The meatball maker's trial by fire

I had never seen the inside of a courtroom in my life.

That was until years ago, when I had to appear before a judge because the workers at an ordinary housing cooperative I was a member of had used illegal electricity.

Since I am a civil engineer, they had dragged me into the management affairs as well.

In those years, the issue of illegal electricity required legal proceedings, not administrative ones like today.

I understood the gravity of the situation once I went to court.

A person doesn't know where to put their hands.

The prosecutor looks at us with eyes as sharp as an eagle's.

The clerk, realizing our inexperience, tries to tell us what not to do with gestures of his eyebrows and eyes.

I watch the clerk's eyes to see where I should put my hands.

It feels as if we are about to get a life sentence.

The bailiff, with a very serious and deep tone of voice, asks for our IDs.

I thought he was going to call the police and put handcuffs on us.

Our lawyer is also present with us.

He is both a member and a close friend of ours.

That is why he had come to that serious place while carrying the file of another client.

In the end, it turned out the electricity used wasn't illegal, the debt had already been paid, and because the TEDAŞ teams were too lazy to come to the construction site, they had told the workers to break the seal themselves; yet, we still received a sentence, even if the verdict was deferred.

However, that is another story.

When I watched the Ergenekon hearings, I saw that a similar atmosphere existed there, but also how the prisoners dispelled this atmosphere.

While we were looking for a place to put our hands, the Ergenekon prisoners were explaining the technical errors of the case to the court, and when they weren't understood, they were laying down the law, and in the end, they were all acquitted.

While my fellow countryman, the famous Kabadayı, challenged my presiding judge by asking, “Have you ever been to Bosnia?”, the others were openly declaring that they did not recognize the court.

Just like those in the 1966 Ertem Eğilmez production “Bir Millet Uyanıyor” (A Nation Awakens), starring the great actor Kartal Tibet.

The Kuvvacılar (National Forces), despite facing the death penalty, were shouting that they did not recognize the court with anthems.

These were, of course, not ordinary people.

The education they received and their lifestyles were aimed at surviving under any conditions.

They were not civilians.

Even those who were civilians were not civilians.

İmamoğlu, however, was a civilian.

He was neither a soldier, nor this, nor that.

He was a father from an educated republican family with 3 children.

While continuing his ordinary commercial life, which he started with Akçaabat meatballs, as a contractor from the Black Sea, he spent his time in non-governmental organizations and especially in associations themed around sports, kemençe, and horon.

His business was going well.

He had even become a mayor.

Then things turned sour and he found himself in the slammer.

While we were surprised, overwhelmed, scared, hesitant, unable to pull ourselves together, and thinking he wasn't used to this, he started acting tough and laying down the law, just like those in the film by our fellow countryman Ertem Eğilmez, whose name is fitting for his surname.

Perhaps Mayor Ekrem was also not this, nor that?