DAMN!!

Did you ever want to kick yourself for a missed opportunity? I did this past Friday. I had been sitting in my car on Hempstead Turnpike, windows open to the spring-like weather, reading my paper. I was waiting for the annual Good Friday Hunger March to approach my position when the office radio sounded. “Get right over to Federal Courthouse. The FBI just picked up (name withheld). He is part of the scandal involving some local politicians and some garbage contracts and will be arraigned in Judge Ohrenstein’s Courtroom.”

The courthouse was a half mile up the road, so that presented no problem. I was there in minutes. I parked the car and walked over to the front entrance. There was a suit standing outside, obviously an attorney. “What's the big story that brings you out, today?” he asked, spotting the camera dangling from my shoulder. “I dunno. You might be the enemy,” I told him. Then I mentioned the name of my quarry and I noted the gleam of recognition in his eye. “Is he your client?” He nodded his assent. I suggested to him that it might be in the best interest of his client if he could be told that I was going to get a photo of him and if he wanted to duck and cover, I would shoot that and it would probably run in the paper that way. Most attorneys are astute enough to know that such a photo would imply that the subject must be guilty if they tried to duck a photo. If they can convince their clients, then I can get an open shot and they don’t start off looking guilty before they are actually found to be so. I don’t ask them to pose. I’d rather just get them coming out of the courthouse naturally. But, wouldn’t it be nice if I could get him coming in? That would save me waiting around for hours until he came out. And, if he wasn’t able to make bail, he would still be in custody and would be driven out from the garage in a car, and I’d never get a shot of him. Sometimes, on the way in, they’ll drive the prisoner into the garage. Sometimes they park in the front of the building and walk him through the doors. Of course, I had no inkling what he looked like. The attorney solved that for me when he pointed out that his client was coming over from the distant parking lot, in handcuffs, and in the company of two beefy FBI agents. The lawyer walked over to meet them. I hung back figuring that they would keep coming towards me, and rather than spooking the man by rushing up with my camera, I thought I’d wait for his attorney to talk with him.

DAMN!! They turned and went down the ramp to the garage and I was still too far away to get a clean shot. I ran over to the driveway as they were almost to the bottom. We are forbidden to go down there, so I shot a long shot knowing that it would be useless for the paper. DAMN!! I blew that chance. I made a mental note to chastise myself for not taking advantage of the perfect opportunity.

The Marshals let me store my camera on a shelf behind the security desk and I went up to the courtroom. I had to wait close to two hours before my subject’s case was called. I sat there and listened to the disposition so that I would know if he made bail. He did. His wife was there with the deed to his house. I had plenty of time. There were all kinds of papers to be filled out before he could leave the courthouse and, of course, we are forbidden to photograph inside a Federal Courthouse.

I went downstairs to use the men’s room. When I finished, I strolled out to the lobby to collect my camera from the Marshal’s desk. As I turned the corner into the lobby, there was my subject and his lawyer walking out of the front doors. DAMN!! DOUBLE DAMN!!!! This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be in the Clerk’s office for close to an hour, signing papers. What in the Hell was going on? Was I about to blow a second chance in one day? I tore past the startled Marshals, grabbing my camera on the run, and raced outside. The subject and his wife were standing on the sidewalk talking with the attorney, as I raced up with the camera to my eye. His wife held up her hand to block my lens, but the lawyer cautioned her saying that I would get a picture, no matter what. She lowered her arm and I snapped off about 6 shots, said “Thank you,” and headed for my car. Some days are like that.

OK. I got another chance. That doesn't happen very often. Fortunately for me, his lawyer told him not to try to duck me on the way out of court. NEWSDAY PHOTO by Dick Kraus

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