Some Can Predict How a Judge Will Rule : San Diego’s Court Watchers Love a Mystery

When the defendant in a court case tried his best to destroy the evidence against him, Pete Favor was there to save the day.

“Four years ago, I caught a guy eating the evidence in a case,” Favor said. “He tore off his signature from a court document . . . and placed it in his mouth, so I reported it right away to the bailiff.”

Favor is neither an ex-Marine nor a black belt in karate--but a proud member of the San Diego Court Watchers Assn.

At 80 years old and walking with a cane, Favor is one of a handful of people who spend their retirement days combing the courthouse in search of interesting trials to watch. The group has no membership dues and uses no official records, but all the members share a bond of friendship and fascination with the daily process of justice in San Diego County.

“These people spend every single day over here,” said Rayme Medina, a notary public in the lobby of the courthouse. “They go to the courtrooms and observe the trials, and sometimes they can even predict the outcome.”

Four years ago, Medina was instrumental in starting the “Courtwatchers Assn.,” an informal group of courthouse regulars. Last week, he was on hand to observe as Municipal Judge Robert Coates administered the oath of office to the group’s first woman president, Shirley S. Thompson.

Shortly after her inauguration, Thompson showed her dedication to court watching. “If there’s a trial I’m interested in, I’ll be here five days a week,” she said.

Thompson’s predecessor, 67-year-old Jim Valentino, is equally devoted. He scours the courthouse for murder trials and said one of his favorite proceedings involved a former San Diego Police Department reserve officer who became irate when his former girlfriend began seeing another man.

The woman’s new acquaintance mysteriously disappeared and was last seen on a highway being ticketed by the reserve officer, who was dressed as a normal patrolman, Valentino said. Police investigators never turned up the body, but murder was suspected.

Despite any definitive proof, the prosecutor in the case was so adept that he was able to string together circumstantial evidence--one witness testified he saw the reserve officer giving the ticket; another said the officer was seen outside the new boyfriend’s work place--that the jury was swayed.

“That was it. The jury said guilty--murder in the first degree,” he said. “It was all circumstantial evidence.”

Valentino said he loves cases like that. “It’s like a jigsaw puzzle, and when it fits, you got him,” he said. “I love a case when the defendant doesn’t admit that he killed someone.”

County officials seem to agree that court watchers are a visible presence during ongoing trials, Coates said. “Every time one of the members of the court-watcher group enters into my courtroom, I feel charmed and honored,” he said. “They are interested in the daily drama of this county courthouse.”

Coates added that he has asked some court watchers for their “feedback on sentencing policy.” They are very much in tune with the “emotional tone” of the courtroom, he said. “You do ask them questions because they have insight.”

Marie Kennedy, who has operated the courthouse’s information center, said that defendants have been known to become nervous when members of the group attend their trials. Kennedy said that since members “are pretty faithful and follow a trial all the way through,” defendants often wonder if they are under some sort of investigation.

Daniel Lame, 77, one of the group’s more spry wits, said watching municipal trials is like “watching the human comedy forever in a day. You get to know the human tragedy and experience the frequent joy that comes when the innocent are absolved, and the guilty get their just desserts.”

Lame said court watchers are as varied as the trials they observe.

“Some (of us) were wealthy top executives; others were employed in comparably menial positions, but all enjoy the strong flow of human foibles,” he said.

At 81, Jerome O’Connor is probably the county’s oldest court watcher. His friends and family say he possesses an uncanny ability to predict the outcome of a trial. Maureen O’Connor, his daughter, said she has been watching her father do it for 20 years.

“He always knows what the judges are going to do,” she said. “And he’s yet to be wrong.”

Maureen O’Connor, a former councilwoman and now a candidate for Roger Hedgecock’s vacated mayor’s position, said that as a child, she and her 12 brothers and sisters would stand trial whenever someone broke one of her father’s rules.

“If someone was to come in late, my dad would say that he is guilty,” she said. After the family would object to her father’s abrupt decision, “he’d bring us together and we would have court.”

O’Connor admitted, however, that, whatever the jury decision, it really didn’t matter that much. “He always had the veto power.”