“Stop. You don’t walk into that courtroom.”
The officer blocked an elderly man carrying a worn folder. His plain coat seemed to invite scrutiny before he could introduce himself.
“I’m here for the hearing,” the visitor replied.
“Then you’re in the wrong place. Turn around.”
The man tried to explain, but the officer took his papers.
“You think carrying papers makes you important?”
“Please give those back.”
A courtroom door opened before the officer could answer.
The judge stepped into the hallway, glanced at the visitor, and stopped.
“Wait. Is that really you?”
The elderly man smiled. “You remember me?”
The judge walked toward him with obvious warmth.
“Mr. Harrison. We’ve been expecting you.”
The officer looked down at the folder still in his hands.
“I didn’t know, Your Honor.”
“This is our retired chief justice,” the judge explained. “He helped establish this courthouse’s legal aid program.”
Harrison had returned for a hearing about expanding the program. Inside his folder were letters from families it had helped.
The officer carefully returned them.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Harrison accepted the papers, then looked toward a woman waiting nearby with a stack of forms.
“Please make sure she gets the help she needs, too.”
The officer nodded and approached her.
“Never judge a person by what they wear,” Harrison said.
The judge held the door open.
“The court has been waiting for you.”