For Some Offenders, Peer Court Is Just the Right Path to Justice

Kimberly Galacha is the kind of juror who makes a defendant squirm.

While deliberating the case of Tim, an Orange County high school student who paint-balled a passing car when he didn’t have anything better to do, she pushed for a sentence of 100 hours of community service.

And to make sure he wouldn’t get bored again any time soon, an 8 p.m. curfew.

“That’s not too harsh,” Kimberly said. “He could have made the car get in an accident. He just wasn’t thinking.”

So goes the legal system in Peer Court, which extends the “jury by peers” concept to juvenile delinquents.

The Orange County program, begun a decade ago, lets first-time offenders who admit their guilt submit the question of punishment to other youths. If the defendant completes the sentence within six months, the conviction never goes on the offender’s record. If not, the youth goes before a Juvenile Court judge and may face large fines and time in custody.

There are 900 youth courts in the U.S. As in most of the nation’s similar programs, about 80% of the teenagers who go through the Orange County system never reoffend, according to the Probation Department.

As in Tim’s case, the crimes involved are minor. Shoplifters make up the bulk of offenders; other transgressions include drug use and vandalism. The Times generally does not identify juvenile defendants.

Anyone accused must admit guilt and waive the right to an attorney. Besides the six youth jurors and the judge, at least one lawyer is on hand to supervise deliberations. Jurors have a list of suggested punishments, including letters of apology to victims, Peer Court jury duty and community service.

The judge can reduce or toughen the sentence. The defendants have six months to complete the terms. No extensions are allowed.

During a recent session at Valley High in Santa Ana, Orange County Superior Court Judge Caryl Lee told the defendants to make the most of the opportunity. “You will not be given another chance for this kind of handling,” she said.

Later, Tim said: “I think they were really fair. Since they’re my peers, they know where I’m coming from and can kind of understand how you do stupid stuff when you get bored. But that also means they’re not going to just excuse my behavior.”

At least one parent is required to attend, and jurors and the judge may question parents. Seeing the parents’ pain over their children’s actions is the most difficult part of the proceedings, said juror Kimberly, a senior at Valley High.

“It’s really hard to see their parents suffer,” she said. Like her colleagues on Tim’s jury, she was reluctant to impose sanctions that would cost his parents money, such as a teen driving or a legal awareness class. “We didn’t want to punish them any more than they already have been.”

Still, the jurors don’t shy from asking parents hard questions about how they raise their kids.

Shoplifter David’s mother cast her eyes downward when a student grilled her about how much she knew of her son’s activities. David, 17, was arrested when he stole for a friend.

“Do you know what kind of people your son hangs out with?” asked senior Nayreth Quiroz. “Why do you let him hang with friends who like to steal?”

David’s mother was quiet for a minute, then whispered, “My son is not who I thought he was. Neither are his friends.”

After the session ended, Tim’s father said he appreciated the opportunity for his son to get a second chance at a clean record. Peer Court shows young people how much delinquency can hurt their families, he said.

“It opens their eyes to make them think twice themselves about making bad choices,” said the father. “It could easily be any of them and their parents in the hot seat.”

At Valley High, the Peer Court sessions were held in the campus library, and jurors deliberated in adjacent classrooms. At the other county schools that offer the program, defendants and jurors gather in choir rooms or cafeterias.

Summer sessions are held at the county courthouse in Santa Ana.

Volunteer attorneys sit in on deliberations to guide the student jurors. Irvine employment litigation lawyer Tiffany Brosnan has been working with the program for several years and said the jurors always impress her with their insightful questioning.

“They ask questions that maybe an adult wouldn’t think to ask,” she said. “They touch on issues that I think we, as adults, don’t remember, like the pressure that comes from a bad crowd, and how their crimes influence their younger siblings.”

Shoplifter David hung his head while telling how his arrest had affected his little brothers. “I was someone to look up to, but now I’ve ruined that,” he said.

Repentance goes a long way in the jury room. For defendants like Tim and David, who seemed to regret their crimes sincerely, jurors were more lenient.

But their eyebrows rose at shoplifter Walter’s response when Lee asked how he could be trusted again.

“I learned not to steal, because if I get caught, I’ll go to juvie for at least six months,” he said sullenly as his mother blinked away tears.

Lee shook her head.

“We’re looking for promises from you that you won’t do these things anymore,” she said. “Not just that you won’t do it because you could get caught.”

The jurors’ dislike for Walter’s attitude showed in their recommendations: Attend school regularly. Pay restitution to the store. Participate in a legal awareness class. An 8 p.m. curfew every night. And 80 hours of community service, which the judge lowered to 30 to make sure Walter wouldn’t be tempted to slight his studies.

By contrast, Tim’s punishment looked almost cushy: a letter of apology to the owner of the car, along with the community service and the curfew. The jurors did not recommend that he serve as a Peer Court juror.

“No way,” said sophomore Karen Garcia, wrinkling her nose. “This is fun. That’s not a good punishment.”