By Scott Brinton
A teenager, not yet 16 years old with short, blond hair, recently brandished a four-inch knife at a boy outside a West Hempstead elementary school. "Give me your phone, or I'll stab you," the robber recalls saying.
The teenager's parents stand beside him as he speaks in a near-whisper. His mother is dressed in a neat, blue-jean skirt and thin, white-cotton sweater, and his father in a tweed jacket and tie. They look like two congregants at a religious service as they stand erect, their hands folded in front of them at their waists and their eyes trained at Nassau County Family Court Judge Richard Lawrence of Merrick. They hardly move and never turn to their son or his lawyer.
The 63-year-old Lawrence, a tall, imposing figure with an easy, reassuring smile, wonders what happened next. The teenager says the victim handed over his cell phone and ran off.
The young robber appeared before Lawrence on a recent Thursday to, in Family Court parlance, "settle the case," which means to admit his guilt. Lawrence handles half of Nassau's juvenile delinquent (JD) and "persons in need of supervision" (PINS) cases. JDs involve teenagers who have committed crimes that would get them serious prison time if they were adults. Young people given the PINS label are most often cutting school or struggling with drug abuse.
Sheltered by soaring oak trees, the 40-year-old Family Court building sits on Old Country Road in Westbury. It is one division of the complex state Unified Court System. Lawrence's courtroom, known simply as Part Two, is a smallish, square room with worn linoleum flooring, two rows of folding wooden seats and a large, rectangular table where defendants, or "respondents," and their families stand. An American flag is hung behind Lawrence's bench, and a brass "In God We Trust" sign is glued beside the door to the judge's chambers. Otherwise, the tan and wood-paneled walls are bare.
Family Court uses its own form of legalese in order to separate it from adult criminal court. The court's objective is not to punish as much as it is to help young people get the help they need so they never commit their crimes again. Lawyers call juvenile-delinquent cases "quasi-criminal."
Lawrence rules that the teenage robber's "admission is satisfactory." His sentencing, called the "disposition," is scheduled for mid-August. At that time, the young man will face one of three scenarios.
n He could be sent to a residential treatment facility for 18 months.
n He could be placed under house arrest at a stranger's or his own home and ordered into therapy.
n He could receive probation and counseling for up to two years.
Meantime, Lawrence issues a permanent order of protection on behalf of the victim. "You're to stay away from him anywhere in the world," Lawrence warns the defendant. "There is to be no communication, not even a birthday card." If the teenager even looks at the victim again, he could face a contempt charge.
A court officer, dressed in a navy-blue guard's uniform with a 9-millimeter pistol holstered at this side, directs the defendant out of the courtroom through the back door. His attorney and parents follow. His mother smiles sheepishly at the handful of lawyers seated behind her and disappears.
The teenager's hearing lasts no more than 15 minutes. A minute later, the next case is called, then another and another.
An East Williston 16-year-old tells the court that he struck down a classmate after shoving him into lockers and calling him "faggot" for months. The defendant was 15 at the time of the attack and was charged with assault in the third degree. Two Levittown 12-year-olds admit to setting a blaze that burned down part of a fast-food restaurant. They were charged with arson in the fourth degree. A Hempstead 12-year-old, who is in her 21-year-old sister's custody because her parents are drug addicts, receives two years of probation for assaulting a boy. She had been suspended from school five times. In all, Lawrence holds 21 such hearings between 9:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. on this Thursday.
He breaks once for 10 minutes at 11:43 a.m. to gulp a big cup of coffee and call his wife in his chambers before proceeding with the next case. It's a typical morning. At 2 p.m., after a one-hour lunch, Lawrence presides over a full-length trial, which generally runs until 5 p.m. The judge almost always takes home thick court reports to peruse at night, highlighting critical details in pen. Each report requires 15 minutes to a half-hour to review. On any given day, he might read up to 10 of them.
Court officer Steven Lambert enjoys working with Lawrence. "It's a totally professional courtroom. There's a great decorum in the courtroom. There's a great relationship with the officers and attorneys," he says.
William Scheeckutz, a defense attorney from East Meadow with a Garden City practice, says Lawrence is "one of the best trial judges. He actually quotes the law in cases. You don't find too many judges who quote the specific law."
He adds, "It's a very high-stress job in terms of the nature of cases. A Family Court judge has to make judgments on the life of a child based on limited information."
Kelli Muse, a three-year deputy county attorney who prosecutes juvenile-delinquency cases, says, "It's sad to see a lot of kids who come in whose parents didn't guide them in the right direction. Sometimes, the parents have done all they can."
Lawrence, a Cornell Law School graduate who was in private practice as an attorney for nearly 30 years before ascending to the bench, says juvenile delinquents come from nurturing homes as easily as abusive ones. He's unsure precisely why young people wind up in his courtroom. "I've been here nine years," he says, "and I still don't know what the answer is," adding, "My job, as I see it, is to help these youngsters."
Lawrence finds comfort in his family, including his wife of 39 years, Ronnie, three grown children, Erika, Kyle and Blake, son-in-law, Daniel, and twin 3-year-old grandchildren. His 91-year-old father, Paul, is a retired Nassau District and County Court judge.
Lawrence also loves to travel. He and Ronnie, who is executive director of the Hempstead Town Housing Authority, have vacationed around the world, from Scandinavia to China. Italy is their favorite country. They're headed to Russia this year.
Lawrence plans to run for his second 10-year term on the bench in 2007. "You can really make a difference" as a Family Court judge, he says. "You can do things that parents can't do or don't think of," such as drug testing. "We have all the people right here who can do things right away. You can really get to the root of a problem, and then you keep your fingers crossed."
Comments about this story? Sbrinton@liherald.com or (516) 569-4000 ext. 203.
