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Courtroom 302: A Year Behind the Scenes in an American Criminal Courthouse
Courtroom 302 is the fascinating story of one year in Chicago's Cook County Criminal Courthouse, the busiest felony courthouse in the country. Here we see the system through the eyes of the men and women who experience it, not only in the courtroom but in the lockup, the jury room, the judge's chambers, the spectators' gallery. From the daily grind of the court to the highest-profile case of the year, Steve Bogira's masterful investigation raises fundamental issues of race, civil rights, and justice in America.
416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
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April 27, 2016
Since graduating law school nearly four years ago, I have worked in a courthouse. Among the many things I've learned - turn off your cell phones, don't run from the sheriffs because they have tasers, give the hot dogs a chance because they're not that bad - the thing that stands out is that the classic television show Night Court wasn't that far off the mark. No, I don't work a night shift, and no, there aren't nearly as many colorful characters, but Night Court got a lot right, but with a humorous twist.
Most Americans will never set foot inside a courtroom. Indeed, if we're lucky, our brushes with the law will be of the lead-footed variety, which can now be taken care of by writing a check or charging a credit card. If we do go to court, it's most likely because we got a little buzzed and got behind the wheel. That aside, the only idea most of us - well, most of you, since I work in one - have of a courthouse and the legal system comes from the media.
What most legal dramas get wrong and Night Court got right is that the courthouse is a hermetically sealed, organic world with its own ecosystem. The players are near-universal, almost archetypes: the judges who stride the halls like lords on their fiefs; arrogant prosecutors with their smug self-righteousness; over-worked public defenders in cheap suits; the courthouse lawyers who gather in small, intimate groups to drink coffee and exchange gossip; the high-priced private attorneys who come in with $800 suits and bewildered looks on their faces; the vendors who know everyone by name; the homeless guys, who come in for a morning coffee before the shelters open, and who always leave before the guards get antsy; the orange jump-suited defendants who shuffle along in their manacles; the defendants' families, who travel in large, boisterous packs, loudly protesting injustice and iniquity; sad-eyed women on their way to get P/Os; strutting cops on their way to testify; suspicious-eyed sheriffs doing warrant checks.
In Courtroom 302, Steve Bogira tells the story of a year in a courthouse. But not just any courthouse. Cook County Courthouse in Illinois, the busiest criminal courthouse in the nation. Though he focuses on a single courtroom, the titular 302, he gives you the whole sweep of the place.
This was a fascinating idea for a book, and in many ways it is quite valuable. However, it is often uneven, and dramatic high points are interspersed with narrative lulls. By the end, the repetitive nature of the subject matter - an unending cycle of small time offenders flushed through the system - bogs things down.
The book starts well, with a Dante-like journey into lockup that should be read aloud to high-risk children, along with a warning: you don't want to go here. With a fly-on-the-wall quality that marks the best journalism, Bogira really captures the down-and-dirty (and mostly unknown) side of criminal justice. I call the courthouse the Law Factory, and Bogira's opening backs this up. In general, criminal justice is a rote process: alleged criminals hauled out of the tank; an overstretched PD giving a brief spiel (I generally meet my clients on the day of trial, and have about five minutes to decide whether to plea or try); the prosecutor reading from police reports; an argument over bond; the defendant hauled back to the tank while another takes his place. Its fast and nasty and lacks the slowly unfolding drama of Law and Order.
* The Gerstein hearing determines whether there is probable cause to continue holding a criminal defendant.
I was really impressed with the number of people Borgira got to know. Of course, I was partial to the public defenders, but he also follows the prosecutors and - most incredibly - many of the defendants. In some ways, these sad-sacks are as much victims as perpetrators. But more on that in a second.
The main character is Judge Daniel Locallo, who presides in #302. The access that Locallo gave is pretty amazing, and frankly, as someone who's worked with a number of district court judges, surprising. For whatever reason, I didn't like Locallo, and that might have something to do with the fact that he's the kind of judge who'd let a reporter follow him around.
When you deal in real life, you have to report the drama that's given you. In this book, unfortunately, the highest-profile case in Locallo's courtroom is a white-on-black, racially-motivated assault. Not to diminish this crime (which I sort of am), but television has got one thing right: there's no drama like a murder trial. Bogira gives this case all due attention and detail, but the fact is, in strictly dramatic terms, an assault cannot measure up to the high stakes of a murder case. (Oddly, during a separate case - a burglary - Locallo and his staff go to the scene of the crime, which is highly unorthodox, borderline prejudicial, and another little detail that made me wonder what this judge was thinking).
Built into the narrative is a bit of the history of Cook County. And oh, what a sordid history it is! In short, for a many, many years, there was a pattern of police officers and detectives mistreating black suspects. We're not just talking about your garden variety police perjury (which happens ALL the time), but actual torture: electric shocks, suffocation with plastic bags, guns stuck in mouths. This behavior should be borne in mind whenever one is tempted to bemoan the "overreaching" of Earl Warren's Miranda decision.
The decision to include this historical context was made because Bogira has a larger social point to make. First, that the criminal justice system is titled against blacks and Hispanics; and second, that the reason for this is our nation's horrible drug laws.
I don't want to get into a rant or work myself into a lather (especially since I'm sitting on my new couch), but America's Prohibition-Era mindset when it comes to drugs is costing thousands of lives and billions of dollars (both spent and in lost tax revenue). I say this as a person who has never used drugs, and who has no desire to start.
Lets start with marijuana (I think all drugs, even the most dangerous, should be legal, because freedom means the freedom to make horrible choices that destroy yourself), which a slim majority of Americans agree should be legalized, and which a healthy majority believe should be legalized medicinally. Now, marijuana is a naturally occurring substance. It is mood and mind altering, like alcohol or cigarettes. In terms of health risks, it is analogous to tobacco. (Opponents of the California initiative to legalize weed were quoted in the New York Times as warning against "absenteeism and truancy". What!?) The problem with weed is that it's never had a good lobby (Cheech and Chong don't amount to much when compared to the billions spent by Big Alcohol and Big Tobacco). Essentially, the only imperative behind this law is a hypocritical and inconsistent moral imperative.
As to costs. Well, lets start with the cartels of Mexico, who've slaughtered thousands of people in an attempt to keep up with American demand. Then transition to the inner cities of America, where the drug trade spawns gangs and violence that will never end. (It's never going to end for good economic reasons: an uneducated black man with a criminal record isn't going to get a good job, but he can make a couple hundred bucks in half an hour selling grass to white college students). Next, we move to the criminal justice system, which as Bogira shows, is being choked by drug crimes, many of them lame possession charges. From the courtroom we go to overcrowded prisons, filled with men rung up for having drug addictions. All these prisoners are on the taxpayer dole. Plus, don't forget the ancillary effect on our civil liberties. The "war on drugs" has degraded far more of our freedoms than the "war on terror." The 4th Amendment barely exists any more, and that's thanks to enforcement of the drug laws. (For instance, the next time you're pulled over, make sure you don't do anything suspicious, because that cop has an almost unfettered right to search you and your entire vehicle on the flimsiest of premises. Believe me, I've seen it: it's but a short step from "failing to signal" to a full-body search.)
In interviewing the criminal defendants of Cook County, Bogira does an excellent job of illustrating the costly, wasteful cycle of drug convictions. You haul a guy in, put him through the ringer, set him free, and wait for him to float back.
Weed is described as a gateway drug, but I'd call it a gateway crime. It's how many poor blacks enter the legal system, and once they've come in, it's hard to get out. It's the Crime Gyre. Start small, with possession with intent to distribute (doesn't matter that it was all for you, because the arbitrary weights mean there's a presumption you're a dealer). You'll get thirty days in jail. Spend that time bunked four to a cell with actual criminals. Learn from them. Befriend them. Get out on the streets. Get caught again. Bump you up to a felony. Now you'll never get a job, not with that record. The rest of your life is set. That's the vortex.
I'm not minimizing the health costs of drugs, but the real problems with drugs aren't health-related, because if they were, we'd focus on treatment instead of pushing users underground. The danger is the black market environment created by criminalization. That's the underlying point of Courtroom 302. It's a point I agree with. However, like my own little rant, it gets belabored to an extent that is distracting, and ultimately detracted from my enjoyment of the book.
Most Americans will never set foot inside a courtroom. Indeed, if we're lucky, our brushes with the law will be of the lead-footed variety, which can now be taken care of by writing a check or charging a credit card. If we do go to court, it's most likely because we got a little buzzed and got behind the wheel. That aside, the only idea most of us - well, most of you, since I work in one - have of a courthouse and the legal system comes from the media.
What most legal dramas get wrong and Night Court got right is that the courthouse is a hermetically sealed, organic world with its own ecosystem. The players are near-universal, almost archetypes: the judges who stride the halls like lords on their fiefs; arrogant prosecutors with their smug self-righteousness; over-worked public defenders in cheap suits; the courthouse lawyers who gather in small, intimate groups to drink coffee and exchange gossip; the high-priced private attorneys who come in with $800 suits and bewildered looks on their faces; the vendors who know everyone by name; the homeless guys, who come in for a morning coffee before the shelters open, and who always leave before the guards get antsy; the orange jump-suited defendants who shuffle along in their manacles; the defendants' families, who travel in large, boisterous packs, loudly protesting injustice and iniquity; sad-eyed women on their way to get P/Os; strutting cops on their way to testify; suspicious-eyed sheriffs doing warrant checks.
In Courtroom 302, Steve Bogira tells the story of a year in a courthouse. But not just any courthouse. Cook County Courthouse in Illinois, the busiest criminal courthouse in the nation. Though he focuses on a single courtroom, the titular 302, he gives you the whole sweep of the place.
This was a fascinating idea for a book, and in many ways it is quite valuable. However, it is often uneven, and dramatic high points are interspersed with narrative lulls. By the end, the repetitive nature of the subject matter - an unending cycle of small time offenders flushed through the system - bogs things down.
The book starts well, with a Dante-like journey into lockup that should be read aloud to high-risk children, along with a warning: you don't want to go here. With a fly-on-the-wall quality that marks the best journalism, Bogira really captures the down-and-dirty (and mostly unknown) side of criminal justice. I call the courthouse the Law Factory, and Bogira's opening backs this up. In general, criminal justice is a rote process: alleged criminals hauled out of the tank; an overstretched PD giving a brief spiel (I generally meet my clients on the day of trial, and have about five minutes to decide whether to plea or try); the prosecutor reading from police reports; an argument over bond; the defendant hauled back to the tank while another takes his place. Its fast and nasty and lacks the slowly unfolding drama of Law and Order.
At 26th Street the lawyers and the judge polish off bond hearings almost as rapidly as the judge does the Gersteins.* The assistant state's attorney takes fifteen seconds or so to inform the judge of any blemishes in the defendant's background - convictions, failures to appear in court. The PD then takes his quarter-minute to summarize the defendant's pluses - a job, a family, a stable address. The lawyers speak at an auctioneer's pace, knowing that any dallying will subject them to the grumbles and eye-rolls of the deputies. And usually without pause, the judge announces the defendant's bond.
* The Gerstein hearing determines whether there is probable cause to continue holding a criminal defendant.
I was really impressed with the number of people Borgira got to know. Of course, I was partial to the public defenders, but he also follows the prosecutors and - most incredibly - many of the defendants. In some ways, these sad-sacks are as much victims as perpetrators. But more on that in a second.
The main character is Judge Daniel Locallo, who presides in #302. The access that Locallo gave is pretty amazing, and frankly, as someone who's worked with a number of district court judges, surprising. For whatever reason, I didn't like Locallo, and that might have something to do with the fact that he's the kind of judge who'd let a reporter follow him around.
When you deal in real life, you have to report the drama that's given you. In this book, unfortunately, the highest-profile case in Locallo's courtroom is a white-on-black, racially-motivated assault. Not to diminish this crime (which I sort of am), but television has got one thing right: there's no drama like a murder trial. Bogira gives this case all due attention and detail, but the fact is, in strictly dramatic terms, an assault cannot measure up to the high stakes of a murder case. (Oddly, during a separate case - a burglary - Locallo and his staff go to the scene of the crime, which is highly unorthodox, borderline prejudicial, and another little detail that made me wonder what this judge was thinking).
Built into the narrative is a bit of the history of Cook County. And oh, what a sordid history it is! In short, for a many, many years, there was a pattern of police officers and detectives mistreating black suspects. We're not just talking about your garden variety police perjury (which happens ALL the time), but actual torture: electric shocks, suffocation with plastic bags, guns stuck in mouths. This behavior should be borne in mind whenever one is tempted to bemoan the "overreaching" of Earl Warren's Miranda decision.
The decision to include this historical context was made because Bogira has a larger social point to make. First, that the criminal justice system is titled against blacks and Hispanics; and second, that the reason for this is our nation's horrible drug laws.
I don't want to get into a rant or work myself into a lather (especially since I'm sitting on my new couch), but America's Prohibition-Era mindset when it comes to drugs is costing thousands of lives and billions of dollars (both spent and in lost tax revenue). I say this as a person who has never used drugs, and who has no desire to start.
Lets start with marijuana (I think all drugs, even the most dangerous, should be legal, because freedom means the freedom to make horrible choices that destroy yourself), which a slim majority of Americans agree should be legalized, and which a healthy majority believe should be legalized medicinally. Now, marijuana is a naturally occurring substance. It is mood and mind altering, like alcohol or cigarettes. In terms of health risks, it is analogous to tobacco. (Opponents of the California initiative to legalize weed were quoted in the New York Times as warning against "absenteeism and truancy". What!?) The problem with weed is that it's never had a good lobby (Cheech and Chong don't amount to much when compared to the billions spent by Big Alcohol and Big Tobacco). Essentially, the only imperative behind this law is a hypocritical and inconsistent moral imperative.
As to costs. Well, lets start with the cartels of Mexico, who've slaughtered thousands of people in an attempt to keep up with American demand. Then transition to the inner cities of America, where the drug trade spawns gangs and violence that will never end. (It's never going to end for good economic reasons: an uneducated black man with a criminal record isn't going to get a good job, but he can make a couple hundred bucks in half an hour selling grass to white college students). Next, we move to the criminal justice system, which as Bogira shows, is being choked by drug crimes, many of them lame possession charges. From the courtroom we go to overcrowded prisons, filled with men rung up for having drug addictions. All these prisoners are on the taxpayer dole. Plus, don't forget the ancillary effect on our civil liberties. The "war on drugs" has degraded far more of our freedoms than the "war on terror." The 4th Amendment barely exists any more, and that's thanks to enforcement of the drug laws. (For instance, the next time you're pulled over, make sure you don't do anything suspicious, because that cop has an almost unfettered right to search you and your entire vehicle on the flimsiest of premises. Believe me, I've seen it: it's but a short step from "failing to signal" to a full-body search.)
In interviewing the criminal defendants of Cook County, Bogira does an excellent job of illustrating the costly, wasteful cycle of drug convictions. You haul a guy in, put him through the ringer, set him free, and wait for him to float back.
Weed is described as a gateway drug, but I'd call it a gateway crime. It's how many poor blacks enter the legal system, and once they've come in, it's hard to get out. It's the Crime Gyre. Start small, with possession with intent to distribute (doesn't matter that it was all for you, because the arbitrary weights mean there's a presumption you're a dealer). You'll get thirty days in jail. Spend that time bunked four to a cell with actual criminals. Learn from them. Befriend them. Get out on the streets. Get caught again. Bump you up to a felony. Now you'll never get a job, not with that record. The rest of your life is set. That's the vortex.
I'm not minimizing the health costs of drugs, but the real problems with drugs aren't health-related, because if they were, we'd focus on treatment instead of pushing users underground. The danger is the black market environment created by criminalization. That's the underlying point of Courtroom 302. It's a point I agree with. However, like my own little rant, it gets belabored to an extent that is distracting, and ultimately detracted from my enjoyment of the book.
October 5, 2013
This account by Chicago Reader reporter Steve Bogira of a year spent observing Judge Daniel Locallo's courtroom in the Cook County Criminal Courthouse is fascinating, thoroughly researched, and well written. Bogira picks a handful of cases from the constant parade of addicts, drug dealers, accused murderers, aggravated batterers, and mobsters who pass before Locallo. We meet one 18 year old murder defendant who wears pigtails and jumpers with Winnie the Pooh logos, but has a tattoo of a hand clutching a penis on her calf, hidden under knee socks. We become acquainted with Frank Caruso Jr., the young son of a reputed mobster who is on trial for nearly beating to death a 13 year old black kid who biked into Caruso's mostly white neighborhood. (Caruso's lawyer, Ed Genson, has since represented R. Kelly, Conrad Black, and Rod Blagojevich, before resigning from Blago's defense team.) We meet the prosecutors, the public defenders, the courtroom deputies, and sometimes the parents and spouses of the defendants.
Interesting things pop up: Locallo bars memory and eyewitness expert Elizabeth Loftus from testifying, because he doesn't like expert testimony; Loftus went on to testify for the defense in the Scooter Libby trial in 2006, where prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald grilled her mercilessly and had her stuttering and backpedaling away from many of her expert conclusions. Particularly embarrassing, Fitzgerald asked the memory expert if they had met before and she responded no, but in fact they had, on a previous case.
Bogira occasionally goes back in time, whether to look at police commander Jon Burge's torture regime (a perjury case against Burge is currently underway in Patrick Fitzgerald's district, the statute of limitations on torture being long past) or the corrupt judges of Operation Greylord.
Judge Locallo presents an interesting study: a judge who gets the highest ratings from bar associations, but has trouble seeing that a judge convicted in Operation Greylord could actually be guilty, because they're friends; and who mulls over whether he should send a drug offender to boot camp or treatment, at the same time that he has "a gentlemen's bet" with another judge over who can send the most offenders to boot camp.
Thoughtfully, Bogira provides an epilogue in which we learn what has happened to the main players between 1998, his year of observation, and 2005 - who's been paroled, pardoned, who's back on the street buying crack after their release, who's managed to smuggle 10 lbs. of raw hamburger meat into their prison cell, who's moved from the criminal courthouse to the civil. This is the kind of book where you want to know that stuff, because Bogira makes it interesting.
February 23, 2009
So let me first disclose that although I don't know Bogira himself, I did go to high school with his eldest child, Natalie. That has no bearing on my review.
This book, after re-read, still gets 5 stars from me. I first read Courtroom 302 when it was first published since I was just in my 1st year of law school and my parents thought I'd like to read about the criminal system in Cook County (where I grew up).
Fast forward to the present--I'm back in Cook County--and I actually work for Cook County as an attorney. Although I do abuse/neglect/dependency work (and I represent DCFS wards themselves--I'm not a State's Attorney or Public Defender), many of my older clients are dually involved. Meaning, they are State Wards, but they have committed crimes and are either a part of the juvenile justice system, or more likely (once they are over 17) are a part of the Adult criminal system. I have spent some time viewing cases at 26th and California (although not in the infamous 302, I've been mostly in the older courtrooms that don't have separate glass viewing chambers; they're open wooden benches). While Bogira wrote his book 10 years ago; not much has changed in the way the system works.
I also enjoy the fact that (save for a couple of people), Bogira was able to do the book without pseudonyms, so we, the audience, can relate even more to the characters in the book. No 'guessing' as to who they really are; you know.
The Lenard Clark case, which is at the forefront of this book, is a memory of my Senior year in high school. It's still weird reading about it now, as it seems even longer than 10 years ago. But I do think that Bogira's coverage is fair and wonderfully written as it takes the angles of the case from pretty much every side--including the deciding factor; the judge himself.
For those who care, Locallo is still a Judge in the Law Division in Cook County, and he's moved back to Downtown from Rolling Meadows.
This book, after re-read, still gets 5 stars from me. I first read Courtroom 302 when it was first published since I was just in my 1st year of law school and my parents thought I'd like to read about the criminal system in Cook County (where I grew up).
Fast forward to the present--I'm back in Cook County--and I actually work for Cook County as an attorney. Although I do abuse/neglect/dependency work (and I represent DCFS wards themselves--I'm not a State's Attorney or Public Defender), many of my older clients are dually involved. Meaning, they are State Wards, but they have committed crimes and are either a part of the juvenile justice system, or more likely (once they are over 17) are a part of the Adult criminal system. I have spent some time viewing cases at 26th and California (although not in the infamous 302, I've been mostly in the older courtrooms that don't have separate glass viewing chambers; they're open wooden benches). While Bogira wrote his book 10 years ago; not much has changed in the way the system works.
I also enjoy the fact that (save for a couple of people), Bogira was able to do the book without pseudonyms, so we, the audience, can relate even more to the characters in the book. No 'guessing' as to who they really are; you know.
The Lenard Clark case, which is at the forefront of this book, is a memory of my Senior year in high school. It's still weird reading about it now, as it seems even longer than 10 years ago. But I do think that Bogira's coverage is fair and wonderfully written as it takes the angles of the case from pretty much every side--including the deciding factor; the judge himself.
For those who care, Locallo is still a Judge in the Law Division in Cook County, and he's moved back to Downtown from Rolling Meadows.
December 5, 2019
I have always been a fan of courtroom drama (movie and TV, used to like the old “Law and Order”), so I was keen on this book and it certainly didn’t disappoint.
The author gives us the entire apparatus of a courtroom in the city of Chicago. We are shown many levels: the defendants (most of whom are poor, African American, and many have been picked up on drug-related charges), the deputies who guard the defendants, the public defenders, the prosecutors, the judges, and some jury members are also interviewed.
There are a lot of startling areas examined. Obviously these pertain to the U.S., but I suspect it is similar in Canada.
Most cases don’t make it to a jury trial (the venue we are most familiar with!). In the courtroom under observation in 2004, 91% were disposed of by guilty pleas (page 360 my book) – called plea bargaining. The defendant, on consultation with his lawyer, enters a guilty verdict for which, as an example, he (or she) will get a 2 year sentence. The defendant is told that you can plead not guilty and go on trial, which will take place in the future and can take anywhere from a day to a week or two – and you may be found not guilty. Or – and this is the key to the advantage of plea bargaining – you can be found guilty and get a maximum sentence of 15 years. There is no guarantee what the outcome will be with a trial. So the defendant pleads guilty and gets the two years – and all this is done in a few minutes. And onto the next case!
There is a vast contingent of people whose lives depend on the drug trade – and I am not referring to the dealers and users – but to all those mentioned in the second paragraph of this review, plus the entire prison system which has grown tremendously; in 1980 there were 502,000 inmates, in 2003 there were 2,086,000 inmates (page 363). In Illinois eighty percent of the inmates are black (page 57). Often drug arrests are for miniscule portions – but the length of incarceration increases with each offense.
There has been corruption of judges taking bribes from defendants – usually via the public defender. During the 1980’s some police officers were torturing defenders to extract confessions. Detectives often doctor their files to remove details that would be unfavourable to the conviction of their suspect. This often happens in high priority cases where there is political pressure (from government and media) to have a speedy arrest and trial. Many defendants come from shattered backgrounds, abandoned by parents – or worse - parents and/or relatives who physically beat them and molested them.
There are a number of interesting trials discussed in the book. And one case demonstrates that not all is revealed in the courtroom! Layers remain hidden beneath the courtroom surface.
This is a most interesting and probing book on the entire judicial process. Well worth it!
Page 72
The three beat reporters have to be highly selective about what they cover, given the more than one thousand cases on the courthouse’s menu every day. A crime needs a special twist to win their attention – a mother suffocating her children, a teen beating his father to death, a congressman having sex with a minor. Almost any killing of or by a police officer makes the cut. But the trial of one young black male for slaying another rarely does.
The author gives us the entire apparatus of a courtroom in the city of Chicago. We are shown many levels: the defendants (most of whom are poor, African American, and many have been picked up on drug-related charges), the deputies who guard the defendants, the public defenders, the prosecutors, the judges, and some jury members are also interviewed.
There are a lot of startling areas examined. Obviously these pertain to the U.S., but I suspect it is similar in Canada.
Most cases don’t make it to a jury trial (the venue we are most familiar with!). In the courtroom under observation in 2004, 91% were disposed of by guilty pleas (page 360 my book) – called plea bargaining. The defendant, on consultation with his lawyer, enters a guilty verdict for which, as an example, he (or she) will get a 2 year sentence. The defendant is told that you can plead not guilty and go on trial, which will take place in the future and can take anywhere from a day to a week or two – and you may be found not guilty. Or – and this is the key to the advantage of plea bargaining – you can be found guilty and get a maximum sentence of 15 years. There is no guarantee what the outcome will be with a trial. So the defendant pleads guilty and gets the two years – and all this is done in a few minutes. And onto the next case!
There is a vast contingent of people whose lives depend on the drug trade – and I am not referring to the dealers and users – but to all those mentioned in the second paragraph of this review, plus the entire prison system which has grown tremendously; in 1980 there were 502,000 inmates, in 2003 there were 2,086,000 inmates (page 363). In Illinois eighty percent of the inmates are black (page 57). Often drug arrests are for miniscule portions – but the length of incarceration increases with each offense.
There has been corruption of judges taking bribes from defendants – usually via the public defender. During the 1980’s some police officers were torturing defenders to extract confessions. Detectives often doctor their files to remove details that would be unfavourable to the conviction of their suspect. This often happens in high priority cases where there is political pressure (from government and media) to have a speedy arrest and trial. Many defendants come from shattered backgrounds, abandoned by parents – or worse - parents and/or relatives who physically beat them and molested them.
There are a number of interesting trials discussed in the book. And one case demonstrates that not all is revealed in the courtroom! Layers remain hidden beneath the courtroom surface.
This is a most interesting and probing book on the entire judicial process. Well worth it!
Page 72
The three beat reporters have to be highly selective about what they cover, given the more than one thousand cases on the courthouse’s menu every day. A crime needs a special twist to win their attention – a mother suffocating her children, a teen beating his father to death, a congressman having sex with a minor. Almost any killing of or by a police officer makes the cut. But the trial of one young black male for slaying another rarely does.
November 22, 2015
A re-read. This book presents a picture of the plight of those accused of crimes in Chicago, the political nature of law, lawyers and judges. What is worse is that the observations were probably dressed up and toned down. When this book was released in 2005, it sparked outrage and promises of reform that faded quickly.
June 4, 2017
This is a fascinating book about the workings of the criminal justice system in Chicago. The author spent a year in a felony courtroom, not only observing its public business but interviewing the judge, the prosecutors, the public defenders and private attorneys, the defendants, the families of the victims and accused.
Bogira is an excellent storyteller, and brings suspense to the story of each trial he highlights: the parade of small murder cases (which excite no media interest), the burglary case in which the judge and his staff take a field trip to the crime scene, the high-profile attempted murder trial for a racially-motivated attack on a young boy. We also see a probationer who, despite good intentions, can’t kick his drug habit and keeps returning to court; we learn about the legacy of judicial corruption and police torture in Chicago; we see what a difference having money makes and the influence of judicial elections. Bogira is observant and incisive, and his writing even-handed. Although this project was possible because Judge Locallo welcomed Bogira into his courtroom, the judge’s portrayal is far from fawning; though dedicated, hardworking and generous with his time, he’s also a media hound who refuses to acknowledge his own mistakes or any flaws in the system. I never got the impression that the author chose sides or had an agenda, though certainly many of his observations speak poorly of the system: public defenders have less than a minute to speak to their clients before their bond hearings; tens of thousands of dollars go to prosecuting and incarcerating people for possession of drugs worth $20 or less; possession of minute amounts of cocaine and heroin is a far more serious crime than beating a wife or girlfriend (the former being a felony and the latter almost always a misdemeanor).
There are some drawbacks to this book – not flaws, but drawbacks. Though it was published in 2005, the author’s year of observation was 1998, and while many of the trends he observes have become even more pronounced, it is nevertheless a bit dated. Also, it is set in Chicago, which is described even in the blurb as having the nation’s “busiest felony courthouse” – so not everything we see here is applicable to the rest of the country. For instance, at one point Bogira tells us that a public defender demanding a jury trial on a “mere” burglary would be in flagrant breach of court etiquette, and might see the judge retaliating against his or her other clients. You wouldn’t see that in a typical American courthouse, though it’s true across the country that a tiny percentage of cases go to trial. Finally, the justice system is made up of people, with enormous differences between judges; Bogira certainly notes this, but in focusing on a single judge, has little room to illustrate how different the results can be.
However, for those interested in the court system, this book is an excellent choice. The writing is clear, readable, and informative, with a flair for storytelling. We get a real behind-the-scenes look at how things work, the strategic decisions made by lawyers on both sides of a case and all the evidence the jury doesn’t see. For instance, there’s the murder case in which the victim was actually the defendant’s boyfriend, but both sides present the case as if the two were strangers: the prosecution because it doesn’t want to draw the woman’s confession (in which she claimed they were strangers, but admitted shooting the guy) into question, and the defense because it doesn’t want the killing to look premeditated. We also see what happens to the people involved once the trials are over and the media interest (if any) dies down – who gets out of prison after serving a fraction of their sentence, who gets arrested again on a similar charge, who dies in jail when the guards don’t bother to call for medical help. This is a book about the business of a courtroom that also shows us the real people involved – those who work in the system and those caught up in it – and so it isn’t always easy to read. But it is worth it.
Bogira is an excellent storyteller, and brings suspense to the story of each trial he highlights: the parade of small murder cases (which excite no media interest), the burglary case in which the judge and his staff take a field trip to the crime scene, the high-profile attempted murder trial for a racially-motivated attack on a young boy. We also see a probationer who, despite good intentions, can’t kick his drug habit and keeps returning to court; we learn about the legacy of judicial corruption and police torture in Chicago; we see what a difference having money makes and the influence of judicial elections. Bogira is observant and incisive, and his writing even-handed. Although this project was possible because Judge Locallo welcomed Bogira into his courtroom, the judge’s portrayal is far from fawning; though dedicated, hardworking and generous with his time, he’s also a media hound who refuses to acknowledge his own mistakes or any flaws in the system. I never got the impression that the author chose sides or had an agenda, though certainly many of his observations speak poorly of the system: public defenders have less than a minute to speak to their clients before their bond hearings; tens of thousands of dollars go to prosecuting and incarcerating people for possession of drugs worth $20 or less; possession of minute amounts of cocaine and heroin is a far more serious crime than beating a wife or girlfriend (the former being a felony and the latter almost always a misdemeanor).
There are some drawbacks to this book – not flaws, but drawbacks. Though it was published in 2005, the author’s year of observation was 1998, and while many of the trends he observes have become even more pronounced, it is nevertheless a bit dated. Also, it is set in Chicago, which is described even in the blurb as having the nation’s “busiest felony courthouse” – so not everything we see here is applicable to the rest of the country. For instance, at one point Bogira tells us that a public defender demanding a jury trial on a “mere” burglary would be in flagrant breach of court etiquette, and might see the judge retaliating against his or her other clients. You wouldn’t see that in a typical American courthouse, though it’s true across the country that a tiny percentage of cases go to trial. Finally, the justice system is made up of people, with enormous differences between judges; Bogira certainly notes this, but in focusing on a single judge, has little room to illustrate how different the results can be.
However, for those interested in the court system, this book is an excellent choice. The writing is clear, readable, and informative, with a flair for storytelling. We get a real behind-the-scenes look at how things work, the strategic decisions made by lawyers on both sides of a case and all the evidence the jury doesn’t see. For instance, there’s the murder case in which the victim was actually the defendant’s boyfriend, but both sides present the case as if the two were strangers: the prosecution because it doesn’t want to draw the woman’s confession (in which she claimed they were strangers, but admitted shooting the guy) into question, and the defense because it doesn’t want the killing to look premeditated. We also see what happens to the people involved once the trials are over and the media interest (if any) dies down – who gets out of prison after serving a fraction of their sentence, who gets arrested again on a similar charge, who dies in jail when the guards don’t bother to call for medical help. This is a book about the business of a courtroom that also shows us the real people involved – those who work in the system and those caught up in it – and so it isn’t always easy to read. But it is worth it.
November 3, 2007
It's a good look behind the scenes of the out of control American "justice system". It's well written and very interesting, and you'll find yourself engaged in it despite the fact that there are dozens of characters, which could only be the case figuring the hundreds of thousands who get caught up in the law every year and the thousands employed to sort it all out. It provides a lot of history as well, which makes the book all the more depressing when you notice how little has changed since America's founding on morality based law. Unfortunately many people who read this book are more or less safely unaware of the entire segment of life that this book reveals, and thus will treat it as an enjoyable read instead of what it is, which is a vivid picture of a system that costs billions, ruins lives, and fails us all.
May 23, 2010
This was my second time reading this book. I read it first in about 2004 or 2005 while in law school, and recently picked it up again when I started working for the Cook County Public Defender. The book does a great job of giving readers a well-rounded understanding of how the criminal justice system functions in one of the most populous counties with one of the biggest (and most overcrowded) jails in the country. From Bogira's vantage point, it appears that lower level felony cases are just processed through the system, primarily with pleas or bench trials, while major, "heater" cases that capture public attention for some reason, get jury trials and a *little* more deliberative process. The book's focus on Circuit Judge Daniel Locallo is fascinating, but by no means flattering to Locallo. He comes off as a political gladhander with a vast ability to rationalize his decisions and dismiss second thoughts or suggestions that the justice system makes mistakes. Public defenders generally fare better; they are described as generally hard workers with far too much work to do. Prosecutors seem primarily to be zealots who appear to truly believe they are accomplishing justice by locking up anyone charged with a crime. All of these portrayals are necessarily incomplete; Bogira chose which cases to discuss and which to ignore, and even though he seems to have spent a lot of time in court during the year he was gathering the foundation for this book, he could not have seen everything and may have missed many cases where Locallo was more genuine or empathetic, or where public defenders were slacking and selling their clients out, or where prosecutors were exercising their vast discretion to ensure that innocent or less culpable people did not receive undeserved punishment. In other words, as complete as this portrait seems to be, one writer, in one year, in one courtroom, could only see and communicate so much.
That said, one of the book's great strengths is its use of historical research and data from earlier decades to show that, well, the more things seem to change, the more they seem to stay the same in criminal justice.
The fact that I work in the criminal justice system means I'm not the average reader. That said, this book is full of fascinating stories about vivid characters enmeshed in compelling and sometimes life-and-death struggles. The fact that it's all true only makes it that much better. Highly recommended.
That said, one of the book's great strengths is its use of historical research and data from earlier decades to show that, well, the more things seem to change, the more they seem to stay the same in criminal justice.
The fact that I work in the criminal justice system means I'm not the average reader. That said, this book is full of fascinating stories about vivid characters enmeshed in compelling and sometimes life-and-death struggles. The fact that it's all true only makes it that much better. Highly recommended.
February 19, 2010
Courtroom 302 describes a world most of us will never see, nor would we wish to.
"No man can examine the great penal system of this country without being astounded at its magnitude, its cost and its unsatisfactory results," said John Altgeld, Cook County judge and later governor of Illinois in 1890. At that time, the end result was the imprisonment of fifty thousand citizens. Today the yield is 1.5 million.
Ironically the vast majority of those in the system are there for drug-related offenses, almost always non-violent crimes. If you beat your wife, you'll get released on an I-bond (recognizance), because it's a misdemeanor, not a felony, unlike drug offenses. For some bizarre reason we consider a health problem of much greater import than a violent crime.
Bogoira's book examines a the Chicago justice system during the course of a year from a variety of viewpoints: judges, accused, police and attorneys. You will finish the book grateful to have a job and money. Without these, you would most likely be lost in the maelstrom of the justice system.
The police have immense power and that force was amply displayed in the case of George Jones, prosecuted for the rape and murder of Sheila Pointer. A federal grand jury, which later investigated the case, found it to be a frightening abuse of power by members of the Chicago Police Department. Exculpatory evidence was ignored and other evidence manufactured to charge an innocent man. Seven policemen were later indicted for false imprisonment, false arrest and malicious prosecution.
Bogoira follows several individuals as they work their way through the court system It's a scary place where everyone is overworked and justice not an accepted concept. It's clear that it's the innocent who need lawyers, not the guilty, but they are only available to the rich.
Not only that, police malfeasance appears common place, so much so it's even enshrined in process. A basic requirement of the legal system is that the defense must be advised of all exculpatory evidence (Brady v Maryland). To get around this, Chicago police kept a double filing system: the evidence they gave the D.A.'s office which had too be turned over to the defense in one file, and all the notes and ancillary material which they decided might not help the prosecution, something called their "street file," is kept in the local police station. Street files never left the precinct and the prosecutor could say in court that the defense had all the records that existed in his files. No mention was ever made of the street files which often contained material that would have been invaluable to the defense.
Confessions from anyone, it seems are suspect given tactics often used by police, but the mentally retarded are particularly vulnerable. Bogira cited a study that read Miranda warnings to forty-nine adults with IQs averaging 55.5. A control group was given similar simple explanations of the words in the warning, and it became clear that the retarded adults never understood the meanings nor the implications of the rights they were being asked to waive.
Chicago suffered from a great deal of corruption in the court system as revealed by the Greylord investigations in the early eighties. Several judges were sent to jail for having taken bribes. No one could have foreseen the havoc that resulted. The corrupt judges, in order to "balance their sheets," apparently might often help convict those who might be innocent, but who had not bribed the judge, to show their "impartiality." Often, those whose attorneys had been involved in the bribery schemes, were granted new trials; some who had not been, were not. The Appeals courts were concerned that granting new trials across the board would open a flood of new trials. Ilana Rovner, a Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals judge, in a dissent, argued ,"It is a sad day indeed when defendants who attempted to purchase their way out of a conviction receive a greater measure of justice than those who do not." Indeed. One cannot help but wonder if Chicago might be the rule rather than the exception.
One interesting case was of a woman who shot a cabbie. She had confessed, but even the prosecutor in his opening arguments, revealed he didn't know whether to believe her version of the story. Nolan, the prosecutor, was looking forward to the case because his opponent would be public defender of the Homicide Task Force, Marijane Placek with 20 years of experience (ade who changes her hair and contacts almost daily depending on her whim.) Nolan remarked to the author that something he's learned over the years is that " 'everybody lies'. Defendants, witnesses, defense lawyers, prosecutors, judges, cops -- 'we all have our agenda. It's part of the game, I guess.' " Bogira interviewed the witnesses and others involved and we get to see a part of the story the jury does not, especially the roles of the prosecutor and defense as they battle their way to the eventual outcome (no spoilers, here,) so he and the reader get to second-guess both sides. What appears on its face to be black and white turns out to be very gray indeed. Neither prosecution nor defense, each for different reasons, wants what they both suspect to be the truth to be offered as evidence.
This was something that bothered me about the complaints after the OJ trial. Most people were sure the jury had been prejudiced in favor of OJ and that was the reason for the acquittal. I wasn't so sure, since the jury had been out of the courtroom for a lot of the debate over what was or was not admissible, etc. They had to make a decision based solely on what they heard and it was very different from what the rest of us saw and heard.
An extremely interesting and readable book, filled with anecdotes, if more than a little depressing.
"No man can examine the great penal system of this country without being astounded at its magnitude, its cost and its unsatisfactory results," said John Altgeld, Cook County judge and later governor of Illinois in 1890. At that time, the end result was the imprisonment of fifty thousand citizens. Today the yield is 1.5 million.
Ironically the vast majority of those in the system are there for drug-related offenses, almost always non-violent crimes. If you beat your wife, you'll get released on an I-bond (recognizance), because it's a misdemeanor, not a felony, unlike drug offenses. For some bizarre reason we consider a health problem of much greater import than a violent crime.
Bogoira's book examines a the Chicago justice system during the course of a year from a variety of viewpoints: judges, accused, police and attorneys. You will finish the book grateful to have a job and money. Without these, you would most likely be lost in the maelstrom of the justice system.
The police have immense power and that force was amply displayed in the case of George Jones, prosecuted for the rape and murder of Sheila Pointer. A federal grand jury, which later investigated the case, found it to be a frightening abuse of power by members of the Chicago Police Department. Exculpatory evidence was ignored and other evidence manufactured to charge an innocent man. Seven policemen were later indicted for false imprisonment, false arrest and malicious prosecution.
Bogoira follows several individuals as they work their way through the court system It's a scary place where everyone is overworked and justice not an accepted concept. It's clear that it's the innocent who need lawyers, not the guilty, but they are only available to the rich.
Not only that, police malfeasance appears common place, so much so it's even enshrined in process. A basic requirement of the legal system is that the defense must be advised of all exculpatory evidence (Brady v Maryland). To get around this, Chicago police kept a double filing system: the evidence they gave the D.A.'s office which had too be turned over to the defense in one file, and all the notes and ancillary material which they decided might not help the prosecution, something called their "street file," is kept in the local police station. Street files never left the precinct and the prosecutor could say in court that the defense had all the records that existed in his files. No mention was ever made of the street files which often contained material that would have been invaluable to the defense.
Confessions from anyone, it seems are suspect given tactics often used by police, but the mentally retarded are particularly vulnerable. Bogira cited a study that read Miranda warnings to forty-nine adults with IQs averaging 55.5. A control group was given similar simple explanations of the words in the warning, and it became clear that the retarded adults never understood the meanings nor the implications of the rights they were being asked to waive.
Chicago suffered from a great deal of corruption in the court system as revealed by the Greylord investigations in the early eighties. Several judges were sent to jail for having taken bribes. No one could have foreseen the havoc that resulted. The corrupt judges, in order to "balance their sheets," apparently might often help convict those who might be innocent, but who had not bribed the judge, to show their "impartiality." Often, those whose attorneys had been involved in the bribery schemes, were granted new trials; some who had not been, were not. The Appeals courts were concerned that granting new trials across the board would open a flood of new trials. Ilana Rovner, a Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals judge, in a dissent, argued ,"It is a sad day indeed when defendants who attempted to purchase their way out of a conviction receive a greater measure of justice than those who do not." Indeed. One cannot help but wonder if Chicago might be the rule rather than the exception.
One interesting case was of a woman who shot a cabbie. She had confessed, but even the prosecutor in his opening arguments, revealed he didn't know whether to believe her version of the story. Nolan, the prosecutor, was looking forward to the case because his opponent would be public defender of the Homicide Task Force, Marijane Placek with 20 years of experience (ade who changes her hair and contacts almost daily depending on her whim.) Nolan remarked to the author that something he's learned over the years is that " 'everybody lies'. Defendants, witnesses, defense lawyers, prosecutors, judges, cops -- 'we all have our agenda. It's part of the game, I guess.' " Bogira interviewed the witnesses and others involved and we get to see a part of the story the jury does not, especially the roles of the prosecutor and defense as they battle their way to the eventual outcome (no spoilers, here,) so he and the reader get to second-guess both sides. What appears on its face to be black and white turns out to be very gray indeed. Neither prosecution nor defense, each for different reasons, wants what they both suspect to be the truth to be offered as evidence.
This was something that bothered me about the complaints after the OJ trial. Most people were sure the jury had been prejudiced in favor of OJ and that was the reason for the acquittal. I wasn't so sure, since the jury had been out of the courtroom for a lot of the debate over what was or was not admissible, etc. They had to make a decision based solely on what they heard and it was very different from what the rest of us saw and heard.
An extremely interesting and readable book, filled with anecdotes, if more than a little depressing.
May 27, 2018
A lot of what is in this book is also in hundreds of other books and articles about the sad intersection of poverty and criminal justice. There are petty thefts, domestic violence cases, parole violations and all manner of drug cases. The slightly changed perspective of this book, however, viewing the cases not as part of a neighborhood story or a defendant biography but as part of a single courtroom supervised by one judge, Daniel Locallo, in Cook County, Illinois's criminal courthouse, gives the reader a new vision of criminal prosecutions in America. The book shows that grinding machinery of justice can hardly spend more than a moment with each person before it, and that the process overwhelms and ultimately dehumanizes most of those who move through it.
The main judge, Dan Locallo, is drawn sympathetically but honestly. He is a hard-worker and genuinely interested in his job. He writes extensive opinions and is scholarly about citations. But he is also publicity seeking, hungry for advancement and occasionally callous, as any judge might be after thousands of such cases. Locallo is proud that he is in the top tier of "dispos," or case dispositions, of judges in the courthouse, but that means he pushes people through plea deals with a hefty "trial tax" for those who don't accept the state's deal (states' attorneys also think he gives light plea deal sentences because most of the bar associations' rating systems for judges are dominated by the defense bar). Loccallo raises money from lawyers before him for the Chicago political machine and for his own retention elections, and schedules cases and decisions around important political dates. In the end, like most people the author surveys, he comes across as human, mainly interested in his own dreams and goals, but that is somehow less than we expect from dispensers of justice. Sheriffs deputies herding prisoners through processing, public defenders and states attorneys herding defendants through deals, police herding suspects to the courthouse; most of the time everyone is looking for little more than to get through the day and get home early. It's an honest look at the people behind the criminal justice system, one that feels like a big letdown.
The main judge, Dan Locallo, is drawn sympathetically but honestly. He is a hard-worker and genuinely interested in his job. He writes extensive opinions and is scholarly about citations. But he is also publicity seeking, hungry for advancement and occasionally callous, as any judge might be after thousands of such cases. Locallo is proud that he is in the top tier of "dispos," or case dispositions, of judges in the courthouse, but that means he pushes people through plea deals with a hefty "trial tax" for those who don't accept the state's deal (states' attorneys also think he gives light plea deal sentences because most of the bar associations' rating systems for judges are dominated by the defense bar). Loccallo raises money from lawyers before him for the Chicago political machine and for his own retention elections, and schedules cases and decisions around important political dates. In the end, like most people the author surveys, he comes across as human, mainly interested in his own dreams and goals, but that is somehow less than we expect from dispensers of justice. Sheriffs deputies herding prisoners through processing, public defenders and states attorneys herding defendants through deals, police herding suspects to the courthouse; most of the time everyone is looking for little more than to get through the day and get home early. It's an honest look at the people behind the criminal justice system, one that feels like a big letdown.
July 24, 2020
I thought this was an really interesting read even though I've been an Assistant Public Defender for 13 years. What makes this book unique is that it is written by an unbiased observer of the criminal justice system in the country's busiest courthouse. Not only does the reader get insights from the prosecutors and defense attorneys (Public Defenders and private attorneys), but also the courthouse staff, the defendants, and the judge who he followed. To be perfectly honest, I was really shocked and appalled to read the thoughts of Judge Locallo who was often asked to comment on a number of topics that arose in his courtroom especially since he was known around the courthouse as a defense-friendly judge. I certainly respected his desire to stay updated on changes in the law and his willingness do scene views and grant motions to suppress on 4th Amendment issues. However, it was troubling to read his reluctance to acknowledge the corruption that was running rampant in the police force (i.e., torture of suspects resulting in false confessions), his views on mis-ID experts, and his lack of compassion for the intellectually challenged. Some of his other comments when he felt like he was being attacked for his rulings were disturbing - like when the author pointed out to the judge that someone who pleaded guilty was probably factually innocent it was met with a shrug and an "oh well."
I think this a good read for anyone who is considering going to law school, in law school currently, or even a practicing attorney. The thing I found most astonishing was the sheer number and frequency of non-jury trials, especially on really serious felony charges. It was as if all the attorneys wanted to have a quick trial so the client could have their day in court and then hopefully get a lighter sentence because they didn't spend a few days in a jury trial. I kind of wonder how prevalent this practice is in other jurisdictions around the country because I have never witnessed it. It was also interesting to see how certain crimes are treated and sentences meted out.
I think this a good read for anyone who is considering going to law school, in law school currently, or even a practicing attorney. The thing I found most astonishing was the sheer number and frequency of non-jury trials, especially on really serious felony charges. It was as if all the attorneys wanted to have a quick trial so the client could have their day in court and then hopefully get a lighter sentence because they didn't spend a few days in a jury trial. I kind of wonder how prevalent this practice is in other jurisdictions around the country because I have never witnessed it. It was also interesting to see how certain crimes are treated and sentences meted out.
August 12, 2012
Thanks to Court T.V. and T.V. dramas, most Americans think of courtrooms as spacious, well-lit venues where prosecutors and defense attorneys vie for the attention of a thoughtful, attentive jury. But most lawyers aren't Johnnie Cochrans, many jurors are eager to get back to their regular lives, and the vast majority of cases never even go to trial. "Courtroom 302" looks beyond the made-for-T.V. ideal at one of the dingy, cramped, hectic rooms where justice is often imperfectly meted out.
In writing this book, Steve Bogira spent the bulk of 1998 covering this courtroom and its dramatis personae: a firm-but-fair judge, two somewhat jaded deputies, a large ensemble cast of overworked public defenders and diligent prosecutors, and a rotating cast of defendants and jurors. He does an admirable job of reporting on them, of getting them to let their guard down and discuss their thoughts, feelings and motivations honestly and openly. The result is a well-rounded and compelling book that shows the true face of American justice at the turn of the Millennium.
Bogira emphasizes the sheer volume of crime and punishment in the court he covers. Cook County boasts the nation's largest integrated court system, and the number of defendants who pass through the system is staggering: 78,000 per year. (On average, every courtroom handles three per day!) And throughout the book's descriptions of dramatic and memorable trials--a prison shanking, a cabbie shot by someone who might have been a jilted lover, a coke deal gone bad, a vicious race beating--the steady drip-drip-drip of plea bargains and bench trials reminds readers that the courtroom can be as dry and routine as any other workplace.
There are flaws with the book. Like many journalists, Bogira perhaps overemphasizes the importance of race and poverty (and underemphasizes the role of alcoholism and drug abuse) in contributing to crime. Also, he spends an inordinate amount of time on a high-profile but atypical race beating, while giving more run-of-the-mill cases relatively short shrift. But his excellent reporting more than makes up for it. The sheer scale of corruption that has gone on in Cook County cortrooms and police interrogation rooms will boggle the mind of many a reader, as will the less-than-ideal processes by which Cook County selects criminal judges; Bogira lays it all out dispassionately and makes a convincing case for much-needed reforms. By reporting meticulously and honestly, by interviewing as many people as possible for as long as possible, and by paying attention to the details, he's put together a great and definitive book. And that ends up being a colossal irony--in the end, "Courtroom 302"'s version of the truth feels fuller and more complete than one gets in the real Courtroom 302.
In writing this book, Steve Bogira spent the bulk of 1998 covering this courtroom and its dramatis personae: a firm-but-fair judge, two somewhat jaded deputies, a large ensemble cast of overworked public defenders and diligent prosecutors, and a rotating cast of defendants and jurors. He does an admirable job of reporting on them, of getting them to let their guard down and discuss their thoughts, feelings and motivations honestly and openly. The result is a well-rounded and compelling book that shows the true face of American justice at the turn of the Millennium.
Bogira emphasizes the sheer volume of crime and punishment in the court he covers. Cook County boasts the nation's largest integrated court system, and the number of defendants who pass through the system is staggering: 78,000 per year. (On average, every courtroom handles three per day!) And throughout the book's descriptions of dramatic and memorable trials--a prison shanking, a cabbie shot by someone who might have been a jilted lover, a coke deal gone bad, a vicious race beating--the steady drip-drip-drip of plea bargains and bench trials reminds readers that the courtroom can be as dry and routine as any other workplace.
There are flaws with the book. Like many journalists, Bogira perhaps overemphasizes the importance of race and poverty (and underemphasizes the role of alcoholism and drug abuse) in contributing to crime. Also, he spends an inordinate amount of time on a high-profile but atypical race beating, while giving more run-of-the-mill cases relatively short shrift. But his excellent reporting more than makes up for it. The sheer scale of corruption that has gone on in Cook County cortrooms and police interrogation rooms will boggle the mind of many a reader, as will the less-than-ideal processes by which Cook County selects criminal judges; Bogira lays it all out dispassionately and makes a convincing case for much-needed reforms. By reporting meticulously and honestly, by interviewing as many people as possible for as long as possible, and by paying attention to the details, he's put together a great and definitive book. And that ends up being a colossal irony--in the end, "Courtroom 302"'s version of the truth feels fuller and more complete than one gets in the real Courtroom 302.
August 20, 2010
A compelling year-in-the-life-of a courtroom at Cook County Courthouse in Illinois, showing what a grind and numbers game day-to-day "justice" really is. It's a real eye-opener about the status-quo flaws of the justice system. One particularly revealing case I thought was where the defense and the prosecution were both arguing a case using a version of events that both sides knew to be untrue.
I was surprised by Bogira's ability to get so many different types of people to talk to him: prosecutors, public defenders, sheriffs deputies, police, defendants and their families, victims and their families, and the judge of courtroom 302 himself, Daniel Locallo. I was astonished by some of the quotes Bogira printed, making me wonder if some of these people are now pissed at him.
1998 was the year Bogira was in Locallo's courtroom, and some people written about still figure prominently in current events of 2010: police commander Jon Burge, with allegations against him for torturing suspects that were pertinent to cases in Locallo's courtroom in 1998, and who was found guilty this year of perjury and obstruction of justice in relation to those allegations; and Sam Adam Sr., who was a defense lawyer for a "heater" case in 1998 and is currently defense lawyer for IL's disgraced ex-governor Rod Blagojevich.
I was surprised by Bogira's ability to get so many different types of people to talk to him: prosecutors, public defenders, sheriffs deputies, police, defendants and their families, victims and their families, and the judge of courtroom 302 himself, Daniel Locallo. I was astonished by some of the quotes Bogira printed, making me wonder if some of these people are now pissed at him.
1998 was the year Bogira was in Locallo's courtroom, and some people written about still figure prominently in current events of 2010: police commander Jon Burge, with allegations against him for torturing suspects that were pertinent to cases in Locallo's courtroom in 1998, and who was found guilty this year of perjury and obstruction of justice in relation to those allegations; and Sam Adam Sr., who was a defense lawyer for a "heater" case in 1998 and is currently defense lawyer for IL's disgraced ex-governor Rod Blagojevich.
Read
December 2, 2011A fascinating inside view of the Cook County criminal courts. It’s important for all of us to understand how law works on the ground, right here in our city.
"This is a journalist's rendering of criminal proceedings here on the South Side of Chicago based on, more or less, hanging around a building and paying attention. It seems that this kind of reporting is increasingly rare in newspaper form, whether or not online, and the practice might have to shift into book form, whether or not electronic. In any event, the detail is gripping, illuminating, and more local and poignant than life on a whaling ship." - Adam Samaha
"This is a journalist's rendering of criminal proceedings here on the South Side of Chicago based on, more or less, hanging around a building and paying attention. It seems that this kind of reporting is increasingly rare in newspaper form, whether or not online, and the practice might have to shift into book form, whether or not electronic. In any event, the detail is gripping, illuminating, and more local and poignant than life on a whaling ship." - Adam Samaha
April 18, 2007
Just an outstanding glimpse into the everyday legal cases that might fill the metro section of any major city newspaper. Bogira follows these cases from the perspective of the judge, the defendant, the DA, the families involved, and the city at large. The book never gets tiresome as there is an excellent mixture of the variety of cases and stories, and the ongoing cases that hook you in from the beginning.
May 23, 2010
Blah...I couldn't finish it. It was not what I expected. It was dry and lacked any emotion. Most of the book was about the history of the court system in Chicago. While it may be interesting to legal scholars it was not to me. Also, what I did learn about the legal process was depressing. There are few trials anymore. Most of the cases are just plea bargained to make room for the next one. Whatever happened to justice?
March 14, 2021
A novelist writes with the eye of god because he/she is the creator and animator of all the characters in the story. It's impossible for the non-fiction writer to have that eye, but Steve Bogira thanks to his thorough interviews with and observation of all the people involved in a courtroom comes quite close with this fascinating, informative, emotionally moving and at many points funny book. I don't hesitate to award it five stars.
Bogira spends over a year examining all that goes on in one courtroom in Cook County, Illinois (Chicago). The central character is the judge, Dan Locallo, who presides over this particular courtroom sitting in authority over literally thousands of cases that come before him.
But the judge is only one of a large cast of characters that range from the defendants through the attorneys for the prosecution and defense, the sheriff's deputies, and the family members and friends of the accused.
Throughout the book we are tutored on every aspect of the highly flawed judicial system about which most Americans are either ignorant or misinformed by movies and TV dramatizations. The tutorials are short and easily digested, seamlessly placed in the ongoing story.
For example, a grand jury sits to determine if charges should be brought against someone. Why do we have grand juries and how do they work? Two or three paragraphs follow to get you up to speed on this feature of our justice system that has been abandoned by almost all other countries. A person cannot make bail. Why do we have bail and how does it work? Bogira masterfully educates as he tells his stories of those paraded before the court.
And what of the system as a whole? The bible tells us that god says justice is his alone and after reading this book you may find that perhaps it should be left to Him.
Nothing human can be without flaws. Law enforcement is made up of people inescapably subject to the interests, the grudges, the preferences, the prejudices, the emotions that make us human. Who among us doesn't want to advance in a career? Who doesn't get bored? Who fails to follow up on all the details? Who doesn't like or dislike someone on first sight and then act accordingly?
As for the truth being discovered in court, the saying is mentioned that there are always three sides to any question...my side, your side and what really happened. Of course the courts have developed to try to minimize all of the human factors I've mentioned but Bogira will leave you wondering if all that work has produced only modest gains.
We can all agree that a trial is superior to a king summarily executing or imprisoning someone, but prosecuting and defending attorneys have their agendas. The judges themselves have a desire to dispose of as many cases as possible with the minimum of effort. Trials are highly discouraged. Plea bargaining is always preferred. Just get the case through the system, whether or not the accused is innocent of the crime.
Bogira does a wonderful job of building up excitement in the reader. He starts with the routine assembly line processing of the have-nots, almost entirely black, with which the Cook County system is deluged. Move 'em through, get them to plead guilty then give them probation or short time to avoid loading the already over-loaded prison system. Yes, they may demand a trial, but do all you can to discourage that by suggesting a trial will bring a long sentence, then bargain a guaranteed short sentence right now for a guilty plea. This works and cases are closed in mere minutes. Innocent unless proven guilty is forgotten in favor of not stopping the conveyor belt.
Bogira proceeds to more complex cases while telling the abbreviated life stories of the many helpless and hopeless people continually passing through the courts as the careers of judges and attorneys advance on the efficiency of the processing. The climax of the book comes with the murder trial of a kid from racist Bridgeport, the home of the mayors Daley, whose mob connected father is able to spend for a full trial complete with a team of defense attorneys, not the public defenders that the poor must rely on. It is this kind of trial, known as a heater for all the public attention it brings that gets juices flowing in judges and attorneys because of the way it brings their performance into the spotlight.
We know from movies and TV that trials can be entertaining, but do they establish the truth? I'm always impressed with how a movie can present a person in any light. Make a character a protagonist and the audience leaves with a good feeling about that character. Leni Riefenstahl did wonders with Hitler, though we now know the truth about him.
In just this way there is a prosecution movie and a defense movie. The jury decides which movie it likes better. Truth may or may not be involved. As a man I much admired once said, it is a court of law, not of justice. This book says amen to that. It was written twenty years ago and just now (to take effect in 2023) Illinois has finally passed a bill that addresses several of the problems the book exposes.
Bogira spends over a year examining all that goes on in one courtroom in Cook County, Illinois (Chicago). The central character is the judge, Dan Locallo, who presides over this particular courtroom sitting in authority over literally thousands of cases that come before him.
But the judge is only one of a large cast of characters that range from the defendants through the attorneys for the prosecution and defense, the sheriff's deputies, and the family members and friends of the accused.
Throughout the book we are tutored on every aspect of the highly flawed judicial system about which most Americans are either ignorant or misinformed by movies and TV dramatizations. The tutorials are short and easily digested, seamlessly placed in the ongoing story.
For example, a grand jury sits to determine if charges should be brought against someone. Why do we have grand juries and how do they work? Two or three paragraphs follow to get you up to speed on this feature of our justice system that has been abandoned by almost all other countries. A person cannot make bail. Why do we have bail and how does it work? Bogira masterfully educates as he tells his stories of those paraded before the court.
And what of the system as a whole? The bible tells us that god says justice is his alone and after reading this book you may find that perhaps it should be left to Him.
Nothing human can be without flaws. Law enforcement is made up of people inescapably subject to the interests, the grudges, the preferences, the prejudices, the emotions that make us human. Who among us doesn't want to advance in a career? Who doesn't get bored? Who fails to follow up on all the details? Who doesn't like or dislike someone on first sight and then act accordingly?
As for the truth being discovered in court, the saying is mentioned that there are always three sides to any question...my side, your side and what really happened. Of course the courts have developed to try to minimize all of the human factors I've mentioned but Bogira will leave you wondering if all that work has produced only modest gains.
We can all agree that a trial is superior to a king summarily executing or imprisoning someone, but prosecuting and defending attorneys have their agendas. The judges themselves have a desire to dispose of as many cases as possible with the minimum of effort. Trials are highly discouraged. Plea bargaining is always preferred. Just get the case through the system, whether or not the accused is innocent of the crime.
Bogira does a wonderful job of building up excitement in the reader. He starts with the routine assembly line processing of the have-nots, almost entirely black, with which the Cook County system is deluged. Move 'em through, get them to plead guilty then give them probation or short time to avoid loading the already over-loaded prison system. Yes, they may demand a trial, but do all you can to discourage that by suggesting a trial will bring a long sentence, then bargain a guaranteed short sentence right now for a guilty plea. This works and cases are closed in mere minutes. Innocent unless proven guilty is forgotten in favor of not stopping the conveyor belt.
Bogira proceeds to more complex cases while telling the abbreviated life stories of the many helpless and hopeless people continually passing through the courts as the careers of judges and attorneys advance on the efficiency of the processing. The climax of the book comes with the murder trial of a kid from racist Bridgeport, the home of the mayors Daley, whose mob connected father is able to spend for a full trial complete with a team of defense attorneys, not the public defenders that the poor must rely on. It is this kind of trial, known as a heater for all the public attention it brings that gets juices flowing in judges and attorneys because of the way it brings their performance into the spotlight.
We know from movies and TV that trials can be entertaining, but do they establish the truth? I'm always impressed with how a movie can present a person in any light. Make a character a protagonist and the audience leaves with a good feeling about that character. Leni Riefenstahl did wonders with Hitler, though we now know the truth about him.
In just this way there is a prosecution movie and a defense movie. The jury decides which movie it likes better. Truth may or may not be involved. As a man I much admired once said, it is a court of law, not of justice. This book says amen to that. It was written twenty years ago and just now (to take effect in 2023) Illinois has finally passed a bill that addresses several of the problems the book exposes.
December 1, 2017
Author Steve Bogira, a long time reporter for the Chicago Reader, spent a year digging through the court cases. Most cases involve uneducated, poor, drug-addicted minorities.
Sadly, the only truly empathetic people showcased in Bogira's book are the mothers of the victims and the mothers of the defendants. Many of the judges lack ethics, or at best, show inconsistent good judgement. Judge Daniel Locallo, who is at the heart of Bogira's story, appears to be honest and hard working...until Bogira digs up some of his questionable work as a young prosecutor. The attorneys placate the judges--to get on their good side--many times to the detriment of their clients. The defendants may--or may not--be guilty of the crime for which they're on trial, but for the most part, they admit to being guilty of something.
The injustice is frustrating to hear. The amount of relevant evidence that is not presented in court is shocking! The story of Courtroom 302 is told through interviews with primary sources in addition to the author's detailed research of court documents. Bogie paints a clear picture of an overburdened system that is filled with cynical, burnt out public workers. The need for change is evident however, I finished the book thing that the "outside-the-box" solutions needed were not likely to be implemented.
Mark Kamish's excellent narration made this interesting yet dry topic come to life.
For more reading recommendations, visit Book Junkie Reviews at https://abookjunkiereviews.wordpress.com
Sadly, the only truly empathetic people showcased in Bogira's book are the mothers of the victims and the mothers of the defendants. Many of the judges lack ethics, or at best, show inconsistent good judgement. Judge Daniel Locallo, who is at the heart of Bogira's story, appears to be honest and hard working...until Bogira digs up some of his questionable work as a young prosecutor. The attorneys placate the judges--to get on their good side--many times to the detriment of their clients. The defendants may--or may not--be guilty of the crime for which they're on trial, but for the most part, they admit to being guilty of something.
The injustice is frustrating to hear. The amount of relevant evidence that is not presented in court is shocking! The story of Courtroom 302 is told through interviews with primary sources in addition to the author's detailed research of court documents. Bogie paints a clear picture of an overburdened system that is filled with cynical, burnt out public workers. The need for change is evident however, I finished the book thing that the "outside-the-box" solutions needed were not likely to be implemented.
Mark Kamish's excellent narration made this interesting yet dry topic come to life.
For more reading recommendations, visit Book Junkie Reviews at https://abookjunkiereviews.wordpress.com
April 29, 2025
actual rating: 2.5/5 stars
this book was fine. i read it for class and i enjoyed the exploration of the cases in the courtroom but i think the narrative voice made this book an extremely boring read despite the intersting material.
this book was fine. i read it for class and i enjoyed the exploration of the cases in the courtroom but i think the narrative voice made this book an extremely boring read despite the intersting material.
February 9, 2018
Detailed, absorbing, sometimes disturbing account of life in a Chicago court house.
April 30, 2023
Not quite David Simon, but who would be? Courtroom 302 can serve as complementary to Simon's Homicide, as it goes into greater detail on the other half of the criminal justice system.
October 1, 2018
If you liked Evicted, you'll love this. The inspiration for Serial S3, the author does an amazing job of following several repeat offenders through Chicago's justice system in the 90s with some surprising political machinations.
January 17, 2019
First read of the new year!
PopSugar 2019 Challenge
Two word title
PopSugar 2019 Challenge
Two word title
May 11, 2020
After spending 1 year in courtroom 302 and countless hours researching, Bogira produced a well-rounded view of the criminal justice system, by way of case studies, as it exists at the courthouse on 26th & California in Chicago. As a (novice) criminal defender in Chicago, I think 26th/Cal is the most beautiful building I have ever seen – I love being there, I love the looming pillared structure, and I love the influx of people, crying and scheming. It gives me chills! I’ve been meaning to read this book for years. I was generally disgruntled while reading it though…not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because…
1-Reality bites…there really IS so much wrong with ‘the system’ that it’s overwhelming. I’ve been reading too many books that say just that, and I’m getting hopeless. Yes, there’s the ‘insular culture,’ consisting of friendly relations between judges, prosecutors, and defense attorneys and the corresponding fear of doing something to make life hard for one another – like having a trial by jury, as opposed to quick disposition guilty pleas. There are the prosecutors that are “the son of a real estate developer and the product of an affluent North Shore suburb,” thinking defendants ought to “overcome their disadvantages” and that “there are just bad people in the world that need to be put away.” There are the poor public defenders that are bogged down by disrespect (“Are you a public defender or a lawyer?”) and unbelievably jaded (“After PD Marijane Placek won a rape case for a client, she got a letter in the mail signed by ‘A Rape Victim’: ‘I hope that what happened to me happens to you. And when it does, I hope you come up against a public defender just like you.’ She proudly pinned the note above her desk…”). And finally, most importantly, there is the context of the criminal defendants: how and why they got to 26th/Cal. Despite the systemic problems, everything comes back to context.
2-Is Steve Bogira a lawyer? I know, I know – one OBViously doesn’t need to be in order to write about other lawyers and legal issues, but some of his attacks made me blush because I felt like he didn’t know enough to be a critic. And, my biggest qualm with criminal-justice-defect books is the lack of a solution. YES, plights are rotten, but writer gripes are hollow without a suggested way out! I didn’t think this book raised any novel issues in the genre, aside from the interesting individual stories. I did enjoy how Bogira stuck to the pattern of writing about the crime committed, the problems it highlights in the system, and then stepping back into context, or circumstances of the criminal’s upbringing and life.
In the end, it seems to me that the context and the solution are intertwined. Bogira did a great job with the context. Is it a surprise that a child born to a mom who smokes crack, a dad who has abandoned this mom, an uncle who rapes him, and a neighborhood infested with gangs…becomes a drug-pusher to get by? “…People now know that every human being is the product of the endless heredity back of him and the infinite environment around him” (Clarence Darrow). However, Bogira left us hanging re the solution.
A definitive excerpt from a guilty plea:
Judge: Now, do you understand that by pleading guilty, there’s not going to be a trial?
Defendant*: Yes, I understand all of that.
Judge: You understand by pleading guilty you’re giving up your right to see, to confront, and question any of the witnesses who’d testify against you?
Defendant: I understand all that. I mean, you know, that’s why I have a problem, because I always been rejected from society. I never had a chance in life.
*Defendant→a drug abuser convicted of robbery; abandoned by father, mom on drugs, IQ of 61…this is exactly what I’m talking about, people.
1-Reality bites…there really IS so much wrong with ‘the system’ that it’s overwhelming. I’ve been reading too many books that say just that, and I’m getting hopeless. Yes, there’s the ‘insular culture,’ consisting of friendly relations between judges, prosecutors, and defense attorneys and the corresponding fear of doing something to make life hard for one another – like having a trial by jury, as opposed to quick disposition guilty pleas. There are the prosecutors that are “the son of a real estate developer and the product of an affluent North Shore suburb,” thinking defendants ought to “overcome their disadvantages” and that “there are just bad people in the world that need to be put away.” There are the poor public defenders that are bogged down by disrespect (“Are you a public defender or a lawyer?”) and unbelievably jaded (“After PD Marijane Placek won a rape case for a client, she got a letter in the mail signed by ‘A Rape Victim’: ‘I hope that what happened to me happens to you. And when it does, I hope you come up against a public defender just like you.’ She proudly pinned the note above her desk…”). And finally, most importantly, there is the context of the criminal defendants: how and why they got to 26th/Cal. Despite the systemic problems, everything comes back to context.
2-Is Steve Bogira a lawyer? I know, I know – one OBViously doesn’t need to be in order to write about other lawyers and legal issues, but some of his attacks made me blush because I felt like he didn’t know enough to be a critic. And, my biggest qualm with criminal-justice-defect books is the lack of a solution. YES, plights are rotten, but writer gripes are hollow without a suggested way out! I didn’t think this book raised any novel issues in the genre, aside from the interesting individual stories. I did enjoy how Bogira stuck to the pattern of writing about the crime committed, the problems it highlights in the system, and then stepping back into context, or circumstances of the criminal’s upbringing and life.
In the end, it seems to me that the context and the solution are intertwined. Bogira did a great job with the context. Is it a surprise that a child born to a mom who smokes crack, a dad who has abandoned this mom, an uncle who rapes him, and a neighborhood infested with gangs…becomes a drug-pusher to get by? “…People now know that every human being is the product of the endless heredity back of him and the infinite environment around him” (Clarence Darrow). However, Bogira left us hanging re the solution.
A definitive excerpt from a guilty plea:
Judge: Now, do you understand that by pleading guilty, there’s not going to be a trial?
Defendant*: Yes, I understand all of that.
Judge: You understand by pleading guilty you’re giving up your right to see, to confront, and question any of the witnesses who’d testify against you?
Defendant: I understand all that. I mean, you know, that’s why I have a problem, because I always been rejected from society. I never had a chance in life.
*Defendant→a drug abuser convicted of robbery; abandoned by father, mom on drugs, IQ of 61…this is exactly what I’m talking about, people.
March 30, 2013
In Courtroom 302, journalist Steve Bogira chronicles, as the subtitle indicates, "A Year Behind the Scenes in an American Criminal Courthouse." The courthouse is not any courthouse, but the one that handles all the criminal cases in Cook County, Illinois.
The book opens on a morning in early January 1998 as police wagons unload prisoners picked up the night before to make their first appearances in court. The author describes the prisoners -- mostly people picked up for possession of drugs, but some arrested for assault and other offenses -- and the deputies who process them and guard them. Through the year, we see all the actors in the courthouse -- or rather, the ones connected with one particular courtroom, which stands in for the system. Public defenders, prosecutors, private defense attorneys, defendants, defendants' family members, victims' family members all have a voice, if only briefly. We even hear a sketch artist for a TV station grumble when asked to draw the gallery because it's a heck of a lot of work to draw the crowd and it will only be shown for 15 seconds.
In addition to his countless hours of observation and hundreds of interviews, Bogira also uses outside sources, illuminating his subject by citing articles and reports about the criminal justice system -- particularly Chicago's -- going back decades.
It's a very interesting book, and well worth reading for anyone planning to work in criminal law. I believe that Cook County is extreme in some regards (certainly other systems haven't had huge corruption cases like the ones stemming from the FBI's Operation Greylord), but I fear that many of the problems -- systems clogged by minor drug cases, defendants agreeing to plea despite their belief that they are innocent, police who cut corners -- are all too common.
The book opens on a morning in early January 1998 as police wagons unload prisoners picked up the night before to make their first appearances in court. The author describes the prisoners -- mostly people picked up for possession of drugs, but some arrested for assault and other offenses -- and the deputies who process them and guard them. Through the year, we see all the actors in the courthouse -- or rather, the ones connected with one particular courtroom, which stands in for the system. Public defenders, prosecutors, private defense attorneys, defendants, defendants' family members, victims' family members all have a voice, if only briefly. We even hear a sketch artist for a TV station grumble when asked to draw the gallery because it's a heck of a lot of work to draw the crowd and it will only be shown for 15 seconds.
In addition to his countless hours of observation and hundreds of interviews, Bogira also uses outside sources, illuminating his subject by citing articles and reports about the criminal justice system -- particularly Chicago's -- going back decades.
It's a very interesting book, and well worth reading for anyone planning to work in criminal law. I believe that Cook County is extreme in some regards (certainly other systems haven't had huge corruption cases like the ones stemming from the FBI's Operation Greylord), but I fear that many of the problems -- systems clogged by minor drug cases, defendants agreeing to plea despite their belief that they are innocent, police who cut corners -- are all too common.
December 14, 2007
ProDefense book on life at the Chicago criminal courthouse. I read it before i started work and went in with sympathy for the plight of the defendants. Once I heard from the victims, my focus changed to realizing the courtroom as a whole is filled with tragedy. From the first defendant I came across with a tattoo on his arm "Loved by Few" to the 80 year old mother of the murder victim who grabbed my arm and in frail spanish yelled lucha which means fight. The author spends a year at the courthouse and tracks the lives of some of the defendants. Part of my problem is that he seems to slant his book into a racial issue. Fact. Every defendant I prosecuted was black. Fact. This is very sad. Fact. I didn't treat them any differently because they were black. Eighty percent of the inmates in the Cook County prisons are black, although only 26 percent of Cook County Population is. Why? This can make for an interesting discussion...
It's a good book for anybody interested in criminal law.
It's a good book for anybody interested in criminal law.
September 17, 2008
"How do I feel about the fact that the truth never comes out in court? The truth never comes out in life." --Marijane Placek, public defender
Very compelling account of one year spent inside one Chicago courtroom by an award-winning reporter.
I love these "a year on the scene" investigative-journalism books. Other good ones: Newjack by Ted Conover (a year as a guard in Sing Sing) and The Corner by David Simon and Ed Burns (nearly two years in an open-air drug market in Baltimore).
Very compelling account of one year spent inside one Chicago courtroom by an award-winning reporter.
I love these "a year on the scene" investigative-journalism books. Other good ones: Newjack by Ted Conover (a year as a guard in Sing Sing) and The Corner by David Simon and Ed Burns (nearly two years in an open-air drug market in Baltimore).
July 16, 2010
This book is extremely depressing but wonderfully written. Bogira is very even-handed in his description of all the people who pass through the country's largest felony court, in Cook County, IL (Chicago). His fair treatment of defendants, judges, court staff, lawyers, and police is an excellent reminder that the law is many things but above all it's a human institution. While I can't ever see myself working in the criminal court system instead of the civil one, I'm very glad I read this book.
December 26, 2012
I loved this book. I have reread it, and found that worthwhile too. I can't fall into fiction anymore, and I thought it was impossible to 'fall' into nonfiction. I was wrong. The drama of a courtroom, of the whole caseload, not just one story, is what makes this unforgettable. If you want to know more about a particular person's story, most of the time, too bad, he took a plea and moved on. Real life timing is a mess, but for readability, it's amazing.
August 2, 2014
Fascinating portrayal of life inside one judge's courtrooms in the Cook County Courthouse. Depicts the grueling life of the courtroom personnel and how the system attempts to function under a huge load of arrests and criminal procedures. Reader get glimpses of the often inhuman treatment of persons who go through this system. While the reader can see the tradeoffs that are made in order to keep the system running, you can't help but think--surely we can do better than this.
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