I was attacked by a defendant while sitting on the bench. I had heard the case and ruled against him, and then was sort of emphasizing what a cowardly act the court thought he had committed.
This was a great big muscular kid, in for assault with a deadly weapon and robbery. It was in the LA riots, in Pasadena.
This guy walks into a little Mama-Papa Korean-owned liquor store, carries out a bunch of stuff, puts it in his car, walks back in, pushes the old man out of the way, a little old Korean guy, carries more stuff out.
The Korean guy stops him at the door.
The guy lifts up a beer bottle, says, “Get out of my way or I’ll crush your skull, you little (racist remarks) and got arested.
In the courtroom this guy came up out of his chair, up over the counsel table. He got nailed by a Pasadena policeman and my fill-in baliff Brianwho used to pitch for the White Sox.
They had him pinned on counsel table. Brian, who is left handled, is leaning over him holding his arm so his gun’s on his left side. I don’t like guns in the courtroom.
This guy’s on his back, and really built.
That arm that Brian is leaning over and holding keeps coming up toward his gun. Every time it came up it was getting closer and closer to the gun. I’m watching this hand getting closer and closer.
So I stood up on my bench and jumped into the well. My robe is flying. I happened to be wearing tennis shoes that day. I jumped down and grabbed the guy’s arm and cranked it behind his back until Brian could get over the railing. It took all of three seconds.
There was somebody there from the Pasadena Star News at the time; the headline said, “Whoosh! Batman Judge.”