It Was at That Point, the Wheels Came Off… STEVE ASHBY
W
hen I first began practicing law, right after the Civil War, most of the lawyers in the DeKalb Bar were fat old white guys. Thankfully, as we sprint into the second decade of the 21st century, our legal community is blessed with barristers of many flavors; young, old, men, women, white, black, Hispanic, Asian, each with their own gifts and talents. Sadly, with the passing years, I now find myself in the category of fat old white guy, left to reminisce about my legal career in the rear-view mirror. Being a generally gregarious bunch, lawyers love to regale anyone who will listen with stories of epic courtroom battles in which the good guy prevailed, and the miscreant opponent was given a well-deserved come-uppance. However, the most instructive, and dare I say, the most humorous lessons, come from the instances where a case crashes and burns upon impact. One such case arose on a Valentine’s evening in the early 1970s when a hapless DeKalb County husband was embroiled in a heated argument with his then current wife. Hostilities increased and the husband, outflanked, found himself on the front porch of the marital residence, shoeless, and clad only in a terrycloth bathrobe. The click of the front door deadbolt signified that the argument was over and that the husband had lost. Uncharacteristically for Atlanta, this Valentine’s evening had overnight temperatures in the 20s. Shivering on the front porch, and realizing that further shouting would have little effect, our hapless husband retreated to the shelter of his Cadillac Coupe de Ville parked in the driveway. As was the custom in that day, the car was open and the keys were left in the ignition. Husband peeled out of the driveway to show his displeasure, with no apparent destination in mind. Upon leaving the neighborhood and cruising down Lavista Road, husband was horrified to discover that the gas needle was cozying up to the E on his dash. With no wallet or credit card, husband rifled through the glove compartment in search of spare bills or change. He found only an old Varsity bag and the snub-nosed revolver he kept there in case he was ever forced to defend his life, his Cadillac or the American way. Desperate, he was thinking that possibly he could find a gas station and trade the revolver for a tank of gas. It was at this point the wheels came off. Our intrepid husband headed for the only gas station in Atlanta sure to be open after midnight - the Hess station on Lavista Road near a field that would one day become Northlake Mall. The pimply faced teenage attendant was awakened by the bell when the Coupe de Ville roared into the station. As he later testified, a short, shoeless man in a blue bathrobe strode towards his little window with a snub-nosed revolver in his right hand. The little feller then held the gun up in the light and stated, “How much gas can I get with this gun?” In an amazing display of legal acumen, the criminal defense attorney was able to convince the District Attorney to reduce the charge from armed robbery to reckless conduct, with a sentence of time served, a year’s worth of probation, and a hefty fine. Of course, before our husband could shake free of the legal system, this negotiated plea had to be approved by a Superior Court judge in open court. In the plea and sentencing hearing, our stellar criminal defense attorney painted a picture of a hapless victim who made an understandable mistake after being turned out by a cruel wife on Valentine’s Day. The judge, hearing this tale for the first time, was at a total loss for words. Shaking his head slowly, he signed the plea and sentence without comment. That is until right before the attorney and the husband reached the courtroom door (in an effort to escape before the judge changed his mind). Now finding his moral outrage, as well as his voice, the judge roared at the
attorney, stopping him dead in his tracks. “When you leave this courthouse, I direct you to proceed straight to the Ace Hardware (then on the square where MARTA runs trains now). You will then withdraw $5.00 from your wallet and purchase an eighteen-ounce ball peen hammer, at which point you will knock a hole in your client’s head and fill it with mule ****, so that he will have something for brains.” The Court’s colloquy was not recorded by the court reporter, but the memory of this event still burns bright in the recollections of those in that courtroom, the intrepid criminal defense attorney, and all those who heard him retell the story. STEVE ASHBY is celebrating forty years of practicing law, often with a sense of humor. He and law partner Latawsha Little-Hill founded Georgia Will & Probate Lawyers, which focuses exclusively on wills, probate, estate planning, advanced medical directives, and other related areas that help their clients obtain peace of mind for themselves and their loved ones. Learn more about Steve and Latawsha and their practice at gwaplaw.com
Missing Beauty Byline with Sanah? Columnist Sanah Sayani is taking a sabbatical from her column, “Beauty Byline with Sanah,” starting with the February issue. In her absence, Our Town DeKalb will feature a series of guest columnists, starting with lawyer Steve Ashby of Georgia Will and Probate Lawyers, and his column, “It Was at That Point, the Wheels Came Off…”
OUR TOWN DEKALB | February 2022 11
