The Albemarle County Circuit Court is open for business, but save for the eight people present (all but one being part of the proceedings) the place is empty the 12 rows of wooden gallery benches being merely ornamental. Behind the bench, beneath a gold-framed picture of Thomas Jefferson, Judge Paul Peatross sits front and center, head resting where it always rests: in his right hand. Peatross’ habitual pose mirrors Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker,” only Peatross looks infinitely less Grecian and markedly more bored than the French sculptor’s famed subject.
In the witness box, a young police officer recalls arresting the defendant for possession of marijuana.
Public Defender Jim Hingeley builds his argument: Did you say the search of the vehicle would take 10 seconds? How many times did you say that? Did the search take 10 seconds? How much longer than 10 seconds did it take? The question here, Judge, is whether the scope of the search exceeded the permission granted.
The Commonwealth’s bow-tied Attorney, Jim Camblos, rises from his seat and turns towards the judge. What Mr. Hingeley fails to note, Your Honor, is that the officer was just doing his job—to look for contraband.
Although Hingeley and Camblos have worked together for more than 25 years, they refer to each other as “Mr. Hingeley” and “Mr. Camblos” before the judge. Likewise, both lawyers address Peatross as “Your Honor” or “Judge.”
If procedure is king of the courtroom—even an almost empty one—then courtesy is queen. It may sound quaint, but in this modern age of blue dresses in the Oval Office and go-fuck-yourselves on the Senate floor, the courtroom is one of the last bastions of old-fashioned etiquette. But until there’s a serious breach in decorum, the kind of thing that earns headlines, most people may never realize that a vacant courtroom is supposed to be a sanctuary of good manners. Even the toughest criminals say yessir and nossir to a judge, and impatience with either King Procedure or Queen Courtesy spells trouble for all.
Judge Peatross is one of five judges on the Albemarle County Circuit Court. More than 4,500 criminal cases and 3,000 civil suits pass through that courthouse each year. In his hands he holds not only his head, but the fate of everyone from murderers to pot smokers to people with one too many speeding tickets.
However, during the past two years Peatross has managed to antagonize his colleagues so much with his courtroom conduct that in February 2004 Hingeley and Camblos filed separate, formal complaints against him. Five months later, the State’s Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission recommended Peatross’ removal from the bench and passed the case on to the State Supreme Court. The commission has made that recommendation only nine times since it was established in 1971.
In a 2004 article commenting on a similar situation between Rhode Island lawyers and judges, Carl T. Bogus, a law professor at Roger Williams University, argued that Rhode Island judges are thin-skinned. They abuse their power, he said, by punishing lawyers who are critical of them with excessively tough sentences for their clients. Taking as his starting point a quote from W. Somerset Maugham— “People ask you for criticism, but they only want praise”—Bogus asserts that lawyers’ occasional solicitousness towards judges is problematic.
“Saying that lawyers treat the judges with deference fails to capture the interaction,” writes Bogus. “It is more accurate to say that lawyers bow and scrape. Some lawyers have elevated fawning to an art form, pulling it off with subtle eloquence.”
Bogus goes on to say that, along with the sense of power that comes from holding a person’s future in one’s hands, years of ass-kissing and sycophancy lead to what’s known as “black robe disease.” The symptoms, says Bogus, include when a judge becomes “impatient, disdainful and cantankerous.” Such adjectives echo the criticisms leveled against Peatross.
“The very best judges have such wonderful demeanors that it brings out the best in lawyers,” says local defense
attorney Steven Rosenfield. “But there are judges that have demeanor problems that exacerbate an already tension-filled system.”
UVA law professor George Rutherglen, an expert in civil procedure, allows that judges are given “quite a bit of latitude to be blunt and critical, especially outside the presence of the jury.” Yet the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission, which read and seconded the complaint against Peatross, is staffed partly by judges. If anybody, they ought to have an idea of what’s kosher on the bench and what’s not.
The Virginia Supreme Court handed down its decision on Peatross in late April 2005. While the Court did not exactly exonerate Peatross, it ultimately decided there was not enough evidence to remove him from the bench. So, after a self-imposed nine months off from criminal cases, Judge Peatross returned to Circuit Court in early July of this year to preside, once again, over cases argued by Hingeley and Camblos. And the drama ain’t exactly over.
Peatross listens impassively to Hingeley’s motion to suppress evidence in the marijuana search case, occasionally adjusting the perch of his head in his hand. Just weeks earlier, Hingeley had filed a motion that Peatross recuse himself from the bench for this particular case. The defendant, now sitting quietly at the defense table, had asked Hingeley to do so based on what he knew about Hingeley’s relationship with the judge. Peatross overruled the motion.
After hearing out the two attorneys in this afternoon’s motion to suppress, Peatross says he’ll have a decision within two weeks. “Thank you, Judge.” Hingeley and Camblos echo each other, collect their things and exit the courthouse.
The archaic manners of the room’s players emulate its spartan interior. Aside from the Jefferson portrait, the courtroom’s only other decorative flourishes are two other portraits of dead white men, framed copies of the Declaration of Independence and Monroe Doctrine, the requisite flags and two brass chandeliers. The chorus of crickets outside fills the deserted room like a liquid.
“I’m reminded when looking at the courthouse,” says Rosenfield, “that Jefferson…believed [the courthouse] was the center of all of public discourse. It was the pinnacle of the community and, architecturally, there is that notion of solemnity.”
The last to leave, Peatross rises from his blue, leather armchair and retreats to his chambers. Even when he’s seated it’s clear the 60ish Peatross is thin, but upright and engulfed in his voluminous black robes, he’s virtually disembodied. At about 6’2" and with a slightly stooped posture, as he leaves the room Peatross looks like he might tip over.
Paul Peatross graduated from Hamp-den-Sydney College in 1968 and got his J.D. from the University of Richmond three years later. After 14 years as an attorney, Peatross was appointed to a judgeship on the Charlottesville General District Court. He was named to the Albemarle County Circuit Court in 1992.
Clearly, Peatross has had plenty of time to build up a reputation among the Court Square crowd, and it’s not just Hingeley and Camblos who have found the judge rude when it comes to criminal cases.
The record, which became public when the case went to the Virginia Supreme Court, stresses the judge’s on-the-job demeanor.
“[Peatross] is regarded as a judge who is often intemperate and impatient on the bench,” wrote local attorney Fred Heblich in a letter to the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission on the topic of the judge’s court demeanor. “He angers easily, and he sometimes makes decisions out of anger that demonstrate meanness and spite. He is known as a judge who frequently treats prosecutors and defense lawyers with sarcasm, disrespect, and contempt. “
Even lawyer Fred Payne, who wrote to the Commission that, “Off the bench, Judge Peatross is kind, compassionate and eminently likable,” allowed that he’s seen “Judge Peatross treat persons appearing before him in a manner which I can only characterize as rude.”
The letters in support of Peatross were from lawyers mostly familiar with the judge’s work in civil cases; the issue at hand was his demeanor in criminal cases.
Peppered with terms like “gentlemen,” “your honor,” and “Mr. Firstname Lastname,” the letters submitted to the Commission by local lawyers spell out, in print, the formality of the courtroom—its vocabulary and mannerisms. Such sentence constructions stand in stark contrast to the allegations of rudeness that is the meat of the texts.
The way architects have their own brand of handwriting, lawyers have a patented brand of formality—and it seems to really mean something to them.
The situation among Hingeley, Camblos and Peatross began to deteriorate in the fall of 2003. That September, Camblos was prosecuting a client of Hingeley’s on a felony charge. On hearing day, and taking into account the defendant’s background, Camblos decided to reduce the charge from a felony to a misdemeanor.
Not so fast, said Peatross. Either drop the case or prosecute the felony. When Camblos and Hingeley tried to explain their rationale and timing, Peatross grew impatient. According to transcripts from the hearing, no apparent conclusion had been reached when Peatross abruptly announced that he was taking it upon the Court to drop the case. The judge later admitted his decision was inappropriate.
Following the incident, Camblos wrote to Peatross expressing anxiety over what Camblos wrote was the judge’s “unnecessary and uncalled for” reaction.
Peatross’ response? It’s not personal, it’s business. That became the judge’s refrain in the following months.
Commenting on the incident to the Commission, Peatross explained, “It is nothing personal, it is a matter of trying to conduct the business of the court. I don’t have anything personally against him, I just want him to operate in a business-like manner…”
In December 2003, another dispute erupted. Camblos and Llezelle Dugger, an attorney in Hingeley’s office, had worked out a plea agreement prior to trial. Peatross didn’t accept it. A second plea agreement was presented in which the defendant would plead guilty to all charges except one. They agreed that the final charge would go to a jury. Peatross accepted this and gave the defendant a tough sentence—the maximum on all four plead misdemeanors. Peatross’ reasoning, according to Commission transcripts, was that if the jury gave a tough sentence in the felony case then Peatross could adjust his sentencing with regards to the misdemeanors.
The day after sentencing, Camblos told Peatross he wanted to drop the final charge. The sentence, said Camblos, was already more than enough. Peatross, however, didn’t buy the lawyer’s claim that he hadn’t planned to drop the charge all along; Peatross believed there had been a pre-existing agreement between Dugger and Camblos—to which the judge was not privy—to drop the case.
This possibility infuriated Peatross.
“I felt like the integrity of the court was at stake,” Peatross told the Commission. “I didn’t think the lawyers were being up front with me, whether it was intentional or unintentional.”
Just days after Camblos’ request to drop the charge, Peatross unceremoniously fired both attorneys from the case.
Peatross told the Commission in retrospect, “I still feel [the attorneys misled me], but if my actions were wrong and I overreacted, then I should correct them in any possible way.”
After each of these encounters the attorneys filed motions to reconsider and wrote personal letters to the judge expressing concern about his behavior. The judge denied the motions and didn’t deal with the matter privately or in person.
“It’s easier to do a good job for one’s client [be it the state or an individual],” explains Steven Rosenfield, “if everyone’s getting along outside the courtroom.”
Peatross’ nickname among criminal defense lawyers is “Maximum Mac.” He’s known for his tough sentences and rarely cuts anyone a break. For example, it was Peatross who recently sentenced (on appeal) an Albemarle couple to over two years in prison for serving alcohol to minors at their kid’s 16th birthday party. While this was less than the original 8-year sentence, seeing as Camblos had recommended a 90-day sentence, many still considered it harsh. According to local lawyer Fred Heblich’s letter to the Commission, “it is said of him that ‘his idea of reasonable doubt is a suspended sentence.’”
The final straw came in early February 2004. During docket call, which is when a judge schedules upcoming hearings, motions and trials, Hingeley asked to move back the date of a trial. According to the testimony of Camblos, who was present at the docket call, “[the Judge] then asked Hingeley with irritation, sarcasm and anger, while throwing his hands in the air, to tell the Court what day he wanted.”
Two days later, on February 4, 2004, Camblos and Hingeley’s offices each filed formal complaints against Peatross with the statewide Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission. (Camblos says these actions were not coordinated.) The attorneys’ primary grievances? Peatross had shown little respect for the king and queen of the courtroom: procedure and courtesy.
After a formal hearing in June 2004, the Commission concluded that there was sufficient evidence to recommend that Peatross be taken off the bench and a formal complaint lodged with the Virginia Supreme Court.
Citing specific canons from the Canons of Judicial Conduct for the Commonwealth of Virginia, the Commission’s notice to Peatross stated, “You have failed to uphold the integrity and independence of the judiciary…to avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety…and to act at all times in a manner that promotes public confidence in the integrity and impartiality of the judiciary…You have failed to be faithful to the law…and to be patient, dignified and courteous to those with whom you have dealt in an official capacity…”
At that juncture, Peatross voluntarily took himself off the criminal bench until the Supreme Court had decided the case. He limited his casework to civil complaints for the next nine months. During that time, the State paid him his regular salary of $125,795 and substitute judges filled in for him in criminal proceedings, according to D.J. Geiger, the State court system’s media relations spokesperson.
In April 2005 the Supreme Court decided there was a lack of “clear and convincing evidence” that Judge Peatross had acted inappropriately and dismissed the case. Instead of calling Peatross’ behavior “extremely impatient, undignified and discourteous,” as the Commission had, the Virginia Supreme Court chose the words “stern, direct, and authoritative,” and thus not in violation of the Canons. Peatross was free to return to criminal cases.
Both Hingeley and Camblos declined to be interviewed for this story. Peatross, too, declined to be photographed or interviewed, saying the public record speaks for itself.
In late April Judge Peatross returned to criminal cases on the Albemarle County Circuit Court bench, where Camblos and Hingeley again argue cases in front of him. The question that now arises is whether it’s possible for Peatross not to hold grudges against the attorneys for the ordeal of the past two years.
Indeed, Hingeley anticipated this situation when addressing the Commission: “As a result of this, I would find it very difficult to appear in front of Judge Peatross, or for anybody in my office to appear in front of him…I think that that client would be very concerned about my ability to represent that client zealously and effectively…”
Camblos and Hingeley believe their clients could pay the price for them publicly criticizing the judge, and that a judge known for tough sentences could get even tougher. The dilemma is described in the article by Bogus, the Rhode Island law professor.
“There is a strongly enforced taboo,” he writes, “against criticizing the state’s governmental institutions, particularly its courts. The targets and enforcers of this taboo are one and the same: the lawyers and judges themselves.”
Hingeley tells his clients about his office’s relationship with Peatross. If the client doesn’t want Peatross to hear the case based on what’s transpired, Hingeley’s office files a motion asking Peatross to recuse himself from the case. In the four months since Peatross has returned to the bench, only six clients have asked for a different judge. Peatross has dismissed each of these motions, maintaining that he is entirely impartial.
The feasibility of that claim invites the philosophical debate of where and how we draw our emotional boundaries. It’s impossible to reach conclusions about Peatross’ vow of impartiality because the only person who could possibly know the internal workings of Paul Peatross the Judge is Paul Peatross the Man. But even then, can Peatross the Man know himself beyond a reasonable doubt?
Taken as a whole, the six cases, including that of the alleged marijuana possessor, hold no clue yet, either. As of press time, only one case had been concluded. Another case has been dropped, three have not yet gone to trial, and one awaits sentencing.
But whatever the outcome, on the afternoon Hingeley moved to suppress evidence against his alleged stoner client, Judge Peatross appeared cool, calm and collected. Was he on his best behavior given recent events? Only time will tell.
Bench pressed
Each of the players in the Peatross drama testified before the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission in June 2004. The following are excerpts from what Peatross, Hingeley and Camblos had to say for themselves.
“At the last minute, for the first time he looked at the case and decided he doesn’t want to treat it as a felony, and I thought that was inconsistent. I thought that took up a lot of time, that put a lot of people to work when he could have made that decision earlier, and I was hoping that he would understand that he should be more conscientious in how he was going to present his cases and make decisions earlier is what I was trying to encourage.”
-Judge Paul Peatross on Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos regarding the September 2003 case
“If I am lying to you, I invite you to remove me from office, because I cannot appear here before you and tell an untruth, and I am telling you the truth. That’s what happened.”
-Judge Paul Peatross on the December 2003 case
“I was mad at myself because I was not standing up to him more than I had been standing up to him, because of the way he treated us…I was taking the easier course many times of just not saying anything as opposed to saying something and getting snapped at…that’s why I said our professional relationship troubles me deeply.”
-Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos
“I was very concerned about [defense attorney] Llezelle personally because this was very, very difficult on her, but I was also concerned about, from an institutional standpoint, how this affected our office…Public Defenders are always struggling against a negative impression of the people that we have in our offices and the work that they do. So now I am faced with a situation where there is a public declaration by a Circuit Court Judge that one of the people in my office is unethical and lies to the court and is guilty of misconduct, so I had to deal with that.”
-Public Defender Jim Hingeley on Llezelle Dugger’s dismissal from the December 2003 case