The room dominated by a wood-paneled judge’s bench looks very much like the courtroom that it is, an image
“This court helps people get back on track,” said Judge David Certo of Community Court, the only court of its kind in the state. The court is located in Fountain Square.
reinforced when Judge David Certo walks in wearing a black robe. It’s “all rise” and we’re in business.
But suddenly the room is less like a courtroom and more like a social service agency, as one offender after another steps forward to be walked through the plea agreement they have each agreed to, the agreement they signed off on to land in Certo’s courtroom which sits in an unassuming building on Virginia Avenue near the northwest edge of the Fountain Square neighborhood.
A young man stands up, having pled guilty to the charge of being a minor in possession of alcohol. He will perform community service, and promises not to get arrested again within 60 days. If he does, the judge says, the consequences will be serious. “I don’t want that for you, and I am sure you don’t want that for yourself,” Judge Certo says as he asks the young man to stay out of trouble.
Next up are two more young adults, busted for possession of marijuana at a rock concert. The charges will be dismissed if they perform 24 hours of community service, a task that involves showing up at 7:45 a.m. each day. Be late and there’s no credit. They also agree to a treatment program, and to behave for at least two months. “You aren’t going to get arrested again,” the judge asks, with extraordinary courtesy as he reminds them that to err is to go to jail for up to a year. “I ask you, respectfully, to do what you promise.” An attorney offers contrition: “These are a couple of guys who stubbed their toes at a rock concert. You got their attention.”
The parade of offenders continues in the Community Court of Indianapolis, one of two programs operated out of the Virginia Avenue complex. (The other is the Environmental Court, outlined in the related story below.) Community Court – the only court of its kind in Indiana – is a neighborhood-based court that handles lower-level misdemeanor criminal cases that greatly impact residents in the area it serves. The court’s primary purpose is to reduce criminal activity by addressing issues that lead to criminal behavior such as substance abuse, homelessness, and the need for public assistance. According to the court’s website, it “strives to improve the community by requiring defendants to ‘pay back’ the community for their crime through community service work.”
The court, which celebrated its 10th anniversary earlier this fall, handles only people charged with non-violent misdemeanors from only the Downtown, Northeast and Southeast police districts.
It’s called Community Court for a reason. The court works to empower neighbors to have a true voice in the criminal justice system and to improve the quality of life in the communities in which they live.
Unlike most courts, which either send offenders to jail or let them off the hook, Certo said the Community Court sentences low-level offenders to pay back the neighborhood through community service while at the same time offering them help with problems that often help prevent criminal behavior in the community. Residents, businesses and social service agencies collaborate with the Court by supervising community service projects and by providing on-site social services, including drug treatment and job training.
Offenders land in Community Court only by choice. At the Arrestee Processing Center, offenders who fit the court’s parameters are given the choice: Go to a standard court, or plead guilty and go to Community Court. Choosing Plan B can be the first step in a very positive direction, court advocates believe.
“This court helps people get back on track,” Certo said. Serving on its bench, he added, “is a real privilege.” Certo, a Woodruff Place resident who has been a judge for just over four years, has sat on the Community Court bench for about 15 months. Among the keys to the program’s success are a number of community partnerships, plus a willingness to experiment. “Not everything is going to work,” he said, “but we’re willing to try.”
Those partnerships are many, including a program with the Indiana University School of Medicine, the Damien Center and county health officials to offer free testing for sexually transmitted diseases. The court partners with the Veterans Administration by hooking those officials up with offenders who are veterans to make sure they are accessing all of their benefits. “The VA has huge access to resources for substance abuse,” Certo noted.
Other Community Court partners include Southeast Neighborhood Development; Keys to Work and Transitions, Inc., two job-training programs; and Craine House and Volunteers of America’s Theodora House, residential facilities offering wrap-around services to women.
There are also tentative plans to use part of the court complex to house a Midtown Mental Health Clinic, which will allow the judge to make immediate and direct referrals when needed. His court also works with clothing and food pantry activists. One goal, he said, is to make sure that nobody leaves the building hungry, and to give people the resources they need to stay out of the criminal justice system.
The most common crimes Certo deals with are drug and alcohol-related offenses, vandalism and prostitution. One of the main goals of the program is to make offenders aware of the impact their behavior has on the environment. Enter the Community Impact Panels, where offenders spent a couple of hours talking to members of the neighborhoods affected by their actions. (See related story, page 7). In October, the court’s Community Impact Panel won an award from the Coalition for Homelessness Intervention and Prevention. Certo praised the neighborhood residents who make the program work. “We are very grateful for their kind recognition, particularly of the volunteers who have worked so hard for many years to build and maintain a dialogue between offenders and their neighbors,” he said.
Back in the courtroom, Certo finds two men clad in orange jumpsuit jail garb standing before him, in chains. One of them has made trouble at Wishard Hospital and is under a court order to stay away. “There are other places you can get treatment,” the judge says. “If you have trouble finding them, call our staff. We’ll be happy to help.” And after he determines there is no other charges keeping the man in jail, he asks, “Do you have a safe place to stay?” It is a question he asks more than once that day. Another: “Do you have people looking out for you?”
He faces a man who has stumbled over his previous sentence for community service. Certo gives him another chance, with a warning: “This is your last modification. There won’t be another chance.” And then, “I ask you respectfully to do what you promised to do.” The offender: “I’ll behave.” The judge: “You can even misbehave, if you do it in your own house.”
Deputy Prosecutor Kathy Infanger then reports on several no-shows, including one repeat offender. Most warrants go out carrying a $500 cash bond, but on this one Infanger asks for $750. “Seven fifty?” Certo says. “Yes, I miss him that much.”
Another missing offender already faces five $1,000 bonds. He is homeless, Infanger says. “If we can get him into custody,” the judge responds, “maybe we can get him into treatment. That’s my biggest concern.”
For Infanger, Community Court is definitely a different type of justice. She works in the Community Prosecutors Division, where her colleagues are generally housed in police stations to work more directly with police and neighbors. “We’re creative, and try to be problem-solvers. Pro-active instead of reactive.”
She says the approach follows the well-known “broken window theory,” that small crimes going unpunished lead to bigger crimes. “If I didn’t really believe in it,” she says, “I’d try something new.”
Certo is a believer. “What we want to do is promote following the law,” he said, explaining that some people respond to the stick, others the carrot. “There are different approaches to get them to do it.”
He said one key difference between Community Court and others: “In most courts, the prosecutors represent the people. Here, the people represent themselves.” n
Need a work crew? Defendants give back to the community by working on community service projects in the neighborhoods in which they are arrested. Anyone interested in utilizing the Community Court community service work crew should call 327-2888.
Since 2001, Community Court defendants have provided over 143,000 hours of labor to the community. Court officials expect to provide 30,000 hours of service to neighbors in 2011.
Environmental Court housed, as well. The Community Justice Center at 902 Virginia Ave. holds more than Community Court. It is also home to Environmental Court, also presided over by Judge David Certo.
Environmental Court handles lawsuits brought by city or county officials involving animal control, zoning inspections and all ordinance enforcement except traffic. That includes such complaints as weeds or barking dogs.
Unlike Community Court, which only affects cases in three police districts, Environmental Court handles cases from throughout Marion County.
(No Ratings Yet)
Loading ...
Email This Post
Print This Post
