Behind The Scenes: What it’s Like to be a Jury Member In Teen Court?
By Shari Benyousky
Guest Columnist
WARSAW — On a frigid Monday after the winter sun had set, I entered the front door of the Justice Building alone. A young policeman gave me directions to Teen Court on the second level.
The building wasn’t quite empty, but staff and judges and all of those who make the place run were obviously shrugging on their coats and streaming out for home. Yet, the business of the Justice Building wasn’t over. Tonight was a special court – Teen Court – run by Co-Directors Lana Horoho and Betsey Vastbinder.
I reached the second floor where a statue of Lady Justice welcomed with a sign taped to her base. I followed the instructions for “Teen Court” to find the correct courtroom. After hours, the place was dark and quiet, heavy with waiting. I sat in the back, behind the accused, the only audience member in a sea of orange cushioned chairs. The youth wore jeans and a hoodie. She looked impossibly young and vulnerable.
The defense attorney, high school senior Ryun Hoffert in a navy blazer, gave his charge some last-minute instructions. “This part can be confusing,” he told her. “This is what the question means. Do you have any questions?” The youth shook her head mutely. Navy blazer nodded, satisfied, as the members of the jury filed into Superior Court One clutching yellow legal pads and pens. As they took their seats in the jury box and smoothed out their casual business clothing, their faces looked well-scrubbed and earnest. Prosecutor, defense attorney, and all the members of the jury looked far too young.
They volunteered here to perform “Restorative Justice.” Teen Court’s Mission is to “invest in youth by reducing juvenile offense incidents, restoring young offenders’ connection to community, and providing opportunities for teen volunteers to grow in empathy, judgment, and leadership.” Very. Lofty. Goals.
“All rise!” barked Juan Castillo, the high schooler functioning as bailiff. The jury rose as one to watch the judge enter the courtroom. He told them to raise their right hands and swore them in, warning that if any of the details about this proceeding were to become public, they themselves could be prosecuted, “even in this same courtroom.” The jury members nodded solemnly and took their seats.
What, you ask, could possibly be important about Teen Court? Why don’t these particular teens just follow the normal routes through juvenile probation? Years ago, the late Judge David Cates found a need to develop a pre-trial diversion program which is one piece of a larger initiative called JDAI – Juvenile Detention Alternatives to Incarceration which acknowledges that locking up kids is counter-productive and traumatizing.
Why? Some juveniles get caught up in the system because of things beyond their control, or because of one bad decision. I heard about students who missed too much school because their parents had gotten sick and they were taking care of them, I heard about one who had stolen food for their younger sibling. I heard about a third who had just discovered they were ADHD and wanted help with treatment. I heard about a fourth who had stolen something and would become ineligible to enter the Marines if they had a record.
The youth this evening was here because of missing too much school. Her medical condition caused perpetual insomnia, so she would get ready for school and fall asleep waiting for the bus. She mentioned not liking school and not fitting in as a result. Right. Not exactly your typical bad guy.
The idea of Teen Court is that any of us could have made a poor choice or been in a situation out of our control. This court aimed to find a way to restore a teenager to accountability while keeping this black mark from their permanent record.
The prosecutor, high schooler Brooke Bolinger who was dressed in a black suit, stood and read her suggestions for a plan of action — the accused should spend time researching her medical condition and ways to overcome the insomnia issue, the student should create a plan to leave her cellphone out of her bedroom at night, and the student should go through a program which would teach her coping skills. The jury members nodded and were dismissed to the jury room by the judge.
The jury room Is a rather non-descript room with industrial carpet, a counter with some sub sandwiches and Gatorade, a basket in the center full of the jury members’ cellphones, and two tiny bathrooms. The high schoolers sat around a large oval table and chose their foreperson, Keely Roe. Vastbinder gave them instructions and they leaped into a vibrant debate about the charges and appropriate counteractions.
As students themselves, they understood the pressures of study, and jobs, and family. Many pens clicked, paper shuffled, and they checked with each other about possibilities. “How about tutoring options?” one member asked. “Is there still a program at the school she attends?” A few members of the jury even volunteered to be tutors for the youth.
One with a similar name as the youth mentioned how she herself had been bullied because of that interesting name. They empathized before arriving at consensus in 15 minutes and returned to the courtroom where the judge checked to be sure Vastbinder approved of the Restorative Justice.
The youth nodded as she heard the plan, obviously grateful to be given the opportunity.
What do the volunteers get from being a part of Teen Court? The judge appeared in the Jury Room and gave a talk about his own life and experience. He asked about the jury members’ plans, told them stories of what it what like to visit someone in prison (razor wire, red line on the sidewalk and warnings about being shot if the line was crossed at the wrong time).
A jury member asked him why he had chosen law, and he gave a response which got all their attention: “To be honest,” he ruminated. “I got into law because I had so many criminals in my own extended family.” The students paused to consider this before asking lots of excellent questions about his job. Some took notes.
Vastbinder returned to tell the group another youth had arrived. They smoothed their hair and straightened their collars to begin their job again. The whole thing took about 40 minutes for each youth, and each youth walked back downstairs past Lady Justice with a parent or guardian and a list of guidelines to complete for their sentencing.
By the end of the evening, around 7 pm, the Justice Building was empty and silent except for the policeman at the front who let us each back out into the dark night. Stars shone. The red clock of the courthouse greeted a group of high school volunteers with a gust of ice. They smiled anyway.
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