I am not checking the news today. It’s all a free campaign event for the defendant. And I think he truly believes he has done no wrong. Ever.

Of course, I hope they throw the book at him.

Oddly, this has called up some memories for me of accompanying my then-husband to the SF Courthouse to be arraigned. He had been charged under the RICO Act and with hundreds of counts of mail fraud.

I had pretty much forgotten all the details of that day and looking back, it seems surreal. Really. Like a bad dream that didn’t actually happen. I mostly kept this nightmare-ish episode in a box and went on with my “real” life. I was raising three little girls and going to work every day.

But it did happen and I learned a lot.

This is how criminal justice works in the US:

No kangaroo courts. All court rooms are open, except in the case of children. No one is above the law.

You have the right to a speedy trial by a jury of your peers.

If you are not a threat, you can pay bail and go on about your life until a trial date is set.

You can cop a plea to avoid prison.

You can decline to answer questions put to you by the FBI, but never, ever lie to them.

If you are ever detained by officials, ask whether you are under arrest and what the charge is. You must be arrested or released.

It always amuses me on TV shows when someone is arrested and claims the right to call his lawyer. Seriously? Do you have a criminal lawyer on speed dial?

But here is a question I have never been able to find an answer to: How can someone really believe he has never done anything wrong.? I must be the most self-accusing person in the world. I pretty much see myself responsible for everything I ever did or said or failed to do or say, no matter how well-intentioned I was. Maybe it’s egotistical of me to assume so much responsibility.

This is Holy Week, and although, as mentioned here many times before, I am not a person of tradition faith, I know that, traditionally, this week is a time of self-examination. Roman Catholics are required to make a confession to a priest during this time. Where does this put one who goes to confession seriously believing he has never done anything wrong?

Written on my heart are some of the words of the confession in the old 1928 edition of the BCP: “We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.”

I am not suggesting that we need to “bewail our manifold sins and wickedness.” But do acknowledge. Do own up. Do make amends if you can.

Say “sorry.”