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Wyatt’s World By Wyatt Emmerich With a 40-year perfect driving record, I pled ‘not guilty’ A
40-year perfect driving record is worth defending, so I have pled “not
guilty,” to violating Mississippi’s four-year-old “move over” law. I was driving back from Newton County around 9 p.m. when I hit the I-20 road construction. I
couldn’t believe how close the temporary concrete dividers were to the
left-hand lane. There could not have been more than three inches of
left shoulder. Intermittently, there were also concrete dividers on the
right-hand side. All in all, a very dangerous driving environment with
limited visibility. I slowed down in response to
the dangerous conditions. The driver behind me began tailgating. The
car couldn’t have been more than five feet off my rear bumper. Why do
people do this? What could be more unsafe? It seemed like forever before the traffic cleared, allowing me to get in the right-hand lane. As
soon as I changed lanes, I drove over a slight hill. As I topped the
rise and began to descend on the other side, I could see flashing blue
lights on the right-hand side of the road about 100 yards ahead. “How dangerous,” I thought, recalling the flashing sign a few miles back warning vehicles not to stop in the construction area. At
60 miles an hour, 100 yards goes by in 3.6 seconds. I looked in the
rear view mirrors in preparation for a lane change. “What if someone is
in my blind spot,” I thought. Given the concrete shoulder, a mistake
could be fatal. This was no time to take my eyes off the road and turn
around for a better view. Instead, I slowed down to around 45 and moved over slightly. It was the safest thing to do at the time. Within
seconds, the flashing blue lights were following me. “Great,” I
thought, “how do you pull over when there is no shoulder?” I crept
along trying to find a place to stop while the Pearl policeman angrily
kept flashing me with his spotlight. I sat in my
car with my hands on the wheel and waited for the policeman to
approach. Keeping your hands on the wheel reassures police at night. No
sudden moves. Hands in plain view. I expected a
light “tap, tap, tap,” on my window once the officer approached.
Instead, he slammed his fist into the side of my window in one powerful
blow. “Uh, oh,” I thought. “Not good.” Pearl
policeman C21 (he never put his name on the ticket as is required by
state law), was not a happy camper. He proceeded to berate me for not
moving over. Thinking he was referring to my
delay in “pulling over,” I told him there was no room to pull over.
What we had was a failure to communicate. He wrote me a ticket. About
half the Mississippians I have since asked were aware of the
four-year-old “move over” law. The law was passed in the heart of the
recession budget cutbacks. The Department of Public Safety has little
money to advertise the new law. In essence, you
must move over to the adjacent lane if an “emergency vehicle” is on the
shoulder. If safety or traffic conditions make a lane change unsafe,
then you may remain in your lane but must slow down. As
the driver of my vehicle, the move over law gives me the right to make
this safety call. Only the driver is aware of all the variables
contributing to a safe lane change. A sudden lane change in a
construction area at night in urban traffic is inherently unsafe. It’s
my call. I made it. I was not in violation of the law. Ironically,
there is another state law that requires slower drivers to be in the
right-hand lane. There are two exceptions to this law and the “move
over” law is not one of them. So no matter which lane I was in, I could
be in violation of a state traffic law. That’s rich. I
call this the law of unintended consequences. Obviously, we want to
protect law enforcement officers. But if police are going to nullify
the “safety” option in the law, then people are going to start making a
lot of unsafe, sudden lane changes to avoid a ticket. Every
morning I drive to work under heavy traffic on I-55. Often, just on the
other side of the Northside Drive overpass, a police motorcycle has
stopped a motorist for speeding. Imagine the traffic hazard created
when 40 vehicles attempt to suddenly change lanes in rush hour traffic. Already,
“move over” tickets are the simplest way for officers to write a bunch
of tickets quickly and meet their quotas. No need even for a speed gun.
The Internet lists numerous examples of such abuse. Let’s not forget
the money goes to the city which pays the police officers. The
“supplemental” ticket charges fund the retirement plans for the police,
the prosecutors and the judges. Seems a bit stacked against ordinary
citizens. I showed up at 8 a.m. for my hearing at
the Pearl police station. Hundreds of people were packed inside and
out. Many were sitting on the ground. No customer
service here. You are guilty until proven innocent, and your first
sentence is to wait and lose a day from work. How hard would it have
been for the clerk to stagger these times throughout the day? Instead,
everybody is ordered to show up at 8 a.m. sharp. When
my turn finally came, I spoke with a clerk to set up a trial date.
First she gave me a lecture about the move over law - “there are signs
on all the entrance ramps” - implying my cause was lost. Then she asked
me to sign a form stating that I could go to jail if I plead innocent
and lose. The form was clearly designed to scare
people into just paying the ticket. Can you imagine the chaos if people
started routinely contesting traffic violations? Not to mention the
sudden drop in city revenues. As a veteran
reporter, I am well aware of the unpredictability of judges when you
plead innocent in any court, even traffic court. The average person may
not realize it, but you can indeed be sentenced to 10 days in jail for
a simple traffic ticket. But after a little
research on the Internet, I discovered that Mississippi law allows a
maximum sentence of four hours of driver ed for traffic tickets - if
you have no other tickets over the last three years. I
pointed this out to the clerk, suggesting that I could sign the form if
I could cross out the sentence about going to jail. The clerk just
stared at me as if to say, “Why me, Lord?” Then she sent me to the room
with the judge and 150 poor folks with suspended licenses. I
sat down next to an elderly woman who seemed friendly. “What are you
here for?” I asked. Surprise! Move over violation. “I didn’t have time
to change lanes,” she explained. I showed her a copy of the law. She
closed her eyes, looked up and said, “Thank you, Lord!” For
six hours I sat there and listened to the stories of a hundred people
who are organizationally challenged and thus failed to have a valid
driver’s license. It was a fascinating insight into how tough life can
be. My heart ached. “There but for the grace of God go I,” I thought
over and over again. My trials and tribulations melted into triviality. Judge
Richard Redfern was a true Southern gentleman throughout. With absolute
authority, he could have been arrogant to these hard-pressed folks.
Instead, he was gentle and understanding, being firm when he had to. When
my turn finally came, I pled innocent with a brief explanation, hoping
the judge might take pity and dismiss the case then and there. No such
luck. I now have an April 5 trial date. At the
very worst, I should still get a good column or two out of it. (By the
way, I didn’t have to sign the form. Live free or die!)
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