My five-year-old and I walked briskly up the courthouse steps. I chose not to wear a jacket I’d have to take off at the security checkpoint, and I was unarmed because courthouses are afraid of the second amendment. As we stepped through the door I saw the icy stares on two security guards’ faces. From behind them my wife pointed to me and called out, “There’s my husband.”
Crap.
Earlier That Morning…
“We need to be there in about 15 minutes,” my wife said.
“Highway or no highway?”
“It’s a toss-up which is faster.”
“I’ll go highway, I can make up five minutes on the highway.”
“Um, let’s not do 90mph on our way to court, please.”
For the record, we weren’t going to court to contest a speeding ticket, or to contest anything. In my long life of questionable actions I’ve been fortunate, lucky, blessed to avoid ever having to visit a courthouse when I didn’t choose to. I’ve never even had to serve on a jury (although I suspect there’s a reason for that nowadays, and it’s not random). Neither has my wife, which is just fine with us. No, we were on our way to the courthouse in order to finalize guardianship for one of our adopted children. Just a formality, no big deal.
The writer in me knows that spending time at a courthouse will always provide some quality content. The last time I was there I played a little game in my head called Spot The Lawyer, which seems easy enough in most states but in Alaska our lawyers are equally likely to don their best polar fleece jacket and snow boots as they are a black trench coat or trendy shoes. Men and women.
My wife isn’t as dorky. She probably spends her time looking for people to pray with.
So although ministry and writing opportunities abound, I avoid the courthouse at all costs. Everything about being there is icky. There are lawyers, lots of them. There are despondent, angry people; lots of them, too. And there are judges, who are sometimes weird, other times reprehensible. But none of those are the main reason for shunning courthouses: I don’t like going there because I’m not allowed to wear my gun.
I don’t like going anywhere that doesn’t allow me to wear my gun.
If we hadn’t settled on homeschooling way back in 2000 with kid #1, that would have been the public school deal-breaker for me long ago. No guns on school property? Nope. I’m not sending my kid into a bleeping gun-free zone. No way.
And I especially don’t like being vulnerable in gun-free zones with my wife present. She’s always armed herself when I’m not around. We understand the dangers of an unarmed society all too well. In a courthouse or any gun-free zone, I immediately start looking for the exits, and which chairs I can hurl at an attacker if need be.
I Have To Remove My Belt? Why?
Seriously, why? I’m old enough to remember when a belt buckle large enough to set off the metal detector could be spotted a mile away. And they were only worn on the kind of guy you wanted to carry a gun – the type of dude who could probably kill a perp with a toothpick before the lax security guard could even get his weapon out of the holster. So what’s the point of taking off belts?
Are you telling me that the little strips of metal on my wife’s cute pink belt is somehow going to conceal a weapon worthy of the deceit tactics? Even if it were laced with C-4 it wouldn’t pack enough punch to do much damage.A few mint-sized globs of potassium metal on the other hand… but I digress. Settle down, Fedboy, it’s just a science joke.
And anyway, wouldn’t a bad guy just shoot those manning the security checkpoint and start their rampage there? Sort of like Neo and Trinity did in The Matrix (the first one, not the lame sequels).
Enough logic, old man. Just take the belt off already. Makes you wonder what they do about suspenders.
Someone also decided that little kids need to take off their jackets. Soooo convenient for already intimidated toddlers walking into a big scary building with metal detectors. They might be carrying a concealed Nerf gun. [Side note: Nerf guns can be modified into lethal projectile weapons.] **Vince’s Fedboy picks up the phone**
Sit down, Fedboy! Gee whiz.
I didn’t wear my belt, though. It’s a tactical belt I wear daily that goes great with my favorite pistol, which I had to leave in the car. Boo. Getting ready that morning, I was also careful to stow away my other favorite pocket items that security checkpoints have a problem with – like my knife, my Carmex, my tactical pen, and my Streamlight Wedge flashlight, the best flashlight I’ve ever owned in my life. (Seriously, get one of these babies, they’re amazing.)
I disarmed, got in the car, and zoomed off to court.
Almost there…
“We’re gonna be about three minutes late,” she said. “How about you let me out at the curb and meet me in there as soon as you can?”
“Good idea.”
I zipped through downtown Palmer as quickly as a Ford Focus on snowy roads would allow. I tried not to come into the courthouse parking lot too hot since I know how much security camera guys love seeing cars do that on their monitors. My wife jumped out and rushed up the steps while I parked the car.
A few minutes, later my son and I walked into those big double doors of the courthouse.
“There’s my husband,” she points at me.
Why are these serious-looking guys eyeing me? What is he holding?
Then I notice it’s a pistol magazine.
“My spare mag was in my bag,” she says from the other side of the pat down area.
While I was parking the car…
As my wife passed through security, one of the Palmer courthouse’s finest examines the x-ray scanner. “Ma’am, there’s something in your bag. I dunno what it is, something that looks sharp and pointy. I’ll need to examine your bag.”
She handed over the bag and watched the man awkwardly rifle through it, made more complicated by the fact that there’s a tear in the lining big enough for a desk’s worth of writing materials (or keys) to fall through and hide in. He starts pulling things out: Wallet, sunglasses, feminine hygiene articles –
“Yep, wave that around so everyone can see it,” she encouraged him. He quickly set it aside and covered it with her wallet.
“Well, I don’t see anything…” he began to say, and then pulled out the mag. “But this. And this can not come in the building.”
“Even without my gun?” she asked. “What am I going to do, throw it at someone? How fast do you think I can throw .22 ammo?”
And she has a point. In fact, you could probably do more damage throwing a magazine stuffed with .22 long rifle than you could by firing them. Unless you’re good at hitting the head, which she is.
This is when I entered the building. The security guard looked at me, looked at her, shook his head and handed me the magazine to take back to the car. I get it. *sigh*
It should be noted that of the potential weapons my wife did have on her person when she walked through the security checkpoint – and we have done so four times now without incident, and she’s carried the same things every time – the aforementioned .22 rounds were probably the least lethal. That’s because she also had a sturdy tactical pen, with a nice pointy end useful for all sorts of debilitating maneuvers.
The rest of the court visit proceeds with little fanfare. We’re in and out in less time that it took to get through security, so there’s that, at least. On the way home she relays the full story to me, to which I quip a la Jeff Foxworthy: “If your Jesus-counseling-minister-writer wife is stopped at security on her way to court for possessing a spare pistol mag…you might be an Alaskan.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “But…” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out another weapon banned in about a dozen states, “they didn’t even notice my Monkey Fist.” *grins*
You can follow me on Telegram, Substack, Truth Social, GETTR, Gab, and X. You can subscribe to receive new posts to your inbox as well as get information on my latest novel, book four in my modern war series. If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting us with a paid subscription. Keep fighting.
If you enjoyed this article, please check out these as well:
My latest book, Those Who Face Death, is now available online wherever books are sold. This is the fourth book in the Modern War series.
If you’ve yet to experience Science Goes Boom, come on by and check us out.
Subscribe for free and receive weekly, family-friendly science videos every Friday. If you’d like to donate to the page, it will help me continue providing this content.