MAPLEWOOD, Mo. — Earlier this month, officials in Ferguson left their positions at dizzying speed in the wake of a scathing U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) report documenting corrupt court practices. As the city government collapsed like a house of cards, I stood in line at the municipal court in neighboring Maplewood, 15 minutes south of Ferguson.
Here, the courts operate without interference, free from the weight of public exposure.
The courtroom was full and the line to get in, which looked to consist exclusively of African-American residents, snaked through the corridors. In municipal courts like this one, many people walk in with traffic tickets and walk out with insurmountable fines or jail sentences.
Practices like this fueled the DOJ’s condemnation of neighboring Ferguson. Meanwhile, according to the Washington Post, in towns throughout St. Louis County, court fines for everything from traffic infractions to “saggy pants” violations to uncut lawns can make up 40 percent or more of their annual revenue, most coming from the poorest residents.
These municipal courts have functioned like this for years. That the Ferguson court caught the eye of the DOJ is more a testament to the power of the protests that took place after the shooting of Michael Brown than to efficacy of federal monitoring. The people of Ferguson demanded the world stop and look at their town, and they did not quit until that happened.
The lesson to be drawn from the latest “scandal” in Ferguson is that change does not originate with Supreme Court declarations or federal investigations but with everyday people bending institutions through the gravity of their collective power.
Standing in line at Maplewood, it was hard not to wonder what might happen if the collective action displayed in the streets of Ferguson and elsewhere to protest racial profiling and police violence were applied to these small-town courthouses and other institutions along the spectrum of criminalization?
What if the historic national movement now brewing looked at police not as isolated actors, but as the point of entry into a larger criminal justice system that has, by and large, been insulated from public examination?
Fighting for the Right to a “Day in Court”
As a community organizer working with families whose loved ones are facing criminal charges, I have sat in courtrooms across the country. The undeniable common denominator, visible through an eye test and documented in national studies, is that courthouses in America are filled disproportionately with people of color being channeled into the pipeline to prison.
Of those facing charges, 80 percent cannot afford to pay for their own attorney and number who end up with a plea bargain is well over 90 percent. Very few people get the “day in court” that Hollywood and the Constitution promise.
Here in the St. Louis area, the ArchCity Defenders, the first to blow the whistle on injustices within the courts, represent the indigent, homeless and unheard.
“If you’re poor and Black and standing in front of court saying, ‘I can’t afford this,’ I think the court is less likely to listen to you,” ArchCity Executive Director Thomas Harvey told NBC News.
It is a charge being made not just in Ferguson but, increasingly, across the country.
In that packed Maplewood courtroom, I was with ArchCity Defender Stephanie Lummus and her client LaTricia, who was living in a shelter with her three-month-old twins. Lummus was asking the judge to waive fines for lack of proper vehicle registration.
If she cannot prevail, Latricia will be paying those fines through her TANF (Temporary Aid to Needy Families) check, money that would otherwise go to diapers and baby formula. Had LaTricia not had Lummus by her side, the decision would have likely already been made.
The ArchCity Defenders, who are present in these courts each day, were the only defense attorneys in the courtroom. Those who were not their clients had to make do without representation.
The conveyer-belt justice dispensed in Maplewood and elsewhere lays bare the court’s function not as an impartial mechanism of justice but as an efficient delivery system for mass incarceration. The United States leads the world with the number of people behind bars, holding over 2 million of its residents.
In the wake of the Michael Brown shooting, rallies across the country had a common refrain: “Ferguson is everywhere.” The same rings true about the newly-exposed but longstanding failure of the courts.
How Can We Fix a Broken Justice System?
After just about every court hearing I’ve witnessed, families – in the parking lot, in the car or at home – make a single wish. That wish is not to undo or rewrite history. “I just wish they knew him like we know him,” they say instead.
What if we could channel this instinct toward reform? What if those facing charges, along with their families and communities, worked together to change the outcome of cases — partnering with overloaded public defenders, letting judges know they are being held to account by the electorate, challenging prosecutorial practices and more?
Larger systemic changes are possible when people participate in the court process every day, in every courtroom in America.
The movement for police accountability has organically arrived at the courthouse steps in Ferguson. Many protesters were arrested, and must face prosecutors and judges in the courtroom, just as they faced police in riot gear on the streets.
As if by invitation, the protest community and their organizing intelligence are now in the courts.
The community organization MORE (Missourians Organizing for Reform and Empowerment) has created space for collective action in the otherwise isolating experience of adjudication. They have volunteers who check in regularly with those facing charges and hold meetings to make sure everyone feels supported by the larger protest community.
No one falls through the cracks.
MORE Organizer Nabeehah Azeez oversees the support collective. She has no law degree, but at 28, she is already a seasoned community leader – battle tested by the protests and organizing in Ferguson after Michael Brown’s death.
“We are trying to bring a little more justice to St. Louis County, because left to their own devices, the criminal justice system here does not serve everyone equally,” she says.
The Game-Changing Approach of “Participatory Defense”
We have seen how the power of collective action applied to the court system – what we call “participatory defense” – makes lasting impact in the Bay Area of Northern California.
For seven years, my colleagues and I at the Albert Cobarrubias Justice Project (ACJP) have seen how family and community intervention has lead to acquittals; charges have been dismissed and reduced; prison terms changed to rehabilitation programs; even life sentences taken off the table.
In one such instance, Ramon, who was initially charged with murder and was facing a life sentence for a crime he did not commit, was released and all charges were dropped. His family and community worked closely with his lawyer, identifying contradictory statements by police and witnesses, ordering a polygraph and even producing “Ten Evidence-Based Reasons that Prove Ramon’s Innocence,” which contributed to a strong defense.
We tallied the direct impact of communities participating in their defense at over 1,800 years of “time saved” from incarceration.
Communities not only kept loved ones home, they also saved the state and the Department of Corrections millions of dollars. Since the vast majority of Americans incarcerated are typically represented by a public defender, this partnership with communities could be a national game changer.
Turning Empowerment Into Power
In my home city of San Jose, Calif., despite the promise of Constitutional protections, we had no public defenders at misdemeanor arraignment hearings. Families and communities rallied to change that, triggering a systemic shift that would affect the lives of many.
The power of individuals engaging the courts as actors, rather than as those acted upon, can be measured by reduced sentences and court fines and by reformed policies. It also leads to a profound transformation in people.
Someone who once felt overwhelmed by a court system that represents power, law and unlimited resources can suddenly see that she, too, has power to make change, in her life and beyond. Citizens become the David facing the Goliath of the courts. The feeling is contagious.
At our weekly participatory defense meetings at ACJP, many family members who had success in their cases come back to let new families know what is possible. The positive cycle grows.
In Maplewood, Mo., children waited in the car for their mothers, friends came to lend moral support and church members stood by their phones to hear the results. These are the individuals who can transform our courts.
To witness the potential for a movement with the scope and moral authority to bring real justice to the American judicial system, just walk by any court in America and look at who is in standing in line.
Jean Melesaine, who made the images from the Ferguson area, is a photographer, writer and editor with Silicon Valley De-Bug, which is based in San Jose, Calif. Raj Jayadev, who wrote this opinion essay, is the organization’s coordinator. He also coordinates the Albert Cobarrubias Justice Project, an organizing and training model designed for families and communities to have an impact on their local courts. In addition, he is an Ashoka Fellow. A version of this opinion essay first appeared in the Huffington Post. The top image shows Nabeehah Azeez, an organizer with MORE (Missourians Organizing for Reform and Empowerment).