me out as the person having broken her husband’s glasses. With one of the officers asking if I’d been in an altercation on Saturday, and me replying, “Yes, but the other guy started it!,” he promptly wrote a citation for misdemeanor assault & battery. Just like that, the policeman took her word against mine.
The ticket had a mandatory court date on it, just as some traffic offenses do. I didn’t take it very seriously until friends said that I should. It appeared to be nothing more than another traffic ticket, of which I had many.
With some folks saying that I needed a lawyer, East Anchorage High School grad, and newbie attorney, Ty Settles, was hired. The two of us went to court, where I found out, Mr. Anonymous’s wife worked at Montgomery Ward. She knew the security person, with him testifying against me, even though the man hadn’t observed a thing. In other words, he lied for the prosecution.
The jury having clear instructions in hand, it simply came down to who made the first move. Being that I slapped a Cigarillo from the fellow’s mouth, that was considered initial provocation. Case closed.
Found guilty of a misdemeanor, I spent 24 hours in jail, and had to pay $36.85 for Mr. Anonymous’s broken sunglasses, plus a $150 fine. My attorney told me that had I not been so honest, and not mentioned to the cops that I made the first move, it would’ve ended up a hung jury. I’ve always been taught to tell the truth and did just that.
Asking myself afterwards, what should I have done differently, the logical answer to that question is: listened to my wife, and never went back and confronted the guy to begin with. Two valuable lessons were learned from this. Number one, I now try to walk away from troublemakers, or turn the other cheek as the Bible dictates. It’s not always easy. I’ll mention lesson number two in just a second.
Not the end of this story, 28 years later, I drove to Walmart to purchase a gun and was turned down. This had never happened before. Wanting to know why, a background check erroneously showed that I was a felon. After 9/11 occurred, the FBI ordered states and cities, to go through their court files and “flag” felons.
Whoever reviewed my misdemeanor case, inaccurately marked it as a felony. My name and social security number were instantly tagged with such. Some events in life have unfair, long-lasting repercussions, and this turned out to be one of them.
First consulting the Alaska State Troopers, and telling them this was a big mistake, Lieutenant Craig Macdonald eventually got in touch with NCIS (National Criminal Investigative Service), with them instructing him on what should be done. Had it not been for Lt. Macdonald, I’m not sure what would’ve happened.
I discovered early on, that it’s an impossible maze to get through, in trying to right things where judicial screwups are concerned. One trooper that I initially talked to, already had me “guilty as charged,” not wanting to move a finger. I still remember this fellow’s name, yet won’t disclose it. He never climbed very high in the Trooper organization, and was finally asked to leave.
It took additional research and footwork on my part, besides what Lt. Macdonald did, because I had to maneuver through the court system protocol, digging through blurred and misarranged files, before ordering copies. That cost for copies alone was well over $100, not counting my time. I don’t know how many letters were sent off to different agencies, but there were many over a period of two years.
When a copy of the misdemeanor assault and battery ticket was eventually found, that alone should’ve immediately cleared my name. The reason it took so long there, was because it was misfiled in a place where it wasn’t supposed to be. How many times have you come across the same yourself?
With time slowly passing like mud through an hourglass, the truth did eventually set me free, yet with a unique twist of its own. Even though this felony screwup was the Municipality of Anchorage’s doing, with one of their under-paid clerks ordered by the FBI to go back through old court records after terrorists took down the World Trade Center, and erringly marking me as a felon on NCIC (National Crime Information Center) records, I still had to be issued a special number by NCIS to continue on with a normal life.
Now, whenever I purchase a firearm, this number is presented to the dealer or the sale won’t go through. Interestingly enough, the special number is called: unique personal identification number, or UPIN. I sometimes chuckle, thinking back to all of the hassle that I went through, although Joleen doesn’t.
Much more serious than what I initially took things to be, that blunder on the clerk’s part could’ve cost me my job, as well as wrongly sent me to prison. All of this for being a ‘supposed felon’ in possession of firearms. It’s still hard for me to fathom, why a harmless slap of a cigar led to all of this. How many people are wrongfully in jail or prison right now because of similar circumstances?
I’ve purchased several guns since being cleared, by using my special UPIN number, with those working in the gun stores saying, “You must be special—because we’ve never seen or heard of anything like this!”
As far as Mr. Anonymous and his wife go, I believe the only reason the officers cited me to begin with, was because Mrs. Anonymous was a highly attractive and beautiful woman. The two young officers were trying to impress her; two knights in shining armor. I eventually bumped into the woman’s husband at a car club meeting. She wasn’t there. We made eye contact, but nothing was said.
Eventually hearing local gossip through the Anchorage grapevine, I was told that the couple divorced under hostile conditions. Hopefully that isn’t true. I hold no resentment to either, as our disagreement is now water under the bridge.
Lesson number two is a good one. Never believe for a moment that government has your back, doesn’t mess up, and they’ll easily admit to such when they do. I learned this isn’t the case – the hard way. I often think back to what Ronald Reagan once said in a speech, “The nine most frightening words in the dictionary are, I’m with the government and I’m here to help!”
On a side note. If this case was tried today, the outcome would be totally different. The following is a legal perspective on whether deliberately blowing harmful tobacco smoke into someone’s face is considered assault and battery.
“Yes, blowing cigar or cigarette smoke in someone’s face can be considered assault and battery. Smoke is considered physical contact, and intentionally blowing it in someone’s face to bother, anger, or harm them can be considered an attack. The harmful nature of the contact doesn’t need to be intentional, but the contact itself must be.”
Because Mr. Anonymous made the first move here, he’d hopefully be the one going to the pokey instead of me. Laws have definitely changed for the better regarding the hazards of second-hand carcinogens. Too bad they weren’t in place 45 years ago!
I like to write junk... 