Judge latest hack caught with his pants down

Judge Thomas Estes is the poster boy for the Massachusetts judiciary.

It’s damn near impossible to embarrass state judges — the bust-out flotsam of the legal “profession.” At least 95 percent of them were starving to death until they scrapped together a few hundred dollars in political contributions to buy themselves a lifelong vacation of 35 weeks a year of “work” for $172,194 per annum, with a fourth $6,250 pay raise in 18 months due on July 1.

But Judge Estes has committed the ultimate crime in admitting to a third-rate romance, low-rent rendezvous with a court underling. He has shone a spotlight on the absolute tawdriness that is the Massachusetts judiciary.

Estes (rhymes with Testes) conducted his one-sided affair in all the romantic hotspots of the western world – Belchertown, Westfield, Marlborough. Now, removed from the bench and reassigned to “administrative duties” (read: nothing) in Holyoke, he claims he’s filled with “great shame and remorse.” But he refuses to quit, for one very simple reason.

If his snout is ever forcibly ejected from the public trough, Estes will in short order starve to death. He is a hack’s hack. So let’s let his lawyer describe his affair with one Tammy Cagle, who worked as a “drug-court clinician,” whatever the hell that is.

The Commission on Judicial Conduct lists 13 instances of, well, do you remember what Bill Clinton was doing to Monica Lewinsky? That’s what Judge Estes was doing to Tammy Cagle – 13 times. So says the CJC.

But the devil made him do it! See, it all started during a judicial conference in November 2016 in Marlborough. Cagle, who is now 47, asked Estes, now 58, to walk her to her hotel room.

“Obviously her intentions were clear from that moment forward,” Judge Testes’ lawyer writes in the public file on this scandal, “since no one needs to be walked to their room in a modern hotel, in a very safe part of the world.”

After the jurist returned to his room, the sultry temptress texted him again.

“She lured him to her room on the pretext that she needed help with her TV. To his great regret, Judge Estes went to her room, where he found Ms. Cagle lying on her bed, clad only in panties and a tee shirt. The television was on.”

So was the affair. They liked to hook up on Tuesday afternoons. You think Paris or Rome is a great spot for swingin’ young lovers? Have you ever been inside the Belchertown District Courthouse?

Years ago there was a book, “Tuesdays with Morrie.” Once he’s removed from the bench, Estes can write his own X-rated memoir – “Tuesdays with Tammy.”

“The plan,” his lawyer says, “was that he would simply stay at the courthouse at the conclusion of business, and that Ms. Cagle would join him in the late afternoon. At 4:30 when everyone had left the building, they would then be free to engage in sexual activity for about 30 minutes.”

Can someone hum a few bars of “Afternoon Delight?” Although I’m guessing if they were just waiting until all their fellow payroll patriots slithered out of the courthouse, the star-crossed lovebirds could have engaged in plenty of morning delight as well.

Tammy soon became dissatisfied with her role as the Monica Lewinsky of the 413 area code. Back to Estes’ brief:

“What she did express dissatisfaction with on more than one occasion, was that it was too ‘one-sided,’ meaning that while she was performing (redacted) on Judge Estes, he was not reciprocating. Other forms of sexual intimacy were simply not practical in the courthouse, but even at her apartment Judge Estes had enough qualms about his relationship with Ms. Cagle to cause him to be psychologically unable to engage in anything than (redacted).”

Right. Not even Bill Clinton tried that lame line of you-know-what.

Estes is a typical modern Massachusetts judge. His wife has a different last name. He was appointed by Deval Patrick. He was born, not in Massachusetts or even New England. He’s from New York, and in 2002 he blew in – strike that, Your Honor, that was a poor choice of words. He drifted into the Bay State around 2002.

According to what Estes told the Governor’s Council, his experience in private practice was less than two years. He’s basically a career public defender – meaning, the taxpayers paid him handsomely to defend shiftless criminals who attack taxpayers.

No word on whether the judge ever issued any gag orders. But he was an expert, apparently, on the penal code. His favorite comedian is said to be Flip Wilson – “Here come da judge!”

Judge Estes admits to getting one Lewinsky from Cagle “during his lunch break, while he was sitting in Westfield District Court. He did not leave court early, nor return late to engage in this encounter with Ms. Cagle.”

Whew, that’s a relief.

On July 3 of last year, the Belchertown love bandits met for the last time in the judge’s chambers in the courthouse.

“When Ms. Cagle apparently told (the lawyer) that Judge Estes treated her badly that day, and immediately pulled down the shades and unzipped his pants, she omits some crucial facts… Shortly before arriving, Ms. Cagle texted Judge Estes words to the effect that ‘her panties were (redacted) in anticipation of their meet up.”

Then there’s a footnote by Estes’ lawyer: “Judge Estes does not deny that he responded in kind.”

Now all the judicial hacks are embarrassed, not by their esteemed colleague’s behavior, but by the fact that he got caught with his pants down, literally. No doubt Estes is now holding out for an “involuntary” removal, which means he can collect a Mass State Police-like pension for the rest of his worthless indolent life.

Isn’t it shocking that a Massachusetts judge would be caught in flagrante delicto? I thought what happened in Belchertown, stayed in Belchertown.

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