Speedy Justice Is the Ticket in Van Nuys Night Traffic Court

Forget television’s “Night Court,” where a blue-jeaned judge presides over a court of loonies amid waves of laughter, where all parties work out 30-minute resolutions to the angst of urban life.

Night court in Van Nuys is not where the city’s crazies come into the bright lights.

Just the opposite, in fact. It’s the court session of choice for working people, those for whom a day session would mean lost wages.

The room of seated attendees look more like a town hall meeting than a gathering of the accused, ready to meet a judge.

At 5:30 p.m. every Thursday at Van Nuys Municipal Court, a session is conducted for those with traffic violations they want to contest or explain and those who want to be sent to traffic school in lieu of having the conviction put on their driving record.

It’s the only night traffic court in the San Fernando Valley and one of only three in the city of Los Angeles. West Los Angeles and downtown courts have the others.

Presiding over this weekly Valley ritual is Judge Robert Wallerstein, who volunteered for night court two years ago to get a break from dealing almost exclusively with lawyers in civil cases all day.

“Here you deal with real people,” he said in an interview following a recent session. “What you do has a greater impact on the community.”

Graying, bearded, slow moving, speaking in a loud whisper, peering over spectacles at the courtroom--he is an oddly contemplative counterpoint to a courtroom filled with people in a hurry.

And he’s the polar opposite to bailiff Ron Sabatino, who is clear-voiced, loud, hyperactive and informal.

Those who contend that sergeants actually run the army would see a parallel in Sabatino’s stewardship over a courtroom.

After more than two years in traffic court, Sabatino professes to “know just about what people are going to say after they get the first few words out. There are only so many variations.”

Whenever a defendant pulls out a ticket or Department of Motor Vehicles document to answer a question from the judge, Sabatino deftly sweeps it away.

And in the time an average person would need merely to focus on such a document, Sabatino is rapidly reading in stentorian tones: “Vehicle is ’87 Chevy pickup with registration brought up to date on Jan. 14 this year. Three fix-it items signed off.”

Wallerstein’s judgment is then instantly rendered, leaving some of the accused a bit bewildered by justice at machine-gun speed.

Sabatino quickly moves them along with one of two commands, leavened with a trace of solicitation.

If Wallerstein’s decision is a fine, the bailiff motions to a side door and says, “Please step into the cashier’s office.”

If there is no fine, as was the case with most vehicles with lapsed registration--and with a few defendants who had explanations that the judge bought--Sabatino waves goodby and says, “See ya.”

Once, a beeper went off in the audience.

The bailiff responded with an immediate “Please turn that off,” then without missing a beat resumed a side conference with an accused person with a special problem--all this while Wallerstein continued questioning another defendant.

But it’s not all Sabatino’s show, with Wallerstein merely dispensing justice according to a standard list of fines.

After straining to understand a professional truck driver’s explanation, partly in English and partly in Spanish, that the illegal left-turn he was cited for could not be done safely any other way in his 18-wheeler, Wallerstein dismissed the charge.

And parents ticketed for failing to provide car seats for young children get a stern lecture with their fine.

“This is a very, very serious thing,” the judge admonished one woman as he dinged her for $35.

Another cited for failing to provide a car seat taxed Wallerstein’s patience with a lengthy explanation of how she had just purchased her car and had been unable to secure a car seat.

The judge cut the defendant off and fined her $20, brusquely adding: “The fact that the car was new would not have made any difference in an accident.”

Among the most distressed defendants in traffic court are those ticketed for driving in diamond lane freeway on-ramps--which are restricted to vehicles with two or more passengers--and those pinched for jaywalking.

For those who don’t want to go to court, the mail-in fines are a jolt: For illegal use of a diamond lane, it’s just under $300. For jaywalking it’s $55.

Many are unaware that those fines have skyrocketed in recent years, Sabatino said, “and they just can’t believe it until a judge tells them.”

Some can’t believe it even then.

One middle-aged woman explained to Wallerstein that police had nabbed her for crossing a “very quiet side street” and that no cars had been inconvenienced.

The judge listened impassively, then said matter-of-factly: “$55.”

“Whatever happened to $25?” the woman demanded in an anguished voice.

For a moment, the courtroom froze.

Then, with the realization that the question was rhetorical, not a confrontation, the normal courtroom buzz resumed, the woman moved toward the cashier’s office and it was on to the next case.