|
This section shares the stories of four officers of the court a judge, a public defender, and two prosecutors, a Maricopa County attorney who deals with domestic violence felonies and a City of Phoenix attorney who prosecutes misdemeanors. Their stories share the problems of high caseloads and long hours, the frustration of dealing with victims who change their minds about prosecuting, and the rewards of sending a message to the public that violence of any kind will not be tolerated. | ||||||
| "Judge
Johnson" Municipal Court Judge "I'm aware of how the cycle of violence works," says Nancy Johnson, a municipal court judge. "That awareness is a plus for a judge. You have to understand the psychology that is involved in the whole domestic violence cycle, otherwise you miss the mark." Judge Johnson owes her keen insight into domestic violence to a career as a social worker prior to law school. "I worked with delinquent kids and so I had some interaction with the courts," she says. After earning her law degree, she clerked for a superior court judge before joining the Phoenix City Prosecutor's Office in the early 1980s. "I chose the prosecutor's office instead of criminal defense work because I felt that prosecution was really the place where you could make a change," she says. After being appointed to the Municipal Court bench, Judge Johnson realized she was in a position to make an even bigger impact. "The fact that I am a woman sends certain messages to people. The fact that I am a person of color also sends messages to people. I really like the idea of being in the Municipal Court and I'll tell you why. This is a court where your average person has contact with the justice system. You have the opportunity to shape their impressions of the entire judicial process." Many different crimes come under the jurisdiction of the city court, Judge Johnson says. "We handle a great deal of DUIs, plus any number of domestic violence related complaints such as assault and criminal damage, threats and intimidation, and violations of orders of protection. We also handle shoplifting, theft, prostitution, and traffic violations. We essentially cover everything except felonies." The situation can be difficult at times. "Some days you have a courtroom with wall-to-wall people. There is no place to sit. It's hot, stuffy. You cannot catch your breathe. Tempers are short so when you finally do get to a particular matter, the people involved take out all their frustrations on you. But its just part of the job, and you learn to anticipate it." She says some victims don't realize that a judge must remain impartial. "Many people wish for a judge to lean one way or another in terms of the allegations. That's not what I'm here for. My role is simply to listen to the evidence and then make a decision based upon that evidence. Unfortunately, many of the alleged victims think that if the state files a complaint, then everyone should see that the defendant is guilty. That isn't enough, but it is sometimes very difficult to explain to them how the system works." Prosecutors could help the judicial process, she says. "If prosecutors would take time to educate the alleged victims about the role of the court, they wouldn't be caught off guard so much. Instead, many alleged victims leave angry when the court has made a finding of 'not guilty.' They read more into that than what the court intended. A verdict of 'not guilty' is not an endorsement of the defendant's behavior or a moral judgment. It simply means that the state did not carry its burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt." Nevertheless, Judge Johnson recognizes that victims are likely to feel revictimized by the legal system if they are not handled with sensitivity and understanding. "I think that everyone who comes in contact with these people has to realize that their egos are very fragile. Their self-esteem is very low. I'm not suggesting that we all act as counselors and social workers just that we be more sensitive." By way of example, she explains how 911 operators might make a difference. "It takes a very special person to do that job. When people are calling with what they perceive to be a big problem even though it may be minuscule in the larger scheme of things the operator must not dismiss or pooh-pooh the caller. If the caller gets the impression that the police operator doesn't think their problem is a big deal, then it reinforces the feeling of helplessness that many victims of domestic violence already have." Officers, too, need to understand the cycle of violence, she says. "When they respond to a call and say 'This really isn't a big deal,' well maybe it isn't today. But if they let it go, next month or next year its going to be something worse." She believes that judges should also receive training on domestic violence. "I'm not saying judges need to be psychologists, but I do think they need to be aware of programs that can assess and treat people involved in domestic violence situations. We make our most important contribution through effective sentencing, and that requires some baseline of knowledge and information." Johnson describes her own approach to a domestic violence case. "Once you have gone through the trial process and have found the defendant guilty of a domestic violence crime, at that point you are in a position to do some innovative sentencing if that's what your are of a mind to do. I think this court is a forerunner in recognizing that there are situations where incarceration is not the answer, where counseling is more appropriate. By being creative in your sentencing, you're not only dealing with the violator, but also fashioning orders under probation to protect the victim. And that's important." Orders of protection are a two-edged sword for the judge. "I am always encouraged when I handle orders of protection for victims of domestic violence. It means they have finally decided to get out and to go someplace safe. And then to see them later on and hear, 'I really did go and I'm doing fine now,' is extremely gratifying. "But orders of protection are also my biggest frustration," she says. "There are times when people come in the next week and they want to quash the order. If I have concerns that there may be some coercion or threats involved, I can set it for hearing and have both parties come in. But once I am satisfied that the request is not a result of threats or violence, I have to abide by their wishes. That is very frustrating." A related frustration is police handling of domestic violence complaints. "There have been many times when people have come in requesting orders of protection and said, 'Well, I called the police, but they wouldn't come out and take a report.' This ties my hands. You have to have that record, that documentation, to issue the order. Likewise, the prosecutor has to have documentation if she is going to be able to successfully prosecute a case." In the judge's view, domestic violence cases demand a personal touch. "When you are dealing with highly volatile, emotional situations, someone whether it is the city prosecutor, the defense counsel, or some social service entity must do some hand holding and explaining. Too many victims fall through the cracks. They don't have the advocate from the prosecutor's office, they aren't in therapy, and they're surprised to hear there are shelters. In my court I can point them in the right direction because of my personal background and experience. But there is no requirement that says a judge has to do that." At times, Judge Johnson says she has literally called the city prosecutor to get a victim's advocate assigned. "I've said, 'Look, your prosecutor has a witness in here and I think you need to get someone down here for her.' And they've been very good about responding. I don't have problems in that regard. But there are some people who just don't avail themselves of the services. And these people fall through the cracks despite our best efforts." Judge Johnson sees hope in the common ground that has been established among key participants in the domestic violence system. "I like to think we are beyond the time where the consensus was that domestic violence was just a 'family matter.' Domestic violence is a serious crime and must be treated as such. We are now seeing judges being appointed who are aware of the seriousness of the crime. I believe that aggressive prosecution and increasing public awareness that it is not acceptable and that there are options will go a long way toward improving the domestic violence situation." "Alex"
"Almost all of my clients are easily proven guilty," says Alex, a public defender who represents people unable to afford a private attorney. "The evidence is usually overwhelming. All the witnesses are lined up against them. They've actually confessed on videotape. Yet my clients still say, 'I didn't do anything wrong.' They actually believe there shouldn't be any consequences to their actions." Despite the guilt of his clients, Alex believes the public defender's offices is a necessary check against the power of the prosecutor. "The system's completely out of whack," he says, "because the county prosecutors have all the power. This is a frightening concept. Mandatory sentencing allows them to tell the judge what the sentence is going to be for a plea bargain, and if the judge doesn't like it the prosecutor can back out of the plea knowing that our clients will get more time. I think we should shift the balance of power back to the court. Judges, I think, are better qualified to exercise sentencing discretion than a county attorney just out of law school." As a public defender serving Maricopa County, Alex practices only in Superior Court and handles only felony cases. "Felony charges are rarely the result of the first incidence of violence in a relationship," he says. "By the time I get a case, it is usually pretty severe. I have one case where the guy pulled a knife on his wife because she wasn't cooking the pork chops properly. And that's not all that unusual. But if you spend enough time with someone you get past the fact that he's committed a horrible crime and you start to care about what happens to him." It can be a jarring, Alex says, to be reminded that his clients are charged with violent acts. But he doesn't feel that men charged with domestic violence felonies actually hate women. Rather, he says, they are obsessed with dominance. "My clients are not able to relinquish control. They become paranoid and think their partner is always cheating on them. It's hard for them to understand that their ideas are often the wrong ideas." For their own good, Alex tries to convince them otherwise. "If you don't accept responsibility for your acts under this system, you're going to prison for years on end. But these are very difficult clients. They don't appreciate the consequences of their crimes. Even after putting his wife in the hospital, a client will express great love for her. He honestly does not believe she will prosecute him." In many instances, the offender is correct, says Alex. "What is weird is that in most domestic violence cases the victim is calling me all the time. She wants the case dropped. She doesn't want to talk to her advocate, the county attorney, because the county attorney is viewed as an obstacle. And that's because the county attorney's office isn't dropping cases just because a victim wants them to any more. In the long run, I think that will be a positive thing. In the short run, some of the wives and victims may get hurt." Safeguarding victims from further violence, says Alex, is a continuing problem. "I am relatively unimpressed with orders of protection because they're violated constantly and there's no punishment there's no hammer over the guy's head. The cops aren't especially interested, and in a way I don't blame them. Typically, the wife gets an order of protection, then she'll get back together with the husband while the order is still in effect. Then they have a fight and she calls the cops. But they know the next day she is going to invite her husband back home. So, it's tough. I'm not sure what the police officers are supposed to do in these situations." The work load for a public defender is heavy, says Alex typically 30 to 45 active cases in front of five different judges. Often he is supposed to appear in two different courtrooms simultaneously. Because of this, and the inefficient way the system operates, he doesn't get much time with his clients. "Justice Court each week is where we first meet our clients, at the preliminary hearing where the state is required to establish probable cause. I'll get maybe four or five new clients on that day, and it's the first time I meet them so it's important to establish rapport." Winning client trust is not easy, he says. "Our clients don't choose us and we don't choose them. We're assigned. So my role is to build up some confidence with the client to protect him as much as possible from unreasonable punishment. But it's frustrating because it's the nature of my job that my clients don't trust me. For example, I have to be careful they don't see me acting friendly toward the county attorneys. They don't understand that we have to get along, that it's more than likely to help their case, rather than hinder it. But they're paranoid and they'll say, 'I saw you talking to her [the county attorney].' And it's like, 'Yes, I was talking about the case.' And you'll get, 'Sure. You work for the same people as the county attorney. You get paid a bonus for every innocent client you plead guilty. You're afraid to go to trial.'" To gain the confidence of his clients, Alex makes after-work jail visits a daily routine. "It's hard to meet someone in justice court," he says. "And in my experience, the clients I need to talk to never call me. So my purpose in making jail visits is to spend time with my clients. I don't think they will trust me and listen to me until I do. I can't just say the first time I meet them, 'Hi, my name is Alex, and this is the county attorney's plea offer: You are going to jail.' They aren't going to take that deal even if it is reasonable until I develop trust with them." Looking to the future, Alex hopes for a tremendous increase in prevention programs for offenders. "Right now, realistically, there aren't any prevention services available, because if you're poor you aren't going to be able to afford them. So there is no way any of our clients are getting help until they're in trouble. And there is no outreach from the substance abuse community either, which I don't understand, because very few of my clients would get involved with violence unless they were doing an illicit drug or excessive drinking. Yet the situation is that the for-profit substance abuse programs attract only working people with insurance. And the nonprofits, well, there are almost none that my clients would ever go to." Probation services need an upgrade as well, says Alex. "Given the resources probation departments have I think they work well. But their caseloads are extraordinarily high so we end up with a false sense of security about probation. The truth is, if the probation officers don't have time to spend with offenders, they can violate their orders and nothing's going to happen. I think we need to pump more money and effort into probation services." In the long run, Alex wants to see system-wide changes. "First, we need to provide more services up front rather than at the end. For example, I don't see any services for my clients' children, who witness atrocious violence on a regular basis. Everyone in the system knows that a generation raised in domestic violence is going to appear in court someday themselves. But until we do something other than just paying lip service to counseling, I don't see it stopping." "Elaine"
"Domestic violence is everybody's business," says Elaine, a prosecutor and bureau chief of the Family Violence Unit of the Maricopa County Attorney's Office. "When you see a woman hitting her kid in the grocery store that's your problem. When you live in an apartment complex and you hear the couple upstairs beating each other up that's your problem. We want to get this message out to the community: It's everybody's business regardless of what walk of life you're in, regardless of your socioeconomic class. It's everybody's problem because the only common denominator in the street crime that we're all so afraid of is a violent home environment." Elaine's journey to the position of bureau chief for the County Attorney's Office was fairly straightforward. "I always wanted to be a prosecutor," she says. But she and the members of her unit had to become experts on domestic violence the hard way by trial and error. "All we do every day is read police reports and go to court," she says. "We don't write contracts or draft wills or do any of the things that you often think of when you think of lawyers. We're courtroom lawyers. " As Elaine describes her job with its joys, frustrations, and challenges it is clear that she is on a mission. "Sure the pay is lousy compared to what we could make in the private sector. And, in many ways, it's a thankless job. So most people are doing it because it's where their heart is. John or Jane Doe envision some big machine handles their case when, in reality, it's being handled by a few individuals: the police officer who is assigned to the case, the prosecutor who is assigned to the case, the offender's attorney, and a specific judge. But the key player in the whole dynamic is the prosecutor. The prosecutor has the sole power in determining whether that case goes forward or whether it is dropped." The Family Violence Unit, formed within the last year, employs seven attorneys, two investigators, three victim advocates, and various support staff. They handle domestic violence felony cases, child homicides, child abuse, stalking cases, and elder abuse. In their work, the members of the unit interact with social service agencies, the courts, the probation office, and the police department. Elaine describes the office as "deluged." She says, "Our caseloads right now are 30 to 55 per attorney, which is way too high. Monday mornings are the worst because if a suspect is arrested, and is in custody, we only have 48 hours to file a charge on that person. We call those 'in-jails.'" Elaine describes how "in-jails" are processed by her office. "You read the police report and decide whether or not you can prove the case. We have to prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt to a jury. It's the highest burden in the law. When you look at jury nullification all over the country like the O.J. case, where they had more evidence that we ever have it's a very high burden of proof. We never, ever have as much evidence as the O.J. case. We have to bear that in mind when we review a police report. "Police officers often get frustrated with us when we turn down a case. It's easy to understand their frustration, especially when they know the case. The officer may get called out to that house every Saturday night like clockwork, but without prior convictions, we have no choice but to treat it as a first time offense." Luckily, according to Elaine, the Family Violence Unit and the Phoenix Police Department have formed a very effective working relationship. "All the attorneys know all the detectives," says Elaine. "And sometimes you end up being best friends because you have very close working relationships." A close working relationship with the police is especially important because Elaine's unit does not have resources to do its own investigations. Prosecutors have to rely on the patrol officer taking the report and the police detectives who conduct the follow-up investigation. "Right now, we are working on a checklist for police officers," she explains. "Interviewing the suspect, taking photographs of the victim's injuries, interviewing children in the home, recording the victim's statement or getting her to sign a written statement all of these things are critical for us to successfully prosecute, especially when the victim comes in after a few weeks and says, 'I never said that.'" Elaine explains that her office represents the state of Arizona, not the individual victim. "Our job is to protect the community. We try to keep the streets safer. We try to bring justice to the community, impose appropriate sanctions. We also try to give victims a voice, but we are not attorneys for the victim. In fact, especially in the domestic violence area, what we want and what the victim wants are often in conflict." According to Elaine, victims who change their stories, or "recant," create one of the most frustrating aspects of her job. "Police officers do not lie," she says. "That is a safe general rule. They don't fabricate statements and put them in their reports. When you have a police report in front of you that says, 'Jane Doe told me her husband pointed the gun at her head and said, "I'm going to kill you, bitch,' you can bet on that being exactly what happened. But then the victim comes in and tells you she never said that to the police officer. What is really amazing is the number of women that come in here, look you in the eye and say, 'Yeah, he had the gun pointed at my head, but I wasn't really afraid.' Somewhere they've learned that we have to prove the victim was in reasonable fear of imminent physical injury to prove our case." Elaine emphasizes that although victims may want the charges dropped, and a majority of victims do backtrack, her office will not drop those charges. This is known as "victimless prosecution." Elaine explains: "The County Attorney has always had the philosophy that a victim's reluctance to prosecute should only be one factor. With the formation of this unit, we've gone to an even more stringent policy of victimless prosecution. If there is any means by which we can prove a case without our victim, we will do so." Traditionally, according to Elaine, police and prosecutors have had the attitude that if a victim doesn't want to help herself, why bother? "It's not difficult to understand, she says. "We've got all these other crimes out there with victims who want to help us out, who are very concerned, who want our support. Why waste resources on prosecuting cases where the victim won't even help us? But when you learn about the dynamics of domestic violence, you learn that most women are beaten when they try to leave. You learn that even if the woman does leave, most offenders will just move on to another abusive relationship. And without education and support, the victim stands a good chance of ending up in another abusive relationship herself. Worse, people who are beating their significant others are also beating the kids in the home, and those kids grow up to be batterers, too. So when you understand these dynamics, you understand why we should proceed even when the victim recants." Elaine is adamant in her belief that everyone involved in the system must be educated on domestic violence. "We hit a brick wall with the courts not understanding this dynamic seeing it, instead, as a domestic problem that doesn't require serious intervention, or an anger control problem that just needs counseling. They think that if a batterer says it's not going to happen again, then it's not. But the domestic violence issue reminds me of the education we received in the seventies and eighties on sexual assault. We had to learn that rape is not a sex crime, it's a hate crime. Now we're undergoing the same kind of thing with domestic violence. It's not an anger problem, it's a power and control problem. When batterers feel their power and control slipping away, they get more and more aggressive to recapture that power, and that is why more women are beaten when they try to leave." Despite long hours, heavy caseloads, reluctant victims and constant trouble-shooting, Elaine describes her job as "great." She says, "It is tremendously rewarding when we successfully prosecute a case in which a scared domestic violence victim recants. We take the burden off her shoulders. And when we successfully reach an end to that case and the perpetrator gets treatment, jail time, or whatever is appropriate, that is very satisfying. Protecting innocent victims who are being preyed upon by people on power trips is very gratifying. It's why I went to law school in the first place." Elaine says the lessons she and her colleagues have learned are being integrated into the strategies the unit uses. "We're tackling the age-old communication problem between police and prosecutors: they don't understand what we do, and we don't understand what they do. So we have instituted mandatory ride-alongs in our office. Every attorney must ride at least one shift per year with a patrol officer so we can better understand what the police go through on the streets. We are also improving the lines of communication between our offices. We take weekly walks over there and they come over here. In this way, we are educating each other and it is working." Nevertheless, much remains to be done. "We are exploring the possibility of starting our own offender treatment program out of this office. Studies across the country show that short-term treatment is just not effective, but there is no long-term offender program in Arizona. We envision a program for first time misdemeanor offenders that would give them a choice: either go through this program and avoid being prosecuted, or get it as your sentence if you are successfully prosecuted." In the end, law enforcement can only do so much, says Elaine. "I think education needs to start at the grade school level. We need to approach domestic violence like we did drunk driving. Today we don't let a friend drive drunk. Well, tomorrow you don't let friends hit their kids or their spouses. We all have to really get this: It's not okay to hit your wife for any reason. And its not okay to hit your husband. It's not okay to hit your kids. Thou shalt not hit. Okay?" "Beth"
"Just once, I want people to feel the same passion that I feel when I see the faces of the women and the kids who are the victims of domestic violence," says Beth, a City of Phoenix prosecutor. "The worst part is knowing we'll see the victims' kids in 15 years." Beth, whose caseload consists mainly of domestic violence complaints, says part of the problem is that victims are often unwilling to prosecute. "Men don't report abuse because of societal perceptions. Women, if they complain, usually only report physical assault and criminal damage to property. And after working these cases," she says, "I understand why victims don't always want to prosecute. The level of fear is very high. We must keep victims' addresses confidential to protect them." The lack of reporting thrusts Beth into a secondary role as advocate for the victim in addition to her primary role as prosecutor. "We need quicker action for victims," she says. "They think nothing is being done when a case drags on. We also need the victim to understand what happens in the courtroom. It's frustrating how slowly change takes place. It's frustrating that we don't have the ability to take photos, to have adequate records, to have tape recordings. And the lack of funding slows us down. This is serious, because problems surface when the time to bring cases to trial becomes too long. For example, tapes of 911 calls are only kept for 60 days." Beth is a small, quiet woman who, nevertheless, fills the room with the power of her feelings. Though she is tense as she talks, she knows that others have seen the damage inflicted by domestic violence. So she works with those in the system who share her dedication to erasing this problem. "In my job I can help put someone in jail who should be in jail. I can help make sure offenders get counseling. I can teach the attorneys in my office how to better prosecute these cases. I can also teach the police department what they can do to help us. Some of the police officers already understand all this," she says. "They know we need more funding and training." One way Beth works with police is to discuss with them how they report domestic violence calls. "There is an unconscious tendency to blame the victim," she says. While the police may start out sympathetic toward the victim, the excitement and rage of the victim sometimes causes them to side with the abuser, who often seems quieter and calmer at the scene. "What we train police to do is understand the nature of the victim's excited utterances, to understand that the victim is agitated and fearful. We also ask officers to take photos and document the times when the assaults occurred. "I think they understand the importance of this. We need to have those photos and tapes. Sometimes victims think that just because they called the police it is enough to get a conviction. It's not. We have to follow rules of evidence and rules of criminal procedure." Again, inadequate funding causes problems, says Beth. "We need equipment to have reports scanned in electronically. This would help gain quicker action from the city. And we need more crisis intervention teams. They're only on call three days a week now. They need to be on call seven days a week, available to go right to the scene with the police. They are indispensable because they help provide an on-going link with the victim." Beth stresses the need for change at all levels. "This is a societal issue. We need resources, training, education, and funding. We need to change society so that in ten years the domestic violence unit can be disbanded." Education and communication about domestic violence is a key to dealing with the problem, Beth says. "Schoolchildren from kindergarten to high school should be saturated with the idea that no one has to tolerate abusive behaviors. There is never an excuse to use physical violence. Calling assault 'just a little shove' never makes it right. This behavior can't be tolerated in the future. We have to make changes now. "Keeping
communication going is important, too. Information about what can be
done, what can't be done, is key to changing behaviors. Pro-prosecutorial
stances must be taken. We must give the defendant
the clear message that violence is not acceptable not in the home, not
anywhere."
|
|||||||