Court System

The scenario was fairly typical: A young woman, her car missing, approaches a District Court commissioner to file criminal charges. As a video crew recorded every movement on a recent morning, the actors, both court employees, followed the process from the application to the information to the swearing to the truth. Similar scenes would play out in various offices in Prince George's County's Upper Marlboro court building throughout the day as videographers moved from commissioner to cashier to clerk to courtroom, filming scenes that will later be condensed into a five-minute explanatory video.

The federal government is considering closing dozens of rural court sites across the country, including one that serves Maryland's Eastern Shore — a move that would force people to drive up to 110 miles to the nearest courthouse to have their cases heard. "It would be a grave inconvenience to litigants to have them come to a federal court in either Baltimore or Greenbelt. It makes no sense," said Deborah K. Chasanow, chief judge of Maryland's U.S. District Courts. The potential closures, 60 of them spread throughout 29 states, are being considered as a cost-cutting measure within the federal judiciary.

Baltimore's juvenile court system is so inept that arrest warrants go unserved, violence breaks out in courtrooms and teen-agers leave the courthouse without a hearing because no one can figure out why they came.Furthermore, a city bar association committee concludes in a new report that "much of the dramatic street crimes, killings and drug trafficking in Baltimore City are a direct result of the failures of the juvenile justice system and the low priority placed upon it by our state and local officials and citizens."

At 10 a.m. on a recent weekday, roughly a half-dozen District Court commissioners were individually processing 120 arrestees at Baltimore's Central Booking and Intake Center, and making big decisions about whether to set bail or release the accused with instructions to come to court when called. They work out of tiny concrete cells in the detention center, similar to those packed with waiting prisoners. For protection, they have a window partition between them and the defendant, who is locked in during the proceeding.

IN THE LAST half-century, no one matched the contributions of Robert C. Murphy to Maryland's system of dispensing justice. Judge Murphy, who died Monday at 74, was the father of Maryland's modern judiciary. Key to his success was a love of people. He always returned phone calls, even to irate citizens. The Baltimore native proved popular with politicians, in part because he relished the give-and-take of the legislative process and buttonholing lawmakers. But his real strength came from his direct, honest approach and his likability.

In a sign of continued political pressure on the city courts, state lawmakers have decided to hand over only half of the $17.8 million promised to Baltimore's beleaguered justice system if reforms were made.The leaders of the Senate and House budget committees are sending a letter to Maryland's Chief Judge of the Court of Appeals Robert M. Bell explaining that $8.9 million will be freed up for the justice agencies. The rest will be withheld until a status report on the reform plans is presented to legislators in January.

W ill a recent lawsuit result in Congress' biggest upheaval in almost 100 years? Probably not, but that's the hope of the parties who brought the case. They think that the House of Representatives is unconstitutional in its current form and that the only solution is to drastically increase its size. This effort, while quixotic, is not thoroughly misguided. The House should, in fact be larger - but a lawsuit is the wrong way to reach that goal. The plaintiffs, citizens of Delaware, Mississippi, Montana, South Dakota, and Utah, argue that the House's 435 seats are not fairly distributed among the states.

HIS credentials are impressive. First, he went from Harvard Law School to Piper & Marbury. Then he worked his way up through the judicial ranks from District Court to Baltimore Circuit Court to the Court of Special Appeals. Then, in 1996, he became the state's top judicial officer when he was named Chief Judge of the Court of Appeals of Maryland after sitting on the state's highest court for about five years. Meet Robert M. Bell, a civil rights pioneer who in 1960, when he was just 16 years old, struck a blow at segregation by walking into a Baltimore restaurant and asking to be served.

Norman Christopher Usiak was in a hurry. The attorney from Frederick had briefs to file, and in the rush, he couldn't remember where he put his wallet. He was wearing dark pants and a white T-shirt, an un-lawyerly ensemble a police officer described as "looking disheveled. " It was 4:10 in the afternoon and the Maryland Court of Appeals building in Annapolis closed in 20 minutes. The regular bailiffs had gone home, replaced by a police officer for the Maryland Department of General Services, which runs and secures state office buildings.

At 10 a.m. on a recent weekday, roughly a half-dozen District Court commissioners were individually processing 120 arrestees at Baltimore's Central Booking and Intake Center, and making big decisions about whether to set bail or release the accused with instructions to come to court when called. They work out of tiny concrete cells in the detention center, similar to those packed with waiting prisoners. For protection, they have a window partition between them and the defendant, who is locked in during the proceeding.

No justice was served for little Caylee Anthony ("Casey Anthony not guilty," July 6). First of all the judge should have realized he's had a jury in hold for 33 days. It was a holiday weekend, the court system could've arranged for them to go somewhere for a family outing with some kind of security for them so facts would not be talked about. Had the court system done that, maybe this jury, tired of being kept in seclusion all that time, might have come back, looked over all the facts more clearly and come back with a different conclusion.

The victim of a sexual attack about this time last summer said of her attacker this week in a Harford County courtroom: "I hope he rots in jail for the rest of his life. " The he to whom she referred is Anthony Eugene Robinson, 46, of the 1200 block of West Jarrettsville Road in Forest Hill, and he was subsequently sentenced by Circuit Court Judge Emory A. Plitt Jr. to two consecutive life terms, the maximum allowed in this case. Robinson had been convicted most recently in a case that involved him pushing the victim into his car and driving her to a secluded area before attacking her. Robinson also had been convicted of rape in 1996 and was on the sexual offenders registry at the time of the attack last summer.

Norman Christopher Usiak was in a hurry. The attorney from Frederick had briefs to file, and in the rush, he couldn't remember where he put his wallet. He was wearing dark pants and a white T-shirt, an un-lawyerly ensemble a police officer described as "looking disheveled. " It was 4:10 in the afternoon and the Maryland Court of Appeals building in Annapolis closed in 20 minutes. The regular bailiffs had gone home, replaced by a police officer for the Maryland Department of General Services, which runs and secures state office buildings.

Gov. Martin O'Malley will put the force of his office today behind a plan that would enable struggling homeowners to negotiate better mortgage terms before banks can take their houses. The governor is scheduled to testify before Maryland House and Senate committees on legislationthat would create a mandatory mediation process for owners at risk of losing their homes and require lenders to prove they tried to modify a borrower's loan before foreclosing. By becoming a visible advocate for the plan, O'Malley, who has recently stepped up his criticism of big banks that he calls "faceless giants," is indicating a willingness to expend political capital on behalf of the proposal and raising the stakes if it falters.

The scene in a Baltimore immigration courtroom on a late October morning was unusual. Several dozen children of all ages filled the galley benches - from a 5-year-old girl in pigtails to several 17-year-old boys in dress shirts, and all ages in between. Aunts, uncles and guardians filled the seats around them. The judge was in his usual place before the court, but instead of immediately banging the gavel and calling cases, he was addressing the children, patiently explaining the duties of the officials in the courtroom, what the children should expect during their appearance before him, and stressing the importance of education.

The wrongly convicted deserve their day in court A wrongly convicted person is entitled to a day in court to present newly discovered evidence. ("Fight brewing over 'innocence' law," Nov. 29.) Under the legislation that we successfully sponsored, two conditions must be met before a hearing is held on a writ of innocence. The evidence could not have been discovered within one year of sentencing, and it must create a substantial or significant possibility that the verdict may have been different.

No justice was served for little Caylee Anthony ("Casey Anthony not guilty," July 6). First of all the judge should have realized he's had a jury in hold for 33 days. It was a holiday weekend, the court system could've arranged for them to go somewhere for a family outing with some kind of security for them so facts would not be talked about. Had the court system done that, maybe this jury, tired of being kept in seclusion all that time, might have come back, looked over all the facts more clearly and come back with a different conclusion.

City and state officials announced today a $1.1 million federal grant that will help nonviolent offenders in the Baltimore Circuit Court system have timely access to drug treatment. The program will put addicts into treatment within 35 days of arrest, rather than keep them in jail or put them back on the street to wait for a court date. The addicts must accept a plea agreement and want help for their substance abuse. "We have means to help you and means to put you away," said state Sen. Nathaniel J. McFadden, one of several officials who made the announcement.

A wrongly convicted person is entitled to a day in court to present newly discovered evidence. ("Fight brewing over 'innocence' law," Nov. 29.) Under the legislation that we successfully sponsored, two conditions must be met before a hearing is held on a writ of innocence. The evidence could not have been discovered within one year of sentencing, and it must create a substantial or significant possibility that the verdict may have been different. This legal standard for reviewing such requests was first adopted by the Maryland Court of Appeals in 1989.