Well! I went to court this morning - grown-up court, not just Juvenile and Domestic Relations or intake hearings - and I lived to tell about it!
I arrived to the courthouse early and checked in with the Clerk's office. When the ladies found out I was the interpreter, they made sure I got a voucher sheet - thank God, because that was precisely what I was worried about - and buzzed me through their little hallway into the courtroom. Inside, the bailiff was alone, preparing for the unlocking of the main doors, and he seemed peeved that I had come in not only early but through the Members Only door.
It was easy to find the individual for whom I would be interpreting, because there were only about ten cases' worth of attendees. That was helpful - my other concern had been, how was I supposed to find the person if I couldn't make a general announcement and had to be all surreptitious and discreet? So we sat there, waiting for court to be in session, and I watched the lawyers float from defendant to defendant, schmoozing with the old people and babies and chatting with the district attorney. Everyone talked in hushed tones, the regular actors breezily, the special guests stiffly. I again thought about how being in court is kind of like attending an old-timey church service in a congregation that has gone through the motions for decades: some would rather not be there, others are there because they think they ought to be, others can do the proceedings in their sleep, and all complete with the uncomfortable wood pews and the bad lighting and the rigidly fixed schedule.
The case for which I was interpreting (let's say it was an OR motion - release from custody of a defendant under his/her Own Recognizance) was the last one to be called. Every now and then the judge or district attorney (DA) would interject, "We'll do the OR motion after the traffic case." Or, "All that will be left after these is the OR motion." So I had plenty of time to get nervous. It reminded me of piano recitals when I was a kid. You are sitting there, not able to enjoy anything going on around you, because you know soon it will be YOUR TURN and you will have to go up front. And what if you have to go to the bathroom? Or what if your nose is running and you didn't bring a tissue? And what if something terrible happens and everyone just stares at you out of utter shock and horror? Doom! And then you think, well, I should try to relax because it will be a while. And you look up at the ceiling, or pick at some lint on your pants, and then all of a sudden you gaze catches your name on the program in your lap and - gulp - it's back to speculating about pending doom again! Or in my case this morning, the DA would keep saying, "Oh, and after this we'll do the OR motion" and then I'd be back to contemplating Interpreter Fail.
The case lasted a grand total of 10 minutes. It was pretty ridiculous. The judge heard what everyone said, then he said what he was going to do and told us to sit down while the paperwork got printed out. Then it got printed out. And that was that.
The voucher completion stumped both the clerk and the clerk's assistant, who told me (in what I thought was kind of a nasty tone) that if I have filled it out wrong, the office where the voucher gets sent to (the Office of the Executive Secretary) would be sure to let me know.
So, lessons learned:
1. Interpreting in court is essentially the same thing as any other interpreting I do anywhere else. I repeat everything that is said, exactly as it is said, without adding, omitting, or changing anything, blah, blah.
2. Interpreting in court sure doesn't last long. I like the idea of doing about 10 minutes of work and being remunerated for two hours.
3. There is little or nothing I can do to prepare for interpreting in court except for plugging away at my favorite blessed Acebo lessons, the joy of my life. This week I'm working on Battered Wife, Expert Witness Testimony - Intoxylizer, and some sort of affidavit written in Spanish for the text translation lesson.
And today it's going to be 73 degrees and sunny outside...and here I am, parroting about digital display readings and the metabolism of alcohol...
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