Me and some shipmates of mine were driving home one night in Charleston when a local yokel tried to pull us over on a bridge. We motioned we'd pull over at the bottom of it (for safety reasons), but he proceeded to shoot our tire out. We spent 4 hours in the drunk tank, sober as a bone (it had been a boring night, till then). At our court date, in some small courthouse in the country, the cop walked up to the podium, propped his foot up on the base, resting his arm on the desk and looked down at us, sitting in folding chairs about 10 feet away, over sunglasses and a pot belly the size of which inspired the name of certain stoves. We thought we were doomed.
But our lawyer was a friend of one of our officers and he got us off scot-free and the cop, who had been up for chief of police, was demoted.
Lesson learned though -- blue light laws in the southern states are serious stuff.