This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

On Tuesday, I received a summons to appear before the Utah Supreme Court. It came as a shock because unlike the other times, I had no idea what I had done. It had to be bad, though.

Justices of the peace, district court judges, federal magistrates and now the Utah Supreme Court. My court experiences have ranged from profound relief to utter dread.

The first time I appeared in court was as a teenager. I was there on a vandalism charge, specifically for gluing an athletic supporter and a Batman mask onto a statue at the city park.

Ratted out by some witnesses, I ended up in juvenile court. The judge was a humorless geezer who gave me about a million hours of pulling weeds for the city and a lecture so stern that I got charley horses in both hams.

Being a slow learner, I was back in court within six months. Fortunately, it was in another state and for something (actually several things) I had done.

Speeding, littering, vandalism, possession, intoxication, my juvenile record was a litany of dumb-assery so egregious that I should probably feel more ashamed of it than I do.

The first court appearance as an adult occurred in a southern state when I was in the Army. While on leave (primarily of our senses), a friend and I got into a fight with some sailors who, it turned out, were nowhere near as drunk as we.

Long story short, I appeared before a judge the next morning. I posted bail and got the hell back to the barracks as fast as I could. I'd seen "Cool Hand Luke" half a dozen times. No way was I working on a chain gang.

After that, I managed to stay out of court trouble until I became a cop.

Note: Yeah, before the Internet it was amazing what people didn't have to disclose about themselves. I was still an idiot, though. You can't hide that.

Twenty-five years ago, I was sentenced to a day in jail for contempt of court. It was highly embarrassing because I was on duty and in uniform at the time. And eating breakfast.

In my defense, I had worked a graveyard shift the night before. And it was only an apple. Also, I was clear on the back row. And I was quiet.

Apparently I wasn't careful enough. After our case, the bailiff hauled me up to see the judge. The following is a recollected transcript of the proceedings.

JUDGE: "Officer Kirby, my courtroom is not a snack bar."

ME: "Your honor, the daily nutritional requirements of … um."

JUDGE: "I'm listening."

ME: "I rest my case."

I had to drive to the county lockup and report to the jailer, who then called the judge to verify that his really scary point had been made. After that I was free to go.

Even when testifying as part of police work, I couldn't stay out of trouble. An annoyed district court judge once suggested I rephrase my response to a defense question in such a way that I wouldn't regret it within the next 30 seconds.

Now it's the Utah Supreme Court who wants to see me. I showed the summons to my wife and told her to prepare for the worst. She would have to visit me in prison.

"This is not a summons," she said. "It's an invitation to the investiture of John A. Pearce as a justice of the Utah Supreme Court. You know, the husband of your co-worker and sometimes friend Jennifer?"

I don't know. It still sounds like a trap to me. Idiots can never be too careful.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.