Sitting in the back row at the Linn County Courthouse is bittersweet. As a teen I saw the inside of this building often, and had many rulings that affected the course of my life. Flash-forward and I’m here as a spectator, observing individuals in positions similar to where I have been before.
When I first walked into the building the usual occurrences had taken place.
“Remove your belt, and place all items in your pockets in this bucket here,” the older police officer said.
Entering the Linn County Courthouse has been a routine deal in my life. I removed my belt and placed my items into the bucket to be scanned for any illegal weapons. I then took a step through the metal detector and collected my things.
My previous experience in the building gave me the knowledge to know exactly where to go to hear the “interesting” cases. I made my way up the large stone stairs, turned to the left, and took a seat, waiting for the secretary to point me in the right direction.
As I sat there among the defendants, waiting to take their turn before the judge, I wondered what each person had been charged with. Most of the people present seemed to look under the age of 35 and all had a look of discomfort upon their face. One man, who had obviously been to the court house before, was conversing with a female companion.
“Fuck this courthouse man, Cedar Rapids is always trying to hold somebody down. The system is fucked up.” He said, with tattoos covering his body all the way up to his neck.
It was then a list of about twelve defendants were called into the court room. Most were just there for initial appearances, or to plead guilty or not to the counts they had been charged with.
The first name called by Judge Mark Bennett was a familiar one to me. It was my cousin’s baby’s father. The two have had a tumultuous relationship the past four years, and he was being charged with domestic abuse. The judge then called my cousins name, who was nowhere to be found. Eventually the judge dropped the charges as that is the norm in domestic cases when the one who files the suit does not show up to the court date. My cousin’s baby father left the court room, looking neither happy nor mad, and the next person was called.
The tattooed black man from the lobby walked up to the table next to his attorney. The judge listed his charges, simple misdemeanors, and asked how the defendant wanted to plea to the charges of possession of a controlled substances and interference with official acts. The man wearily looked at his attorney, looked back at the judge, shaking his head no and stood by while his attorney answered on his behalf.
“My client would like to plead guilty your honor,” the attorney said.
The judge looked over some paperwork, and ended up giving the man a hefty fine. The man looked pleased upon hearing that all he was receiving was a fine. He then walked over to his female friend and the two exited the room.
The vast majority of the cases brought up that day were misdemeanors. OWI’s, possession cases, thefts, assaults, domestic assaults, and disorderly conducts were among the charges discussed in the room that day. Although I didn’t witness anyone go to jail I had sympathy for some of the defendants. Some received days in jail, some received fines, and one was determined to go to trial.
A young girl, who could be no more than 18, was charged with fifth degree theft. Although this charge usually just carry’s a fine and or a class, the girl was sobbing with her mother standing behind her as she walked up to be charged. The girl ended up receiving a fine of a couple of hundred dollars, but seemed to be devastated none the less. I was sad for her, yet embarrassed for her at the same time as her charge was not that serious.
I ended up leaving the court house an hour later feeling satisfied, because for once I was there as a spectator and not a defendant myself. It was nice walking down the courthouse steps knowing I am a success story, one of the young people that actually turned themselves around. This assignment was eye opening for me, although I do not want to have to step into another court room under any circumstances again.
Isaiah Bradford's Blog 