Jury by Teen Peers: A Just Idea

Talking to even the best-behaved teenager can sometimes be like talking to a wall, as anyone with offspring between 13 and 19 knows. And when a youngster gets in a scuffle with the law, even the most well-meaning lesson from a parent or judge can sound like a sermon--if the kid is listening at all. Bridging that generation gap is the idea behind Teen Court, a novel and successful experiment in justice that lets teenagers sit in judgment of other teens accused of crimes. Calabasas starts the program this week, joining eight other venues across Los Angeles County.

The process is simple: First-time offenders have their cases decided by a panel of peers rather than a Juvenile Court judge. Under the supervision of judges and probation personnel, the panel can ask questions of the accused and, if it finds the teen guilty, impose legally binding sentences. Those who work with the courts claim the teen panels hand down harsher sentences and have a greater impact on defendants. Since Teen Court started four years ago at Woodrow Wilson High School in El Sereno, the recidivism rate for offenders who participate has held steady at about 4%--compared to 30% for all juvenile cases and 10% for other programs that offer alternative sentencing.

Granted, defendants are screened for participation. They must be first-time offenders. They cannot be gang members. They must be selected for the program by probation officers and then agree to waive their customary right to confidentiality. Plus, the panels can review only about 64 cases a month, a tiny fraction of the thousands of cases that move through Los Angeles County. But those who go through the program--either as jurors or as defendants--report significant results.

Contrary to the fears of some law enforcement officers, the juvenile juries are tougher on their peers in most cases than a judge would be. The acquittal rate is under 2% and the juries dish out tough, creative sentences. Since they are prohibited from jailing an offender or levying monetary fines, the juries devise effective punishments that send clear messages. For instance, one jury prevented a youth who repeatedly took his parents’ car without permission from getting his driver’s license until he turned 18. Another jury handed an offender 700 hours of community service. That sentence was cut by a supervising judge to 300 hours. But the young defendant was so changed by the experience that he later ended up a juror in Teen Court.

That’s the bottom line. It’s one thing to have a judge in a robe or a parent harangue a youngster about a misdeed. It’s quite another to hear the same words from a teen with the same haircut, wearing the same jeans and talking the same talk. As Teen Court founder Judge Jaime Corral says: It’s peer pressure, but in a good way. The Calabasas court hears its first two cases Tuesday.