
I was the third attorney to work on the Palomo file. The most recent battle climaxed when a judge yet again found Mr. Palomo in contempt of various prior orders to pay the $20,000 due and owing to the mother of his children (hereinafter C/P). Mr. Palomo had failed to pay child support 121 times in ten years.
Over our staff attorney's impassioned plea for Mr. Palomo's incarceration (1), the judge suspended such sanctions provided that Mr. Palomo turn his truck over to child support enforcement officers at 8:30 a.m. the next Monday. At precisely 11:00 a.m., it would be sold at marshal's auction with the automobiles of other deadbeats. Monday's auction went smoothly except for one minor detail: Mr. Palomo did not surrender his vehicle, as ordered.
When I learned of Mr. Palomo's failure to surrender his vehicle I leapt into action. I went to a judge, ex parte (2), for a warrant for Mr. Palomo's arrest. Further and ex parte, I caused a chattel lien (3) to be issued and attach against Mr. Palomo's stupid truck and in favor of child support collections. I had the notice of lien personally served on the director of the Department of Transportation that very day. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Palomo had no other assets.
The effects of my "work" were immediately felt --but not by the deadbeat. The very next day, a charming, older, and highly agitated Filipino couple, a Mr. and Mrs. Ramos, came to my office. It seems that Mr. Palomo had sold these unfortunates his truck for $4,000 cash two days earlier. They had just come from the DMV after trying in vain to register their new truck.
The day after, Mr. Palomo called my office and asked for a private audience. He arrived two hours late and asked for two cokes. He drank the first in six seconds flat. "Thirsty are ya, Mr. Palomo?"
"Yessir, Mr. Ellison, and this coca sure tastes right," Palomo said.
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"What can I do ya for today, Mr. Palomo?" I asked. Out of his wet, oily,
smelly jeans, Mr. Palomo produced a scrunched copy of my lien with my
signature at the bottom and my office letterhead at the top and uttered,
"Look, ah Ellison, ahh, yeh, aahh attorney, please take care of this. Ya see
I sold the Ramoses that truck and it's theirs now. Ya gotta take care of
this, attorney."
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At that nonsense, I called marshal Reoglio in and had Mr. Palomo arrested.
"I know what to do with you," Reoglio said as he cuffed Palomo and hauled
him to the courthouse. I felt a surge of adrenaline and yelled down the
hall and in front of the whole staff something I had waited years to say:
"Read 'em his rights, will ya?!" Then I slammed my door loudly.