The fracture between the judge and the district attorney's office in Carroll County became cavernous — and even a bit weird — after the judge declared a mistrial in late May in a hard-fought criminal case against a former state trooper.
Since then, the two sides have been launching legal missiles at each other.
John Simpson, the chief Superior Court judge of the five-county Coweta Circuit, wants the DA and two assistants to face criminal contempt of court charges because he alleges they hid evidence in the trial. District Attorney Herb Cranford wants the judge to skedaddle from the case because he says Simpson will hold a grudge against him and his office.
It’s nothing new that judges and prosecutors sometimes don’t get along. Criminal justice is a game people play for keeps. And the high stakes, egos and emotions involved in jurisprudence make for courtrooms fraught with personality conflicts: Judge Immovable Object, meet District Attorney Irresistible Force.
But in truth, conflicts between district attorneys and judges seem to be getting more common.
In Gwinnett County, a judge thought longtime DA Danny Porter might be spying on her through computers. So, she set up her own investigation by hiring a private eye. Problem is, the judge's sleuth then hired a convicted sex offender/computer genius as a tech expect, and that guy may have gained entry into the court system's network. The GBI is investigating and Superior Court Judge Kathryn Schrader has been barred from handling any criminal cases for the time being to prevent any perceived bias.
In DeKalb County, the DA has gotten fighting mad that a judge has unceremoniously dumped her cases over her office’s objection.
And in Fulton County, judges often and famously clash with longtime District Attorney Paul Howard, including once when a judge had him slapped into irons and locked up.
There will be conflicts in courthouses, that’s a given. But when there are, the personalities must shake them off, put on their robes or pantsuits, and return to the courtrooms where they are assigned. They are locked into their jobs and must somehow co-exist, like old married couples.
Most try to do their jobs without prejudice or preconceived notions. They are professionals, after all, and have taken oaths to be fair and square. But then, there is always public perception. In other words, what members of the public see or think they see — "Hmmm, the judge let that burglar go. That figures, he hates the DA."
You can’t have that. It undermines the system. That’s why judges often recuse themselves from cases, even when they think they could be fair, just so people don’t look askance at the system.
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In the Carroll County case, trooper Anthony “A.J.” Scott was speeding 90 mph along a hilly country road on a misty night in 2015 when his cruiser slammed into a car full of teens making a left turn. Two girls inside the car were killed. Scott was not headed to an emergency, nor had he activated his blue lights.
Scott was quickly fired from his job, but it took three tries to indict the boyish-looking former Marine on criminal charges — two counts of vehicular homicide in the second degree, two counts of serious injury by vehicle (which are felonies), violating oath of office, and one count each of speeding and reckless driving.
The case finally went to trial this spring, and the community was split into two camps. There were those who thought it was a horrible accident, but a case that should have ended once Scott lost his job. They believed criminal charges weren’t necessary because the former officer must live with what he has done.
How strong was Scott's support? He was elected to office on the Buchanan City Council six weeks after the crash.
But there were many others who thought if anyone other than a law enforcement officer had been speeding, that person would be wearing an orange jumpsuit.
After several days of wrenching testimony and a deadlocked jury, Simpson declared a mistrial because prosecutors did not pass on to the defense (as they must) a late-arriving theory that state patrol investigators had about the crash. The new theory, which came about from a dashboard video that had been enhanced, contends that one of the girls killed was sitting in the front seat, not the back, and perhaps on another passenger’s lap. This would bolster the defense argument that the crash was the teen driver’s fault.
Now, it is rare for judges to sanction prosecutors for violations of not turning over evidence to the defense. And it may be a good idea for that to happen now and again. Carroll County prosecutors said they turned over an enhanced video of the crash. Defense attorneys acknowledged they got the new tape, but said prosecutors played cute when they were asked what the enhanced tape meant. Defense attorneys said they were not informed that a state trooper now thought that the girl was in the front seat.
Judge Simpson later filed a motion saying the two prosecutors in the case and their boss, Cranford, should face criminal contempt charges and they should be removed from retrying the case.
The prosecutors fired back, hiring attorneys and filing a motion saying the judge “unlawfully and unethically took on the role of investigator, prosecutor, judge/jury, sentencer and witness” against them. They also wanted him removed from the case, calling him “biased and prejudiced.”
Meanwhile, the families of Kylie Hope Lindsey, who was 17 when killed, and Isabella Alise Chinchilla, who was 16, wait for the judicial system to get its act together.
As the judge declared a mistrial in May, family and friends in the courtroom muttered, “What about justice?” and “travesty,” and well as, “It’s not over.”
It would seem that a double recusal might be in order in this case. Wipe the slate clean and bring in a special prosecutor and a retired judge.
Then have an outside arbitrator come in to make sense of the Carroll County courtroom conflict.
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