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Judges cut teeth, little slack, in Kearny Mesa traffic court

By Hannah Shearer

August 14, 2006

San Diego--As soon as Commissioner Michael S. Goodman announced that court was in recess, a uniformed bailiff appeared at the bench, slid out the commissioner’s name placard from its holder, and replaced it with one that read “Jerome E. Varon.” A shorter man with identical black robes assumed Goodman’s seat at the bench. “Court is in session,” Varon announced, more to himself than to the courtroom’s disinterested occupants.

They could also have made the maneuver under the watchful mechanical eye of a red-light camera, many of which now grace San Diego’s intersections. An unforeseen outcome of the cameras’ ubiquity is that some of the men and women who take the stand in traffic court have no idea why they were summoned––or at least pretend as much.

“Harbor Drive and where?” a man accused of running a red light asked Varon. “I don’t know how to plead because I have no knowledge of that intersection.” The man went on to explain that he drives “like a little old lady” and couldn’t possibly have done what the camera proved beyond all reasonable doubt he had.

Unmoved, Varon informed the defendant that if he pled not guilty, a trial would be scheduled and the photograph would be presented as evidence. A second count was brought forward, for driving without a seatbelt, and the man agreed to go on trial for both at the same time. “Ta ta for now,” he snarked at the commissioner.

Varon didn’t seem to mind being addressed so casually. The commissioners themselves observed few formalities, often reading the charges before anyone had even reached the stand. As the defendants approached, an accusation was already hanging in the air: driving without a valid license or registration, exceeding 65 miles per hour on a highway, making an illegal U-turn.

One commissioner requested bagels from a defendant who wanted to schedule his trial after the mandatory 45-day window. “Sure. I’ll bring you bagels,” the defendant readily agreed.

The traffic trials and accompanying banter take place in trailers adjacent to the main building in Kearny Mesa, and are conducted by newly appointed county judges. According to a San Diego judge, who wished to remain anonymous, these trailers are where “judges learn how to be judges.”

When a judge is first appointed to the bench, he or she rotates through a training period at various city courts. The rotation includes a mandatory two-week stint in traffic court, which is ideal, according to the judge Vyuz spoke with, because “you get to wear the robes but you don’t have to face seasoned criminals.” Think of it as a practice round, where mistakes don’t matter and the justice system is incapable of completely ruining lives.

Traffic trials are procedurally simple. Those who plead not guilty immediately schedule a trial, and must appear on that date with evidence or testimony. Usually, the police officer who issued the ticket or citation is there to testify, but on rare occasions the officer is absent and charges are dismissed. This is probably not as common as all those people going to trial in hopes of dismissal think it is.

If the police officer shows, the judge will likely find the defendant guilty. Protestations such as “I didn’t see the sign!” are completely useless; in fact, judges are allowed to rule “guilty with an explanation” in order to make the defendant feel better, but this ruling does not legally differ from “guilty.” The trial is over in a matter of minutes – a piece of cake for the judges.

Still, the cake is bittersweet: it can be hard to justify passing judgment on those few unfortunates caught for the type of minor driving infraction we all commit. The judge Vyuz spoke to recalls an especially compassionate fellow judge, who once said that “she’d rather sentence a violent criminal to death than accuse an otherwise upstanding citizen of lying about running that stops sign.”

It may be easier for the defendants, who despite their hems and haws, know perfectly well whether or not they stopped at the sign or just rolled on through. They know what their speedometer read, or if they actually crossed the limit line before the light turned red.

Even if they don’t know, a friendly commissioner with photographic evidence can always provide a reminder.

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