Martin DyckmanThere are some things for a judge not to do.
Picking a fist fight — in court — with an assistant public defender is one. John C. Murphy, a Brevard County judge, has just been charged with that. He could be kicked off the bench.
Some other no-no’s, as previously decided by Florida’s Judicial Qualifications Commission (JQC) and confirmed by the Florida Supreme Court:
–Carrying on with the prosecutor during a murder trial.
–Jailing defendants who had reported to the wrong courtroom.
–Sexually harassing your judicial assistant.
–Misrepresenting yourself or your opponent during an election campaign. (Alas, this applies to judges only.)
Gauging by 184 public JQC cases, there are scores of ways for a judge to transgress the broad canons of Florida’s Code of Judicial Conduct. High standards come with the high office.
So far as we can know, however, no judge has ever been up on charges for bad-mouthing a jury.
There’s at least one who should have been.
He’s Belvin Perry Jr., who’s retiring this month as chief judge of the Orange-Osceola circuit.
Better known to the world as the presiding judge in the 2011 Casey Anthony trial, Perry appeared on NBC’s “Today” show two years later to express “surprise, shock, disbelief” that the jury acquitted her of murdering her 2-year-old daughter, Caylee.
Perry said he read the verdict twice “to be sure I was reading what I was reading.”
The jurors whom Perry had put through the unrelenting and thankless misery of that tawdry trial deserved better than for him to reopen their wounds.
Even though he had delayed releasing their names, they had caught mountains of abuse from the public. One reportedly had to leave the state.
“People” magazine quoted one juror, anonymously, that “one of my friends told me that his wife forbid him to talk to me. My own sister cussed me out. It has ruined my life.”
From a distance, it was apparent that Casey Anthony is a deplorable person who, by her own words, let her child go missing and neglected to report it. But there was no evidence that she caused her daughter’s death, much less that she intended to.
Had the prosecution not spent so much effort on proving what it could not prove, it might have convicted her of aggravated child neglect.
Perry could reasonably have directed an acquittal verdict on the murder charge. Having decided it was a question for the jury — always the easiest option for any judge — he owed it to the jurors not to disparage them, then or ever, for how they answered it.
That was more than a moral obligation. It was his legal duty.
Canon 3 of the Code of Judicial Conduct specifies in subsection 11, “A judge shall not commend or criticize jurors for their verdict other than in a court order or opinion in a proceeding, but may express appreciation … for their service. …”
It’s a good rule.
Just recently, judges in Hernando and Hillsborough counties hauled scores of citizens into court to berate them for ignoring jury summonses.
The judges needed to do that. Other than military service, jury duty is the most indispensable role any citizen can perform. But prospective jurors need to know that the judge will not hang them out to dry if he disagrees with their verdict.
I wonder how many of the missing in Hernando and Hillsborough had seen Perry’s TV show.
The JQC’s job is to investigate judges who are accused of violating the canons –as Perry should have been — but only a small fraction of its work ever sees public light. Those cases that do, however, almost invariably result in some form of discipline: reprimand, suspension, fine, or removal. Judges hate to hear from the JQC.
The Constitution provides for cases to become public only when the agency files formal charges. Most are dismissed outright or concluded privately.
In the 2012-13 fiscal year, for example, there were 618 complaints but only 62 investigations and four formal charges.
Most of those complaints were probably from people simply upset by rulings. But the price of protecting judges from unfounded embarrassment is to deny the public an insight into how well the JQC is working.
I e-mailed the JQC to inquire whether there had been a case against Perry that was made moot by his announced retirement.
“I gotta ask,” I wrote.
“I know you gotta ask,” replied the executive director, Michael Schneider, “but I gotta say, ‘Can’t.’ “
At least he answered.
Perry didn’t.
Martin Dyckman is a retired associate editor of the St. Petersburg Times. He lives near Waynesville, North Carolina. Column courtesy of Context Florida.
