It could have been a great story.
John Casebolt, a Scott City, Mo., construction worker, removed his license plates on Election Day last year as an act of protest, and eventually, of course, he was stopped and ticketed. Several times.
I was one of the news reporters Casebolt called earlier this week to ask for a story about his case, scheduled to be heard before Associate Circuit Judge Gary Kamp.
Casebolt's argument was that the state of Missouri violated his constitutional rights by enacting a statute that makes it a crime to drive a car on the highway without valid plates.
"Part of liberty is to travel where we want," Casebolt said. "The common citizen has a natural right to use the highways."
A sincere, polite man, he arrived at my office carrying a copy of "The Federalist Papers" and several documents supporting his argument against license plates. I took a photograph of him with his truck. Sure enough, no plates, just a bumper sticker in the window that says: "Don't steal: The government hates competition!"
Since the state says that without a license plate you can't use the highways, Casebolt figured the state infringed on his constitutional right both to his property and his right to travel.
I loved the story. It's the stuff that makes for great journalism. Here was a little guy standing up for himself, the underdog against the state. This is how history is made. And since other reporters were ignoring the story, I would have been the only one watching this event unfold.
I was already working on my lead, something like ... "If Henry David Thoreau had driven a Chevy ..."
My editor was less enthusiastic, but since he gave me the go-ahead to see how it developed, I got my ace reporter kit ready: two pens, a notepad, news badge and cellular telephone. The jury trial was scheduled Friday morning and I was ready.
"Once my story is published," I thought, "people will be whipping plates off cars across America. It'll be a revolution!"
I pictured Sandra Bullock playing me in the movie.
Arriving at the courthouse Friday in Jackson, Mo., I found Casebolt had pleaded guilty the day before at a pre-trial hearing.
Apparently a judge convinced him he was indeed breaking the law, so Casebolt paid the $10 fine for failure to display valid plates and $67 in court costs and went home.
I was crushed. No changed law. No story. No movie rights.
I tried to console myself with the idea that it's pretty neat to live in a country where a man like Casebolt can stand before a judge, question the law and have his argument heard.
By the time I began my trip back to Cape Girardeau, I was fairly humming with love for the American judicial system. Then I noticed the flashing lights in my rearview mirror.
Straight-backed and somber, one of Jackson's finest approached my car and said, "Ma'am, do you know your license plates are expired?"
My court date is Sept. 19. I haven't decided whether to take up Casebolt's mantle.
But I still picture Sandra Bullock playing me in the movie.
Andrea L. Buchanan is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.
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