I arrived in a room where a hearing was going to be held for a child engaged in delinquent contact. I was the attorney representing the boy (probably 14-15 years old). He was seated at a long table and I sat down to his left. Also around the table were three other people who were going to hear this case. One was a tall thin man (perhaps 40 years old) seated at the end of the table to my left. Another was a woman sitting directly across from me and holding a baby. The third person, indistinct, was also sitting on the other side of the table.

I was in a bit of confusion about this case, because I hadn't reviewed my files before coming here, and I wasn't even entirely sure who the juvenile was. But as I began to think about it, it occurred to me that we had all met here once before, and that the case had been presented to the hearing officers. However the hearing officers had been different the last time, and I therefore thought I should probably begin all over again with the presentation of evidence.

It seemed that the man on my left was the most important of the three hearing officers and I asked him how he wanted me to proceed. He seemed as if he didn't really want to talk with me about it, and I wondered if he knew that I didn't feel prepared. I noticed that I had my feet up on the table and I took them off, but I said that it wasn't necessary for anyone else to take their feet off the table.

I began talking about the case and I told the others the name of the boy. But when I quickly looked through my papers, I realized this wasn't at all the boy I thought it was. This was Crispen. I slowly begin remembering who he was. I had just appeared in a hearing representing him a couple weeks ago. The outcome of that hearing was that he had been sent to Chiapas, Mexico to live with his uncle. What was he doing back here now?

I quickly leaned over and asked him if he had gone to Mexico. He mumbled something about how his uncle had sent him back, apparently because had been drinking beer and because he had had some trouble with his uncle's sons. I told him he was in big trouble and that he would probably end up being sent to the Texas Youth Commission, the equivalent of jail for juveniles. He obviously didn't like the idea, but just as obviously seemed to realize he didn't have much choice at this point.

I turned back to the judges and began explaining that Crispen had been tried before judge Gaither quite recently and that he was supposed to go live in Chiapas, Mexico, a state on the southern border of Mexico. I mentioned that it was very pretty there and Crispen chimed in confirming that. Crispen also erroneously said that it was the last continent on this continent. Looking at my papers, I now noticed that I had drawn a sort of map which showed the road from Dallas to Chiapas.

I began trying to explain that somehow Crispen had ended up back here. The man on my right seemed to grasp immediately what had happened and said that Crispen better get his swim suit ready. I understood that to mean that Crispen better get ready to go to the Texas Youth Commission, where they had swimming pools.

I really wished there was something I could do for Crispen, but I couldn't really take him home with me. I wouldn't be able to control him. It looked as if he were just going to end up in the Texas Youth Commission.