Skip to main content
In 2003, I got a ticket for drinking a beer in the park blocks. Being young and dumb, I ignored it and got on with life. Now I get a letter saying I owe $1,000! Can I keep ignoring it? Should I request a trial and point out that getting only one notice, 19 years after the fact, is pretty annoying? Or shut up and pay? Also, it wasn’t even a real cop; it was Portland State University security. —Janey R.
I’d like to help you, Janey, but it’s a tall order: Like the creature in Alien, the state’s debt-collection apparatus—aka “The Man”—has no weaknesses. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility, all unclouded by conscience, remorse or delusions of morality. You’re doomed.
OK, maybe it’s not quite that bad—it’s not like we’re talking about the student loan people here. Still, nobody tops The Man (and his power to make the rules) when it comes to crapping all over a person’s best-laid excuses.
Requesting a trial? There already was one, in 2003—can The Man help it if you didn’t show up? As for the late notice: In the eyes of the law, you actually received extremely prompt notice—hand-delivered by an officer of the court, even—in the form of the ticket itself. Finally—not to rub it in—PSU Campus Police are real cops, sworn and certified.
If it’s any consolation, however, you’re not alone. According to news reports, several other Portlanders have received collection notices in recent weeks for violations from a bygone decade. (The Oregon Judicial Department is on record saying, essentially, it’s just a coincidence.)
What to do? Virtually every purveyor of legal advice will tell you that your best bet is to contact the agency who billed you and try to work out a fine reduction and/or payment plan. This is obviously what you should do.
That said, I can’t help noticing that ORS 18.180 does seem to set a time limit of 20 years for the execution of garnishments, liens, etc., to collect fines. You still owe the money, but it might blunt the collections guillotine a bit.
Or not! I’m a doctor, not a lawyer. (Also, I’m not really a doctor.) If you want to try to split legal hairs, hire a legal hair-splitter. Otherwise, pay The Man.
Questions? Send them to dr.know@wweek.com.