Yes, yes. I heard. A jury ruled in favor of a court judge and demanded that a newspaper pay $7 million for remarks made by one of its columnists. Blah blah. Yada yada. I know this story intimately because roughly 7,000 of you alert people have sent me copies of it.

I thank you for your concern. I am a responsible journalist and one who is proud to say that I have never had a lawsuit brought against me. As far as you know. And you have nothing to worry about. I am very careful to back up any news story I write with solid facts.

For instance, I feel perfectly confident in saying that Lewiston police Chief William Welch was a chain saw-juggling country singer down in Memphis before he was chased out of town by the Tennessee mob. Or that Lewiston City Administrator Jim Bennett has secret meetings with extraterrestrials in preparation for genetic cross-breeding experiments. Or that the Rev. Doug Taylor secretly reads my columns and even clips some of them. Because he’s convinced that I’m right about everything. And he is correct.

I have it all on the record from sources that can be verified. As far as you know.

My bosses are concerned about the Illinois lawsuit. They sent out a memo reminding reporters that we have to be very, very careful about our sources of information. The last thing a newspaper needs, in these difficult times, is a lawsuit.

You have to feel some measure of sympathy for the reporter who brought about the multi-million dollar lawsuit. He probably felt that he had solid information and – bonus! – column space in which to express his opinion.

But writing about a figure as lofty and powerful as a court justice is tricky business. Editors have a right to be nervous. For the foreseeable future, any written word about judges will be under intense scrutiny. Only intrepid and particularly dim-witted reporters will do it.

And so, at this time, I’d like to say a few words about the dazzling and sagacious Superior Court Justice Thomas E. Delahanty II. I’ll pause a few moments so you can all enjoy the sound of the executive editor hitting the floor in a faint.

THUMPA THUMPA THUMP.

Ah, very nice.

I’ll never forget my first call from the big man. I was as green as a reporter could be but I was covering a criminal trial. I wrote an advance story about the trial and rehearsed the “Law & Order theme, in case it was required to be admitted to court. I considered getting a spiffy blazer with patches on the elbows for my debut as a by-God crime reporter.

But that brief foray into pomposity ended abruptly when the honorable and handsome justice got me on the line. His voice was as cool and hard as the Androscoggin in November.

“You reported the charges against the defendant incorrectly,” he said. “In the future, you would do well to check with the court before a trial gets under way.”

A downward whistling sound as that brief feeling of self-importance hurtled, Wile E. Coyote-like, back to Earth.

A short time after that, the wise and graceful Justice Thomas E. Delahanty called to remind me of a few of the court’s rules for the media. Not long after that, he rang to voice his displeasure about photographs taken of jury members. Then there was the time he briefed me about the supremely important difference between homicide and murder. About felonies versus misdemeanors.

Some of what I learned about the complexities of trial coverage, I learned from other reporters. Most of it, I learned from Justice Delahanty, not in a classroom but in short, sharp calls where mistakes were identified. Not because he wanted to teach a young reporter the ins and outs of the court system, but because this was a man who was supremely stern about protecting the integrity of his courtroom.

It got to the point where I was like a teenage boy squirming under the disciplined gaze of his father. I’d sit in court going through a private checklist. Familiarity with all aspects of the case? Check. Sentencing standards verified in the book of statutes? Check. Am I wearing a tie? Well, no but I’m sitting way back here.

I won’t lie to you. I didn’t make many mistakes when I was a young reporter. But the mistakes I did make were quickly captured and pointed out by the judicious and robust Thomas E. Delahanty. It made me a better reporter and I learned how to tie a pretty damn fine tie knot.

And I’ve always thought that, if I were to commit a heinous crime someday and be brought up on charges, it would be an honor to be tried in Mr. Delahanty’s court. He scares me still, but at least I’d know the kind of vigilance that goes into protecting the sanctity of his court.

At any rate, a couple of years into my career, the phone calls stopped. No more stern reminders, no more explanations of the statutes. I figure the wise judge either gave up on me or I started to get things right every time where matters of the criminal court are concerned. Probably the latter. Yes, I’m sure it is that.

In which case the dashingly handsome and nice-smelling editor can relax about this matter once and for all. As far as you know.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter. As far as you know.