Numbers

I've had the tendency to be a big Debbie Downer as of late, so I'm trying to focus on the things in life that I'm grateful for to counterbalance the things that make me fret. So today I'm sharing the following story with you. I fondly have titled it, "Numbers."

A few weeks ago, during a pleasant spring afternoon, I was sitting in my favorite reading/writing spot in my front room. From this chair I can see out the window that overlooks my front porch and driveway. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a little car pull up to my curb and stop. I wasn't a car I recognized, and I told myself that although he parked in front of my house, he was probably visiting one of my neighbors. I watched him get out of the car--for the briefest moment I thought it was my dad, even though the car was all wrong. From the back, they have the same hair cut. But this man turned around and I could see he was older than my father, and I was disappointed. And a little exasperated with myself that I would believe for a nanosecond that my dad would show up out of the blue unannounced. First off, Dad lives out of state, and second, most of the time he visits me he's on his Harley. But I digress. 

The old gentleman made his way up my driveway at a slow gate. I was confused--I told myself he'd reexamine my house number and realize he was at the wrong place and turn back to his car. But he kept approaching at his snail's pace. Finally the knock came to the door, and my preschooler, who always gets excited when a visitor comes, ran into the room and danced and sang, "Who is it?! Who is it?!" I know she imagined it was one of her little friends wanting to play.

I opened the door and smiled at the old man. He had papers in his hands, which he held out to me. It was when I saw what was on the papers that I started having one of those out-of-body type experiences. Like time slowed way down, like someone else was standing in front of my open door, not me. You know when you watch the news and it talks about a court case, then an image of the court documents shows up on the screen listing the plaintiffs and defendants? That's what I was holding in my hand, a court document listing my husband as a defendant in a small-claims case over an undisclosed amount of debt. 

I had worn a friendly smile when I opened the door to the strange man, but now the blood drained from my face. I looked at him blankly. He said this was the second notice of the summons, and it's for Derek Beck only, not for me. That didn't make me feel any better at all. He said he had to record who he delivered the court summons to, so he asked my first name. I answered, and he walked away. 

I sat back down in my favorite chair and looked at the court documents. I was so confused. How on earth could someone accuse Derek of owing them money? That's not to say we don't have any debt, but we are always on top of our payments and we had never received collections calls. Had I forgotten some account I should be making payments to? My head was spinning. I am entirely unfamiliar with legal cases, and the language in the papers made my head spin more. I called Derek.

He was just as baffled as I was. "There must be some mistake," he said. I sure hoped he was right, but I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to call the attorney's number at the top of the page...should I have my own legal representation before I make a move? I really didn't know what to do. I wanted to call my dad, as he has been involved in a handful of lawsuits, both as the plaintiff and as the defendant. Derek told me to just call the number. When we got more information, then we would decide if we needed my dad's advice or not. 

It was a little after lunchtime, so I wasn't surprised when my call went to the attorney's voice mail, though I was disappointed. I started to Google words in the papers that were unfamiliar to me, but their meanings didn't shed any light on why this was happening. How could we owe anyone money? I was certain we didn't, but how could anyone claim we did? I didn't recognize the plaintiff's names nor the name of the other defendant. I looked at all the types of documentation the summons said he needed to bring to court on the date: 3 years of tax returns, titles to our vehicles, months and months worth of pay stubs, and the list went on. I wanted to cry.

I went to Facebook to see if I could find out who this other defendant was. She lived in my area, but I have never met her. I also did a search for Derek Beck, and found there was another Derek who lived in the county. There was nothing on the paper that tied the case to MY Derek, no address, date of birth, etc. I grew more hopeful, but I was desperate for the attorney's office to call me back. They finally did around 3 o'clock, about 2 hours after I left the message. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't talk to you about the case without your husband's permission. Your name isn't involved in the case at all."

"How could you deliver the summons to me, then?"

"We can leave the summons with any adult 18 or older at the residence." Ugh, dumb rules. I was hoping if I could receive the documentation, that they would let me discuss the case over the phone.

Before she could hang up on me, I blurted, "But I don't think you can talk to my husband about this case either, because I believe you have the wrong Derek Beck!" I knew it sounded stupid, because how often do guilty people deny what they are accused of? But I was going to be persistent.

She paused. "One moment, please."  After a short break she said, "Can I have the last 4 digits of your husband's social?" I gave them to her. "Uh huh. And his date of birth?" I prattled off Derek's birth date. "Hmmm," she said, "and has he ever resided in Marsing, Idaho?" I confirmed he had not. 

"We're sorry," she said, "but you're right, there's been a mistake. We're sorry for the inconvenience. You can disregard the summons." She didn't sound sorry. 

I wanted to scream with mixed relief and anger. I wanted to give this lady a thorough tongue-thrashing for her office's horrible mistake, for the hell I had been living during those long two hours. Honestly, every horrible situation passed through my mind. Losing the cars, losing the house, jail time, a broken family. And all because this law office didn't know who on earth was supposed to receive the summons.

Instead I said, "Thank you," and hung up the phone. 

I said a quick prayer of gratitude that the ordeal was over. Then I called Derek and told him the good news. Even though I knew he was innocent of these charges, preparation for the court date would have put an unreasonable amount of pressure on my family. I can't express how grateful I was to be free from that burden. Yeah, it was only two hours. But I consider it a huge tender mercy it wasn't longer.

All because of a few numbers distinguishing my husband from the real accused man.