Anyone Here Speak Russian?

Daniel Sherr

It was my first time in Traffic Court in Brooklyn. I was there to fight a summons issued for going through a red light on my bicycle. And since my case was placed at the end of the docket, I had the opportunity to hear about 15 cases first-hand.

In every single one, there were two conflicting versions: that of the policeman and that of the defendant. In every single case, despite what seemed to me compelling arguments to the contrary, the judge would finish by reciting the same litany: "Have you anything more to say? Then, based on the weight of the evidence, I hereby find the defendant guilty as charged." It was all very depressing.

Then came the case of a man named Zagarov, and Mr. Zagarov had a witness. Before listening to the policeman and Mr. Zagarov, the judge sent the witness out of the courtroom. Then he asked the witness to return. All of a sudden, the judge blurted out, "This man does not speak English. What language does he speak?" "Russian, Your Honor," said Mr. Zagarov.

An interpreter was needed, and the judge wasted no time.

"Does anyone here speak Russian?" he bellowed.

A man in the second row stood up. "Come over here," instructed the judge. The man approached the bench and the judge ordered him to raise his right hand. "Do you solemnly swear to interpret everything this gentleman says in Russian into English for me and everything I say into Russian for him?" After an inaudible answer from the interpreter, the judge turned to the witness, this time instructing him to raise his right hand. "Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" The interpreter leaned towards the witness and said, "Da!"

"Don't tell him what to say!" yelled the judge. "Translate what I'm saying." After that, the judge proceeded to interrogate the witness. It was impossible to hear the interpreter, but it was clear he was concentrating. The witness finished testifying and the interpreter returned to his seat. As if to avoid breaking precedent, the judge once again found the defendant guilty.

And what of the interpreter? His case came up a few minutes later. The interpreter, a Mr. Gabrielov, was actually a taxi driver by profession. In somewhat unconventional English, he explained that when the policeman stopped him, he was stunned. He had no reason to break the law, he said, for his livelihood depended on his being able to drive. When the policeman gave him the summons, he recounted, "I said, 'What be this? What for you give it to me?'"

He speculated that maybe the policeman didn't understand his English. But that hadn't stopped him from serving as an interpreter. He too was found guilty.

Oh yes. You might be wondering about my two summonses. My case was the only case of the afternoon in which the judge disagreed with the policeman. One violation was dismissed. Instead of being fined $1,000, I only had to pay $500.

Daniel Sherr is a free-lance interpreter and cyclist who on occasion makes charitable contributions to the NY Department of Motor Vehicles.