'SAME FACES KEEP COMING BACK' TO CRIMINAL COURT

El Paso County sheriff's deputies meet below the courthouse before 6
a.m. to get inmates who have to be taken to court. This Tuesday, 107
inmates from the El Paso County Criminal Justice Center are to appear
at the courthouse.

The 4-mile ride takes only about 10 minutes, but security
preparations can take hours.

Deputies J. Robinson, R. Kaman and Matt Tannehill grab handfuls of
iron cuffs and shackles before driving the transport vans from the
courthouse to the jail.

The deputies address the inmates as "sir," "gentlemen" or "mister,"
and continuously use "please" and "thank you" when loading the transport vans.

After the vans are loaded, the deputies retrieve their checked
weapons and start the drive back to the courthouse. To the delight of
the inmates, Tannehill turns on a hip-hop radio station.

The vans arrive at the courthouse at 7:10 a.m. At least two more runs
will be required to get all 107 to the courthouse.

Most of these defendants will be in front of a judge for less than
five minutes because most cases are continued.

The dispatcher calls the courtrooms to let them know which inmates
arrived, so judges can juggle their dockets.

"The most depressing part of the job is the same faces keep coming
back," Tannehill says. "Especially, when they're young."

District Judge David Shakes arrives early, before 8 a.m., to prepare
for an afternoon sentencing hearing involving a teenager. It's one of
62 cases on his docket.

Stephen Annis stabbed a 64-year-old gas station clerk during a
robbery. He was charged as an adult with attempted murder, but
prosecutors let him plead guilty to felony first-degree assault.

Annis faces 10 to 24 years in prison.

Annis' attorney, public defender Mike McHenry, is trying to withdraw
Annis' guilty plea, even though Shakes warned him when he took the
plea that it would be final.

It's not unusual for defendants to take a plea, then talk to others
and second-guess whether they could have gotten a better deal.

Courtroom 403 and the hallway outside is starting to fill with
attorneys, defendants and their relatives.

There are 21 cases scheduled for 9 a.m.

The first defendant is Terrance Freeman, 24, who faces 12 years in
prison for felony burglary.

Freeman is in a tough spot -- he was rejected by the Public
Defender's Office because he makes too much money, yet he says a
private lawyer costs too much.

"He told me he needs $8,000," Freeman tells Shakes, "and I can't afford that."

He tries to defend himself, so Shakes tells him to meet with Division
4's Deputy District Attorney Frederick Stein to begin plea negotiations.

Shakes warns Freeman that Stein is "not on your side" and not to tell
him anything he doesn't want used against him. He then continues the case.

Freeman's hearing gives longtime Deputy Public Defender Eydie Elkins
time to work the room. There are usually two public defenders to each
courtroom, but the other is in trial in a different courtroom.

She updates clients on their cases, reviews plea agreements and
explains options.

Elkins, an 18-year veteran of the Public Defender's Office, handles
about 90 to 100 cases at any given time.

"It's something I've wanted to do since high school," Elkins says.
"It was instilled in me that it takes one person to make a difference
in changing the world."

One court-appointed client at a time, Elkins tries to make a
difference, or at least protect their rights.

"My job is to show the human side of the client," Elkins says. "The
court just sees the charging documents."

The average case takes three to six months; homicide cases take
longer. Cases make it to trial less than 10 percent of the time, so,
it's all in the plea negotiations.

Drugs, she says, are the cause of most criminal cases, either
directly with possession or sale charges, or indirectly with property
crimes to pay for a drug habit.

"Most people, by nature, aren't evil and greedy," she says. "What
they are is high, and they want to keep getting high. If you know
anything about meth, you can be sympathetic. Prison sentences are
handed out way too easily."

No prison sentences are handed out this morning in Courtroom 403.

Shakes plows through the docket, spending an average of less than two
minutes on each case.

It's the only way courts can function without grinding to a halt.
Most cases are continued to future hearings. The charges cover
everything from theft, to trespassing, to someone failing to register
as a sex offender and lots of drug possession.

"Generally, there's a method to the madness," Shakes says.

He takes care of inmates first -- it's a security issue.

Then, he'll usually call the private attorneys: "The clients don't
pay their lawyer to sit around for two hours and wait for a case to
be called," he says.

At 9:37 a.m., Shakes issues a bench warrant for a woman who was
supposed to be in court by 9 a.m.

If someone has a warrant out for their arrest when they arrive for
court, deputies put the cuffs on right away. That happened 2,769 times in 2005.

"Anything else we can do now?" Shakes asks the attorneys just before
10 a.m. "Apparently not. Let's recess."

After lunch, Shakes is ready for the Annis sentencing.

The victim in the case, Thomas Anderson, looks over written comments
and mouths the words he wants to say.

Shakes denies Annis' request to withdraw his plea and moves to sentencing.

Anderson matter-of-factly tells of all he had been through since
being stabbed. What hurt the worst: his cat died of starvation
because there was no one to care for it while he was recuperating.

Stein calls the attack "vicious" and says Annis had "a number of
chances from the juvenile justice system."

He asks for 20 years.

McHenry says his client was high on methamphetamine and alcohol at
the time of the stabbing, and is not violent by nature. He urges
Shakes to give Annis a chance to rehabilitate and asks for 10 years.

Annis apologizes and tells Anderson he can have his childhood pet cat
"Mittens."

Shakes explains the four goals of sentencing: rehabilitation,
retribution, deterrence and a punishment equal with the crime.

With the words "You are hereby remanded to the custody of the
Department of Corrections" he sentences Annis to 12 years, saying he
considered Annis' remorse and age.

After the hearing, Anderson says he's seriously considering Annis' cat offer.

"Sentencing is hard," Shakes says later. "It's about the hardest
thing we do here."

The day's last case is a man accused of raping his two daughters for
years. The defendant is not named to protect the victims.

He insists on defending himself -- called "pro se" -- and says police
framed him by planting child pornography. His daughters lied, he says.

"Pro se cases are difficult because they're not schooled in the law
and rules," Deputy District Attorney Jeff Lindsey says later. "It's
hard to predict what they'll do. Most lawyers know how to prepare a
case, so you know what to expect."

"I tried to talk him out of it every time he came before me," Shakes
says later.

Shakes has appointed defense attorney David Foley to serve as
advisory council, though the suspect regularly rejects Foley's advice.

Shakes lays down ground rules for the trial the following week --
including the man's questioning his daughters -- who, Lindsey says,
are terrified at the prospect.

Although Shakes' division doesn't usually handle divorce cases, he
picked up one this Wednesday from another judge swamped with other cases.

The couple have few assets and plenty of debt. They were married for
under a year. The woman was trying to care for three children and is pregnant.

The divorce is bitter -- the wife has a restraining order against the husband.

Shakes grants the divorce, but before the couple leaves, he gives them advice:

"It would not be beneficial if you two carry hate and bitterness down
the road. That feeling of animosity -- you need to get over it."

There were 4,578 divorces filed in the 4th Judicial District in 2005,
but Shakes doesn't handle very many.

Because he rarely hears divorces, he refers to the judges' "cheat
sheet." All judges have a book called "Criminal Bench Book," which
outlines the defendant's rights and the steps that must be followed.
They also have a book called "Statutory Considerations" and a
computer with an electronic bench book that will quickly access case
law and statutes.

"I probably have the most bench books of anyone," Shakes says.

Wednesday afternoon, Shakes resumes the case of the accused child molester.

The defendant says he wants to show jurors computer disks with child
pornography on them -- even though the charge of possession of child
pornography was dropped Tuesday.

Shakes is baffled. He tells the man that it would likely backfire.

The man counters that the disks would prove a police conspiracy. He
claims the disks were blank when officers seized them and police
planted the pornography.

"I'd like to make a record that I strongly advised (the defendant)
not to pursue this issue," Foley says, exasperated.

"Sounds like sound advice to me," Shakes says. "You're walking on a
minefield, in my opinion, and it could turn out to be a bad mistake."

The following week, a jury would convict him after deliberating a short time.

[sidebar]

ABOUT THE SERIES

This three-day series goes behind the scenes of the legal system in
the 4th Judicial District, which includes El Paso and Teller
counties. District Judge David Shakes allowed a reporter into his
courtroom, chambers and clerks' office for a week to document the
process. - See Part 1 of the series at www.gazette.com.

[sidebar]

BY THE NUMBERS

2005 facts and figures from the 4th Judicial District:

34,720 - Misdemeanor and serious traffic cases handled by Teller and
El Paso county courts.

288 - Felony cases handled by the economic crime division, up from 111 in 2004.

91 - Appeal cases, handled by one district attorney.

$2,905,994 - Amount collected in restitution; 4,716 payout orders
were prepared and submitted.