Open court offers a lesson in humanity
By Oliver Mackson
Times Herald-Record
omackson@th-record.com
For the first 35 years of its existence,
Family Court was the only closed court in New York. That was
the law.
After all, the court dealt with the most
personal, intimate details of peoples' lives. It was where
children went on trial. It was where families went on trial.
This was personal, not public.
But six years ago, everything changed.
Chief Judge Judith Kaye changed it.
"Each year, this court plays an
increasingly prominent role in the daily lives of our
citizens," Kaye said in 1997. "It is vital that
the public have a good understanding of the court and
confidence in the court process."
The idea was to open up the court and give
citizens a better understanding of how things work.
And they're surely getting that. One day
recently, a group of Middletown Girl Scouts came to Judge
Andrew P. Bivona's courtroom. The girls are 11 to 15 years
old. They're working on a law-enforcement merit badge.
* * *
It's Feb. 10. A man walks into court in
handcuffs. He's here for a "judicial surrender."
Translation: The man is about to give up
his right to be a father to his 3-year-old daughter.
Judge Andrew P. Bivona asks the man if he
understands what's at stake here.
"Sir, do you understand that judicial
surrender means you could not petition this court, or any
court, for custody?"
"Yes," the man says. He leans
into the table. His voice is a soft, dull monotone. He looks
a little dazed.
Bivona continues to ask the man if he
understands what's happening. The judge asks a variation of
that question seven more times.
Each time, the man says he understands. He
never says anything more than "Yes." He looks, as
so many do in Family Court, as though he's been
dipped in Novocain.
He surrenders his fatherhood and is
escorted from the courtroom.
But this isn't over.
The little girl's mother is also here in
court. The mother lives in Middletown and has two children
by another man. He wants full custody of them. She's
contesting him, too.
And so her entire life is exposed.
A social worker talks about how the mother
was homeless for several months last year. The mother's been
kicked out of shelters for breaking the rules. Last summer,
she missed a foster-care visit with one of her children.
The social worker testifies that the
mother recently failed a drug test. She recalls that the
mother said, "I have a problem with Ecstasy, and I
don't want to die."
The mother's eyes become teary. She's not
entitled to speak to the judge.
Then the social worker is cross-examined
by the law guardian for the mother's children.
Why did the mother miss that child-care
visit last summer?
"She was raped."
* * *
The Girl Scouts listen to all this. They
hear a social worker testify that the mother feared the
flunked drug test would "f--- me in court."
The Scouts are riveted. Some don't even
blink. No one yawns. No one fidgets.
They leave the courtroom during a break in
the afternoon.
A Scout leader says she's sure the girls
heard things they've never before heard. They've seen
humanity, naked and in pain. It was not what they expected.
"They all had the opinion," the
leader says, "that it was going to be like 'Judge
Judy.'"