Outrageous fortune
In 1987, Kelsey Dru Gleghorn was convicted of two crimes — simple assault, and battery with infliction of serious bodily injury. Mr. Gleghorn appealed. The court of appeal's opinion discussing his case started out in a way that suggested that the facts of his case were not your ordinary assault or assault and battery case: “May a person who enters the habitat of another at 3 o'clock in the morning for the announced purpose of killing him, and who commences to beat the startled sleeper's bed with a stick and set fires under him, be entitled to use deadly force in self-defense after the intended victim shoots him in the back with an arrow?”
The judge who wrote the opinion for the court of appeal — rather obviously wishing that he was a writer of literature, not legal opinions — answered his own question this way: “Upon the basis of these bizarre facts, we hold that he may not, and instead, must suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (with apologies to William Shakespeare and Hamlet, Act III, sc. 1.)” The judge then provided a . . . more detailed description of the facts of the case that bears little editorial comment.
“This case,” the court began, “is a parable of the dangers of weaponry in the hands of unreasonable powers who become unduly provoked over minor irritations. Melody Downes shared her house with several persons, including [Gleghorn]. “She rented her garage to Michael Fairall for $150 per month. She believed he was to give her a stereo as part of the rent. He believed her intent was only to borrow it. He asked for the return of the stereo; she said she sold it.
“Fairall,” the court continued, “a man of obvious sensitivity, smashed all the windows of [Downes'] automobile, slashed the tires, and dented the body.
Not quite mollified, he kicked in her locked door, scattered her belongings in the bedroom, and broke an aquarium, freeing her snake. (It was scotched, not killed. See Macbeth, W. Shakespeare.) Ms. Downes advised [Gleghorn] of Fairall's behavior; he apparently took umbrage. On the fateful night in question, Fairall, having quaffed a few, went to the garage he called home and then to bed, a mattress laid upon a lofty perch in the rafters. He was rudely awakened by a pounding on the garage door, accompanied by [Gleghorn]'s request that he come out so that [Gleghorn] might kill him. Fairall wisely advised him that they could exchange pleasantries in the morning.”
Now . . . is everyone following all of this so far?
Well, anyway, the court's opinion continued: “Undeterred, appellant opened the garage door, entered with stick in hand and began beating on the rafters, yelling for Fairall to come down.
In the darkness, Fairall claimed he could see sparks where the board hit the rafters. [Gleghorn] said that if Fairall did not come down, he would burn him out. No sooner said than done, [Gleghorn] set a small fire to some of Fairall's clothes.
“Fairall, who happened to have secreted a bow and quiver of arrows in the rafters to prevent its theft, loosed one but did not see where it landed.” For good measure, the court added in a footnote, “`I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where.' (The Arrow and the Song, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.) In this case, appellant learned where it landed — in his back.”
Finally, the court concludes by saying that Gleghorn, “in an ill humor from the gash in his back caused by the arrow,” continued to beat at Fairall. Fairall swung down from the rafters to call for help, but was severely injured by Gleghorn, including a broken jaw and teeth, lacerated lips, and mangled fingers. Somewhat more dryly, Stone added that at Gleghorn's trial, “Fairall testified under a grant of immunity” concerning the vandalism of the car.
Not surprisingly, the court upheld Gleghorn's conviction. Considering that he was the aggressor throughout, Gleghorn rather obviously never had a “right to self-defense” from Fairall's arrow. That's why it's a little hard to understand the court's opening question: “May a person who enters the habitat of another at 3 o'clock in the morning for the announced purpose of killing him . . . be entitled to use deadly force in self-defense?”
Of course, there's another question that all of this suggests: Do we really need to pay people more than $250,000 a year to decide these questions — especially if they're going to turn the opinion into a kind of literary smorgasbord?
Outrageous fortune, indeed.