Back in Court

August 14th, 2024

A courtroom is a strange place. People do not often go there voluntarily. A courtroom, like a hospital emergency room, is a place where a person only goes when they are forced to do so. However, unlike an emergency room where people are there to help you, a courtroom may not hold anyone who has your interests at heart. A courtroom is where laws are upheld and justice is done, in theory at least. Most of the time, a courtroom is a space where bureaucrats decide the futures of people they do not know.

The Milwaukee County Courthouse was completed in 1931. It is built in a neoclassical style. Like the Roman structures it mimics, the courthouse is designed to be imposing., both inside and out. The courtrooms within are spacious. They have high ceilings and walls with dark wood paneling. The furniture inside the chambers is made from heavy wood. Sounds echo in these spaces. The power and the wealth of the State are manifest in these courtrooms. The individual citizen is made to feel insignificant. I cannot believe that is by accident. Whatever happens in these rooms is deemed to be important simply because of the surroundings.

The Safety Building is next door. It is also imposing, but in a way that is more reminiscent of the Soviet Union than of ancient Rome. The Safety Building also has courtrooms, but not like the ones in the courthouse. I escorted someone to their court appearance two days ago and I was struck by the difference. The courtroom we entered was cramped and crowded. I doubt that the area was originally intended to even be a courtroom. The room looked like it was of ad hoc design, with furnishings from Walmart. The whole place screamed low budget. Lives are changed in this space as much as they are changed in the more elegant courtrooms nearby. The defendants that enter this courtroom are facing felony raps just like the accused persons in the courthouse.

Maybe it all changed after Covid, but I noticed that the small courtroom had screens everywhere. It wasn’t like that years ago. Many of the hearings are done with Zoom. Nearly everyone I saw in the room was staring at a computer monitor. The person who came with me checked in with a sheriff’s deputy who immediately went back to playing Mah Jong on his screen after he checked off the defendant’s name on his list.

I also noticed that most of the people in the room knew each other. The lawyers and the prosecutors bantered. The judge knew everyone. The only folks who were not part of this exclusive club where the defendants whose lives were about to change radically.

Most of the interactions during the hearings were mundane. Usually, nothing of significance was decided. Perhaps an extension of time was granted. Maybe a person got a new public defender. Often, the biggest thing decided was the next court date. The judicial process grinds on for a long time. I think that the person with me had been to court six times already. Next month they will get to go again.

There was one exception to this rule. A young man who was incarcerated appeared in court via Zoom to request a reduction in his bond. Actually, his attorney made the request on his behalf. The state required that he come up with $7500 cash bond for him to get out of jail. The public defender explained to the judge that neither he nor his family had that kind of money. She asked for it to be reduced to $500. She spoke about his desire to live with his mother, and his need of stability. She threw in the fact that he was working on getting a high school diploma. She tried to convince the judge that the young man wasn’t really a threat to the community.

The prosecutor disagreed. She mentioned that the accused had been out on bond before this latest arrest. His previous arrest was for a firearm offense. His most recent arrest was also for a firearm violation. There appeared to be no learning curve. In fact, the second offense was more aggravated than the first one.

The prosecutor had also indicated that the victim of the alleged crime wanted to speak to the court via Zoom. The victim had not logged in at the agreed time, and the court had proceeded without their input.

Then the victim logged in.

Once she was on zoom, the judge allowed her to speak. Boy, did she.

“He don’t have no right to ask me to buy him no firearm! He don’t have no right to whup my ass in an alleyway when I wouldn’t! I got three kids to care for! He’s a hothead. Everybody tells him that. I don’t care what y’all do, but keep that mother fucker away from me!”

The above is a condensed version of what the victim said. Everybody just sat and listened. The accused listened. His attorney listened. The judge listened.

The judge tried to calm the woman down, but she was on a roll. She finally said to him,

“Are you going to let me continue or are you going to keep interrupting me?!”

Amazingly, the judge remained calm. He thanked the victim for her input. I suspect that is when he hit the mute button.

He turned to the court and said, “I can’t reduce the bond to $500. I will lower it to $5000. I see that the defendant is to have no contact with the victim. I am adding that he is to have contact with her home.”

The accused was not liking this. To me, the judge was telling the defendant, “Make yourself comfortable. You aren’t going anywhere.” I think the young man got the same message.

The accused was eager to speak his peace. His attorney cut him off:

“Don’t talk!”

Sage advice.

The judge explained to the defendant that he could go to a break room via Zoom with his public defender to discuss the decision in more depth. Sometime later, the victim figured out that nobody was listening to her anymore and logged off.

If you want to learn about the American justice system, sit in a courtroom for a while.