Monday marked the second semester of the Atlanta Public Schools cheating trial, and Judge Jerry Baxter looked just as tired of it as he did before the two-week Christmas break.
Not long into the first day back, the Fulton County judge was already frowning, rubbing his brow in frustration and shaking his head in a theatrical “No! No!! No!!!” when attorneys lingered too long while making points.
“Move along now,” ought to be his middle name, considering the frequency with which he utters that phrase while dealing with a team of prosecutors and 12 defense attorneys.
Monday’s best Baxter Moment?
“We talked about ‘ass’ and ‘damn’ for like an hour! She admitted it. So now you have to move along,” the judge told defense attorney Bob Rubin as he cross-examined former APS teacher Shayla Smith.
Smith came into the trial already infamous for allegedly saying her students were “dumb as hell” and that’s why she fed them correct answers on their tests. She denied saying that, although she did admit to the cheating and to telling students, “Go sit your ass down!”
My guess is Smith is not the first Atlanta school teacher to admonish her class that way. Her testimony portrayed a broken system where absenteeism was rampant, where fourth graders did the work of first graders, where students lay on the floor during tests, where administrators suggested that jobs at Walmart awaited teachers who didn’t reach unrealistic goals for test scores and where it seemed almost impossible for teachers to get fired.
Smith was tardy for class 38 times one year and 109 times over a five-year stay at Dobbs Elementary School before the district moved to fire her in the wake of the cheating scandal.
She said she started cheating because it was the culture at the school — and because she was weak.
“I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t change the answers,” she testified. “I just wasn’t strong enough to say no and do the right thing.”
But getting charged with a felony and pleading out to a misdemeanor hasn’t derailed her teaching career. Smith is molding young minds at some school in Tennessee.
That kind of a bounce-back is surprisingly not uncommon. The last time I dropped in at the trial, the jury heard testimony from a cheater who is now teaching in Albany.
I’m guessing it will be hard for jurors to wrap their minds around that in March or April (or later) when they retire to a room to deliberate on the fate of 12 former educators now looking at prison stints. One juror will almost assuredly point out to the others that many of those who testified did the same things the defendants allegedly did but were afforded sweet deals for squealing.
That’s how it always works in criminal justice. The ones who jump on the bus ride free; the ones who decline pay the price. But usually, it’s robbers, muggers and dope dealers fiends ratting out their fellows, so jurors usually don’t feel too bad about voting to convict. This time, those awaiting their fate are middle-class folks, teachers and educators who don’t have criminal records. Jurors might have a hard time sending them to a prison cell.
A month ago, Baxter suggested that the state’s racketeering case was built on sand and suggested the two sides come up with something that doesn’t leave him sitting up there until April rubbing his face in frustration. Lest the defendants feel too smug, he noted that even if they skate on the racketeering counts, the lesser charges could still put them in orange jumpsuits. They’re “taking a big gamble here” by continuing to fight, he suggested.
Baxter’s message to defense lawyers was unmistakable: If you stick around and don’t take one of these cakey deals, I’m gonna light them up if they’re found guilty.
Still, both sides seem entrenched and unwilling to strike a deal anytime soon. Prosecutors are heavily invested in a very public conspiracy case woven together so they wouldn’t have to conduct 12 separate trials. Also, there is a sense of civic outrage that someone at APS cheated poor children out of a chance at any kind of an education.
Defendants have been steadfast in proclaiming their innocence and bashing the prosecution for over-reaching in an attempt to scapegoat somebody. Anybody.
My guess is that several of the lower-level defendants could still plead out to a misdemeanor, although some of the administrators might have a tougher time cutting such a deal.
One thing is abundantly clear: Everyone is weary and virtually no one wants to be there. Lead prosecutors Fani Willis and Clint Rucker are usually found in courtrooms trying to put away murderers and other vicious criminals. But at least the prosecutors still get paychecks.
Defense attorneys, however, are getting killed financially, as are their clients. The trial started in August and could conceivably last a full school year. One lawyer estimated that average fees paid have been about $25,000 or a bit more.
“In the pursuit of justice, you have to do what you were hired to do,” said Gerald Griggs, a sole practitioner representing teacher Angela Williamson.
He added, perhaps joking: “If it goes past March, I might need to get another job.”
Lawyer Bob Rubin, who represents Dobbs Elementary Principal Dana Evans, declared that, “Every lawyer in here is here because we believe in our clients.”
Nevertheless, he said, “I’d take a Walmart income right about now.”
Meanwhile, Atlanta’s high-stakes morality play slogs on.
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