Editorial
I Nebraskan
UntvmMy •mafctiala-Uwwdh
$
Curt Wagner, Editor, 472-1766
Amy Edwards, Editorial Page Editor
Jane Hirl, Managing Editor
Lea Rood, Associate News Editor
85 sagraKr
Lw^Powaaraa,Coiemmst 4'
; According to The Associated Press, the charges against
North dealt not with his efforts to arm the Contras at a
time when the U.S. Congress had ordered all aid stopped.
Instead* the charges dealt with the former National Secu
rity Council aide’s attempts to cover up those efforts.
North, the former Marine, used as his defense that he
had loyally carried out the wishes of his commander-in
chief, then President Ronald Reagan.
Maybe the jury believed this story, so they didn’t want
to punish him at all. But maybe the jury felt they had to
punish someone for the illegal activities, so they con
victed him on the minor counts.
I North was indeed a scapegoat in the matter;, he took the
rap for what Reagan and then Vice President George Bush
should be tried for. But if Congress and the courts wanted
to use him as a scapegoat, why didn’t they punish him
rhore seriously?
ISo much money was put into the congressional hear
ings and this trial, it is disappointing that no one was
brought to justice.
Apparently people in Washington don’t respect the law.
They just pretend that they are concerned about how the
president of the United States and other government
higher-ups divert funds, bargain with the Iranians who
have held this nation at gunpoint with hostages, and spend
millions of dollars illegally.
They just let the lawbreakers go.
And when they do decide to give lip service to the law,
they go after the honeybee in the hornets’ nest
Oliver North is indeed a hero, someone who followed
orders and is getting punished, sort of, for it. During the
trial, North stood where Reagan and Bush should have
been, and didn’t mind taking the rap.
But North doesn’t need to be too concerned, because
he’ll either be pardoned or paroled before he misses his
wife too much. He will be able to lecture on a circuit,
commanding thousands of dollars for his speeches.
And North doesn’t need to be concerned because those
he’s protecting will repay him for his services.
There is no justice in America, if the criminals are in
the capital.
- Coit Wagner
for the Daily Nebraska*
Lighten up fellas, everyone is too tense
I have been noticing a growing
problem on campus as of late: Every
body is so tense that they can’t stand
each other.
A good example of this is Nels
Forde. This man needs to lighten up.
Because people have different beliefs
from you does not instantly make
them bad or deem them to hell.
I’m no Bible whiz, but it seems to
me that I read once “Judge not and
you shall not be judged.’’ I suggest a
vacation for Forde; two weeks in the
sun on a beach might help you un
wind.
George Kerr (Daily Nebraskan,
May 3) is the kind of person who is
actually concerned when someone
bangs their shin on a coffee table. I
myself, on the other hand, have to
excuse myself because I am usually
laughing so hard. Get a sense of
humor.
I thought the Daily Half-asskin
(May 1) was just what we needed,
since we all are so uptight on this
campus right now.
Kerr, you really should try laugh
ter, it really docs cure what ails you.
It also helps meeting women.
Maybe you and Forde should join
each other for that vacation. Lighten
up, fellas.
Bob Archibald
senior
marketing
Break the law, pay the price!
Donovan learns about the county’s penal system the hard warn
It just goes to show you: You
don’t have to sit in the middle
of a boring lecture for 50 min
utes to learn something.
This would be the proverbial les
son in the justice system.
Since I last appeared on this page,
I have violated a law and have been
arraigned.
Now it doesn’t really matter if I
shot somebody, or if I was in a city
park after hours, or if a Lincoln police
officer just happened to ticket me for
trespassing by parking at the Univer
sity Towers lot; I violated the law.
This meant a lot of little things to
big old me.
Upon issuance of the ticket, it
meant that somehow, I had to get out
of this bind. It might mean some
serious cash. It could possibly mean
some time in the slammer, and it
definitely meant I would have a po
lice record.
I pleaded with the officer to give
me a warning, but he insisted, in a
friendly manner, I might add, that
warnings had failed. I insisted, also in
a friendly manner, that a warning
would not fail in my case.
He requested that maybe I should
keep silent
“Can I see some ID?” he said
authoritatively.
He hated me, I could tell. His snide
attitude ... I knew he wanted to cuff
me.
My insides became heavy and I
couldn’t keep still.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“No, I’m going to issue you a
ticket for... ‘T
I gave a heavy blink.
At that moment, I accepted Jesus
Christ as my Lord and Savior.
“So how much is this going tocost
me?”
“Well, the maximum penalty is
$500 and/or three months in jail.”
Just then my eves began to w ater.
They just watered ~ I didn’t cry.
That cop didn ’t understand me. He
treated me like a common criminal. I
had never broken the law before, or at
least I had never been caught for
breaking the law before.
“Geez,” I mumbled.
I never even shoplifted the regula
tion candy bar from the 7-11 store
when I was a kid.
I begged (even groveled) a little
more, but he didn’t want me to be my
own character witness. He just
wanted me to shut up.
I tried to play on his sympathies.
“You don’t want to be responsible
for a student being taken out of
school, do you?” I whimpered.
I don’t know why I would have to
leave school for a ticket, but it
sounded good, I guess. Anyway, I had
finally broken the copper down - he
grinned.
‘‘Oh, I didn’t realize you were in
school.”
He held out the white slip of paper
and a pen to me.
‘‘Could you please sign here ...
your court date is... Do you want that
for 9 a.m. or 2 p.m.?”
‘‘9 a.m.,” I said.
With that he gave me the ticket
and I went on my criminal way.
I wondered where I could get legal
help at midnight. I called my best
friend in Omaha, but she’s not a law
yer, majoring in law or even studying
law. I just wanted to make sure that
someone would come visit me when I
was old and rotting in the Lancaster
County Jail.
me next day, I made an appoint
ment with Legal Services, one of
those lovely services which the Asso
ciation of Students of the University
of Nebraska allocates student fees to.
It would be a week before I could
get in to see an attorney.
It was like waiting an eternity, a
lifetime. Day became night, night
became day, and the week passed
slowly.
A fter speaking with the attorney at
Legal Services, I probably should
have waited a lifetime, perhaps an
eternity before consulting with the
office.
First of all, the attorney expected
me to know everything about the law.
I love it when people assume that you
should automatically know things
that it took three years of schooling
for them to comprehend.
After explaining the circum
stances, the attorney listed the op
tions and basically said that my pen
alty would depend on the judge.
Oh good, so my fate was resting on
whether or not someone had burned
the judge’s toast before my arraign
ment.
Now that’s justice.
I left there feeling more dis
traught. Why didn’t I know someone
in the penal system? I was really a
criminal. It didn’t matter that I was
wrong, so long as I got out ol it. Wt
I went and got my measles sh®
and thought it all over. Two shots ra
one day. This called for a trip to tl®
ice cream store. Then 1 went to tf®j
Daily Nebraskan. Then 1 went hom®|
I wandered about for another fc®
days and finally decided to talk lo®
city attorney.
After discussing the fact that I ha®
no money, he reassured me that sini®
it was my first offense, I wouldn’t tfl
severely penalized and the chance (®
serving a jail term was about as n®
mote as remote could get.
Feeling a little more at case, I wei®
home and got some rest. It had bee®
weeks.
Judgment Day finally arrived. |g
Courtroom 12 in the County-CitH
Building, 555 S. 10th St., was a col®
room, especially at 9 a.m.
All I could think of was Judg®
Wapner -- I had to keep myscl®
amused.
S ince I was told that the cases wer®
heard in alphabetical order, I as®
sumed that I would be the third per®
son - not the 13th.
“Lisa Donovan.”
I approached the front of the room®
The announcement pierce®
through every one of my achinf®
muscles. My hands became balmy a®
the police report was read. My eye®
twitched and my forehead wrinkled, fl
stood before the judge.
As the prosecutor read aloud tlu
police report, I wanted to turn anc
slap him. Instead, I just stood then
frozen beneath the lights and a slow
turning ceiling fan.
“How do you plead?”
The words quietly, shamefully
passed through my lips.
“Guilty.”
The judge looked over the top oi
his glasses and suggested that the city
would like me to use its parking ga
rages, and assessed me a $10 fine.
I again reaffirmed my acceptance
of Jesus Christ as my Lord and Sav
ior.
The bailiff ushered me out and as
I dipped into my pocket I learned
many valuable lessons: Society
makes a set of rules, and if you dis
obey, you pay the price. If you don i
want to pay the price, don’t get
caught.
Weighing the learning experi
ences, I think next time I’ll stick to
the boring, 50-minutc lecture.
Donovan is a Junior news-editorial
major, and a Daily Nebraskan arts and enter
tainment senior reporter and editorial col
umnist.
