Hear Them

No Matter How Loud I Shout: A Year in the Life of Juvenile Court
Edward Humes

I remember a local Coca-Cola commercial decades ago of a young lady singing a song that starts with the lines "I am the future of the world/ I am the hope of my nation" and then was joined later by a choir of young girls and boys singing of a brighter tomorrow. It was one of those ads that make you think of sunshiny future of fulfilled dreams not to mention thirst-quenching glass of icy Coke. It was a kind of ad that would seem unreal to the bunch of young men and women featured in Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Edward Humes' account of his year observing California's juvenile court. A year's account of the lives not just of the kids accused of committing despicable crimes, but of the people in and around the court as well: the public defender, the prosecutorial team, the private counsels, the judges, the commissioners, and the victims.

I start by saying this: the book was first published in 1995. Go back fifteen years and imagine what you were doing back then; think about the time and the kind of life you were living. And then read about these kids, these people around them, and the system that apparently hasn't helped them at all.

Humes' account revolve around the basic premise, as far as I can tell, of the study made that juvenile courts are not doing the kids any good. The kids, the public defenders, the prosecution, the judges and the victims know that in varying degrees. And their stories are told by Humes in words that are simple, understandable and yet visceral in their impact.

To say that Humes merely observed is not categorically true. He did, yes. But he also taught writing to a handful of juveniles in detention. It's where we learn the stories of the kids, particularly seven of them: Elias, George, Shorty, Ronald, Carla, Geri and John. Most of them were gangbangers. Some of them committed murder. Some were wards of the state. Most of them are poor. And some of them know that they could get off easily even if convicted, would get out by the time they are twenty-five and with a sealed record to boot, like the case tried by Peggy Beckstrand for the prosecution:

The murders occurred nine days before Ronald turned sixteen.

"Nine days," Peggy mutters to herself at least once a week. Each time, she examines the calendar again, hoping somehow, she has miscalculated. She sent away for a true copy of Ronald's birth certificate, hoping for some discrepancy. It is sitting on her desk back at the office. But the nine days stand. And that inconsequential number of days means Ronald Duncan cannot be tried or imprisoned as an adult.

Thing is, some pages aren't like that. Some days you read about a sixteen year old gangbanger who just happens to be there, who never fired a gun and yet since he's with the perpetrator he's also charged with murder. And when you're sixteen in the USA, you could be tried as an adult and sent to adult prison. That's the thing with laws, you see. Fifteen years. Sixteen years. Below eighteen. These things are important.

Knowing what they did and reading what they went through was a constant battle for me to understand them and the system that makes them fail. It's always easier to judge, you see. It's always easier to put the blame on uncaring parents, a society that doesn't give a damn when it comes to the poor, a juvenile system that doesn't appear to help at all. It's a battle because when you read their works you start to get them. You see why they turned out that way or at least grasp the fact that they are trying to change but need all the help they can get. That or you see their duplicity, knowing that these kids are bright and can actually manipulate you but you forgive them, knowing what they've been through. Humes humanizes them in a way that all of us comprehend: he lets us read their poems, their prose.

But then this fifteen year old kid blew the brains off a couple of store owners because he was scolded for being late for work and bragged about his deed afterward. Or of a gangbanging kid who went to drive-bys and get a thrill out of shooting people, particularly members of another gang, to command respect.

And the cycle continues.

It was heartening to read the stories of the judges, the lawyers and the probation officers. Most of them know that the system, while basically designed to protect the youth, doesn't really work and yet they have to try to make it work. They have to try because the future of the kids are at stake. One judge scares kids into compliance and their parents hope that that tactic works. One nun gives positive recommendations for kids doing well in juvenile centers, to give kids the chance to be released early and avoid being mixed with hardcore criminals in detention. One Probation Officer finds joy in teaching a kid how to clean his fingernails, which is Sharon Stegall's story at one point:

A short time later, she watches him leave, thinking he has a shot at a decent life, though the pull of his old ways will always be strong, his old friends on the street beckoning. He is not at heart a criminal - though many of her probationers are, kids with no moral compasses, who don't understand why it is wrong to steal from an innocent stranger or shoot at someone who disses them. That is the other consequence of growing up without any caring adults in your life - you may end up learning nothing about empathy. In the end, you may be unable to experience another person's joy or sadness or grief. There is only your own need and fuck anyone who gets in the way - a perfect predator, but a lousy human being. Sociopaths are made, not born, it seems to Sharon, and in children the results are frightening - kids who not only have no concept of right and wrong, but who don't care.

Sharon's probationer with the dirty nails knows the difference, though. He just needed someone to take an interest, to expect something more than failure from him, to hold his feet to the fire. To fill the gaps. Once in a while, for Sharon, it is as simple as that.

And yet you finish reading the book wanting to know more. Or asking yourself questions such as whatever happened to the kid who had no remorse killing his employers? Whatever happened to the kid who actually changed herself and avoided the gang life? Whatever happened to the kid who was sent to adult prison? Or whatever happened to the judge who scares kids in court? Or the promised changes for the system as stated by politicians running for office? Because in fifteen years a lot has happened. I can only hope things are much better now, out there. But I'm not that hopeful.

Ideally, you see, the end game of the criminal justice system should be rehabilitation. Reading this book, in real life it felt more and more like punishment. That's a big difference and I'm sure those who have studied the different theories with respect to criminal justice system would argue for either points.

Why did I buy this book in the first place? I wanted to learn more about the juvenile courts and what better way to learn than read about it where the system's been in place for decades. You see, here in the Philippines it was only in 2006 where the comprehensive Juvenile Justice and Welfare Act was signed into law. Not that we never had one before (there was the Child and Youth Welfare Code as well as more than a handful of laws in place with the aim of protecting children). But the new law gave more rights to kids which I think is similar to the one in place in the United States. The law also abolished status offenses here but I'm not going to discuss that, though I do miss using the phrase "a fifteen year-old who acted with discretion" in my thoughts, when I conjure of ways to defend or condemn a very young criminal in my mind. But I digress.

Wherever we are in this globe we may never understand how the criminal mind works but we do know what it's like to be a kid. That stage where everything is possible, where every dream is attainable and every experience an adventure (well, I think that's not just for kids). It is up to us, adults, to nurture them without excuses. Otherwise, they might turn out like Elias, George, Shorty, Ronald, Carla, Geri and John back when Edward Humes first met them.

Books such as this aren't for everyone's taste since it's disturbing yet hopeful but I think it should be read. By everyone. Though it's filled with facts relevant in the early 90s, the beauty of the writing makes the stories, the accounts as relevant now as back then, even assuming that the system changed in the course of fifteen years.

Other interesting point of view:

Magic Cookie