On Monday morning, I was sitting in a courtroom after working a graveyard shift the night before. I was in the corner with other cops, who were as unlucky as me to be there.

My head was in a tire fog as the judge spoke to lawyers about current and upcoming cases. There were also people in custody, who were in the caged area. I couldn’t see them from where I sitting, but I could hear them when they answered the judge.

I wasn’t really paying attention to what was being said until I heard the judge say, “You do realize you’re looking at 33 years in prison,” as she looked toward the caged area.

A male voice replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you sure you want to represent yourself at trial,” the judge asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wow. 33 years?

The judge asked the man if he really wanted to act as his own lawyer at trial. He told her he wanted to. The judge told him about certain courtroom procedures that he was going to be expected to know. She also told the man he was going to be up against an experienced deputy district attorney.

The judge brought up the possible 33 year sentence again and asked him if he really wanted to represent himself.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The cops around me all shook their heads.

Wow. I guess that guy really wants three guaranteed meals for the next three decades.