In my capacity as a reporter for this paper, I end up in some weird places. Places that I never thought I’d be. Huston Danker’s sentencing was one of those places.

This was a couple of weeks back by now. The kid, Jonathan Meyer, the other reporter, was coming into town to cover the sentencing. I was going along just to watch, help record the proceedings, and because the kid had never been in the courthouse before.

I got up early, walked up the street, sat on a bench, and watched people file in as I waited for the kid to arrive. When he finally showed up, I started to explain where we were going. We went through the doors and up the stairs, past multiple signs saying something about emptying pockets and no bags. I didn’t pay much attention to the signs until we were at the top of the stairs, and through the crack in the door, I saw a metal detector. I cursed to myself, and started to ask the kid if he could run my vest back down to his car, but then I heard a voice, it was Chief Dan Quigley, he was working the metal detector. The Chief asked me if I had my camera bag. I said no, he said then just come on up.

The kid went first. To my recollection, he had a pen, a notepad, and his phone, but still set off the metal detector due to his belt buckle. So, he had to stand to the side and get the wand treatment from Officer Bunce.

I stood in front of the table, and the Chief put a tub in front of me and told me to empty all of my pockets. I hadn’t been expecting this. I hadn’t cleaned out my pockets in months. It took so long taking stuff out of my pockets, i told the kid to save me a seat in the courtroom.

Turns out I was carrying the following:

1-phone

2- recorders

3- wallets

1- inhaler

1-Whoopee Cushion

2-sets of keys

2-pens

1-pocket protector

1-box of tic tacs

1-set of earbuds

1-Twizzlers

3-Hankies

Several notes, cards, and receipts.

And about 20 dollars in change.

Oh, and before I forget, two knives. Which is something you normally shouldn’t try to carry through a metal detector into a courtroom, I assume. My Father always taught me the value of carrying a pocket knife, but he failed to teach me about leaving it at home when you go to court.

After I went through the detector without it making a beep, my vest was patted down by Tama Officer Chris Harris, my bucket of stuff was handed back, but the Chief held onto my knives until after. I had to take a picture of the bucket of stuff that came out of my vest. I started putting things back in my pockets, but when I got down to the smaller stuff, I just opened my big pocket and dumped it all in.

After finally getting through the first door, I came across Sheriff’s Detective Trevor Killian, who said it was time for my strip search. I told him it was about time, and that’s the only reason I showed up. He said he would get a Tama Officer to do it.

When I finally entered the actual courtroom, I looked around for the kid. I finally found him in the jury box with a couple of others. Now, I know how I look, and I know what I wear, but I’m used to it and don’t think about it. Someone who apparently wasn’t used to it was the Dateline producer who was in the jury box with the kid. After the whole deal, he said I should’ve seen her face when I walked in. Apparently, I made an impression. Maybe she and others in the courtroom don’t often see dashing-looking bearded fat men dressed in black, with a heart on their back, kitty ears on their head, and hot pink sunglasses attending judicial proceedings.

After the sentencing, I told the kid I had to get my knives from the chief. Once I had my pocket knives, I told Killian I would look forward to that strip search next time, and was told by one lady that I should’ve removed my hat in court, we were out of there. Me and the kid talked for a moment by his car, then he went back to college, and I walked back down the hill. All in all, it went alright, I just got to remember not to bring my pocket knives the next time I go to court.