« Who drank the Kool-Aid? | Main | Who's to blame? »
November 29, 2005
Courthouse coutre
I was standing in the hallway this morning, chatting with a colleague, killing time while waiting for the proceedings to begin in the Master Calendar Court, when I spotted an apparition straight out of Hoboken by way of the Sopranos.
Bopping his way to court was a defendant, resplendent in his powder-blue jogging suit, unzipped low enough to reveal his ribbed white undershirt, chest hair, and heavy gold chains. The look complemented his blow-dried and moussed hair, as well as his molto bene moustaches.
We stopped talking and watched in awe as he entered Div. 13. My colleague raised an eyebrow and with exquisite irony said, "Domestic Violence Court. What a surprise." She was right, of course; the mope was born to be on DV probation.
It always amazes me to see the idiots coming to court in the most staggeringly inappropriate outfits. They're facing a judge, who will sentence them after choosing from a huge menu of freedom-depriving options. You'd think even the dopiest of defendants would understand that this is not the time to get in touch with your inner sartorial gangsta or mafioso.
Except that even Mob bosses know better than to come to court in their loungewear (aside from Vincent "The Chin" Gigante, but he was trying to convince the Feds that he was crazy, so that explains the robe and slippers -- not to mention the drooling). Mobsters wear suits to court. Public Defenders dress their clients in borrowed suits for trial, and private attorneys advise their clients to wear their Sunday best when it comes time for sentencing, 'cause ya gotta impress the Man.
I've seen thugs get lighter sentences when they bother to dress up and act contrite.
But some mooks, like this morning's mope, are just too stoopid or macho to play along. And they get what they deserve. But it's a constant reminder of the coarsening of our culture when I see the exposed midriffs and underwear in court -- and that's just the men.
It's the rare judge who has the time -- or intestinal fortitude -- to address the demeanor of his misdemeanants and felons, as well as the witnesses, family members and lookie-loos in his courtroom.
I happened to be in the courtroom of such a judge for a preliminary hearing. I had two sisters testify about a robbery they'd witnessed, while their father watched in the audience.
When the hearing was done and the defendant had been held to answer, the judge asked the girls to step out of the courtroom while he spoke with their father.
The judge told the father that he asked his daughters to leave so as to avoid humiliating the man in front of his children. Then he laid into the fellow, telling him that his courtroom attire of swim trunks, dirty t-shirt and flip flops was disgraceful and disrespectful to the court, the legal system, and the People of the State of California.
I swiveled in my seat to see how the slovenly fellow was taking this; not well, apparently. His face turned a deep shade of scarlet and he opened his mouth to say something.
The judge held up his hand and told him to shut his piehole (I'm paraphrasing); this wasn't a conversation. He finished by telling him that the next time he showed up in this judge's courtroom, he'd better be dressed appropriately, or be prepared to be thrown out by the bailiff, a better choice than being found in contempt and being thrown in the tank.
In nearly a decade of practice, I think that was the one and only time I saw a judge try and reverse the trend, and, while it's a lonely task -- like trying to dig a hole in the ocean, I salute him.
Posted by Mike Lief at November 29, 2005 11:54 PM
Comments
I'm sure you'll make a fine witness for the judge at his Commission hearing when he is charged with making inappropriate comments to the defendant.
Posted by: The Real Anonymous at November 30, 2005 07:41 AM
Based on my experience, the judge doesn't have to say a thing, making him Commission-proof.
All he has to do is peer over the top of his glasses at the defendant, shift his gaze over to the defense attorney, who is trying to look guileless, then raise a furry eyebrow, purse his lips, shake his head once and with a little sigh, impose the maximum sentence, hammering said crook into oblivion.
Posted by: Mike at November 30, 2005 08:11 AM