Video System Aids Order in the Court

On most afternoons, Chief Judge Wendy Potts faces a full docket and an empty courtroom.

With the use of a high-speed digital video-conferencing system, Potts can see the accused whose cases come before her -- every facial wrinkle and every eye blink -- and they can see her inside Oakland County’s 6th Judicial Circuit Court from their jail cells across the street.

This virtual hall of justice is part of a countywide system that experts say is one of the nation’s best in using technology to grapple with rising concerns about security and costs at the nation’s courts.

“The less you have to move a prisoner, the more secure it is for us all,” Potts said. “Security and safety is on the minds of everyone at the courthouse these days.”

After the courthouse killings in Atlanta last month and the February slayings of a federal judge’s husband and mother in Chicago, officials from police departments and courthouses nationwide have inquired and come to southeast Michigan to see how the Oakland County system is working.

Officially launched in November, the OakVideo project is running in three district courthouses, five circuit courtrooms, nearly all holding facilities and all of the county prosecutors’ offices. A few courtrooms are waiting for hardware or training; by August, installation is expected to be complete.

The heart of the $6.7-million project is a grid of high-speed data lines -- an estimated 680 miles’ worth -- that link the computers of every city, village and township building in the county.

The technology has legal limits: Among other things, it can’t be used for cases involving minors, mental health evaluations or examinations, or the actual trial -- where a person physically must appear in the courtroom.

But there’s much it can do. The bulk of criminal arraignments here are conducted by video conference. Judges can also use it for criminal pleas, preliminary examinations, expert testimonies, pretrial motions and sentencing for misdemeanors.

Some judges no longer meet with police officers to issue warrants -- instead they watch on a computer screen as physical evidence is held in front of a camera.

Although county officials say they are still gauging the cost savings, they believe the financial benefits seem obvious.

“We can save millions in officer overtime and transportation costs not only for arraignments, but also for obtaining warrants and other things,” said Robert Pence, project manager of the video-conferencing system. “We expect this to pay for itself in the first two years.”

Advocates say it would be foolish not to tap technology to make the judicial process simpler and more secure. Yet Oakland County’s cutting-edge system is raising questions about legal rights: A person has the right to confront his or her accuser. Does that mean facing them in person?

“Whenever we introduce new technologies, we have not just unintended consequences, but unforeseen consequences,” said Jonathan Gaw, a technology industry analyst for the research firm IDC. “They could be for good or for bad. It’s almost impossible to predict, but it’s always a slippery slope.”

Defense lawyers have voiced concerns: How can they have confidential consultations with clients if the camera is rolling? How can a lawyer see and gauge the mood inside the courtroom from the jail?

“If this were a trial, and I was trying to cross-examine someone’s testimony, how can I intimidate you by camera?” asked Stephen Kale, a defense lawyer and a consultant on the project. “How can I tell if you smell of alcohol or something else? It definitely affects the adversarial process.”

The county’s efforts began about eight years ago, when police officers and prosecutors decided they were spending too much time on the road in far-flung rural areas trying to obtain search and arrest warrants.

“There were times when a simple arraignment would take me away from work all day, what with the driving and waiting at the court,” said Scott Fischer, the sole police detective for the village of Holly, Mich. “It can take an hour to drive to the courthouse, an hour to drive back. Along the way, people have jumped out of vehicles, tried to run off, do all sorts of things.”

As an alternative, the county’s courts began experimenting with video technologies. A computer-industry boom in the region in the late 1990s helped the agencies involved find solutions.

Tapping funds from federal grants and county bonds, the county’s information technology department created a computer lab to address the needs of circuit judges, corrections officers and others.

The department customized each of its computer systems -- and used software from companies such as IBM to connect everything.

Some, including Judge Edward Sosnick, were hesitant yet curious.

“It’s a trade-off -- the human dimension for technological advantages,” said Sosnick, who has been on the bench for 21 years. “Not even having the person there? When I was younger, this would have been science fiction.”

On a recent afternoon, Judge Potts entered her nearly empty court, ready to hear a long list of arraignments. There were only two other people -- a prosecutor and Potts’ court clerk -- in a room that can seat 60 people.

Sitting at her bulletproof bench, clad in a formal black robe and pearl earrings, the judge reached across the aged wooden desk and turned on a flat-screen monitor.

Across the street, Oakland County Sheriff’s Lt. Tim Atkins, a supervisor at the county jail, stood in front of a holding cell, where three inmates in blue jumpsuits milled about a concrete cell.

In single file, the men took several steps into a room about the size of a walk-in closet, with a metal ring for shackles mounted on the wall. A gray folding chair was positioned in front of a floor-to-ceiling storage unit that housed a large TV screen, a computer and a video camera with built-in microphone.

Potts’ face, calm and studious, looked out from the TV screen as the first man sat down. “Shall we begin?” she asked.

About $250 million worth of video-conferencing tools are sold each year to federal and state agencies worldwide, said Andrew W. Davis, a managing partner with Wainhouse Research, an independent firm that specializes in conferencing technology.

In West Virginia, the Supreme Court of Appeals shifted to video conferencing for the bulk of its first-appearance hearings. Within the first year of use, according to court officials, video conferencing saved the state $30 million.

Not every use of the technology has been judged successful. At Los Angeles County Superior Court, judges stopped using the technology for criminal-court arraignments because “it was not cost-effective,” said Allan Parachini, a court spokesman.

Parachini said it was just as easy to transport inmates, usually held nearby, as it was to put them in front of a camera.

And technology, no matter how advanced, isn’t perfect.

Potts was about to hear her first arraignment of the day when the microphone at the jail suddenly shut off. The judge could see a prisoner’s mouth moving, his fingers kneading his knees and the dejection in his eyes. But there was no sound.

Potts interrupted and asked: “Can you hear me?” The prisoner’s mouth moved. She could read his lips, which formed the word “yes.”

Fifteen minutes later, a call came: Someone at the jail accidentally hit the mute button. Problem solved.

The judge turned toward her computer screen. Court was back in session.

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Times staff writer Caitlin Liu in Los Angeles contributed to this report.