Games In Kiddie Court

By Laurence I. Barrett

Young toughs call it "kiddie court" because of its leniency; so do policemen and prosecutors. New York City Family Court, governed by strict laws designed to protect children and served by slack bureaucracies, primarily handles domestic disputes, but it is also where the kid criminals between seven and 15 are sent. TIME Bureau Chief Laurence I. Barrett watched delinquency proceedings in the Manhattan branch. His report:

Opened only last year, the $28 million black granite building in Lower Manhattan resembles a modern free-form museum or college library. Inside, the light, airy waiting area could be mistaken for an airport lounge. There are no juries or casual spectators at the confidential proceedings, so the small courtrooms look like corporate conference chambers. Only the black robe and elevated bench maintain tradition.

The vocabulary would baffle courtroom buffs. There are "contacts" rather than arrests, "fact findings" instead of trials, "findings" in place of convictions. If guilt is established, the judge may order a "placement," not a sentence.

Few cases get that far. The city probation department screens out petty cases and releases most first offenders immediately after "contact." But tracing the child's arrest record is often difficult. Neither the court nor probation maintains a city wide data bank, though probation hopes to have a computerized system working by winter. Says Administrative Judge Joseph Williams: "You could have a youngster taken in here today who was picked up yesterday in Queens and last week in Brooklyn. We wouldn't necessarily know about the previous cases."

Unlike the regular district attorneys who handle suspects aged 16 and over, prosecutors in Family Court have no investigative staff to follow through in collecting evidence. Getting witnesses to cooperate is a major problem. One of the ugliest open cases at the moment involves a twelve-year-old boy accused of stabbing an adult. The child is a "chicken," or male prostitute, and his victim was a "chicken hawk," his homosexual customer. After being wounded in his own bathtub, the man called police and signed a complaint. Stitched up and calmed down, he now wants to forget the whole thing. The boy remains free.

So do hundreds of other youngsters, even after the court has ordered otherwise. In an "intake part"--a court that, among other things, determines whether a kid should be held or paroled pending a hearing--Judge Phillip Thurston calls for the next docket number. It involves a 15-year-old, already being held on a narcotics charge, who had been remanded to a privately run shelter. Now he is to have a new hearing on a car theft. There is an awkward silence after the judge asks, "Well, where is he?" Papers are shuffled, and a probation officer announces: "Judge, he wasn't sent down. He disappeared a few days ago. He's a chronic absconder."

A boy comes in with his sister, mother and Legal Aid Society lawyer. Most of the kids hustled through intake are black or Hispanic and poorly dressed; this one is Chinese and wears expensive boots. The boy, just 14, was picked up carrying a loaded .38 revolver. The judge explains that a formal hearing will be held in three weeks. He does not even ask the boy what he was doing with a gun. Probation recommends parole in the custody of the mother and the judge routinely grants it. The kid is now free to buy another gun.

In Judge Louis Otten's courtroom, a full hearing is to begin. The charge is sexual abuse of a 13-year-old girl by three boys aged twelve, 13 and 15. The older two have had previous "contacts." A petition, or formal accusation, has been drawn. Many hours of work--and taxpayers' dollars--already have gone into the proceeding. But Otten dismisses the case. He has no choice; the victim's mother decided that her daughter should not appear. The boys grin as they leave.

In the next case, a 14-year-old suspect is up for brandishing a loaded pistol in school. The main witness, a teacher, is present. But a police department ballistics specialist --whose testimony is essential under the rules to establish whether the pistol was operable--has failed to appear. The judge riffles through the dossier and says: "He didn't show up in May, either." Otten reschedules the case for July, but the teacher will be on vacation. They settle on Sept. 19, and Otten warns that the case will be dropped if there is one more delay. The boy goes home.

Occasionally a youngster is found guilty. Judge Aileen Haas Schwartz presides over one such rarity. A black 14-year-old with a record was one of two kids accused of forcible theft of bicycles from two younger white children. The suspect has previously been accused of mugging an 85-year-old woman, but that incident was "A.C.D.'d"--adjourned in contemplation of dismissal. The accomplice in the bike case, having no previous "contacts," has been let off. The case is clear-cut; both victims are in court ready to testify. One claims to have been struck and knocked down, but there was no injury. The suspect and his lawyer agree to an "admission" --the euphemism for a guilty plea--but only to third-degree grand larceny, a lesser offense than robbery and assault.

Schwartz then explains--slowly and carefully--the suspect's rights and makes sure he understands the admission and its implications. Looking bored, he nods silently. Sentencing, or "disposition," requires still another hearing at a future date. Before that can occur, a full probation report must be made on the child's background. That can take months. "This one should be done on an urgent basis," Schwartz says. The boy goes home.

Larry Schwartzstein, chief prosecutor in Manhattan Family Court, speaks with studied bitterness. "I have kids tell me to my face that we can't do anything to them. They think it's a game. Witnesses are deathly afraid of reprisals. They feel that the court is more interested in the criminal than the victim." Last November Schwartzstein won a finding against a 15-year-old who had slashed an actor to death. Schwartzstein hopes to get a disposition hearing within two weeks --eight months after the manslaughter finding--if the probation department is finished with its investigation. Meanwhile, the small killer is free on parole.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.