Dramatization of One Attempt to Meet Assistant State's Attorney

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Revision as of 21:26, 29 January 2010 by Jeffgrau (talk | contribs) (New page: Assistant States Attorney Michel Peacock had still not returned my calls about the grand jury investigation of the Urbana cop, and it had been over a month. A few gays had gone into the Ro...)
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Assistant States Attorney Michel Peacock had still not returned my calls about the grand jury investigation of the Urbana cop, and it had been over a month. A few gays had gone into the Round Robin and there were no incidents, so I figured I must have overreacted to what seemed like a grand conspiracy. Since I was already in downtown Urbana, I decided to inquire, in person, about what was up with the grand jury.

Strange how a job title, regardless of the importance, creates and identity that leads to confidence. I stepped out into the hot, still summer air, a licensed cabdriver and strutted a few blocks to the Champaign County Building.

I rode the elevator to the State's Attorney's Office. "May I help you?" politely asked the receptionist.

"I'm here to see Michel Peacock," I replied, as professionally as I could.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I can wait."

"What's your name?"

"Dave Rosen."

"If you will wait here, Mr. Rosen, I'll go back and check his schedule." I nodded, and then began to pace around, planning just the right thing to say.

It was a good five minutes before she returned and I was starting to wonder what became of her. "Mr. Rosen," she said from the front counter. "I am afraid Mr. Peacock took ill this morning and has gone home. They expect him to be out for several days."

"He was supposed to bring my case before the grand jury."

Oddly, she did not inquire as to what case that was. "Unfortunately your case will have to wait until next month. Assistant Attorney Peacock will miss this months convening of the grand jury. It convened this morning and will adjourn before he returns."

"Maybe he already presented the case before he left."

"No," said the receptionist with certainty. "Assistant Attorney Peacock never made it to the grand jury this morning."

I stood there for a few minutes trying to figure out my next move. Something was fishy and my earlier fears of a conspiracy re-emerged. All my self-confidence was blown. I just thanked her and left.