It should go like this: “Hi, my name is Ben, and you are?” To me, it seems simple. One question, a couple seconds, and everything would be clear. In contrast, assumptions take little effort and no time, but we have all been told what happens when you make them.

In the last 10 months, I have been summoned to three judicial hearings, all dealing with events where I was not present and all, it seems, because someone forgot an introduction.

False accusations are unavoidable in any judicial system, and the firm American belief that a defendant is innocent until proven guilty forms the backbone of criminal defense law.

But, unlike Guilford, public law enforcement agencies that make charges seem to value competence and judges seem to value fairness. By “competence” or “fairness,” I mean the ability and responsibility to ask the culprit(s) for their name(s) before resorting to assumptions.

The first time it happened to me, I was charged with a noise violation that occurred in my Milner dorm room near the end of the 2006 spring semester.

The RA, who had dealt personally with my roommate, never asked for his name and instead wrote on her report that she thought Benjamin Dedman had done it.

I was soon summoned to a judicial hearing, while my roommate was not. So, in my own act of civil disobedience, I did not show up. Later, I was presented with a $50 fine and a harsh reprimand from a campus life staff member. As a college student, she said, I should be more responsible and appear where I am expected to be.

The next time it was a “misuse of identification” charge and came at the end of last semester. Once again, I had nothing to do with the event in question and, upset by the surprise of another judicial hearing, I decided to reply to the e-mail.

I quickly received another e-mail informing me that they would not provide any information about the charge. “The only thing you ultimately need to be prepared for this meeting,” the e-mail said, “is the truth,” and added that missing it would lead to another $50 fine and a “failure to comply” charge. Finally, it said that for no reason would I be excused.

This time I had the “responsibility” to show up at the meeting, where I became even more confused.

For some reason, my two suite-mates and I were called into Campus Life. One of my suitemates, missing an ID card, had borrowed another student’s ID to eat in the cafeteria. My other suitemate, sophomore Craig Walrath, claimed innocence like me.

The three of us had been positively identified in an event that had only included two. And, one of the two who were actually responsible was never charged, while Craig and I were.

Again, they had never thought to ask for names.

Now, beyond being simply annoyed, I was baffled at how incompetence, or at least carelessness, had led me to Campus Life twice in the equivalent of one semester.

And, less than a month later, it happened again.

I received another email, now for a “host responsibility” charge, after a drunken first-year had been found in my suite.

Of the seven students living in my suite, five of us were charged. Of the five, only two were in the suite when the offense took place. Again, no names were requested.

Craig, outraged at another charge for something he did not do, asked why they had charged five of us while not including the other two. I asked why my presumed involvement had now become a trend.

Neither question received a rational reply, probably because there is not one. But, there is a simple solution.

Maybe in the future, the judicial powers at Guilford will strive for competence. They cannot always be perfect, but they have the responsibility to try. One extra question and Campus Life could come to their meetings prepared with the truth.

In the meantime, I am expecting charge number four to be on its way soon.