The Jury Is a Minor Issue in Teen Court

Would she steal a shirt again if she knew she wouldn’t get caught? Zarida Garcia hesitated.

Then, with a smirk, the 14-year-old answered: “I don’t think so.”

In a courtroom full of teenage prosecutors and defense attorneys, the six teenage jurors weren’t convinced.

So they sentenced Garcia to 36 hours of community service, a tour of a city jail and a 500-word essay on temptation--the maximum sentence possible.

Why? “She didn’t care about what she did,” juror Taylor Cloys-Ward, 15, said. “There was no remorse.”

Welcome to teen court, where juveniles in trouble with the law are prosecuted, defended, judged and sentenced by peers.

In Florida, a state with one of the nation’s worst juvenile crime rates, this idea has caught on. Sarasota County started the state’s first teen court almost 10 years ago. Now 37 counties throughout the state have them. This year, an estimated 10,000 to 15,000 cases will pass through Florida’s teen courts, lifting some of the burden from overwhelmed courts elsewhere.

Throughout the country, teen courts are evolving as an alternative to regular juvenile justice courts. They were conceived in the late 1970s in Odessa, Texas, and now almost every state has one, said Katie Self, president of the Florida Assn. of Teen Courts Inc.

Teen court is one of the few successes in the nationwide effort to keep first-time offenders from committing more crimes.

In Orange County, Florida, youths who go through teen court reflect recidivism rates of only 5%. Statewide, the rate ranges from 8% to 16%. By comparison, the recidivism rate for rehabilitation programs dealing with more serious juvenile offenders exceeds 50%.

The real judges offer some perspective on that success. “It’s a more relaxed atmosphere because it isn’t court and doesn’t have the onerous potential consequences,” said Judge Jose R. Rodriguez.

The judge, who presided over Garcia’s hearing, was one of the few people in the Orange County courtroom with a driver’s license. He called the juvenile jurors savvy and able to say if a youth is remorseful or trying to pull the wool over their eyes.

The courtroom mixes volunteers and juveniles now serving sentences. Before stepping into court, they receive training from real attorneys on procedure and practicalities--for example, how to present themselves before a judge.

“We teach them how to make their client not look entirely like a goober,” said Robert Paul LeBlanc, an attorney who serves as an advisor. “You don’t want someone who is going before a sentencing hearing to roll their eyes and say, ‘Yeah.’ ”

Having already pleaded guilty, students who come to teen court receive a sentence. If they complete their sentences, they can get charges removed from their records. If they fail to comply, they bounce into the regular juvenile court system.

During their sentencing hearing, the teenagers have the opportunity to express remorse and to apologize.

“There’s a little bit of public humiliation there,” said attorney Norberto Katz, also serving on the advisory board.

Garcia, who was caught stealing a $9.99 shirt, had trouble with the remorse part. After admitting that she had stolen before but had not been caught, she stumbled on the question of future temptation.

During closing arguments, prosecutor Angela Bustamante, 13, hammered on that.

“This is not the first time she has done something like this,” Bustamante said.

Defense attorney Jose Cabrera, 17, tried to convince the jury that Garcia had learned her lesson.

“Members of the jury, Miss Garcia made a mistake. She doesn’t want to do it again,” said Cabrera. Just four months earlier, Cabrera himself had appeared as a defendant, charged with driving without a license and violating Orlando’s curfew.

While the jury deliberated for 10 minutes, the judge lectured Garcia on what punishment she would face if tried as an adult: $500 fine, six months’ probation and up to six months in jail.

The judge called Garcia and her mother, Gloria Vasquez, to stand in front of his bench when jurors read the sentence. Afterward, Rodriguez instructed Garcia to face her mother and apologize. Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at her mother and said, “I’m sorry.”

They then embraced.

“Sooner or later, you get caught,” the judge said. “I would ask that next time you do this, you think of your mother.”