Inauguration Day
We spent the morning of Inauguration Day at criminal court. As usual, the court had a huge docket. There was not nearly enough room for all the persons scheduled to appear to sit down in the room. There is a narrow hallway that leads past the two doors at the back of the courtroom. That hallway comes from a larger area flanked on both sides by a bank of elevators. Both areas were filled with people standing, sitting on the floor, milling around, trying to peer into the door to get a glimpse of their lawyers, etc.
I passed two women talking about their court ordered inpatient treatment. I don't know what kind of treatment it was, but they were empathizing with each other about being told that if they left treatment early they would lose custody of their children. One told the other that if she had been assigned any outpatient therapist other than the one she had, she would have done just fine.
Bail bondsmen circulated through the group, trying to find their clients. One was talking with a Spanish speaking woman near me. She nodded frequently and made affirmative noises, but I could not really tell if she understood this man's important information. He tried to tell her that this was a first appearance. The court would likely not bring charges, but they could choose to bring charges. If they brought charges, a new bail would be set and she would have to call him again. If they did not bring charges, her friend would be out on bail. Charges could still be filed for up to two years from now.
She nodded again and again. He would ask if she understood him. She would say yes, and nod again. He indicated that when he had visited with her friend they had used an interpreter, but no such person was there yesterday to help her.
Lawyers also came through the group, looking for their clients, explaining that for today, they would be getting a continuance. One person was advised that he could request a jury trial or he could waive that right. Either way, his case would not be heard for another month. Either way, there would be opportunities to talk about plea bargaining.
A woman sitting next to me greeted a man across the hall and asked about a mutual acquaintance. He answered her briefly but seemed to not want to encourage the conversation. When she moved into another area, he leaned toward his friend and commented that she was a drunken b**** and that he didn't want to have much to do with her.
One man in the hall looked very uncomfortable and nervous. He listened as a young man spoke with a woman nearby. It became clear that the woman knew how things worked, that she might even be a lawyer. As soon as she concluded her conversation with the younger man, this other man approached her, explaining this was his first appearance, he had no idea what to expect, could she explain things to him? She gave him a card, told him she could help him, advised him that someone would ask him if he was hiring his own lawyer or if he wanted the court to appoint one. She told him to say that he was hiring his own lawyer. They did not talk about cost. I wondered if she was kind, or if she was taking advantage of his fear.
The lawyers were conspicuous by their clothing. At one point someone remarked that he wished he was wearing a suit so that he could just walk into the courtroom with authority, instead of waiting in the hall.
Chuck and I sat on the floor, I with my knitting, he with his notebook, waiting for the case we were there for. Sometimes we talked with the people we were with, but not much. Mostly we waited to find out what would happen in their case, while they also peered through the doorway and tried to hear if their names were mentioned.
During the entire time, no one mentioned Barak Obama. No one spoke about regretting missing the swearing in or the speeches. People didn't seem particularly hopeful or empowered by the day.
I know from watching the news later that the crowds were huge, and had to have included many who have seen the tougher side of life. My hope is that the energy for change, the calls for volunteerism, the concern for those who are stuck in difficult life circumstances, will touch even the hallways of the Wichita courthouse.
I passed two women talking about their court ordered inpatient treatment. I don't know what kind of treatment it was, but they were empathizing with each other about being told that if they left treatment early they would lose custody of their children. One told the other that if she had been assigned any outpatient therapist other than the one she had, she would have done just fine.
Bail bondsmen circulated through the group, trying to find their clients. One was talking with a Spanish speaking woman near me. She nodded frequently and made affirmative noises, but I could not really tell if she understood this man's important information. He tried to tell her that this was a first appearance. The court would likely not bring charges, but they could choose to bring charges. If they brought charges, a new bail would be set and she would have to call him again. If they did not bring charges, her friend would be out on bail. Charges could still be filed for up to two years from now.
She nodded again and again. He would ask if she understood him. She would say yes, and nod again. He indicated that when he had visited with her friend they had used an interpreter, but no such person was there yesterday to help her.
Lawyers also came through the group, looking for their clients, explaining that for today, they would be getting a continuance. One person was advised that he could request a jury trial or he could waive that right. Either way, his case would not be heard for another month. Either way, there would be opportunities to talk about plea bargaining.
A woman sitting next to me greeted a man across the hall and asked about a mutual acquaintance. He answered her briefly but seemed to not want to encourage the conversation. When she moved into another area, he leaned toward his friend and commented that she was a drunken b**** and that he didn't want to have much to do with her.
One man in the hall looked very uncomfortable and nervous. He listened as a young man spoke with a woman nearby. It became clear that the woman knew how things worked, that she might even be a lawyer. As soon as she concluded her conversation with the younger man, this other man approached her, explaining this was his first appearance, he had no idea what to expect, could she explain things to him? She gave him a card, told him she could help him, advised him that someone would ask him if he was hiring his own lawyer or if he wanted the court to appoint one. She told him to say that he was hiring his own lawyer. They did not talk about cost. I wondered if she was kind, or if she was taking advantage of his fear.
The lawyers were conspicuous by their clothing. At one point someone remarked that he wished he was wearing a suit so that he could just walk into the courtroom with authority, instead of waiting in the hall.
Chuck and I sat on the floor, I with my knitting, he with his notebook, waiting for the case we were there for. Sometimes we talked with the people we were with, but not much. Mostly we waited to find out what would happen in their case, while they also peered through the doorway and tried to hear if their names were mentioned.
During the entire time, no one mentioned Barak Obama. No one spoke about regretting missing the swearing in or the speeches. People didn't seem particularly hopeful or empowered by the day.
I know from watching the news later that the crowds were huge, and had to have included many who have seen the tougher side of life. My hope is that the energy for change, the calls for volunteerism, the concern for those who are stuck in difficult life circumstances, will touch even the hallways of the Wichita courthouse.
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