When I first skimmed this order from Judge T. Kent Wetherell II, I thought it said “Things would have been considerably worse for Plaintiff had she not admitted it because the courtroom security video clearly shows her placing the GUN under the table.” How could a judge respond to someone sneaking a firearm into a courtroom by threatening to make them write “I will not do it again” 100 times like Bart Simpson? But then I saw it was the Northern District of Florida and thought, “that tracks.”
But it turns out the event behind this order wasn’t a Second Amendment test but a party sticking their GUM underneath the table and leaving it for the next unsuspecting litigant.
Less bazooka and more Bazooka Joe.
And now the incident can live on for posterity, to be dug up to flesh out a footnote in a future student law review note: Justice Is Hungry: An Postsemantic Analysis Of The Edible Hermeneutics Of Food Narratives In America’s Courtrooms.
After the sentencing hearing, I was informed that the Assistant United States Attorney (AUSA) who was sitting in the chair in which Plaintiff sat during the morning hearing got gum on her skirt when she brushed her leg against the underside of counsel’s table. It was at that point that court staff determined that chewed gum had been stuck under the table.
Look, this is disgusting and contemptuous but also something that could’ve been handled — forgive me — under the table. Send a letter to whoever sat there earlier and maybe assess some small fine. Not everything needs to be enshrined on PACER. Some issues can die in silent shame, like the Blackberry.
The gum that was not stuck to the AUSA’s skirt was still stuck to and hanging down from the table after the incident. See Doc. 51 at 3 (post-incident picture). The court custodial staff then had the unenviable task of removing the remainder of the gum from the table, which they dutifully did.
Why is there a picture on the docket? We believed you! And I don’t want to downplay the hard work custodial staff bring, but the order makes it sound like they were handling vials of Sarin Gas when they probably ran a putty knife over it and then rubbed it down with Fabuloso.
Court staff and I inferred that the gum had to have been stuck under the table at some point during the morning hearing because there had been no hearings in that courtroom since Tuesday, and the gum was still fresh and stringy. Thus, to get to the bottom of the incident, I ordered Plaintiff to “file a notice identifying who stuck the chewed gum under the table and show cause why the Court should not impose appropriate sanctions on the person who did so.”
It’s like Encyclopedia Brown but thankfully the judge didn’t have to send that goon Sally out to break someone’s legs off stage.
The plaintiff in the civil matter fessed up in a written apology, promising it won’t happen again. Presumably because someone turned her on to Altoids. Her lawyer vouched for her. The judge forwarded it to the affected Assistant U.S. Attorney for potential dry-cleaning restitution, and decided “a simple admonishment will suffice.”
No kidding. It’s appropriate that the judge didn’t try to stack a penalty atop someone who already agreed to pay. You don’t want to punish someone twice… that would be Double(Mint) Jeopardy.
Even though this ends this chapter, the judge has ideas if this comes up again:
That said, if anything like this happens again, I will come up with sanctions that are commensurate with the schoolchild-nature of the violation—maybe sitting in the courtroom under the supervision of a court security officer handwriting “I will not stick my gum under a courtroom table again” 100 times on notebook paper; an afternoon of helping the court custodial staff clean the courtroom and adjacent public areas; and/or a couple hours of scraping gum off the sidewalk in front of the courthouse.
Real “disgruntled vice principal” energy.
Again, this is disgusting and it’s entirely appropriate to admonish the party responsible — if not necessarily publicly. But this is Florida. It’s hard not to feel a touch of vertigo watching the judiciary leap into action over Juicy Fruit while the legal system has a “get out of murder free card” if the killer can prove they were scared enough and libraries purge Heather Has Two Mommies like it’s a national security threat. It’s not Judge Wetherell’s fault — he’s just trying to keep his courtroom a step above the floor of a Greyhound — but there’s something to a system that elevates the little things while bigger injustices thrive.
Something to chew on.
Ugh.
(Check out the order on the next page…)
Joe Patrice is a senior editor at Above the Law and co-host of Thinking Like A Lawyer. Feel free to email any tips, questions, or comments. Follow him on Twitter or Bluesky if you’re interested in law, politics, and a healthy dose of college sports news. Joe also serves as a Managing Director at RPN Executive Search.
The post Chewed Gum Under Courthouse Table Becomes Federal Case Because Of Course It Does appeared first on Above the Law.
When I first skimmed this order from Judge T. Kent Wetherell II, I thought it said “Things would have been considerably worse for Plaintiff had she not admitted it because the courtroom security video clearly shows her placing the GUN under the table.” How could a judge respond to someone sneaking a firearm into a courtroom by threatening to make them write “I will not do it again” 100 times like Bart Simpson? But then I saw it was the Northern District of Florida and thought, “that tracks.”
But it turns out the event behind this order wasn’t a Second Amendment test but a party sticking their GUM underneath the table and leaving it for the next unsuspecting litigant.
Less bazooka and more Bazooka Joe.
And now the incident can live on for posterity, to be dug up to flesh out a footnote in a future student law review note: Justice Is Hungry: An Postsemantic Analysis Of The Edible Hermeneutics Of Food Narratives In America’s Courtrooms.
After the sentencing hearing, I was informed that the Assistant United States Attorney (AUSA) who was sitting in the chair in which Plaintiff sat during the morning hearing got gum on her skirt when she brushed her leg against the underside of counsel’s table. It was at that point that court staff determined that chewed gum had been stuck under the table.
Look, this is disgusting and contemptuous but also something that could’ve been handled — forgive me — under the table. Send a letter to whoever sat there earlier and maybe assess some small fine. Not everything needs to be enshrined on PACER. Some issues can die in silent shame, like the Blackberry.
The gum that was not stuck to the AUSA’s skirt was still stuck to and hanging down from the table after the incident. See Doc. 51 at 3 (post-incident picture). The court custodial staff then had the unenviable task of removing the remainder of the gum from the table, which they dutifully did.
Why is there a picture on the docket? We believed you! And I don’t want to downplay the hard work custodial staff bring, but the order makes it sound like they were handling vials of Sarin Gas when they probably ran a putty knife over it and then rubbed it down with Fabuloso.
Court staff and I inferred that the gum had to have been stuck under the table at some point during the morning hearing because there had been no hearings in that courtroom since Tuesday, and the gum was still fresh and stringy. Thus, to get to the bottom of the incident, I ordered Plaintiff to “file a notice identifying who stuck the chewed gum under the table and show cause why the Court should not impose appropriate sanctions on the person who did so.”
It’s like Encyclopedia Brown but thankfully the judge didn’t have to send that goon Sally out to break someone’s legs off stage.
The plaintiff in the civil matter fessed up in a written apology, promising it won’t happen again. Presumably because someone turned her on to Altoids. Her lawyer vouched for her. The judge forwarded it to the affected Assistant U.S. Attorney for potential dry-cleaning restitution, and decided “a simple admonishment will suffice.”
No kidding. It’s appropriate that the judge didn’t try to stack a penalty atop someone who already agreed to pay. You don’t want to punish someone twice… that would be Double(Mint) Jeopardy.
Even though this ends this chapter, the judge has ideas if this comes up again:
That said, if anything like this happens again, I will come up with sanctions that are commensurate with the schoolchild-nature of the violation—maybe sitting in the courtroom under the supervision of a court security officer handwriting “I will not stick my gum under a courtroom table again” 100 times on notebook paper; an afternoon of helping the court custodial staff clean the courtroom and adjacent public areas; and/or a couple hours of scraping gum off the sidewalk in front of the courthouse.
Real “disgruntled vice principal” energy.
Again, this is disgusting and it’s entirely appropriate to admonish the party responsible — if not necessarily publicly. But this is Florida. It’s hard not to feel a touch of vertigo watching the judiciary leap into action over Juicy Fruit while the legal system has a “get out of murder free card” if the killer can prove they were scared enough and libraries purge Heather Has Two Mommies like it’s a national security threat. It’s not Judge Wetherell’s fault — he’s just trying to keep his courtroom a step above the floor of a Greyhound — but there’s something to a system that elevates the little things while bigger injustices thrive.
Something to chew on.
Ugh.
(Check out the order on the next page…)
Joe Patrice is a senior editor at Above the Law and co-host of Thinking Like A Lawyer. Feel free to email any tips, questions, or comments. Follow him on Twitter or Bluesky if you’re interested in law, politics, and a healthy dose of college sports news. Joe also serves as a Managing Director at RPN Executive Search.
