What Do You Mean I Have a Criminal Record?

A couple of days before Christmas I went to my letter box, expecting to find some lovely cards from friends near and far. Yes, there couple, but there was also an official government letter. I was curious. I had just paid my rates, and I was sure I hadn’t been speeding or handling my phone in the car. What could it be? When I opened it, I could make no sense of the contents. It was from the Magistrates court, informing me that my ‘case’ had been before the court, and I hadn’t attended the hearing. I was clueless. What case? Was this some hoax or an elaborate scam? I leafed through the pages to see why I had been summoned. There was a fine and court costs totalling roughly $700. What for? I still couldn’t work it out. Finally, I on the last page, the offence: a parking fine with no further information.

I called the court. Yes, they had a record of the court case, no, they couldn’t tell me anything else. Contact Access Canberra. Onto my next call.

‘Can you tell me the infringement number?’

‘No, because I never received one.’

‘Your name please?  Vehicle registration?’

‘Sorry, we can’t find any infringement relating to that vehicle or under your name. Try the police. Their infringement notices don’t come through to us.’

The police had no record, so I contacted the court again. I was put through to a different department to a woman who had access to more information than the person I had encountered earlier.

‘A yes, it is a parking fine issued by the Australian National University (ANU) on February 7, 2024.’

I suppose I could have been there, but I certainly hadn’t received a notice of the fine, nor a reminder, let alone a summons to attend court.  At this point I realised I had entered Kafka’s ‘Trial’. As he said, ‘The right understanding of any matter and a misunderstanding of the same matter do not wholly exclude each other.’ Yes, this made perfect sense under the circumstances. Where to next? The ANU parking office of course!

‘We have photographic evidence of the parking ticket on the vehicle.’

That’s when the penny dropped. ‘My daughter attends ANU. She must have borrowed my car, received the parking fine and then forgot all about it,’ I mused.

‘Very common,’ replied the woman on the other end of the phone. I suggest you ring the court and ask for a form to have the matter put aside.’

I thanked her and made yet another call to the court…

An operator at the court advised in dulcet tones that unlike other jurisdictions in Australia, the Australian Capital Territory regarded unpaid parking fines a criminal matter once it came before the court. I was incredulous. A criminal record for an unpaid parking fine of which I had no idea and no letter of demand? Once again Kafka came to rescue to try and make sense of my situation.

‘But I’m not guilty,’ said K. ‘there’s been a mistake. How is it even possible for someone to be guilty? We’re all human beings here, one like the other.’

‘That is true,’ said the priest ‘but that is how the guilty speak.’

I downloaded the form to appeal the conviction. Besides my name, there was no part of the form I could have completed without legal advice. I was required to state ‘briefly, but specifically, grounds relied upon and the questions of law to be raised.’

I am a literate person with a high level of education, yet I could not complete the form. I had to call someone with legal training who was able to find me the specific law, including clauses and subclauses, we would have to rely on. My daughter completed the form, and I paid $102 to appeal the judgment.

As a teacher who needs a police clearance every 3 years, I am at the mercy of the judge to quash the conviction. It could also affect which countries I can enter and whether I get stopped at the border when leaving or entering Australia. While I think this will make a funny dinner anecdote in the future, I am also appalled at how easy it is to get caught up on the wrong side of the law. If I didn’t have the contacts I have, didn’t have the money to appeal, was illiterate or a dozen other handicaps that could derail the appeal process, I could wind up with a criminal record for life.  As dramatic as it sounds, I could even get a jail sentence for being unable to pay the fine which keeps increasing with every wrong turn.

So, cross your fingers for me on February 17, when I go to court to have my appeal heard. If I don’t succeed, I’ll sing a verse of Arlo Guthrie’s ‘Alice’s Restaurant’ and walk out. For those of you too young to get the reference, there’s always YouTube.