Criminal Court Observation as I Wandered Into

Criminal Court Observation

As I wandered into the courtroom (after a considerable amount of time waiting in line to clear the metal detector in the main hall of the courthouse), I hardly felt comfortable. The room was stuffy from the people who had arrived before me, and I could not help but wonder if I was sitting next to family members of the defendant (who would turn out to be a young white male dressed in an orange jumpsuit.

Interestingly, what I recall most strongly was the sight of the man, one Wayne Thomson, as he was led shuffling into the room in handcuffs and shackles. I wondered how he felt -- scared, humiliated, angry? From looking at his face briefly before he sat down, he looked absolutely blank.

Although it seems silly, I actually felt frightened myself after the judge railed angrily at another person sitting on the bench three people down from me for forgetting to switch off her cell phone. I mean, the fury in the judge's voice and eyes made me think that that cell phone might as well have been a gun. When it rang, the judge (who appeared to be more than a bit haughty), all but roared, "Young lady! Come up here right now and leave your phone on this table. You may retrieve it at the end of the day." I mean, I understand that cell phones must be a continuous annoyance, but people do forget them on (its not like she answered it or was talking on the phone). Anyway, after that outburst, I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the defendant, who was charged with possession of marijuana with the intent to distribute.

Another thing I noticed was the friendly way the opposing attorneys greeted each other by their tables. Not only did they seem to know each other but they actually smiled at each other when they talked. This really shocked me because I guess I expected there to be a more adversarial attitude between them. This also made me wonder what the defendant was thinking if he noticed the same thing. The thing is, I am sure that after a while of doing trials, as well as after a while of seeing the same lawyers over the years, the courtroom simply becomes one's "workplace," much like nurses in the ICU can sit and chat with their coworkers about the latest "Friends" episode a few paces away from a dying patient. I find that I don't like either image.

At the time of my observation, the defense attorney, an oldish man with balding gray hair called one of the "officers on the scene," Chris Sheffield. He asked him questions like what brought him to the Thomson residence on the 12th of December, 2004 (note they do break down everything into minute detail ... The address, the time, just like on television). He also asked him how he gained entry into the residence, and the officer related that the defendant granted him entry into the house where he could smell a strong odor of marijuana (apparently the defendant had become acclimated to the smell -- to his own detriment). He also related how, after questioning the defendant, the defendant admitted to having "just a little" for personal use, which he pointed out to the officer (making me wonder WHY?), after which the house was searched and the larger amount was found in a bedroom drawer.

It was at this point that I began (after a lengthy observation of my co-observers) to recognize the block of people that were obviously family or close friends of the defendant. I recognized them from their urgent whisperings and worried and somewhat angry looks. I thought that, although I can truly understand their pain, (particularly the older woman whom I took to be the defendant's mother), I could not help but think that the anger was a bit misplaced -- if not due to the fact that the marijuana probably was in the hands of her son (although philosophically some might differ), it could be also directed at the stupidity of her son for allowing the officer into the home without a warrant, and then admitting to possessing a small amount of marijuana (thus, opening the door for a full blown search).

One thing that frustrated me at least from an observer's point-of-view was the surprisingly long amount of time it took to question the one police officer on the stand (this would be the only portion I would view). In my opinion it seemed extremely tedious as I had hoped to hear the defendant himself explain "his side of the story." Also, although I knew that most trials are hardly like episodes of Law and Order, I did not hear one "objection" in the entire interview. I also noticed, much to my alarm, that the Judge seemed to be genuinely bored with the proceeding, and that much of the time he barely looked up from his desk top. I had to wonder if he was really hearing what was being said, or if he had already come to his conclusions.