3 Arrests, A Police Lineup, and a 2-Day Trial (Part 5.5)
PART 6 - TRIAL FORREAL
BIRTHDAYS WAS THE WORST DAYS
Well, well, well. Sorry to everybody that I promised this finale to back in 2023 when I was optimistic about my time management but better late as fuck than never right? Today, the substance in my body that is helping me write is not alcohol or date rape drug, but the absurd amount of caffeine that I consumed to power through work with a fever just to get sent home tweaking. Like I can smell the colour blue and do algebra in hieroglyphics right now. Do I really have a reason for why I haven’t had time to finish this blog, I honestly don’t know, but Yardbird has been busy as ever committing genocide on chicken and I also took up a job at a “coffee shop” called Rootdown on Sundays where all I do is not make coffee and consume tequila so I guess I been busy? Also been working on my first and most likely last album of my life before I start a blooming career in data entry. I’m tryna be the Lebron James of Microsoft Excel forreal, keyboard shortcuts and pivot tables. So yeah, here is the final part of my 3 arrests and trial and if you have no idea what I’m talking about then you can start from Part 1 here or you can deny yourself an entertaining glimpse into my brain and click the red x on your top left corner and go scroll 9gag for 9 hours. EDIT*** This part got kinda long so I’m sorry to blue ball you but this is part 5.5 LOL.
So if this waste of life wants war, we about to give him one. Like I mentioned in my previous blog post, this guy had the option to accept a bindover plea and let all this shit go but he rejected so I had to go to court for like the 7th time and wait in the courtroom having my charges read with a bunch of other half-a-star wanted level delinquents for the 7th time and then my trial date was officially set by the judge— and with my luck of course, of course. Friday, October 28th. My birthday is October 29th. Trust me when I say, that fucked me up in the head because I already have a bad history with my own birthday and it was deja vu with this one too that all I had to look forward to was literally my freedom on the line. But yo, positive thinking. In my head I was trying to positive imagery that day of me getting out a free man; telling the whole world that I beat my case, shots all around, babies being thrown, girls flocking to my side like “Happy birthday congratulations on beating your case I’m so happy for you I never realised you were cute btw can I please pay your taxes?”, Carrie Lam shaking my hand and begging me for my forgiveness, you get the point. Positive imagery, therapy shit.
This was the end of August so it was 2 whole months until my actual trial and I feel like professional fighters gear up for their matches the same way I got ready for mine. My anxiety has always been peak and I knew it was going to be skyrocketing through the heavens on the actual day so everyday I did breathing exercises. Everyday I inflicted pain on this mf accusing me of these false charges in my head a million times. Trust me, the amount of times I pictured using a shrink gun on this mf and his lying ass bitch to turn them into ants then trapping them in a room full of guys having a Krump battle then enjoying watching them scream while they tried to avoid being stomped by size 13 Timberlands. I had one last meeting with my lawyer Mr. Hunter but this one was accompanied by defence witness #1 aka Manny which was somehow funny as fuck because, again, just picture me and Manny in any serious situation where you’re not supposed to laugh LOL. Nah really, just picture a 60+ year old Scottish lawyer, a black Chinese man, and a Japanese guy out on bail in the same room, it literally sounds like the beginning of a fantastic racist joke. We again, go over the video footage of that night but this time my lawyer is asking Manny to explain what’s happening as he would say it in the courtroom. Here’s how it sounded:
Mr. Hunter: “Can I confirm that’s you in the bottom left corner of the footage?”
Manny: “Hm?…..oh yee yee das me right there with the fro”
Mr. Hunter: “So at the time of the incident you were here, outside, talking to some females correct?”
Manny: “FEMALES!? oh. yee” *turning to me* “oh DAYUM was that Jess? I forgot I was talkin to her fine ass that night.”
For anybody that knows Manny and heard this in his voice, I know you dying laughing right now cuz you know I ain’t lying LOL. In all seriousness, this is the last meeting before the actual trial so we get everything down to the details, Manny knows exactly what to say no matter what question gets thrown his way in English, Cantonese, Mandarin, and probably Yoruba, and as for me, I actually didn’t do shit so all I had to do was tell the truth which I’ve been doing the whole time anyway. Me, Manny, and Mr. Hunter. We either the Avengers of Hollywood Road, or a United Colours of Benetton ad. We ready.
THE DAY
Why the fuck I gotta fight for my freedom so early in the morning? Why do girls ask you if you would still love them if they were a worm? Why do Japanese people mix up their Ls and Rs when they can somewhat pronounce both? What size and brand were the shoes that were thrown at President George W Bush at that press conference? I woke up with so many questions. No wonder people miss court and prefer to go to jail instead. Nah really though, the night before that I was still working my shift at Yardbird like how I always would cuz I’d rather my mind be occupied and I was scheduled to work on that day too so I’m pretty much going to be awake for 24+ hours on my birthday. Sometimes I feel like it’a s toxic Japanese trait to live life on difficult mode but then again I’m a difficult mf so I guess that explains. I have my final meal for the last time; half a duck fried rice from Yardbird as I prayed over my food to my God, Matt Abergel, I shine my shoes, do half a jumping jack so just a jack, get toothpaste on my suit, play with my cat one last time and explain to him that daddy gon’ come home a free man, and boom I’m off to Eastern Magistrates’ Court in a taxi looking like Ricky Tan Foot Soldier #3 from Rush Hour. I go up to the duty lawyer’s office again where Manny’s already there and I know he genuinely cares about this shit cuz it’s the first time in our then 8 years that I’ve seen him in a lil navy and yellow tie and it’s a wholesome moment. My lawyer Mr. Hunter is perched in his office wearing glasses so thick he can read a newspaper through the wall from the next room and we go over everything one last time until me and Manny are sent downstairs to the courtroom and lo and behold, the starting point guard for the Los Angeles Fakers, the guy who is falsely accusing me of aggravated assault along with his bitch, is sitting on the opposite seats as us. Is it a felony if I just type out their full government names? Just in case that it is, I will refer to the bald, Mauritian fuck who tripped on himself and banged his head as “C” along with anything disrespectful to describe somebody who would wake up in the morning everyday and look himself in the mirror and tell himself “YOU are the alpha male, YOU are NOT in the friendzone she’s just playing hard to get”. And his lying ass counterpart pretend-Canadian but local girl as “A” along with anything disrespectful along the lines of a woman going through a mid-life crisis who peaked in high school and feels the need to cause drama to deal with the fact that the highlight of her day is going home to a dildo at 48 years old and asking questions like “Is my helper allowed to have a livable wage” on the HK Expat Moms FB group. Like I said before, you are way too old to be wearing a denim mini-skirt with holes in em with blonde streaks in your hair, girl. Looking like Sadvril Lavigne. And then sitting on my side—the most pleasant reunion—Mr. Wong!!! The super kind detective who felt bad about arresting me and made sure I was alright in the precinct who had to come in on my trial date to be called upon as police witness. I was genuinely happy to see him and he was surprised af like “Wah you remember me?” and then proceeded to tell me in disbelief “Diu I can’t believe these on9 really pursue case for 2 year and we hav to come todei” like PREACH Mr. Wong TALK THAT TALK YOU AIN’T NEVER LIE. Just the fact that the fucking POLICE are sitting on my side should tell you everything you need to know about this case. Me, Manny, Mr. Wong are seated on one side while the benchwarmers of the Chicago Bullshit are seated on the other and you already know it’s going to be a lopsided win like the ending of You Got Served where our team be doing mad headspins and backflips while they’re stuck doing some sidestep shuffle.
We’re finally called into the courtroom where I’m banished to a bench where I sit for most of the trial until I’m called up to the stand, and the first thing I think of is, what the fuck polar climate is this because I’m in 3 decent layers for a 25+ degree October in Hong Kong—a t-shirt, button-up shirt, and suit—and I am SHIVERING. It is definitely colder than the public courtroom; idk if we was in that bitch doing a trial or cryotherapy and if I was gonna come out with my skin glowing cuz what the actual fuck. Does Canada Goose make suits? Does the judge wear a wig with goose feather lining? Was that a penguin I just saw or some rent-a-lawyer in a G2000 suit? Can somebody dump a bucket of water on the floor so we can ice skate up in this bitch? I had so many questions. Anyway the trial was going to go in this order of 1) tHE cUSTomeR iS AlWAyS rIGht iM THe vICtIM head ass “C”, 2) myself, gangster on the mic but currently shaking from anxiety Yuri, 3) mid-life crisis Asian Professor Umbridge “A”, and then 4) Hollywood Road OG and has a high school crush on Jess, Manny. Jess is a made up name btw don’t be asking this man his business if you know him irl btw LOL.
So here is the format of trial, at least for mine. I will be sat there for the whole time—each witness will come in separately and are not allowed to hear each other’s testimonies. Each time, my charge that I’m being accused of is read out loud in front of the whole courtroom, and then both the prosecution and the defence lawyer will ask the witness questions while the judge listens and makes her own judgment. Video tapes will be played and replayed constantly. My judge is Ms. Ho, a stern looking middle-aged lady who looked scary as fuck tbh and apparently her reputation is “strict, but most of the time fair.” I gulp every time she made eye contact with me with her piercing eyes, just looking for a reason to give me 40 to life over a bar fight that resulted in exactly 3 scratches.
I genuinely feel like those frozen udon packs are underrated so here’s how to make a super fast and cheap Creamy Mentaiko Udon similar to the ones you see on your frenemy’s IG feed every time she goes to Japan and posts so many stories it just looks like she’s thinking real hard at the top like ……………….. First, go to Donki after every other supermarket closed down already because you’re a night owl then buy yourself some overpriced Mentaiko for like 50 something dollars, then buy an aroma diffuser and some other random kitchen utensil you will use twice a year to go along with it. Honestly this is preference, but for your greens you can choose between shiso or just regular spring onion; I got shiso because a pack was $15 and spring onion is $28 at Donki and I simply don’t care how much I love spring onion or how rich I ever get, I refuse to pay $28 fucking dollars for some spring onions that are $4 in Japan. So throw that pack of shiso to the side and take the $28 spring onion and if you can find it, get yourself some Shiro-Dashi also, which is kinda like liquid dashi stock that adds umami to anything but you can probably substitute this with a little tsuyu which you can find even at Park N Shop. Take a last longing look at the shiso you tossed aside and brace yourself for the $28 you’re about to pay for your beloved, afterhours Japanese imported spring onion and go to checkout while grabbing random snacks off the shelf. Make it home in one piece without being police checked, toss the frozen udon in the microwave for like 3 or 4 minutes ish until it’s the texture you fuck with. So mentaiko is a bit tricky because you gotta separate the eggs from the egg bag or whatever the fuck that embryo ting is but you can take like two of em cocoons and put a slit in the tip OUCH then use the flat end of your knife to get them out. Eat the egg bag, chase with shochu like a real Southside Japanese mans, such as myself. Chop up some garlic, like 3 cloves cuz we single and not whoring and not kissing on nobody anyway, slowly cook that in some butter in the pan til the garlic got the same colour as a fresh pair of Timbs to stomp these wastemans out in. Add like 140ml of soy milk because we lactose intolerant but we just pretended to not use butter and add idk…. a tablespoon? Of shiro-dashi or tsuyu, throw 80% of them mentaiko fetuses in from 3-point range but make sure the kids say bye to each other first then cook that bitch for a bit. I think if you add powdered parmesan cheese here it will become more carbonara-like, I haven’t tried but you probably can’t go wrong. Once the sauce gets to the thickness you like whether it’s sporty or BBW you can toss in your udon then cook for a little bit. Plate that ho up, torture some black pepper over it, add spring onion, add the 20% of the survivors on there for garnish, add just the yolk of the egg in the centre, chop up some dried nori if you want to flex on your frenemy and bruh, let me just tell you how crack this recipe is. If you ARE financially responsible unlike me and got shiso, take like 3 leaves, roll it up like you had a long day and then cut, it will come out in nice thin strands. Ok back to regularly scheduled programming you’re welcome.
The trial officially starts. The gavel is gavelled. This shit feel like the start of an episode of Better Call Saul, but where my scene is super insignificant to the plot. My charges are read “Defendant Yuri Tomiyama, you are accused with one count of assault occasioning bodily harm on Dwayne, The Crack Rock, Johnson where you allegedly caused severe damage to his forehead by banging it 4 times against the half open shutter gate at your establishment at the time, #1, Hollywood Road, Ozu at exactly 11:57PM on October 23rd, 2020. How do you wish to plead? Please state your plea to the mic.” I quietly stand up and step to the mic.
“First of all your honour…… it’s OZU GANG FOR LIFE FROM HOLLYWOOD ROAD TO EASTERN MAGISTRATES COURTROOM WE UP IN THIS BIIIIIIITCH. Not guilty your honour.”
“May I please now call to the stand, prosecution and victim (LOL) C to the stand to give his testimony.”
This slithery face ass mf walks in with his superior expatriate walk in his little Mid-Levels suit and my eyes are on this mf the whole time. If only you knew how many fucking times I had them krumpers squash on your fucking headtop in those bigass unlaced Timberlands. He actually looks almost scared and I believe this was the scariest I have ever looked at someone in my life. I LOATHED this guy. He reaches the stand safely without me sticking my size 11 dress shoe out and tripping him like we was in high school. A note here, everybody is asked if they have a religion that they wish to swear upon before they testify, to which this mf replies he’s Christian, so they get a dusty ass garage sale Bible out to which he is told to place his lizard paw on and asked “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to which he replies, I do. Why is it sunny outside on this day can SOMEBODY find some lightning to strike this mf cuz he about to lie like a muthafucka. My charges are read again. I will repeat that. MY CHARGES. ARE READ. AGAIN. Ok, start of his testimony. His lawyer, the prosecution, is a petite Asian girl, kinda cute tbh. He is asked random questions about his name, occupation, his compatibility with Pisces, and most recently used emoji then he is asked what language he prefers to have the trial in. He goes, well English but I also speak French, Spanish, Creole…. And I just remember thinking NOBODY FUCKING ASKED YOU CLOWN DOES ANYBODY IN THIS ROOM LOOK LIKE THEY CAN SPEAK FUCKING CREOLE!? Sorry, not important. Needless to say the trial continues in Creole and the prosecution, HIS lawyer asks a simple question— “Could you please describe what happened the night that you allegedly got assaulted?” Simple question right?
“So me and my girlfriend…”
BOOM. Lightning strike BITCH. Because judging by the body language, they definitely, FOR SURELY met on THAT night, IN FRONT OF ME. Btw I forgot to mention this mf got a French accent.
“So me and my girlfriend were having a date night…”
BOOM. Lightning strike BITCH it was not a date it was a failed dick-me-up. Ok you get the point.
“So me and my girlfriend were having ze date night, and we were hanging out at ze bar, just enjoying. Then I was trying to pay for my drinks and zen zis guy, he just come out ze bar and push me. And zen next thing I know, he slam my head multiple times on ze floor, and zen when I get up I left and call police.”
The cute little prosecution girl that I lowkey want having me arrested is in disbelief. “Wait could you repeat again, where exactly did the defendant slam your head?” She is desperately trying to help herself from looking absolutely hopeless in this trial.
“Ze floor. I remember being on ze floor and being slammed.”
Timeout, right here. Me and the judge looked directly in each other’s eyes and I give the absolute stank face while doing the IS HE FUCKING DUMB hand gesture at this guy while I let out a pretty audible PSHHHHH. Like I was in absolute disbelief. The judge obviously didn’t say anything but I think even she is impressed by how dumb this mf is. This man just did a Vince Carter 360 windmill into his OWN basket!!!! This man handed in his exam paper and he spelled his OWN name wrong!!!!! Where the flying fuck is the lightning!? The crime is LITERALLY in the opening statement, the answer is LITERALLY in the fucking question dufus!!!! YOUR dumbass and YOUR dumbass “girlfriend” claimed that I slammed your head into the gate which is why there are CUTS and not bruises!? How does a fivehead have four brain cells? Why are we currently all present in this room? Did you and your dumbfuck girlfriend not have a team huddle before you tried to put an innocent man behind bars? Mr. Hunter turns around in his seat with a smug face looking like a frog waiting at the bus stop and gives me a thumbs up. The butterflies in my stomach are Shmurda Dancing. MITCH CAUGHT A BODY BOUT A WEEK AGOOOOO.
Now it’s the defence’s turn to speak. Mr. Hunter gets up to talk like “I’m about to end this man whole career.” Notebook in hand. Glasses so thick he can see that I’m a good person. He can see that this mf is lying. He can see that you are a good person for how far you have made it into my fuckery of a blog post. He sees it all. Apparently all them youngin’ lawyers got all their notes in an iPad but nope, not my Mr. Hunter, he keep it old school. This my knight in shining armour. I’m damn near rubbing my hands like Birdman. I’m damn near rubbing my hands like Diddy when he saw Meek Mill wait what. He buttons up the top button of his sharp 3 piece suit and clears his throat which is the equivalent of Ash Ketchum turning his hat backwards in Pokémon. It was about to go DOWN. Like Yung Joc before the perm. Your honour, may I please pull up video footage of that night? May I please have the video set at x minutes and xx seconds?” He says it all gangsta-like. Ohhhh shit here we go TALK TO THIS MF MR. HUNTER. We got the screenshots. We got the tea. We about to go to town on this mf. I can hear 2pac in the background. He about to drop one of the hardest Hit Em Up remixes to ever come out.
The video is set to the time that Mr. Hunter requests and starts playing for about a minute. Wait…. I’ve seen this footage a million times, in slow motion, in reverse, in fast forward, upside down, night vision, VR. This ain’t the part. This ain’t the important part where it incriminates this mf and gets me off a charge. Literally it’s just our bar service on the TV screen with nothing eventful happening. The courtroom is dead silent except for the sound of Mr. Hunter shuffling mad papers. I start panicking because he is currently DEFINITELY panicking. C3PO now has a smug look on his face. It’s been like 3 or 4 minutes which is like 30 minutes in court time. The judge finally asks, “Is everything alright with your preparation?” Mr. Hunter is stuttering about the timestamps being wrong. Hoooooly fuck I should have gotten this mf an iPad.