It Takes Forever and Nothing Happens: Criminal Court from a Victim’s Perspective – Part I (DUI Loss Entry No.19)

I attended criminal court nearly every month during the year after my parents were hit by a drunk driver.  The driver was eventually sentenced to twelve years in prison for causing their deaths.  On television and in movies, courtroom scenes contain high drama.  In real life, very little happens at most court appearances, and cases take a long time to get to trial.  As a lawyer, I ought to have known that before I ever stepped into the courtroom.  But I handle civil cases that involve money, not anyone being accused of a crime or going to jail, and I assumed criminal cases would be different. I was wrong.

Confusion about what is and isn’t happening in criminal court can make the pain and frustration of losing a loved one, or recovering from severe injuries, so much worse.  Below are some things I’ve learned both from watching the proceedings against the man who killed my parents and from the criminal defense attorneys I’ve gotten to know since then.  If you are a victim of a DUI driver or of another crime, knowing these things won’t make the case move any faster or ensure justice, but it might help you get through the process.

(1)    It takes a long time.  This refers to both individual court dates and the criminal case as a whole.  You may learn from the prosecutor that your case – the one against whoever is accused of the crime – is set for 9 a.m.  First, if this is one of the earliest court dates and injuries or deaths occurred, there won’t be a trial.  This is just the first of many court dates.  Second, you may arrive at 9 a.m., only to sit through an hour or more of proceedings in other cases.  There are lots of reasons for this.  If the case is in a busy county, a dozen or more cases are probably also scheduled for 9 a.m.  If even one takes more time than expected, all the others are delayed.  If you are set for 10 a.m., that probably means you’re waiting until after the 9 a.m. cases, so you could be behind twenty or more other matters. 

Also, usually judges hear cases first where the defendants – the people accused of the crimes – are already in jail.  So if the defendant in your case is not in prison, your case may be called later.  Finally, sometimes – often in the Chicago area – the defense attorney is running late.  Many criminal defense attorneys are solo lawyers.  This means they are the only lawyers in their firms and drive to multiple courtrooms in the same day.  Traffic, other court cases that run long, and car breakdowns can all cause delays.  Most judges try to accommodate these issues.  You might be wondering why it is your problem – you made it to court on time, why can’t the defense attorney?  It doesn’t seem fair.  But, unfortunately, this and the other factors are part of how the system runs day-to-day.  If you know that and are prepared for it, it may help the frustration level.

The case as a whole also can take a long time.  The prosecutor needs to determine what charges to file – that is, what specific crimes under what laws to present to the judge or a jury.  That can change with developments in the investigation or the case.  My mother died at the scene of the crash, and my dad lived another six and a half weeks.  When my father died, the prosecutor added charges and the potential sentence increased by over a decade.  The judge needs to decide if the defendant can be set free while the case is moving toward trial and, if so, if a bond is needed and the amount.  (The bond for the driver who killed my parents was originally set at half a million dollars, then increased to one million when my dad died.  A million dollar bond meant the driver would have needed to deposit with the court $100,000 to be set free pending trial.)  The prosecutor needs to put together evidence – police reports, witness statement, laboratory tests – and then share it with the defense attorney, who needs to time to review it and advise her or his client.  A court-ordered evaluation may need to be performed of the defendant, such as to decide if the defendant has an alcohol problem. 

If the defendant is considering pleading guilty rather than going to trial, there are discussions between the prosecutor and the defense counsel about what type of sentence will be agreed to, if any.  Sometimes there is a conference with the judge about that.  If the defendant enters what’s called a “blind plea,” that means the defendant pleads guilty but leaves the sentence to the judge. Both sides prepare written documents throughout the case to present their arguments to the judge.  For sentencing, the defense attorney usually gets statements from witnesses who say the defendant is a good person. The prosecutor often asks family member to prepare victim statements for the court.   All these steps take time, and most occur even if there is no need for a trial.  A trial is the part of the case most people are more familiar with from books, television, and movies.  That part of the case, if it occurs, takes even longer to prepare for.

(2)    Not much happens.  For the people sitting in the benches at the back of the courtroom, it appears nothing is happening as the case moves along.  Most of the steps described above take place outside the courtroom, and then the attorneys come to court, report what they’ve been doing, and ask for a next court date.  If not enough has been done, the judge may push them along, telling them what they need to accomplish by the following month.  It’s often hard to hear what the attorneys and the judge are saying, so from your perspective, you wait and wait, then the attorneys go in front of the judge, mumble a few sentences, and walk away.  And sometimes you don’t see even that much.  The lawyers may talk on the phone or in the hallway before seeing the judge, agree there is little or nothing to report, and get a new date without saying more than a word or two to the judge or the judge’s clerk.  The thing to remember is that even when it looks like nothing is happening, usually the case is moving toward a conclusion.  Also, as I’ll discuss more in the next post, you should be able to get specific information from the prosecutor or prosecutor’s office about what’s happening in the case and what you can expect at the next date.

Next time I’ll talk about the emotional aspect of attending hearings, including that the defendant rarely apologizes, and the resources to help you through the process.  Until then, my thoughts are with you.

Author's Note:

In honor of my parents, all royalties this year from my short story collection THE TOWER FORMERLY KNOWN AS SEARS AND TWO OTHER TALES OF URBAN HORROR will be donated to AAIM. Horror writer Carrie Green referred to the stories as “horror in pinstripes,” a description I wish I ’d thought of myself and which I’m happily adopting.

For Kindle or any laptop, smartphone or computer with the free Kindle app:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005PTWKJ0

To learn more about AAIM, or make a donation in honor of someone you love, click here:http://aaim1.org/

Sunshine and the Smell of Books (DUI Loss Blog Entry No. 18)

In 2006, my parents celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  For the toast, I talked about the seven most important things I’d learned from them.  One year later, they were hit by a drunk driver while they were crossing the street.  Both died from their injuries.  I spoke at their funerals about what I’d learned from them.  I am so grateful I had the chance to tell them while they were still here how much I appreciated them and how they’d impacted my life. 

For more than a year after their deaths, I found it hard to focus on anything positive.  Despite support from family and friends, the world felt dark.  I remember the first instant I felt really good again, just for a moment.  It was June.  I attended the annual Printers’ Row Book Fair in the South Loop area of Chicago.  The sun warmed my face for the first time I could remember that spring, with just enough of a Lake Michigan breeze to keep the day from being hot.  I stepped out of the Starbucks on Dearborn and Harrison.  Book stalls and tents instead of cars lined the streets and sidewalks.  I inhaled the sweet, spicy scent of my Chai tea latte and the earthy, dry smell of old books, a smell I’ve loved my whole life.  I felt the surge of excitement I always do at that fest, surrounded by books and people who care about them as much as I do.  While I hadn’t put in my notice at work yet, I’d arranged everything for my move to open my own law practice.  So I was in a wonderful state where I felt little pressure at work, and hadn’t yet assumed the responsibilities and challenges of running my own business. 

For the first time in over a year, I breathed deep.  I relaxed.  I felt happy.

For a second. 

Then reality crashed over me.  How could I feel good when my parents had died in such a terrible way?  My mom lying in the street in the ice and snow, my dad struggling for six and a half weeks to recover, enduring surgeries, sometimes needing his hands tied to his bedrails because he got confused and agitated and tried to get out of bed without help.  Those thoughts had haunted me since the crash.  As I stood breathing in sunshine and the smell of books, I finally realized my parents would never want me to spend the rest of my life focusing on how awful their deaths were.  They would want me to be happy and remember the good about them.  Life didn’t become perfect after that.  But I spent more time thinking of what inspired me about my parents’ lives, rather than the type of deaths they suffered.

In memory of my parents on the five year anniversary of the crash, I’ve decided to do two things.  One is to write about what I learned from them.  One of those things is that trying to make the world better is part of what makes life worth living.  My parents did all types of volunteering over the years.  They donated money and ran events for veterans at Hines Hospital, took people who couldn’t drive to doctor visits, the store, or church, and organized local citizens’ movements to address village concerns.    

After my parents’ deaths, I became involved with AAIM (the Alliance Against Intoxicated Motorists).  The first time I heard of AAIM came when Twyla, an AAIM court advocate, helped me and my family through the criminal court proceedings against the driver who hit my parents.  I started attending a grief group AAIM hosts every month.  Now I speak on AAIM’s victim impact panels, where I tell first-time DUI offenders about the devastating consequences someone’s choice to drink and drive had.  These panels, like the high school programs AAIM runs, focus on preventing further deaths and injuries due to DUI.  This is both a wonderful and frustrating goal, as DUI deaths are 100% preventable.  100%.  No one ever needs to die or be injured again due to DUI driving, and it shouldn’t cost a penny – only a change in attitude.  Imagine if that’s all it took to prevent every death from cancer.  Yet, DUI deaths and injuries continue every day.    

In the coming years, AAIM hopes to extend its advocate and court watching programs into Central and Southern Illinois, continue to support legislation to help deter DUI driving, expand the reach of school programs and victim impact panels, and keep providing financial help to needy people and families who have been victims of a DUI driver. 

Which brings me to the second thing I am doing this year in honor of my parents.  All royalties from my short story collection THE TOWER FORMERLY KNOWN AS SEARS AND TWO OTHER TALES OF URBAN HORROR will be donated to AAIM.  Horror writer Carrie Green referred to the stories as “horror in pinstripes,” a description I wish I’d thought of myself and which I’m happily adopting.  THE TOWER is available for Kindle or any tablet, laptop or computer using the free Kindle app on Amazon’s site.  Simply click on the link below to buy.  By doing so, you will have the chance to read about Chicago, enjoy some Twilight Zone-like tales, and support the most unknown and yet amazing non-profit in Illinois. 

For Kindle or any laptop, smartphone or computer with the free Kindle app:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005PTWKJ0

To learn more about AAIM, or make a donation in honor of someone you love, click here:  http://aaim1.org/

Question & Answers Five Years Later (DUI Loss Entry No. 17)

Five years ago in January, a drunk driver hit my parents as they crossed the street in front of their church. The driver is serving a twelve-year prison sentence now.  Both my parents died – my mom at the scene, my dad six and a half weeks later, after many surgeries and a long struggle to recover.

It took more than a year for me to feel good again, even for a moment.  I often felt I should be able to pull myself out of anger and grief, should be able to stop feeling like I was flying apart inside, even as I walked through life with people telling me how well I was holding up (I wasn’t).  I felt certain I’d never be the same again.  And I never have been.  But I do feel better, more like myself, and happy with my life, though I still grieve.  I’ve thought a lot about what helped me return to what feels like a normal life – normal as in ups and downs, with times I feel sad or angry about the crash, and more times I remember wonderful things about my parents.

A lot of it is questions.  More than a decade before the crash, I read a book by Anthony Robbins called AWAKEN THE GIANT WITHIN.  A friend recommended it.  I was skeptical, especially because Robbins, with his shiny white smile, reminded me of a used car salesman.  But I found the book helpful in changing both how I thought and felt for the better, and finding solutions to seemingly insurmountable difficulties.  One of Robbins’ theories is that we think by asking ourselves questions.  The questions we ask determine the answers our minds provide and so the quality of our lives.  For instance, in a time of grief, if we ask, “Why do bad things always happen?”, our mind obligingly responds with reasons, usually reasons that make us feel worse.  That the world is a terrible place, that we somehow deserve whatever loss we’ve suffered, that people are, at heart, evil.  On the other hand, if we ask a question like, “What can I do that might make things better?”, our minds are almost guaranteed to return an answer that will help us take action in a positive way.

Robbins suggests a list of questions to ask each day, beginning with “What am I happy about?”  This is one I found impossible to ask in the days, months, and even the year after the crash (though I ask it now).  I’m guessing almost anyone whose loved one died would find it difficult if not impossible to answer that question.  But one question I did ask and that I continue to ask is “What am I grateful for?”  Even in the midst of feeling black and angry, I found things to be grateful for.  The nurse-practitioner at Loyola who carefully explained my dad’s medical condition and options, and who was always available to consult.  The Brookfield police and the prosecutors who did everything they could to see that the man who hit my parents was taken off the road.  Friends who did everything from organizing my parents’ financial papers to cooking for out-of-town guests to driving me home from the hospital each night.  And Twyla, the victim advocate from the Alliance Against Intoxicated Motorists who attended every court hearing in the criminal case and explained every step of the proceedings, then took me for tea afterward at a lovely coffeehouse near the courthouse so I could have some quiet time before returning to work. 

Now I also often ask, “How can I best honor my mom and dad?”  My parents donated monthly to charities despite being on a fixed income.  When I’m feeling uncertain about finances (like any business, running a law practice has its ups and downs, as does being a novelist), and I’m hesitant to give, I remember how my parents did this regularly despite their own concerns about money.  Also, inspired by my parents’ volunteerism, I’ve become involved with AAIM so I can offer support to others who lost loved ones or were injured by DUI drivers and work toward preventing further DUI-related tragedies.  I also try to honor my parents by appreciating everyone in my life.  (I’d like to say I’m perfect at doing that, which wouldn’t be so, but I try.)  All these things make me feel my parents still contribute to this world, even though they are not physically here.

Other questions I’ve found helpful are, “How can I feel just a little better right now?” “What are the things I learned from my parents that most helped me in life?” “Who in my life do I want to contact to say I love them?” “What is one thing I can do this day/week/month that might help someone else through a difficult time?” “Who is one person I want to thank for doing something kind?” “What am I really enjoying in life right now or, at least, what could I be enjoying if I would let myself?” 

I wish I had something more to offer anyone who is grieving – something that would heal the hurt and anger or, better yet, reverse time and change events so no one would ever have been injured or killed. But I don’t. Still, there’s a saying that goes something like:  "Better to light a candle than curse the gathering darkness." So I’ll hope these thoughts light a candle or two and help keep the darkness at bay.

Author's Note: 

In honor of my parents, all royalties this year from my short story collection THE TOWER FORMERLY KNOWN AS SEARS AND TWO OTHER TALES OF URBAN HORROR will be donated to AAIM. Horror writer Carrie Green referred to the stories as “horror in pinstripes,” a description I wish I’d thought of myself and which I’m happily adopting.  

For Kindle or any laptop, smartphone or computer with the free Kindle app:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005PTWKJ0

To learn more about AAIM, or make a donation in honor of someone you love, click here: http://aaim1.org/