Innovation Is U.S. Nominee’s Strong Suit

The first time I ever saw David O. Carter 18 years ago, he was dancing in the hallway on the second floor of the county courthouse. He was signaling to a colleague that opposing attorneys in a murder trial he was prosecuting had been doing some legal two-stepping.

I didn’t know at the time that it was Carter, prosecutor in the William Bonin serial killer case, whom my editors had sent me to interview that day.

It was a fitting introduction. I soon discovered that things are never dull around Carter, who was nominated for a federal judgeship this week by President Clinton. It’s the president’s first federal court nomination out of Orange County.

Carter was appointed to a municipal judgeship before the Bonin case even got to trial. He’s been on the Superior Court bench the last 16 years. He did take time out once for a brief and ill-advised fling with politics, an unsuccessful run for Congress in 1986.

Carter jokes that he got the nomination this week because he’s one of the few Democrats on the bench. That’s true, but he had overwhelming bipartisan support for this nomination. Numerous leading Republicans, plus all five members of the county Board of Supervisors, wrote on his behalf.

Maybe they all figured the U.S. District Court in Los Angeles needed a little livening up.

He’s had his share of big cases. In recent months, he has angered lawyers for the brokerage firm Merrill Lynch & Co. by ordering the release of secret grand jury testimony about its role in the county’s bankruptcy.

He also presided over the guilty plea of county Treasurer-Tax Collector Robert L. Citron, who led the county into its bankruptcy debacle in 1994.

Those are standard judicial duties. Carter often goes beyond that.

In recent years, he has championed a program to help

former gang members get their gang tattoos removed, a big step in helping them find employment. I’ve also seen him have illegal immigrants deported rather than sent back to jail after a hearing.

Municipal Judge Wendy S. Lindley told me once she saw something in Carter’s courtroom that changed her life. A pregnant woman facing jail on an alcohol-related charge had been ordered by Carter to go to college instead. He had brought her back to court to see how her grades were doing. Said Lindley: “I told myself, this is what I want to do with my life. I want to help people like that.”

It was an extension of a program Carter had begun when he headed Juvenile Court. He would give some young offenders a choice: Go to jail or go to school. Skip school and it’s back to jail. Now, such sentencings are routine. But when Carter was doing it in the 1980s, it was novel.

Not that Carter couldn’t make you angry. I once was seething at him. Just before closing arguments in a case, he ordered the bailiff not to let anyone leave the courtroom until the lawyers’ arguments were over. This was chilling to a reporter trying to keep track of half a dozen cases in different courts at the same time.

On the other hand, his tough rules made interesting copy. In one case years ago, defense lawyers requested a continuance because they needed a little more preparation time. We’ll reconvene at midnight, Carter announced; that will give you plenty of time. Faced with a midnight session, they reluctantly agreed that they could go on without a continuance.

Carter’s judicial chambers resemble a mini museum of his life. There are the family pictures--he and his wife, Mary Ellen, have six children between them, plus another youth they helped put through school.

There’s a mounted shoe with a worn-out sole, a reminder of precinct walking in his failed congressional bid. There are pictures of Carter as a young Marine.

The most noticeable artifact in the office is his 10-speed bicycle. Carter is an ardent exercise buff.

One small plaque on the wall has special meaning for him. It was given to him by his colleagues when he left the district attorney’s office to become a judge. Deputy Dist. Atty. Rick King, who now runs the district attorney’s homicide panel, calls Carter his mentor.

“When I was a freshman prosecutor, he was like the varsity,” King said. “He took time to help me in so many ways, I’ve never forgotten.”

It was as a prosecutor, Carter said, that he first learned what the judicial system was all about.

“I’d gotten this first-degree murder conviction in a tough case, and I was damned proud of myself. The victim’s father had come in from Ohio for the trial, and when it was over, he thanked me for a good job. At the door, he turned to me again, and seeing his face, it made me realize that all the convictions I’d ever get, it would never bring his son back.

“A few days later, the victim’s mother called. She wanted to thank me too, but also to tell me that her husband had just taken his own life.”

That was 20 years ago, but Carter had to choke on the words before he could relate the story again when we met Friday.

About anybody who has ever been around the courthouse could probably tell a story about Carter. But here’s one that perhaps you haven’t heard.

In 1968, Carter was a young second lieutenant, with Company C, 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, front line fighters in Vietnam. They were referred to as the “walking dead” in books about the war because of their high casualties.

By April 6, 1968, Carter’s company had already been in several days of battle, capturing hills and taking prisoners. But that day, it was deployed to assist another pinned down by enemy fire near Khe Sanh. Carter was seriously wounded, hit by mortar fire.

He led his men on an assault despite his injuries, and then was wounded again, this time by small arms fire. He refused to leave the battlefield, and helped to assist others wounded in his platoon.

I didn’t get that from Carter. It comes from Lt. Gen. H.W. Buse Jr., commanding general of the Marines’ Pacific fleet. He awarded Carter the Bronze Star.

Carter spent all of 1969 in hospitals while recovering.

“Most people don’t get a whole year to lay and think,” he said. “That gave me the time to know I wanted to have some direction in my life.”

He couldn’t predict then, of course, that he’d wind up where he is today: a presidential nominee to the federal bench.

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Jerry Hicks’ column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Readers may reach Hicks by calling The Times Orange County Edition at (714) 966-7823, by fax at (714) 966-7711 or by e-mail at jerry.hicks@latimes.com.