I was late getting to court on Wednesday. Because our printer wasn’t working and Ryan wouldn’t put on her coat and I had to tell Scott what medicine Kai needed before school and I had to figure out another printer I could use so I could arm the State’s Attorney with the case against Mr. X. And then when I finally got there, security made me walk back out to the parking lot to leave my phone in the car.
The courtroom was filling with a steady stream of people, bailiffs and clerks, private attorneys in suits, public attorneys in business casual, defendants dressed like they would to run to 7-11.
There was not going to be a trial, so my presence was not strictly necessary, but I thought it couldn’t hurt. My lawyer friend Erin and I were there to make one more push to the State’s Attorney to get the most we could out of Mr. X’s plea deal.
:::
I’d gotten a message from the State’s Attorney the day before. Mr. X was considering the state’s offer: court supervision and 100 hours of community service.
I had no idea there’d been an offer. I’d never talked to this State’s Attorney before. Our original one had been promoted and was no longer working on our case, the one who knew DCFS had found Mr. X used excessive force. The one who knew about Kai’s autism. The one who had been reminded that because of Kai’s age and the fact that the attack took place at school, this should have been a felony and not a misdemeanor.
Erin and I called her back together. Mr. X and his lawyer wanted to know if we’d be willing to come down, maybe less supervision, maybe less community service.
We spent an hour on the phone with her.
We weren’t coming down, we told her. We wanted more.
Court supervision is kind of bullshit, like your mother yelling “I’m watching you,” while she’s doing the crossword. If he got court supervision, he didn’t have to do anything. There was no parole officer or court check-ins. The case is essentially dismissed after a year. I wanted him to be convicted of his crime. I wanted that crime to come up on background checks. I wanted to make damn sure he wasn’t going to be able to get a job working with children.
Erin and I outlined all of the reasons why Mr. X didn’t deserve our mercy.
The State’s Attorney, Andrea (An-DRAY-ah, BTW), reminded us that Mr. X had a clean record.
“After this guy physically assaulted Kai, after it was over, he continued to yell at Kai,” Erin said. “This wasn’t just a mistake. It was an aggressive and sustained attack. He was specifically told not to touch Kai. I don’t see how this goes to trial and he doesn’t get convicted.”
Andrea called Mr. X’s lawyer. We weren’t coming down, she said. In fact, we’re asking for more. His lawyer asked for a meeting with a judge to broker the deal.
Erin and I agreed to meet at court the next day to arm Andrea with everything she needed to know to talk to the judge about our case. I wrote about the attack and what the witnesses were going to say. Erin wrote about the law.
In court that morning, Andrea came out to introduce herself and talk about what was going to happen. Erin gave her the information we’d typed up.
Andrea turned back toward the bench.
“Oh, wait!” I called. I lunged for my handbag, pawing through the contents.
“Here,” I said, handing her this:
“That’s Kai.”
And we sat back to wait.
:::
The judge was respectful and kind to everyone, asking each defendant how they were doing.
“Fine,” they all said, even the ones in handcuffs who had spent at least one night in jail and were obviously pretty far from being fine.
I wondered why no one asked how the judge was doing, which is what I would have done in that situation. I would find out in time.
I had never really watched an actual trial before. I’ve always wanted jury duty, and the only time I was ever called was on Ryan’s due date. I got excused.
There was a lot of time for eyes to rove over the players in the room. Andrea was serious as hell. She had close-cropped hair and wore a plain black dress and a black blazer, with no jewelry—no adornment whatsoever. She never smiled. The bailiff, a woman who looked like you think a bailiff should look was stern, admonishing people in the courtroom who were talking or being disruptive. But she giggled and whispered with jail guards who brought in prisoners to answer charges. The public defender was the chic one, with an earth-toned scarf and naughty-librarian glasses. The effect was ruined, however, every time she walked. She wobbled dangerously in her high heels.
A girl sat down in front of Erin and me. She was with her mother, and had a tattoo on her neck that said, “Jonathon A,” as though there were a host of Jonathons that tattoo might refer to and she wanted to make sure there was no mistake. She was up for two Class A misdemeanors, battery and destruction of property. She had chosen to wear a hoodie and jeans to court.
“That girl’s trouble,” Erin whispered. That was for sure. You could kind of tell who was trouble and who wasn’t. The guy with the weapons charge, for example. That guy was scary. Then there was the guy who beat his case because the cop didn’t show up. He was so relieved and so happy that even the lawyers smiled at his obvious delight. He had a million dollar smile. That kid was all right.
The judge was pretty light-handed with his sentencing. There was a lot of time served. Jonathon A’s girlfriend got court supervision and 20 hours of community service—less for her two misdemeanors than the sentence we rejected for Mr. X’s one.
:::
After everyone else’s case had been heard, Andrea, Mr. X’s lawyer and the judge went into a room to talk about Kai.
Erin and I talked about school and our kids, the conversation wandering from birthday parties to discipline to sibling rivalry, a welcome place to land after two hours of public defenders and handcuffed defendants.
At one point I reached my arms overhead and stretched. As I did so I turned and looked over my shoulder.
Mr. X was sitting a couple of rows behind me, there with a woman who had come for the first hearing. She had her head in her hands, an image of anxiety bordering on anguish.
I turned quickly back around.
Continued tomorrow.
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