Dear Mr. Colins.. (post-released) ;-)

F*ck you!!  You must be a baller or something, siting there with the City of Osshwa.. your six-figure salary so high, that it has to be disclosed on a pdf open to the world wide web...

Sitting there - across the court room; chest puffed out, thinking you're hard... running your mouth, swatting down paper shuffling civilians & immigrants like they meant nothing - perhaps you do have the power... as 'God' your word might be gold... 

But you are not MY 'god' - I am GajCo - I fear you not...   I sit there in the corner, observing the others, building my mental notes - as quiet as can be; my passion building with ever attack you make on the innocent... but is it my passion, or my interior fury..

My name is called, I stand up - walk to the podium...  you know I've got the jitters, my hands trembling, shaking, fearful... not fearful of you, nor this 'mock' courtroom you perceive legal precedence over...  no - fearful of my words, of my actions, of my 'wrath'...

I sit down - stand up - hand over my 'right to represent' - I sit down; make my open statement - stand up - hand over evidence item #1 - I sit down; continue my argument - there goes... items 2, 3, 4, 5...

By this point, all quivers, all shaky hands are gone...  now it is just *power* - power from my chest, power from my voice, power from my fists flaring in the air...

The cute legal secretary staring at me... thinking:  "this 'kid' ?! "  He seems so young compared to all others on the stand today - but he fights with passion... her face in shock, as I present my case...

You try to knock me down, but you realize my words are too powerful...  In the end, you compromise... which is fine, which was my goal - you make it seem as if it were a mutual victory; but we both know who the victor of the day was...

I stand up - turn around, and walk back into the crowd filled of people who once frowned... their eyes open, like they had just scene a court room battle out of the marine core!  "Mr. President" sits in the from row, with that smile on his face - not knowing whether to clap or cheer...  He says:  "you should be a trial lawyer" - at the end of the night, he asks to hug me - solely based on my words - my passion - my fight!!

The crowd is grateful, they all congratulate me for speaking what they could not express...  This is one of MANY battles, but this battle was won...

Law is NOT my passion, nor is politics, or sport...  spectator events are not my game - I am a driver, not a follower; I cannot sit there & let other dictate MY future - that grates across every grain in my sole.. 

I leave the court room on a high of passion - but law is not my thing...  stepping to 'the Man' is!!

They say:  "hell has no fury, such as a woman's wrath"... clearly, they haven't met me yet ;-)