SMALL-TIME POT ARRESTS HUGE HASSLE FOR COURTS

With the new school year set to begin, 17-year-old Xavier Fernandez
figured a $20 bag of weed was the best way to celebrate a move from
his mom's place in Bucktown to his grandma's house in Florida.

"He was just having fun with his friends," his mother, Diana Ortega,
said, explaining how her son wound up in jail for five hours last
month--and in a West Side courtroom last week.

By the letter of the law, he was in serious trouble, facing up to 30
days in jail and a $1,500 fine. But like many of the 20,000 people
arrested on misdemeanor marijuana possession charges each year in
Chicago, Fernandez figured he could beat it.

"That's why we're here--you've got to show up in court," his mother
said Thursday, having flown her son back to Chicago the night before.
Certain the case would go away, Fernandez came to court with a packed
duffel bag and a return ticket on a 4:30 p.m. flight to Florida.

Police and prosecutors plan to meet this week to consider whether city
fines akin to traffic citations might be a better way to penalize pot
smokers. Mayor Richard Daley endorsed the idea last week.

The new approach was part of a recent Chicago Police Department study
showing the vast majority of misdemeanor marijuana possession charges
in the city are dropped because police and prosecutors have bigger
problems to tackle. Arresting officers and drug-lab technicians rarely
are in court to make the cases. Prosecutors and judges with
overwhelming caseloads make quick deals or drop the charges altogether.

A few hours last week with the defendants and attorneys in one of the
city's five bustling misdemeanor courts showed that being caught with
a joint or two is likely to remain a crime with little consequence no
matter what law is on the books.

You're Free, in 3 Languages

Cook County Circuit Court Branch 23 at Grand and Central Avenues is
where defendants from parts of Austin, Humboldt Park, Wicker Park and
Bucktown all wind up after getting busted for pot possession or any
number of other minor crimes, such as theft and fighting.

Eight rows of wooden benches are etched with signs of gangs, love and
loyalty: "Mellow-N-Caroline," "Dino-N-Carol," "Thugz." Many church
pastors would feel blessed to have pews as full as these shortly
before the case call starts at 9 a.m.

Court Clerk Freddie Roder, in a crisp dress shirt and dazzling yellow
tie, strolled up to the bench with a stack of files as thick as two
cake boxes and dropped them with a thump on the judge's desk.

"This is just the morning [caseload]. Actually, I think it's just half
the morning," he joked.

This courtroom is the dominion of Judge Michael Keehan, a burly,
60-year-old former Chicago police detective.

"Is there any reason we shouldn't destroy your brass knuckles?" Keehan
asked a woman in a pretty orange top and flowered skirt.

"Nice girl!" he cracked when an unemployed marijuana defendant said he
lived off his girlfriend's income.

As often as he barked, though, Keehan tossed files aside as
prosecutors dropped charges. "You're free to go," the judge told
defendants. For those who didn't speak English, Keehan signaled
freedom with signs written in Polish or Spanish.

When it was his turn to defend himself for having enough pot for two
joints, Xavier Fernandez made a tactical error. He said he had moved
to Florida and drew a judicial scowl. "Did you sign this bond sheet?"
the judge thundered, waving a paper. "It says you can't leave the
state. Have a seat."

It's not good when Keehan tells you to have a seat. It means you have
a few minutes to consult with a public defender. It means prosecutors
might actually prosecute you.

On a back bench, Fernandez's mother rolled her eyes.

Of 24 marijuana possession defendants in Keehan's courtroom Thursday,
four got the charge dropped, either because arresting officers didn't
appear or prosecutors chose not to proceed. Five defendants didn't
show. Three took quick slaps on the wrist: orders to attend a drug
education class that leads to a case dismissal if completed. Nine
defendants got new court dates--at least a couple did so in a
cat-and-mouse game after seeing their arresting officers in court.
Only three pleaded guilty and got either probation or credit for a day
or two served in jail.

It was that kind of lax enforcement that led police Sgt. Thomas
Donegan to analyze marijuana cases citywide and call for change. For
2002 and 2003, he found that cases were dropped against four out of
five defendants caught with less than 10 grams. Ten grams is enough to
roll about seven joints.

The Ticket Tactic

A better approach, Donegan suggested, would be to issue $250 tickets
to those caught with 10 grams or less or up to $1,000 for those caught
with as much as 30 grams.

Police brass and prosecutors will meet this week to consider the idea,
said John Gorman, a spokesman for Cook County State's Atty. Richard
Devine.

Among the questions is what would happen once someone contests a pot
ticket. Defense attorneys said they could still beat a ticket by
demanding to have police at a hearing and asking that a chemist prove
the substance is marijuana.

"They never get the chemist," defense attorney Stuart Goldberg said
Thursday outside Branch 23.

Bianca Hernandez's trip to Branch 23 last week was about as fast and
routine as a trip to the grocery store. It was her second marijuana
case of the summer. This one, like the first, was dismissed because
the arresting officer did not appear in court. Hernandez makes $6.50
an hour as a file clerk for a landscaper. But she's as pragmatic as
any defense attorney in her conclusion that she could avoid a fine
just as easily.

"I wouldn't pay," she said. "It's not worth it."

Admitted gang member Adrian Hernandez, 21, at Branch 23 after being
arrested for loitering on his block, said he thinks most people will
rack up a few tickets without paying and wind up in deeper trouble.

Some patrol officers acknowledge they make marijuana arrests knowing
the cases will get thrown out, but do so to please neighborhood
groups. Hernandez said that motivation was clear recently when an
officer caught him smoking a joint.

"The cop said to me, 'Another [expletive] off the street for a few
hours,'" Hernandez said.

Not everybody gets a break. Prosecutors put the squeeze on Aida Rivera
last week, forcing her to go to trial in November for having a joint,
she said, because she's on probation for fighting with a police officer.

"Don't worry," counseled her fellow pot defendant and Humboldt Park
neighbor Omar Trejo. "Look at me. Nothing," Trejo, 24, said of his
punishment last week. He took the drug-class option after getting
caught with eight small bags of weed.

Back inside, Xavier Fernandez took counsel from a public defender.
"Just plead innocent, and they'll let it go," was the advice, Xavier's
mother said. It didn't get that far. After a talk between the public
defender and a prosecutor who recognized the teen had no criminal
record, the case was over, the move to Florida forgiven.

"You're free to go," Keehan told him.

It was 3 p.m., leaving Fernandez time to get to Midway Airport. "I've
got school tomorrow," he said.