When innocently young, one can be somewhat naive. We are inherently taught that good will always triumph over evil. A courthouse is the forum where evil should be dealt with. But, in reality, this is seldom the case. The county courthouse looks like a typical courthouse. A Romanesque building, three stories high, with large pillars in the front, eloped in ivy which crawled up one side of the building, masqueraded by a fertile green, manicured, immaculately kept courtyard, blockaded with a vast variety of flowers and plants. The United States’ flag which soared high above the building like an eagle overseeing a tundra stands in the heart of this courtyard. Etched in stone on the front wall of the courthouse are the words" Truth, Justice, and Liberty."
This is a place where one should feel truly safe. As I walk inside the cold and quiet building, a young woman is talking with the circuit court clerk. She appears with a child-like innocence and a petite figure, with blond hair that flowed freely like a lions’ mane. Her sun-kissed skin illuminated her eyes that twinkled like stars in a country sides’ midnight sky. She becomes more enraged by the second. The young lady finally erupts, yelling and almost crying. Her ex-husband has not paid her child support in a month, and she cannot buy diapers for her baby. The clerk tells her that nobody can do anything about it until he is six months behind in his support. After five more minutes of intense arguing, the young lady, now engulfed in tears, leaves. The clerk shrugs and turns around.
The air grew colder as I proceeded upstairs. There, a presence of dampness filled the air. A long, narrow corridor housed empty offices and conference areas. The gray walls were lined with dusty portraits of elderly looking political figures. I recognize two of them as Washington and Jefferson. In between them mounted a copy of the constitution. As I read it I chuckle, and questioned whether the current...
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