I believe if memory serves, that I was nine years old, the first time that I ever stepped

foot in a courtroom.

I can't exactly recall the circumstances under which I ended up going with my father

to 26 in California, which is the big boy court located in Chicago.

Its hallways and courtrooms are filled with some of the worst to the worst.

If I had to guess, I'd think that Bob Sr. was exercising his visitation with me over

a weekend and it somehow extended to a Monday.

I recall entering the massive structure and heading through the metal detectors where

the uniform men manning the machines knew my father by name.

After all, this was a stomping ground as he was a Cucone public defender and at that

juncture he was the head of the felony division.

So he was handling cases that would turn your stomach and make your skin crawl on a daily

basis.

It kind of cases that we now listen to on our true crime podcast.

My father and his immaculately kept blue three-piece suit guided me through the maze of hallways

and corridors until we reached a set of gold sealed double doors.

In blazoned with the seal of the state of Illinois, a fierce eagle which adorns it seemingly

eyeballing me, I get sense the doors wait when he pull it open.

He led the way as I trailed closely behind into the courtroom, which was the biggest and

most impressive room that I had ever witnessed firsthand at that point in my life.

Rose of bench seating flanked both sides of the aisle, each side filled with all walks

of humanity.

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