The State of New York vs. Kemba the Duck Dog

On Sunday, July 12, Kemba was arrested.  Well, actually, Kelly was arrested.  Well, not really arrested.  She got a ticket.

So here’s what happened.  On a beautiful, peaceful, sunny Sunday afternoon, my daughter-in-law — I like saying that — came up to the house from the beach with Kemba, looking for her driver’s license.  “We just got a ticket,” Kelly, aka The Nicest Person on Earth, said.  I couldn’t imagine what Kelly could have done to get a ticket.  “For Kemba being off-leash,” she explained.  And yes:  “leash law” is what was scrawled on her summons.

Beagle Man to the rescue!  I ran down to the beach, and explained to the officer that we’d been here for 10 years.  That about 90% of the homeowners have dogs on the beach.  That all of them run off-leash.  That 98% of the people were perfectly happy to see the dogs.  That none of us had ever heard or seen anything about a leash law.

Officer Mike said, “Somebody called to complain.  I have no choice.  I have to do this.”  And when I suggested he just rip up the ticket and we both go on and have a nice Sunday, he came back with the old, “Once it’s written, there’s nothing I can do.”

Of course, I wasn’t ready to give up.  I walked with Officer Mike to the public beach access.  Together we examined the sign.  (See photo.)  Nothing about leashes.  Nothing about no dogs.  The only stipulation is they have to be 300 feet (as you can see, somebody changed the 300 to 500) from the posted sign.  Kemba and Kelly were at least twice that far.

“Looks like you’ve got a case,” admitted Officer Mike — though he still wouldn’t rip up the ticket.  “Just go to the East Hampton Town Clerk’s office during the week and explain what happened,” he said.  “You won’t have to pay.  Tell them I’ll back you up.”

I walked back along the beach, muttering the whole way, and collecting character witnesses for Kemba, who happens to be a very popular dog in these parts.  One woman, a local, said there seems to be a certain cranky individual who habitually calls in these complaints.  She believes this same person is the one who changed the “300” to “500” on the sign.  The local gave me her name and number, and said I could call on her to “testify.”

I had to be in CT that week, so on Thursday Carol made an appearance as part of Kemba’s legal representation team.  As directed, she went to the Town Clerk’s office, where the clerk very helpfully told her, “I can’t help you.  I’m just the clerk.”  When Carol asked what she needed to do to get this thing resolved, the clerk said, “You’ll have to go to the East Hampton Police Department in Wainscott.”

The following Tuesday, I left the beach, put on a shirt — one with actual buttons — and drove to the Police Department in Wainscott.  The officer made me go through my entire story before he said, “There’s nothing I can do.  You’ll have to go to the East Hampton Town Justice Court.”  Which — you guessed it — happens to be right next door to the town clerk.  Where we started.  With the clerk telling us to go to Wainscott.  Which, one would assume, is why she’s “just a clerk.”

Now, as regular followers of Beagle Man know, between my speeding ticket in Dummerston, VT and my parking ticket in Portland, OR and my toll violation in Long Beach, CA — and now this — I’ve been involved with American jurisprudence way too much lately . . . and these wrongful accusations make my blood boil.  Armed with my righteous indignation and my two month’s law school background, I’m gonna fight this $100 ticket to the end — even if it costs me $1,000 in court fees.  Which doesn’t make me very smart, but it makes me . . . something.

So later today I’m going over to the Town Justice Court in East Hampton.  Wish me luck.  Will justice be served?  Stay tuned . . .

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