June 14, 2019
By Ekta R. Garg
Bailiff: “All rise. The Twelfth Court of Parenthood is now in session. The honorable Judge So Ciety presiding.”
Judge: “You may be seated. Bailiff, please swear in the jury.”
Bailiff: “Please raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will read this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?”
Jury: “…”
Bailiff: “Your honor, I do believe the medium used for this case today may prevent the jury from affirming their intention.”
Judge: “That’s fine. Unless there are any negative statements expressed in the comments section below, we’ll proceed with the assumption that the jury will agree with the verdict reached. Bailiff, please announce the case for today.”
Bailiff: “The case for today is the People versus Ekta Garg. The crime alleged: bribery for keeping her children quiet about enduring a chamber music workshop in the second week of June.”
Judge: “Is the prosecution ready?”
Prosecuting attorney stands: “Ready, your honor.”
Judge: “Is the defense ready? Ms. Garg, do you not have a defense attorney? You know that under our judicial system, you’re entitled to one and that one will be provided if you cannot secure your own.”
Defendant: “I realize that, your honor, and thank you. I just think I’m able to present my own defense in this case.”
Judge: “Well, then, let the case begin with the prosecution.”
Prosecutor stands, buttons jacket: “Yes, your honor. The prosecution calls Ekta Garg, mother of Twelve and Ten.”
Defendant walks across courtroom, enters witness box.
Bailiff approaches: “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
Defendant: “I do.”
Prosecutor approaches the witness stand: “Ms. Garg, did you sign your children up for a chamber music workshop earlier this year?”
Defendant: “I did, yes.”
Prosecutor: “And why did you do that?”
Defendant: “My younger daughter’s cello teacher had been asking us for a couple of years to sign the girls up for the workshop. He thought it would be a good experience for them.”
Prosecutor: “And are you in the habit of following parenting advice from people not the parents of your children?”
Defendant: “Objection.”
Judge: “…”
Defendant: “…”
Judge: “Ms. Garg, you have to explain why you’re objecting to the prosecution’s question.”
Defendant: “Oh, um…well, I didn’t like his tone.”
Judge: “You didn’t…like…his tone? That’s not even a real objection.”
Prosecutor: “It’s okay, your honor, I’ll rephrase. Ms. Garg, when making decisions for your children, do you give any weight to the advice from others?”
Defendant considers the question: “Sometimes. If I think that person has good intentions.”
Prosecutor: “Uh huh. And you thought that the cello teacher of your daughter, Ten, had good intentions when suggesting this chamber music workshop.”
Defendant: “Yes.”
Prosecutor: “Did you know when you signed your daughters up for the workshop that it was six hours long every day for five days a week?”
Defendant: “I did, yes.”
Prosecutor: “Yet you signed them up anyway. You didn’t think thirty hours of music instruction was excessive?”
Defendant shrugs: “I was going based off what Mr. S. recommended. I had no idea that they would be doing nothing but music for five of the six hours a day.”
Prosecutor: “Ms. Garg, what was your daughters’ reaction on the morning of the first day of the workshop?”
Defendant: “Twelve kept saying, ‘I don’t want to go to this camp. I don’t want to go to this camp.’ Ten said, ‘I know it’ll probably be horrible, but I’m still a little optimistic.’”
Prosecutor: “Do your daughters normally protest so vociferously when you sign them up for things?”
Defendant: “Well, no. In fact, Twelve’s the one who is usually pretty easy going. She’s more of an optimist, so she usually finds something good to say about activities and such. I was actually expecting the opposite from the two of them—that Twelve would say she was optimistic and Ten would keep whining about not going.”
Prosecutor: “And do you often put your children in situations that cause them to whine?”
Defendant: “Objection. I know this one; it’s leading the witness.”
Judge: “Sustained.”
Prosecutor: “I’ll rephrase. Ms. Garg, when you picked the girls up after the workshop, were they still protesting?”
Defendant squirms: “Well, no. Actually, they didn’t talk. At all.”
Prosecutor: “I see. Did you try to ask them about their day, see what they might be thinking?”
Defendant: “I always do. In fact, I usually do it both going to an activity and coming home. Like that morning, I’d told them that I was going to offer them a bribe if they stopped complaining—”
Prosecutor: “No further questions, your honor. This witness has just admitted her guilt in court. The prosecution rests.”
Prosecutor walks back to table, unbuttons jacket, sits down.
Defendant: “No, wait! I didn’t mean bribe as in I was going to do something illegal or make them do something illegal. It’s more of a trade. You know, the kind where you give kids something to make them happy so that they’re more likely to do it again.”
Judge: “Ms. Garg, that’s what we call a Pavlovian response. Or, as the prosecutor pointed out, a bribe.”
Defendant shakes head: “You don’t get it. My daughters are incredibly smart and well-read. If I offered them something without naming it for what it was, they’d call me out on it. I figured I’d just get ahead of the situation and tell them upfront that I was bribing them.”
Judge: “If you were so convinced that this music workshop was such a good idea, why did you need to bribe them in the first place? Why not tell them, as confident parents usually do, that they don’t have a choice? A ‘you get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit’ sort of thing?”
Defendant sighs: “Because, your honor, about ninety-five percent of the time, that’s exactly the response I give them. They pout and complain and, yes, even whine, about stuff, and my husband and I stand firm. But this music workshop was the first time they were doing anything like this, and I recognized that it was a major challenge for both girls. They’re really good kids, and I told them that, but I also wanted to show them my appreciation in actions for their willingness to endure it.”
Judge leans in, curious: “So what bribes, or trades as it were, did you offer them?”
Defendant: “Well, in the last couple of months each of the girls had asked for a specific book. My first thought was that I would get them the books for their birthdays, but then I decided it might be nice to surprise them on the first day of this workshop when they came home. And originally that was all I was going to do.”
Judge: “Then what happened?”
Defendant: “When they came home that day, they were both kind of frustrated with themselves for struggling with the music as well as tired. Playing instruments for hours at a stretch without much of a break is a huge task, especially for kids who only practice those instruments, at the most, thirty minutes a day.”
Judge: “Wait, your girls practice every day?”
Defendant nods: “Sometimes they miss a day, you know, during the school year if they’ve got a lot of homework or something. We try to space out practice time so that it doesn’t overwhelm them. I’d say during school they practice four days a week, but during the summer it has to be every single day.”
Judge: “Including the days of the workshop?”
Defendant shakes head: “We gave them the week off. When they came home, they were allowed to just take it easy. I didn’t even make them do their summer math homework.”
Prosecutor, from table: “That’s actually pretty nice.”
Judge: “You said you had only planned to use the books as a bribe. What happened to change that?”
Defendant: “On the second day when they came home, they both looked pretty dejected and Twelve complained that her shoulder hurt from holding up the violin for so many hours. I went into the pantry to get ingredients to start making dinner and saw some jellybeans there and grabbed a few. I hid them in my hands and told the girls each to pick a hand, and they saw the jellybeans and were happy. They started smiling again. That’s when I got the idea to get them little things during the week. Only to make them happy, your honor. It wasn’t for any other reason.”
Judge: “And what other items did you use to bribe your daughters, Ms. Garg?”
Defendant counting on her fingers: “Let’s see: two plushy mini pillows, Hershey’s candy bars, and lunch from Panera.”
Prosecutor, from table: “What did they get from Panera?”
Judge peering over his glasses at prosecution: “How is that relevant to the case, counselor?”
Prosecutor shrugs: “It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m hungry.”
Judge rolls eyes: “So, Ms. Garg, you contend that these weren’t bribes, because your children knew exactly what you were doing, is that correct?”
Defendant nods: “That’s correct, your honor.”
Judge: “And you were only doing it to make your children happy?”
Defendant: “Correct. Like I said, they’re pretty good kids. Once in a while, I like to give them little treats for that reason. It’s not too often, but it makes them happy. When they’re happy, I’m happy.”
Judge looking at prosecutor’s table: “Sounds like you were right to say the case is closed, counselor. In fact, I find that the case should be dropped altogether.”
Prosecutor jumps to feet: “But, your honor—”
Judge: “The only thing the defendant has done is try to take a challenging situation and make her children happy as they got through it. Can you really argue that’s a bad thing?”
Prosecutor: “But, your honor, she admitted to the crime!”
Judge shakes head: “The only crime I see here is a mother going overboard to be a good mom. I hereby declare this case dismissed.”
Judge bangs gavel: “Court is adjourned.”
Defendant: “One last thing, your honor?”
Judge: “What is it, Ms. Garg?”
Defendant: “I’m kind of hungry too. How about Panera?”
Judge to prosecutor: “Counselor?”
Prosecutor sighs: “Oh, all right. But only if I can get their mac and cheese.”
