Behind the Robe

by Barbara Sattler

  Lourdes will soon be the one who decides whether these men stay locked up. If the victim wants her partner released, the judge usually releases him. It’s a tough call. Under the law, the judge has to take the victim’s feelings into consideration. There’s the presumption of innocence. If the men are in custody beyond a few days, they usually lose their jobs and the loss of income affects the victim and her children. Not to mention overcrowded jails.

  If the judge is fearful for the victim’s safety, she can order the defendant to have no contact with the victim, but court orders are just paper. Ignored, as often by the victim as by the defendant.

  Carlos isn’t her client. They’ve been together for 18 years and he’s never hurt her. He rarely raises his voice. He doesn’t break promises. Or is she in denial?

  “I know you have nightmares and don’t sleep well. Maybe if you talked to me about what happened in Afghanistan.”

  “I’m fine about that, really. Once I start working things will be better.”

  “Maybe you should go to the VA, see a counselor.”

  “I’m okay. It’s not like I have PTSD. And I don’t want to sit around and talk a bunch of shit. I’m going to start going to the gym and some of the guys from the unit are trying to start a soccer team. I’ll try harder to find work.” He puts his arms around her and this time she lets him. “I love you, Lourdes. I couldn’t live without you.”

  The weekend passes and it’s like old times. They laugh, cuddle and make love. Lourdes is relieved. Monday her new career begins in earnest and she’s nervous. She has a lot to learn. She doesn’t want to worry about Carlos.

  Lourdes is awake before 6 a.m. on Monday. Carlos isn’t in bed. She calls to him and in a minute he brings her a cup of coffee. Just the way she likes it. “Good luck today,” he says. She’s already decided to wear her lucky outfit, a grey suit with a pencil skirt which she wears with a lavender knit top. Lourdes chuckles about her attention to her clothes. She’ll wear a robe in court. A perk she’s never considered till now.

  Carlos has made bacon and eggs, and toast. Lourdes does her best to eat, but she has butterflies. Her first full day as a judge. She’s pleased Carlos made the effort. As she walks out the door, he calls, “You look terrific, babe, and you’ll be a great judge.”

  The drive to court only takes fifteen minutes. Lourdes maneuvers her blue Camry under the courthouse into the judge’s parking lot. She shows her ID to the guard who waves her in. Space #47 is a small one close to a large pole. Less than desirable. Last hired, worst parking spot.

  She takes the ‘Judges elevator’ up to the 7th floor. The elevator’s empty at 7:45 a.m.

  Lourdes had hired a secretary almost immediately after being sworn in. Maria had been a court clerk for three years—the main reason Lourdes hired her. Recently judges’ secretaries were christened Judicial Administrative Assistants, JAAs. Judges are much too important to have plain old secretaries. Unfortunately for the JAAs they’re still paid the same as when they were plain old secretaries.

  Lourdes walks through Maria’s office and opens the door to her office—-no, to her ‘chambers’. Lourdes stares at the expensive-looking desk, credenza, and her own bathroom. She’s not used to this. When she first worked at the PD everyone had Salvation Army rejects. Later they got cheap metal desks. There was one bathroom for the whole floor. The jail didn’t even have a bathroom for women lawyers when she first started. She’d peed behind a large dumpster praying there were no cameras pointed in her direction.

  “Hello,” a female voice calls.

  “Maria, is that you?”

  “Good morning, Judge Velasquez. I go by Mary, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, and call me Lourdes.”

  “No way. The court staff isn’t supposed to call judges by their first names. It’s always Judge or Your Honor.”

  “Okay.” She loves having a secretary who can pronounce her name. She imagines someone butchering it every time they answer the phone. “Judge Velacuse’s office.”

  “The only thing I see on your calendar today are the three interviews for the law-clerk bailiff’s spot. Is that right?”

  “I think so. I don’t think I have any hearings for a few days.”

  “You have a couple tomorrow. I’ll get the files.”

  Tomorrow? Lourdes thought she had more time to watch other judges and prepare. Maybe it’s better just to jump in. She’s been in criminal court for years and should know what to do.

  Lourdes looks forward to interviewing the law clerks. Some judges have bailiffs, usually retired cops, whose job is to keep order. Judges on the criminal bench usually choose to hire law clerks/bailiffs who are folks who have graduated from law school. Most are waiting for bar results. They research issues, write preliminary drafts, and talk with their judge about how she makes decisions. They help prepare jury instructions. They get to watch jury trials. Most feel the experience makes them better lawyers.

  From their names, Lourdes believes the applicants include a Latino male and two Anglo females. She couldn’t care less about race or sex. Or could she? What will people think if her whole staff is Latino? Does she really want a male to be in her close circle? Use her bathroom? Carlos never used to be the jealous type, but he’s been so weird lately. She’s still musing when Mary buzzes, “Your first interview, Arturo Cardenas, is here.”

  “Send him in.”

  Arturo is a knockout. Dark hair perfectly cut and styled. Long eyelashes and a flawless complexion. He puts out his hand to shake hers. Often men seem uncomfortable doing that, but not Arturo. Grabs her hand firmly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Judge Velasquez.”

  Lourdes gestures toward a chair across from her desk. She starts with some small talk about his background, and his hobbies. His answers are short and unrevealing so she gets to it. “Why do you want this job?”

  “I want to be a trial lawyer. Watching trials will be very helpful for my career.” Arturo is arrogant as well as handsome. He answers in a blasé manner as if she would be lucky to hire him. Lourdes knows the type. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women. No way.

  Celeste Young is brainy, excelled throughout school, but her career goal is to work at a civil firm, doing appeals, not litigation. Lourdes wonders why she wants this job if she doesn’t plan on being in court. She speaks softly, doesn’t make eye contact. Lourdes has a hard time imagining her standing up to the lawyers. Managing the courtroom.

  Rebecca Olson is older, and unlike the other two not in the top 10%. Prior to law school, Rebecca had worked at the Tucson Public Library. During law school she clerked for a variety of lawyers. Her references verify she is responsible, capable and a fast learner. Neither of the other two had worked during law school which Lourdes thinks is a mistake. She wonders if they are from rich families or have huge debt loads. Even if you don’t need the money, clerking at a law firm is where you learn how to be a lawyer. Despite what professors say.

  Lourdes doesn’t want to teach the basics. At the PD she’d once hired a secretary who lasted less than two weeks. Did you really have to tell an employee to check their messages? To keep quiet about personal business in front of clients? To dress professionally, not like they model for Victoria Secret?

  At the end of the interview she asks each candidate to say, “All rise, The Honorable Lourdes Velasquez presiding.” Celeste can’t be heard a few inches away and mispronounces her name. Arturo of course knows the correct pronunciation. Rebecca has taken the time to learn. She’s done her homework and that cinched it. Rebecca Olson gets the job.

  Lourdes has finished the interviews and is getting ready to call Arturo and Celeste to let them know they didn’t get the job when Mary buzzes, “Your husband on line one.”

  “I have an interview scheduled at Raytheon. This could be my chance.” Raytheon is a defense contractor with a large plant in Tucson. Lourdes realizes she has little ide
a what the corporation does. She knows they once made missiles. Maybe they still do. Carlos seems excited so Lourdes is too.

  NINE

  Lourdes is dressed and ready to go at 7 o’clock. Her first day hearing cases. Once again, Carlos cooked breakfast. Once again, bacon and eggs. She does her best to eat even though her stomach churns. She knows Carlos expects a big thank you. What about the last eight years when she made breakfast? But she’s happy and excited.

  “Thanks, Carlos, so sweet of you.” He beams and gives her a big hug.

  “Maybe soon we’ll both be getting up for work.”

  “Good luck on your interview.”

  Lourdes arrives in her office expecting to be first. But coffee is brewing. Mary, and her law clerk, Rebecca, have beat her in. A special day for her, but it’s also Rebecca’s first day as a law-clerk bailiff.

  “Morning, Rebecca, Mary.”

  “Morning Your Honor, I’ve been called Becca my whole life and I’m a lot more comfortable if you call me that. When I hear Rebecca, I look around for someone else.”

  “Of course.”

  “I put the files on your desk for today.”

  “Thanks.”

  Three files sit on her desk, a motion to continue a trial, a change of plea and a sentencing. She looks through the files, writes a few notes to make sure she’s prepared.

  Lourdes knows the probation officer will stop by before court. It’s a chance for him to tell her things he can’t put in the written report. Reports used to allow PO’s to talk about their hunches and perhaps why a prior conviction should be discounted or counted more heavily. The new reports are standardized and follow a template. As a PD, she missed the old reports as did all the PO’s except the lazy ones.

  While she waits for Carl Clark, the probation officer on the Johnson sentencing, Lourdes reads some of the memos that overflow her in-box. Dates and times to get flu shots. Telephone numbers of court personnel, probation officers, county attorneys and public defenders. List of attorneys who contract with the court to represent indigent defendants when the PDs have a conflict. Fire drill policy. She knows she should read all of it, but decides most can wait.

  Carl Clark bypasses Mary and walks to Lourdes’ open door. “Great to see you, Your Honor. The Gov got it right for a change.” She and Carl had gotten along when she was a PD. He tended to be more social worker than policeman. She’s glad he’s on her first sentencing.

  “Anything you want to ask me, Judge?” he says in his booming voice.

  “No, your report was very clear.”

  “A travesty if you ask me. Johnson deserves a break.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to give him one.”

  “I figured you would. I’d like to ask you something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The POs want to know if they’re welcome to discuss their reports with you or if you’d prefer we leave them and only show up when you ask?”

  Lourdes thinks for a quick minute. “Of course, tell them to come by.”

  “They’ll be glad.”

  “Even if I don’t have questions, it’ll be good to see them.”

  “Judge, it’s a minute till nine. Time to go.”

  “Thanks, Becca.”

  Lourdes takes her robe off the hanger behind the door. She has posed in it, in front of her parents and Carlos, but this is the first time she’ll wear it in court. She hadn’t given her robe much thought. To her surprise, the court administrator gave her a catalogue with a myriad of choices: red, purple or black, polyester, wool or cashmere. All different prices. All expensive. Her Tia Gloria was at the house when she showed the catalogue to her mom. “Outrageous prices,” says Tia Gloria “I can make one in a few hours for less than $10.”

  “Gracias, but the Court pays for the first one.” Her tia can sew most anything, but God knows what it’d look like. She’d probably embroider flowers on the collar or LOURDES in gold letters.

  Lourdes picks a simple black one. She never saw a judge wear any other color and she’s not about to start a new trend. She can imagine her friend, Molly, in purple or red. Not that she’s likely to be a judge anytime soon.

  Lourdes, like all new judges, attended two weeks of Judges School. At one of the happy hours, Beverly Arnold, the longest serving female judge, blurted out. “Ladies, make sure to order light-weight robes. When you go through menopause it’ll save you a shit load on dry-cleaning.” The most important advice she had received in the two week school.

  Despite their age difference, she hopes the two of them will become friends. She chose to attend any class Judge Arnold taught. Lourdes was impressed with her knowledge and sense of humor.

  Lourdes opens the back door of the courtroom which leads to ‘the bench,’ in reality a large wooden desk with a computer, a few law books, a water pitcher and a chair.

  “All rise, the Honorable Lourdes Velasquez presiding.”

  Lourdes sits down. Everyone remains standing. One of the sheriff’s deputies looks at her and when she doesn’t respond, he says, “Be seated.” She realizes she’s supposed to say that and gives him a relieved smile.

  Lourdes takes a moment to look around. On her right behind a large cluttered desk is Ryan Cata, her court clerk. She’s lucked out. The head Superior Court Clerk is an elected position and decides which clerk goes where. As a new judge, she has no say. She knew Ryan from trying cases, and enjoyed his dry wit. Not what she expected of an ex-Marine. He’s also a dog lover who shows everyone pictures of his hound-dog Buster. In front of and below her is a court reporter. Lourdes tries to remember his name. No luck. She has no idea if she will have the same one every day. There are three sheriffs’ deputies, one guards the in-custody defendant even though he is in handcuffs and has chains on his ankles, the other two are there for security.

  “State of Arizona v. Willie Potter CR 20171832.” A change of plea (COP). As a lawyer she’s done hundreds. She picks up the bench book and goes to the tab marked COP. She can’t believe judges need scripts. She’d be here all week if she followed it. She scans the book asking only questions that matter:

  How much education do you have? (She skips, Do you speak English?)

  Anyone force you or threaten you to plead guilty?

  Anyone promise you anything not in this agreement?

  Have you had any drugs or alcohol in the last 24 hours?

  An observer might think the judge asks those questions for the defendant’s benefit, but it’s to make sure she’s closed every possible loophole so the case won’t be reversed on appeal. Defendants usually plead guilty because they think they’ll lose at trial and want to minimize their punishment. Some appeal. It’s rare to win an appeal from a change of plea, but it happens.

  She finishes by asking the defendant to tell her what he did. If the defendant doesn’t admit to every element of the crime, the plea will be rejected. Potter has been well prepped by his lawyer and is able to give a coherent statement that covers all the bases. Last she sets a date for sentencing. One down.

  “State v. Symington, CR 20174747.” A motion to continue a trial. She grants it. The defense attorney has a trial in federal court which starts the same day. Federal court takes precedence over State. Two down.

  “State v. Johnson CR 20172424.” Her first sentencing. Mandatory prison. The deputy escorts the defendant to the defense table. He is allowed to sit next to his attorney although the chains remain. “Deputy, please take off the handcuffs.” He looks at her like she’s an idiot, but does it. She wouldn’t always do this, but Johnson’s no threat.

  The defendant has pled guilty to attempted sale of cocaine. Under the plea agreement the defendant must receive prison time. How much and whether it is consecutive or to begin after the sentence he is now serving is up to her.

  Looks like a simple case except the crime happened three years ago. That’s not unusua
l if the defendant’s whereabouts were unknown, but that isn’t the situation here. Mr. Johnson’s been a guest of the state in various prisons in Arizona.

  From Carl’s pre-sentence report, she learned Johnson was arrested three years ago for sale of cocaine to Detective Skinner, who was undercover posing as a drug addict. Johnson pled to attempted sale and was sentenced to three years prison.

  Johnson, now eight months from being released, is charged with a second sale of cocaine to Detective Skinner which occurred only three days after the case he is in prison for.

  “What the States’ position?”

  “Bill Wilford for the prosecution, Your Honor. The State recommends the aggravated sentence of 3.5 years to be served consecutively, after, the sentence the Defendant is serving. He is in prison for the same crime, has shown no remorse.”

  As soon as Wilford stops, the defense attorney begins.

  “Lila Loomis, for the defendant Floyd Johnson who is present, in-custody. The State’s recommendation is outrageous. The state knew of both crimes three years ago when they charged Mr. Johnson with only one. My client has only eight months prison time left, and they file the second. If both had been charged together he’d likely have been sentenced to concurrent time and be released on both in eight months. As for remorse, I’ll let Floyd speak. I ask this court to give Mr. Johnson the mitigated sentence, 0.75 year to run concurrent with the case he’s in custody for now. If you do that, Your Honor, my client will not receive any additional time.”

  Lourdes feels her temper rising. She hates it when prosecutors misuse their power. Were they? She isn’t a defense attorney anymore. They have no obligation to file both cases at the same time. But why didn’t they?

  “Mr. Wilford, does the prosecution have any good reason for waiting to file this case?”

  “As you know the State has no obligation to file a case when it’s convenient for the defendant. Detective Skinner was undercover for a couple years. When he finished his assignment we filed a lot of his cases.”