It’s hard to make a judgment whether I respect our juvenile court system. My first thought, after spending the morning at the county juvenile courthouse, is that it’s no wonder kids repeat offenses and have no fear of being caught.
I was over-prepared, as usual, and made sure my daughter was as well. We had all our documents in folders, had turned in all requested forms and statements, and dressed like we were going to court. During the 45-minute trip to the facility, we went over the process that I had discussed with the probation officer. In other words, we took it seriously.
Nervous and anxious, we walked into total chaos. There were hundreds of people herded into a noisy lobby with seats lining the walls. There were about 10 courtrooms, with people standing, leaning, sitting, and squatting all over. My daughter and I checked in and the clerk commented to my daughter, “You don’t look like you belong here.” My daughter responded, “I don’t belong here. I did make a stupid mistake, but I’m not like the other people here.” And it was true. We were surrounded by people who looked rough and rather street wise—everything from tattoo sleeves to miniskirts and half shirts. And those were the moms! I hate to make judgments, but there were some people in there who, in another scenario, would scare me and cause me to lock the doors of my car as I drove past. Sadly, they were juveniles, and many of them were in court directly from jail and minimally supervised.
After standing for about 15 minutes near our courtroom door (with no “gentlemen” giving up their seats, God forbid), the public defender called my daughter’s name to come speak privately. Brenda was a young, pretty lawyer and about as interested in us as she was in a wet toilet seat. She took us to a “private” location, which amounted to a seat out in the open, just in a different section of the lobby. In front of some strangers, she went over my daughter’s charges and her options. Then she noticed that there was a third charge involving drug possession that was being processed, so we couldn’t address the charges we were there for that day. That meant we had to wait around to see the judge so we could ask for a date in the future to come back and address all three charges: Shoplifting, Driving on a Suspended License, and Drug Possession.
I looked through my paperwork for another court notice indicating that we DID have a future date set for July 12. She knew nothing about that (probably because she didn’t look at any of our paperwork before she met us), so she told us she’d ask the appropriate court clerk between hearings what that was about. After she was done talking, she got up and headed back to Courtroom 5, so we figured we should follow her and that we’d be going into the courtroom. When I asked her if we were going in now (the appointed time on our notice), she laughed and said, “Oh, no. Make yourself comfortable, it’s going to be a while.” Thanks for telling us. We sat down and she went back to her original seat. I didn’t see her go speak with anyone “between hearings.”
The probation officer, Donna, with whom I spoke previously on the phone and had been emailing, came over to tell us what was going to happen next. She said we would see the judge and set a new date for a hearing, and at that time plead guilty to the worst charge and have the others dismissed, and be assigned some sort of probation. My daughter could also possibly be given a drug test (which I could visibly see my daughter was freaking out about). Donna said we might not be seen until noon! I was amazed, as it was only 9:30 a.m. and I just didn’t get it. She was empathetic and human at least. In fact, we both liked her approach very much.
Turns out we were called within a few minutes after that and were seated with Brenda and Donna. In a tiny courtroom with just some tables in a semi-circle, they did some formalities that required very little talking, and almost no one addressed my daughter or me. Brenda requested a new date, and they set it for about 7 weeks in the future. Then the judge said we were dismissed. I’d say we were in there about 5 minutes.
Donna met with us afterward to explain what had just happened before our eyes. On the future date, we will only be addressing the suspended license and shoplifting charge; the drug possession had been dismissed because they were incorrect. So, she only has to plead guilty to the stronger charge and the other one will be dismissed. She’ll be assigned some level of probation, and hopefully Donna can put her on her caseload. Also, the judge did NOT require a drug test at all, but I will be assessed a $400 charge for the public defender (for what????? aren’t PDs on salary? and what exactly did she do?) and a $25 court fee). I have the right to request financial help with that, though I doubt I’ll qualify. We had a nice, pleasant chat with Donna about what a great kid my daughter is, and some other small talk, and she sent us on our way. Done.
In summary, we traveled a total of 90 minutes, took PTO from work, dressed up for nothing (because no one really even looked at us), and got charged $425 just so we can be told to come back another time because all the stacks of paperwork that we were sent mean zero. None of our forms were read, our statements that were thoughtfully crafted were ignored, and all the things my daughter did wrong really don’t matter. Do they treat the juveniles who raped someone, robbed a convenience store clerk at gunpoint, or were in possession of meth and crack cocaine the same way? I love my daughter, but breaking the law is breaking the law. I can see how her offenses were light compared to other kids’, but I don’t see any deterrents in place after visiting this courthouse. My kid was the only one scared.
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