Twist and Shout

On the way to a party this weekend (the third in a week, but I'm not yet a party animal, more of a party vegetable) Anitra "Party Duck" Freeman and I shared a bus stop with a man who turned out to be studying law. He said, "Ask me any question about torts." Naturally, I asked him what the etymology of "torts" was, concerned as I am to avoid bready sweets.

It turns out torts have nothing to do with bready sweets. The word comes from the root word that gives us "torque." The root means to twist. Torts are all about wrungs, and wringings, which sound like wrongs, except for one vowel. If you've ever read a book on tort case law for entertainment, as I have, you would understand immediately how wrungs differ from wrongs. Basically a wrong is a "He done him wrong" situation whereas a wrung is the more general "He and him are in a twist" situation.

For example, say I borrow your pig for the purpose of showing him off at a fair. While I'm walking your pig to Puyallup, the pig falls into a puddle and drowns. Not wanting to waste your pig, I butcher him, and give his rump away to the needy. One of the needy chokes on your pig's rump, dies, and his death deprives future income to several poverty pimps. Is your pig liable?

Some people read tort cases for competitive purposes. They hope they will then be better able to win tort decisions against the rest of us. The reason I like to read tort cases is for the same reason so many people have watched ABC Wide World of Sports, or Shakespearean plays, or America's Funniest Videos, especially for the crotch hits. Torts are a rich source of comedy and tragedy, often at the same time.

Another fun thing about tort law, besides the suffering and the guffaws, is the archaic language and the Latin and Old French that pops up. I guess a lot of tort law came about because of Normans, perhaps owing to their behavior. You have your tortious acts committed by your tortfeasors. You have the res ipsa loquitur, the thing which speaks for itself. You have such things as detinue, replevin, and trover, which I don't know what any of them are. You have your bailors and bailees. My favorite is "chattel." In tort law you are free to go on and on with "They took my chattel! They took my chattel!"

Outside of tort law, whining about the loss of your chattel might be frowned upon, because it ordinarily is taken to mean "slaves." But inside of tort law it means your tangible, movable, property. As opposed to your land, your house, or your idea for a great off-Broadway play.

I would like to hear the word chattel used more often. One way I see that this could happen is if lawsuits were brought against the City of Seattle for the wrongful, or wrungful, detention of the chattel of homeless people.

OK, maybe it's just me that wants to say chattel all the time. But I can almost guarantee that such lawsuits will happen. In fact I can prove it.

In Fresno, California, 225 homeless people claimed in a federal class-action lawsuit, back in 2006, that the City of Fresno confiscated and failed to return their rightful belongings, including medicine, food, identification, tents, sleeping bags, and a wheelchair. The lawsuit ended in a $2.3 million settlement. Subtracting the $850,000 in attorneys' fees, that leaves $1,450,000 to divide up among 225 people, for an average of $6,444.44 each. Nobody doesn't like to get $6,444.44, especially in return for having been done an injustice. QED.

It's only a matter of time before the City of Seattle pays through the nose for letting Greg Nickels violate the law, the constitution, and decency in pursuing a reckless policy of stealing the survival needs of homeless people.