I met a friend for lunch today and, in the course of conversation, realized I really didn't know what she did at work day to day. She is a defense attorney with a practice representing people who have been charged with parking violations. She was on a lunch break during a court recess, and our conversation revealed that her work at the courthouse was very different from what I had imagined it to be.
We rarely talk about our work lives because we tend to converse about other topics. In addition to being an attorney, she is also a jewelry designer and potter. She takes dance lessons and intensive Spanish courses. Unlike many New Yorkers, her job seems to take a backseat to her personal life.
She mentioned to me that there was a character in Summons Court that morning who saluted the judge like an army officer and declared he had to "consult his wallet" before determining whether he would plead guilty or pay a fine. I was surprised to learn she was the court-appointed attorney for this man and many other defendants.
She invited me to join her at the court to watch the proceedings, and I did so.
The room was depressing in the usual sad, bureaucratic way. There were linoleum floors, beat furniture, white walls, an ancient air conditioner, and dirty blinds.
There were people caught with open containers. Others were accused of driving recklessly. Several vendors failed to properly display or renew licenses. Two men were accused of loitering. A couple of young people were charged with excessive noise violations. It struck me that these misdemeanors are probably very common.
It was difficult to hear all of the proceedings. The air conditioner obscured much that was said. I wish I had heard more.
As I watched case after case, I wondered how this legal structure would compare to others. Each person stood beside the judge with a court-appointed attorney who handled their case on the spot. The judge, an elderly man in a seersucker suit, appeared to be a parental figure admonishing bad behavior. He restated the law violated sternly and listed consequences such as criminal records and further fines.
Some of the defendants took the summons seriously while others shrugged it off. One wore a suit but another had jeans slung so low his red underwear mooned those watching the proceedings. A couple missed their appointed time for court with lame excuses but another simply stated he had to watch his son while his wife was at work.
With the exception of cases about permits, it seemed that there wasn't much evidence that could be presented to the judge. Basically, it was the word of the defendant against the police officer who wrote the summons. Some of the stories seemed weak. The judge asked several defendants whether they had been in court before. Many had. I assumed he used this background information to gauge their veracity.
I wondered about the circumstances in each case. Had the defendants enjoyed beers on their stoop with friends or were they drunk and loud on the street? Did the police who issued the summons do so in good faith or were they picking on people?
The people brought before the judge reminded me of my students' parents in the Bushwick, Brooklyn projects. They were kids, taxi drivers, cooks, or hot dog vendors. Many of the defendants were immigrants. One required an interpreter who spoke Chinese. It is likely that many of these people earn about $10 an hour. It struck me that the $25 and $50 fines metered out must be a great burden on this group.
There is so much going on in the world around me, and even in the public lives of my friends, that is alien to me. When I consider this, I feel profoundly ignorant. My corner of the world shrunk significantly in just one day.
Yet, it is exciting that there is so much more to explore. Each case was a small drama. Each life a story.
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