Courthouse (41 page)

“That's what we've been telling you right along,” said Maria triumphantly.

“I know, I know.” Marc smiled.

“But how come you didn't go into the other stuff then?” asked Franco. “About the pistol, and the maid hearing the crying out. All that stuff.”

“Because if he's involved, I don't want him to cover the tracks we haven't come across yet,” said Marc. “Right now, he thinks the only thing we know is about the plane leaving late. He figures we're just dopes, and he can tolerate the information we have about the plane. I don't want to worry him with the other stuff.”

Maria smiled and took Marc's arm. “I love you too,” she said.

27

Tuesday, September 12, 2:45
P.M.

Marc sat in the second row of seats in a courtroom this day designated Part 51. Mrs. Maricyk sat next to him. Judge Kahn was on the bench, in the process of sentencing a defendant who was standing with his lawyer before the Court.

Part 51 is a special, floating, sentencing part, the location of which varies each day according to which courtroom of 100 Centre Street is not being used in the afternoon of that day. To understand the reason for this, it must first be known that the judge before whom a defendant pleads guilty or who presides at a trial where the defendant is convicted, is the judge who passes sentence on that defendant. If that sentencing judge is no longer sitting in criminal term, having returned to the civil division, or is in some fashion engaged elsewhere than at 100 Centre Street, all the sentences the judge must impose are set down for one afternoon in Part 51.

“What's going to happen today?” asked Mrs. Maricyk.

“The Judge is going to sentence your husband,” Marc replied.

“Is he going to put Joey away?”

“I don't know,” Marc replied. “The Judge has the Probation Department's investigation and evaluation report …”

“Yeah, they came over the house asking questions and everything, the Probation people,” she said.

“… And, he relies on that a great deal,” Marc finished.

“What's it say? You see it?”

“No, the Court doesn't let us see the report. It's just for the Judge to use as a guide,” Marc explained.

Mrs. Maricyk looked questioningly at Marc. “Suppose they don't put the right thing down. How do you know what they say about my husband?”

“Unless the Judge shows it to me, I don't.”

She began shaking her head. “I never seen any other place that works as screwed up as this one,” she said. “You sure it's not just you?”

Marc felt a rush of anger. All this work on a not very interesting case and a not very high fee, if any, and now sarcasm, too. Marc looked at Mrs. Maricyk, about to tell her the plain facts of life. But there was that look, that helpless frustration. She was just frightened, he assured himself. “No, it's not me.”

“Is this Judge going to give Joey time?” she asked again.

“I don't know. I've already explained that. I don't think he should, but that doesn't mean he won't.”

Tears welled up in her confused eyes.

“Don't get upset now,” said Marc, trying to console her. “You don't even know what's going to happen.”

“I'm upset already. I don't want Joey in jail for no year. Don't let him go to jail, Mister Conte,” she pleaded. “Oh, God, please don't let him go to jail, Mister Conte.”

Marc wished there was some way to ease the hurt Mrs. Maricyk felt. He always wished he could ease the emotional torture attendant to a sentence. But there really wasn't much he could do except try to provide the best legal representation he could muster for the occasion.

“I'll do my best,” Marc assured her. “I don't think there's any point for Joey to go to jail. His record is fairly good, his family situation is good. Let's see what the Judge has to say about it.”

“Can't we appeal or something?”

“Yes, if you want, we can appeal the decision the Judge made at the hearing,” said Marc. “We can even appeal the sentence if it's harsh. Let's see what happens here first.”

Presently, the Maricyk case was called. Maricyk was brought out from the bull pen and stood to Marc's left as the clerk arraigned him for sentence.

“Mister Maricyk, is there any legal reason why sentence should not now be imposed upon you?” the clerk said.

“Maricyk looked at Marc.

“No,” Marc whispered.

“No.”

“Do you wish to speak or do you want your lawyer to speak for you?”

“My lawyer can speak.”

“Let me tell you this to save time,” said the Judge. “The Probation Report shows the defendant to associate with undesirable people. His work record is spotty. They've suggested a year in jail. He was indicted on a class E felony where he could have gotten four years, but he was permitted to plead to a misdemeanor with the maximum sentence of a year. So he's way ahead of the game already, Counselor. I'm inclined, however, toward nine months. Now, knowing that, go ahead,” the Judge nodded.

Marc knew now that Maricyk was headed to a jail sentence. So did Maricyk. He muttered a curse under his breath.

“Your Honor, I know you have a Probation Report before you,” said Marc. “But I suggest that the information it contains is apparently incorrect. My client has informed me that his work record is not spotty, but rather he is employed in a seasonal line of work—swimming pool construction—and business presently—even during the summer—is somewhat slow because of general economic conditions. The defendant has been working for the same company for two years now—since he resigned from the Police Department.”

“That's another thing,” said the Judge. “We can't say your client didn't realize what he was doing. He's a former policeman. He knew fully what he was doing, and did it anyway. That doesn't speak well for him. Go ahead, anything else?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” said Marc. “You have indicated an inclination to jail the defendant …”

“That's right.”

“I do not, nor have I ever been able to comprehend the point of purpose of a jail sentence for a person in the defendant's position. In the first place, if jail is for the purpose of rehabilitating a defendant, to groom him for taking a useful place in society, which our penologists all say is the purpose of jail, then it should first be ascertained that the defendant is in need of rehabilitation. According to further penological studies, it has been found as an actual fact that more than sixty-five per cent of those who commit their first crime will never commit another crime in their life, regardless of sentence, whether you sentence them to one day or one year or even ten years in jail. In other words, there's a self-rehabilitation factor, an awakening, that occurs in almost two thirds of people accused of committing a crime.

“The other thirty-five per cent,” Marc continued, “no matter what sentence the courts impose, will commit a crime—regardless of how much time they spend in jail—the moment they're released they'll stick up the taxi driver on the way home. These last are the incorrigibles.”

The Judge was listening patiently.

“Now to put the defendant in the least complimentary light, let me say that we don't know what this defendant will do in the future, Your Honor. Yet, if, in fact, he is one of those sixty-five per cent who will never commit another crime, then he's already rehabilitated and jail will serve no useful purpose. There's no need for vindication or denunciation by the People. That's been done. The man has a record now, he's branded for life. Since he has no background of violence; since this is not a crime of violence, he'll be no danger to the community if he's in the street. Therefore, I respectfully suggest he should be put on probation and permitted to continue his role in society.

“We shouldn't assume that this defendant belongs in the other category, in the incorrigible category. For, indeed, he does not. He has never committed one crime before, much less two. I imagine one could speculate about a defendant in this position and say he'll probably become an incorrigible. But that's just guess work, speculation. I can't say accurately, and most respectfully, Judge, neither can you. No one can. He's never been in this kind of trouble before. He has no track record to look at.

“If you
do
give him a chance on probation, however, Your Honor, no matter which category he fits in, there's no danger to the community. First of all, as I've said, the defendant's not charged with a crime of violence. Second, if he's on probation, the minute he steps across the line, even a fraction of an inch, you can always revoke his probation and send him to jail both for this crime and whatever else he might have done. You will—so to say—still have your hooks in the defendant if he doesn't live up to the confidence that you would display by putting him on probation. Thus, it seems pointless, Your Honor, to send this defendant to jail when he may have already learned his lesson completely, when he may now, as a result of this experience, be ready to assume a useful, gainful role in society. If we do not know the true answer, Your Honor, if we are to make a decision, let us lean to the side of mercy, on the side of lenience. You can always correct any mistakes by revoking probation. You can't give him the time back.”

“Every lawyer comes up here and says don't send my client to jail, Mister Conte. We might as well not send anybody to jail then,” said the Judge.

“Perhaps we should not indeed, Your Honor,” said Marc. “Except for the most hardened criminals, whose propensities for violence and criminality are already manifest. We should overcome those archaic concepts that jails are absolutely necessary in dealing with all criminal matters. A man who fails to file income tax is a cheat. He can be branded with a record, officially, declared a cheat, but is jail necessary? A man in the position of my defendant—an alleged bribe on a traffic ticket—where is jail required? He has injured no one physically. The community is not endangered by his presence. Yes, there was a crime. Is society not sufficiently interested in one of its citizens to see if perhaps the man has learned his lesson without jail?

“I pose this question,” Marc continued strongly, his voice full, “why jail? To what end? For what purpose? If in fact the defendant falls within that category of people who will never commit another crime, then what purpose is or shall be served by jail?”

“If what you say is so about those studies,” said the Judge, “perhaps your client is in the thirty-five per cent category.”

“Does Your Honor suggest we needlessly send two men to jail who shouldn't be there along with every one man who should be there? Is that just, reasonable, or fair?”

The Judge shook his head. “He's got to do some time. He's got a break on his plea already. You want me to give him a medal?”

“That's not necessary, Your Honor,” said Marc. “I just want you to treat the defendant with fairness, with reason …”

“You've used that word twice. Are you saying that I'm unreasonable?” the Judge asked with annoyance.

“No, sir. Our system of sentencing, however, is unfair and unrealistic. We are not dealing with children, Your Honor,” said Marc. “When a parent reprimands a child, the purpose is to teach him the mores and morals of life. And so it is with the Court. Your purpose, is first to protect society, if such seems necessary, and second to help rehabilitate the defendant. In this case, society is not endangered by this defendant. So then the obligation of this Court is to aid the defendant in becoming again a law-abiding, useful part of society. But when a defendant does not need further rehabilitation than the stigma and humiliation of being a known criminal, then what is the proper function of the Court? Should the defendant be sent to jail, merely because we have jails? Because we have to maintain a prison system? Is there some personal benefit that you get as a judge when the defendant goes to jail? Your Honor?”

“Are you seriously posing that question? Do you think I am personally benefiting from the defendant going to jail?” The Judge was outraged.

“No, I wasn't asking the question seriously, Judge. Not as far as your personal benefit is concerned. But, if you're not getting a benefit, and I'm not getting a benefit, and the clerk here isn't either, nor is anyone else individually, if the individuals in society aren't gaining a benefit from the defendant being sent to jail, then society collectively isn't gaining a benefit either.

“Judge, I ask you this,” Marc continued. “If this man will never commit another crime in his life, although he is branded for the rest of his life with a criminal record, if he is ready to toe the mark in life, be a useful, gainfully employed citizen, will you still send him to jail?”

“I've already said he had to do some time, Mister Conte.”

“Is there something that I don't see that is compelling a jail sentence, Judge?”

“We have professionals working in our Probation Department, Mister Conte,” said the Judge. “And they know as much—maybe more—as your scientists and penologists sitting in their laboratories. The Probation Department is getting paid to work on these reports in aid of the Court. They've recommended one year in this case. Now I'm sure they're not out trying to hurt this defendant. They're doing their job, they're trained, they know the penal system too, you know. And now I have to do my job. Do you have anything else to say?”

“Would anything I say cause you to change your mind, Judge?” asked Marc.

“No. I have to do a job and I'll do it.”

“I have nothing further to say except that a system that blindly sends people to jail whether there is a reason for it or not, whether there is a benefit to be gained, a purpose to achieve, or not, is a system that is ludicrous and archaic. It must be updated and made to function in some useful, beneficial fashion, or it will cause its own destruction and do grave harm to both society and many helpless victims caught in its web.”