By Staff Writer
INVERNESS — The ever-increasing misfortunes of one Lewis Groten, already notorious across the Kingdom for his earlier arrest involving false accusations against a sitting Minister of the Crown, took a further turn this week when he was discovered loitering beneath the bleachers of St. Dymphna’s Grammar School for Boys.
According to the Royal Constabulary, a vigilant schoolmistress noticed movement beneath the stands during afternoon athletics and promptly notified the authorities. Officers arrived within minutes to find Mr Groten, described as “rumpled, perspiring, and altogether too curious,” crouched behind the wooden supports with a small camera apparatus of questionable design.
“His explanation was as tangled as his hair,” said Inspector Basil Trumble of the Inverness Division. “He mumbled something about architectural studies, but no sketches were found. Only the camera.”
The suspect was taken into custody without incident, though observers noted he appeared considerably more portly than during his last public appearance. Witnesses reported that his once-stiff bowler hat had collapsed entirely in the scuffle, rolling away into the playground sand.
Parents were understandably alarmed, though none of the boys appear to have been directly harmed or photographed. The Ministry of Education issued a statement praising the quick action of staff and Constabulary alike, noting that “schoolyards must remain safe sanctuaries of innocence and Latin conjugation.”
Mr Groten now faces charges of trespass, public mischief, and possession of photographic equipment without a license in a restricted scholastic zone—a rarely invoked but serious offense. Legal experts suggest that, if convicted, he could face several months of compulsory labour cleaning public statues “to reacquaint him with higher forms of art.”
This latest incident adds to an already colourful dossier. Mr Groten’s previous brush with the law came after he filed what prosecutors called a “fantastical and malicious complaint” against a senior member of the Royal Cabinet, a case that collapsed when his evidence was found to consist entirely of newspaper clippings glued together in the shape of a face.
At the time, he told reporters that he was “merely performing a civic duty.” This week, as constables led him from the schoolyard, he declined to comment, offering only a weary sigh and the faint protest, “I was taking measurements.”
The Constabulary has since issued a brief statement reminding citizens that “imagination is no excuse for intrusion.”