A SWING SET: the scene of the crime (Flickr/Paul Jeannin).

When I was  8 or 9 years old I was busted for the crime of running through the swings at Evans Elementary School, and sent to the principal’s office.

I was stunned. I mean, I was a good kid. A “straight-A” student (something I would shed when I hit algebra). And there I was, standing tall (seated, actually) before The Man.

The rule,  which, as I pointed out, was not written down anywhere – was intended as a safety measure to keep those swinging from colliding with those running.

Seeing that my claim of inadequate notice and signage was failing, I went to what I knew was my weakest defense: selective enforcement.

“Other kids did the same thing and they got away with it,” I argued. “But you were the one that was caught by the playground supervisor,” he said, hefting a paddle.

So I caved, acted contrite and escaped judicial sanctions. I pretty much forgot about it until I read about how Federal Judge Cormac Carney released Robert Rundo from federal custody on the grounds that, yes, Rundo may have been a right-wing bad guy, but since the feds weren’t pursuing the left-wing bad guys with equal zeal, it was “selective enforcement.”

Olly, olly oxen free!

Well, a higher court rolled its collective eyes and Rundo is back as a guest of Uncle Sam, but it’s comforting to know that I wasn’t the last person to claim innocence on the grounds that other people got away with it.

It may be childish jurisprudence, but it was my story and I (almost) stuck to it.