One of the many ways in which Uganda’s court management structures differs from ours is in its heavy use of Registrars – lawyers who aren’t yet judges (but who will be in the future) exercise a fair number of judicial functions.  For example, the Criminal Court does most of its work in sessions – groups of forty cases that are scheduled for trial over the course of forty days.  The Registrar chooses which of the thousands of prisoners “on remand” will be “cause listed” for that next session.  A case being cause listed triggers the right to have an attorney appointed for those in the session.  The money allocated for the session (40,000,000 shillings, about 13K USD) is sent to the Registrar to administer.  1M goes to the judge, 500,000 to the Registrar, 250,000 each to the judge’s body guard and driver, about 10M to the lawyers for the forty defendants, etc.  Those who allege corruption occurs in the administration of justice often point to the relative trust placed in the Registrars when the session funds are released.

For nearly two years, there was no substantive Chief Registrar – the one supervising the various Registrars.  Vacancies in important roles litter the Ugandan judiciary, including in the Supreme Court (about five), Court of Appeals (about eight), and in the High Court (about thirty).  But last year – just before we began our prison pilot project, Paul Gadenya was moved into this position from his post as Chief Technical Advisor of the Justice, Law, and Order Sector (umbrella organization over eighteen different departments affecting law and justice (judiciary, prisons, police, prosecution, department of justice, etc.)).  As Chief Registrar, Paul basically runs the trial court system and is fourth in the official judicial hierarchy below the Chief Justice, Deputy Chief Justice, and Principal Judge, which is why we wanted to interview him for the documentary, so he could reflect back upon the progress toward implementation of plea bargaining that had been made since last summer.

As I knew he would be, Paul was terrific.  He is really smart, thoughtful, and well-spoken.  He doesn’t sugar coat the challenges Uganda faces, but remains optimistic about the future of his country and about its full-scale integration of plea bargaining.  He reported that since the Pepperdine prison project involving 160 cases at Luzira last summer, more than one thousand additional cases have been plea bargained by Ugandans, and the momentum is building to increase the pace.

After Paul, the crew filmed Andrew Khaukha, who works for both Paul and the Principal Judge to implement their vision of country-wide plea bargaining.  More than anyone, Andrew is making this happen with his dogged determination and strategic planning.  His will be an important voice in the film.

After we watched the rough cut of the documentary that was prepared after last summer’s filming, it became clear that the last chapter of the story was missing.  There needed to be an answer to the question raised by several of our students – sure, we interviewed 160 prisoners and prepared case summaries, but what would happen after we left?  Would these prisoners really get the access to justice they sought?  Would there be any lasting change?

These questions were partially answered by the interviews we captured in which the talking heads told us how much difference we had made, but what wanted even more than these answers were stories of real prisoners who had benefited.

So from the High Court, we returned to the Luzira prison complex where most of last summer’s filming took place.  This complex houses Luzira Upper, which is the maximum security prison, Murchison Bay, the medium security prison, and Luzira Women’s, where about four hundred women are on remand or serving out their sentences for violent crimes.  Last summer, we prepared 160 combined cases from all three prisons, though we filmed exclusively at the maximum security prison.

During my prior visit to Uganda about three months ago, I had attended a consensus-building workshop at which the latest draft of the plea bargaining practice directions (guidelines) were being discussed.  At this meeting, one of the prisoners from Murchison Bay named Rashid had been asked to speak about what plea bargaining meant to him the other prisoners.  I had been blown away by the clarity with which he articulated the reasons he and his fellow inmates benefited from plea bargaining – reasons that went well beyond the fact that he received a shorter sentence than he feared if had gone to trial.  He explained that the uncertainty of not knowing when, if ever, he would go to court, not knowing when, if ever, he would get a lawyer, and not knowing when, if ever, he would be released was crippling him and his fellow inmates socially, psychologically, and spiritually.

When he was finished speaking at that workshop, I knew we needed to interview him for the film.  With Andrew’s assistance, we secured permission to go to Murchison Bay to ask the warden if we could interview Rashid for our film.  Fortunately, the warden (Savestino) had been with me in Louisiana two months ago for a study tour of best practices in moral rehabilitation.  He was also eager for plea bargaining to continue because he saw firsthand the positive impact on prison morale, so he readily agreed to allow us to interview Rashid.

Because Rashid had read from a prepared text a few months ago, I wasn’t sure how well he would be able to tell his story without reading it.  When they brought him to the warden’s office, his eyes lit up when he saw me.  When I introduced myself, he smiled and said, “I know who you are – you came here to tell us about plea bargaining more than a year ago before the team of lawyers came last year.  I also saw you at the conference at the country club.”  That was a good sign.  I told him we wanted to ask him some questions and I asked him if he still had his notes from when he spoke.  He again smiled and said in perfect English, “I have it all in my head – I can talk about it all day long.”

The interview went exceptionally well.  He nailed every question and explained that he is so excited to be reunited with his daughter on March 23, 2019 – he is counting the days now that he has a release date.

Rashid embracing his future (Photo by Rob Hauer)

Andrew had also told us that two women we had interviewed at Luzira Women’s Prison had been released during the last year.  Both had been resettled to Mubende, about three hours from Kampala.  Our hope on Friday was to track down one or both of them so they could tell their story of how the plea bargaining program set them free.  But in order to do this, we needed to capture a slice of life in the women’s prison, which we didn’t have time to get last time, in order to set up the contrast.  So we got permission from the warden there and filmed about an hour of daily life at this prison.  As we were about to leave, we heard some faint singing coming from one of the cell blocks, so we went to investigate.  Ten minutes later, we were in the middle of the cell block surrounding by fifty jubilant women dancing, playing plastic drums (using a bucket), and singing their hearts out about their Savior who rescues them.  We recorded for about fifteen minutes, then shifted to the next cell block over who wanted us to record them singing.  We now have a soundtrack for the film that is causing me to tear up just writing this as I remember the passion and joy in their eyes and their voices.

Thursday night, I had dinner at my favorite restaurant with our Pepperdine students, who were finishing their summer internships the next day, and our Nootbaar Fellows, who will be in Uganda for another few months.  (Earlier that day, I had another productive meeting at the US Embassy about possible funding for some of the projects we are working on).

Farewell dinner with the Pepperdine Interns

On Friday morning, we completed our final interview, which was of the Principal Judge, who is the Chair of the Plea Bargaining Task Force, and the architect of the nation-wide roll-out of plea bargaining.  As always, he was clear and determined, and grateful for the partnership between our institutions.

At about ten, we set out in search of the two women who had been released.  By four, it was clear we wouldn’t find them, even with the help of a local prison officer.  We did get the phone number of one of them, who told Andrew that she had relocated to Wakiso, about forty-five minutes outside of Kampala.  We decided to reload and renew our search on Saturday morning, but time was running short, as we were set to fly home Saturday evening.

At 1:00 a.m. Saturday morning, Henry arrived into Kampala after finishing his final examination of his first year of medical school that afternoon in Ishaka – six hours away.  We chatted for a few minutes before catching a few hours of sleep in advance of setting out for a second day of searching for the released prisoner.

By 10:00 a.m., we had found her.  She was thrilled to see Andrew, whom she remembered from his many trips to the prison informing her and her fellow inmates about plea bargaining.  Since being released from prison, after spending four years on remand, she had been “born again” and was serving as an associate pastor for her village church.  She was also reunited with her nine-year old daughter, from whom she had been estranged prior to being arrested for her minor involvement in a mob killing of a thief.  During the plea bargaining program, she had pled guilty to manslaughter (she hit the deceased with a stick after a group of male villagers had beaten him thoroughly – he died a few days later), and was sentenced to time served.  Needless to say, she was thrilled to be out and living a new life.

Christine telling her story (Photo by Rob Hauer)

After the on-camera interview, we found out what her monthly rent was and paid three months’ worth.  She was exuberant and sang a song, along with a few others as back-up, called “Webale Jesu” – Thank You, Jesus (for Redeeming Me).  Her voice was almost as beautiful as the lyrics.  It was a rather emotional moment, to say the least.  My prediction is that the film will end with her singing this song.

Webale Jesu

Following Christine’s interview, we drove to the Wentz Medical Clinic where my family assisted the Gregstons (our Twin Family) in 2012, and where my two youngest helped a few weeks ago.  The crew shot some “B-roll” of Henry walking around in his lab coat to show that Henry is now entering the clinical stages of his medical training.  When we finished filming last summer, Henry’s goal to attend medical school was just a dream, so capturing him a year later as an actual student closes the loop in a very uplifting way.

Just before we left, Michelle Abnet (Revolution Pictures Producer) had the idea of taking a couple pictures with the wood carvings I commissioned when I arrived in Uganda three weeks ago, and had received back the night before.

“Remand” is the title of the documentary.

It was so great to spend the day with Henry again, and to be able to celebrate in person his exoneration on all charges that had been pending for over five years.  Our dear friends, Colin and Amy Batchelor, had sent with me some money to allow Henry to have a proper celebratory party with his family on Saturday night, which is the first time he will have seen them since we received the favorable ruling three weeks ago.

Thanks for following along.  My final edits on the book (“Divine Collision”) are due in about a week, and the publication date has been set for January 26, 2016.

I find myself in an increasingly familiar location as I write this long-overdue update on our team’s Ugandan prison project and plea bargaining conference – in the KLM Lounge in Amsterdam.  Nineteen days have blown by, and I have only had the time to summarize the first eight days.  Where I left off on Thursday, July 2nd, we had just completed four days of case preparation in three prisons – Mbale, Tororo, and Soroti – all in Eastern Uganda.  In the Mbale prison, more than 75% of the prisoners were “on remand” – waiting for something to happen.  No lawyer, no court date, no sense of the evidence against them, and dwindling hope.

Friday the 3^rd started very early (again), as our group of about thirty-five American lawyers, Pepperdine law students, Uganda Christian University students, drivers, and armed body guards piled into a bus, a van, and a truck for the two-hour drive from Soroti to Lira.  As in the other cities, our morning began at the courthouse where the resident judge in this district hosted a ceremonial launch of our work at the prison.  We always closed these ceremonies with a prayer, usually led by one of our students or lawyers.

From the courthouse, we headed to the prison and broke into our groups, each consisting of a Ugandan lawyer (from the local practicing bar), an American lawyer, a Pepperdine student, and a UCU student.

Insert your own clever quip here . . .

As usual, we had the case file of evidence against some of the defendants we interviewed, and only a flimsy conclusory indictment for others.  Also as usual, Tennessee prosecutor Emily Smith (’10) and former LA prosecutor Alan Jackson (’94) broke off in the late morning for some focused training of the local Ugandan prosecutors.

Around 1:00 p.m., we paused for the typical Ugandan lunch of matooke, ground nut sauce, rice, anemic chicken, spongy beef, and assorted vegetables.  (This same fare was served each evening at our hotel also).   By the end of the week, the American lawyers were eager for something that looked and tasted familiar, or . . . not so familiar).

As was also our custom, in the mid-afternoon, a group of us broke off from the others to re-enact four stages of the plea bargaining process for the judges, magistrates, prosecutors, and defense lawyers in town, which was followed by a spirited question and answer session.  On each occasion, the entire group unequivocally embraced the plea bargaining program that they now understood and could apply.  We always left encouraged.

That evening, we continued our tradition of hosting a dinner at our hotel for the judges, magistrates, prosecutors, and defense lawyers so that the conversation and relationship building could continue.  By the end of the night, we were exhausted, but quite satisfied that we had accomplished our goals.

As we were heading to bed in Lira on Friday night, the second wave of team members were arriving in Kampala.  Federal District Court Judge Beverly Reid O’Connell and California Appellate Justice Tricia Bigelow were given special treatment at the airport – pulled into the VIP lounge and then given a police escort, complete with sirens and honking that parted the gridlocked traffic, reducing the two-hour drive to just over thirty minutes.

A little while later, John Cotton Richmond (US DOJ Human Trafficking Prosecutor) arrived with the film crew, who returned to Uganda to finish the documentary called “Remand” that began last summer.  That crew also received a police escort back to the hotel, which differed greatly from last year’s three-hour detention at the airport.

On Saturday morning, both groups set out from their respective destinations for Murchison Falls National Park for a celebratory 24 hours at the Paraa Safari Lodge.  This weekend served as an appropriate transition point from the intensive and gritty prison work to the philosophical and relational work with the policy makers, high level implementers, and funding sources for the expansion of plea bargaining to the entire country.

After checking into the spacious, western lodge, we hustled the quarter mile down to the Nile River to climb aboard a double-decker river boat for the three-mile cruise to the base of Murchison Falls.  While this was my third such cruise, the first timers were enthralled to be floating on the same river Moses traveled in a basket in Egypt so long ago.  We saw hundreds of hippos and water buffaloes, scores of rare birds, a handful of crocodiles, and soaked in the grandeur of God’s creation.

Murchison Falls

That evening, the team of presenters gathered over dinner to finalize the agenda for Tuesday’s national conference.  Over the course of the week, our plans had evolved away from the “Sage at the Stage” idea of presenting PowerPoints and gravitated toward a full-blown re-enactment of how the plea bargaining process works from arrest through sentencing, supplemented by robust discussion between each scene.

We awoke early Sunday morning for a game drive throughout the park in four safari vehicles.

Lion Cub in a Tree

While the lions, elephants, giraffes, and antelope were great to see, my favorite encounter was with a dung beetle.

I, The Dung Beetle

This little guy worked slavishly for hours (days?) to shape a perfectly round ball of animal excrement about twenty times his size.  His mate then clamped onto the dung ball and went for a ride.  The male pushes the dung along the road until he finds to a place where the female can lay her eggs inside the dung ball where they can grow, the dung providing the nutrients needed.  As we watched, this male beetle rolled his ball of dung for about three minutes until he got to a place he wanted to go.  He then flipped upside down and pushed with his hind legs as the ball slowly moved up the lip of the road, only to shift slightly and then roll back down.  Again and again he tried, only to be met with the same fate.  Eventually, we left in search of other wildlife.  I choose to believe that all of his effort eventually paid off and he was successful in fully accomplishing his task.

While (thankfully) not a perfect analogy, I identify with this little guy as he pushes and pushes, trying to get to the right place with the right people coming along so that the task can be accomplished.  Too many times I have felt the ball rolling back downhill.  As will be clear in my next post, however, I have no doubt that the ball has rolled up and over the barrier and we are now reaping the fruits of our labors.

Anticipation hovers like a humid fog enveloping the brand new hotel complex in Mbale Monday morning as twelve Pepperdine students and ten American lawyers prepared to join their counterparts from Uganda Christian University and the Mbale legal bar to work arm in arm on behalf of prisoners “on remand” at the Mbale prison.  While these prisoners have been charged with capital crimes (those eligible for the death penalty), none has been convicted of anything, and none has even met with a lawyer since being arrested one to five years ago.  I am confident our anxiety is dwarfed by theirs right now.

Two days earlier on Saturday morning, a small team of American criminal lawyers (Alan Jackson, Melissa Mertens, Emily Smith, and I) met with a Ugandan task force developing guidelines that will govern the use of video technology in the courtroom.  More specifically, the guidelines set out when video technology can be used to substitute for live appearance in court by defendants for pre-trial hearings, and by witnesses in court cases.

Video Conference Meeting

At the end of the meeting, we simulated such a court appearance via Skype.  Alan played the judge, Emily the prosecutor, Melissa the defense lawyer, and, appropriately, I was the defendant accused of stealing a boda boda (motorcycle).  “Judge Alan’s” first question, “can you see me now?,” kicked off the simulated hearing.  Everyone left the meeting convinced that this time-saving, money-saving, and security-enhancing procedure will soon be implemented to good effect.

The next day (Sunday), we departed the capital city of Kampala mid-morning in two vehicles – a thirty-seated mini-bus, and fourteen-passenger van.  In addition to our two drivers, we are accompanied at every step of the way by three armed guards.  (Our hotel compound is ringed by ten such guards each evening.  Our friends in the Judiciary are taking no chances with our safety).  Rather than driving the four hours to Mbale in one straight shot, we stopped at the halfway point in Jinja to eat and see the sights, including the Source of the Nile.

Any discussion about Ugandan geography inevitably begins with the fact that Uganda is home to the largest lake in the world, Lake Victoria, from which the longest river in the world, the Nile, begins its journey north to Egypt.  After a decades-long elusive search for the Nile’s source, a British explorer named Speke is credited with “discovering” what Stanley and Livingstone couldn’t find.  A monument is erected in honor of Speke.  Truth be told, of course, the locals had discovered the Source of the Nile long before the Europeans knew there was such a thing as the Nile.

On the phone the day before, we had been promised a large boat that would comfortably seat our group of twenty-three, which includes Abilene Christian University student Allison Brown, who has been carrying a heavy logistical load since she arrived with her lawyer/father Alan on Friday night.  The boat, however, wasn’t quite as warrantied.  As our group piled in on top of each other, the distance between the lip of boat and the surface of the water shrunk from feet to inches.

Because I had taken the one-hour boat tour of the area where Lake Victoria spawns the Nile, and because there were only three life jackets for our twenty-three team members, two armed guards, and two boat personnel, I selflessly volunteered to “supervise” the trip from up the hill on the ridge.

I’ll Wait Up Top

I am such a giver.

While they were puttering around the basin, I called ahead and ordered twenty pizzas for our team and five fish for our Ugandan guards at the Adrift Adventures base camp where we headed after the boat road.  Adrift is home to the famous (infamous?) “Nile High Bungee” experience where those who have decided that braving the terrifying traffic and malaria-infested flocks of mosquitos falls distressingly short of a sufficient amount of risk to one’s personal health and wellbeing, and wants to supplement this appetite for adrenaline by, for the bargain-basement price of $115, plunging off a rickety platform 150 feet above the Nile.  It is reassuring to know that the bungee cord has been replaced since it last broke a couple years back, and the technical staff was extensively trained for many, many minutes before assuming their vital role in this enterprise.

Among our group were five thrill seekers, though truth be told, another ten of us (including yours truly) had previously tasted of these very fruits on a prior visit to Jinja.  (I chose not to become a repeat offender).  Just before they jumped, each thrill-seeker was instructed to waive for the cameras, as if to say “can you see me now?” to ensure that the moment was captured on film.

Fortunately, the two students and three lawyers who crossed off an item on their bucket list did so without injury or involuntary expelling any bodily fluids.  After lunch, we re-boarded and resumed our trek to Mbale.

After checking into our brand-new gated hotel complex, we enjoyed a group dinner with the Ugandan law students, prosecutors, defense lawyers, prison officials, and judicial officers with whom we will be partnering to complete our upcoming prison work.

Everyone is eager to plunge into the interviewing and plea bargaining that will commence on Monday morning.  This is our third such prison project in the adult realm, which we began in 2013 after three years of similar work in juvenile prisons known as Remand Homes.  We are trying a few new things this time, which we believe will further increase the efficiency of the criminal justice system.

More tomorrow.

I will remember today for the rest of my life.  When I am old and can’t remember my name or even recognize my children, I will still remember today.

Seven years and one month ago, a 16 year-old Ugandan boy named Henry was arrested and charged with murder in conjunction with a mob killing of a thief.  After languishing for eighteen months in horrendous conditions in a juvenile prison waiting for the day when it would be indisputably revealed in court that he was in school when the killing occurred, Henry was charged with a second murder in conjunction with the death of a fellow prisoner.  One month later came the divine collision – when God sealed my life and Henry’s together.

After I and a small team of lawyers spent one week in January of 2010 preparing Henry’s and the other twenty juvenile inmates’ cases for trial, I returned to the United States pretty sure I would never return to Uganda.  But then Henry and I started talking on the phone once a week as he updated me on the progress of the cases.  Two months later, the original case for which he had been arrested was dismissed before the trial began because there was no evidence against him.  There never had been.

But when the second case went to trial, Henry was assigned the same lawyer as the adult matron who had also been charged with murder in conjunction with the death of Henry’s fellow inmate.  The matron faced a possible death sentence if convicted; Henry faced a possible three years.  Even though he represented both defendants, the lawyer called no witnesses to testify as to what had really happened – Henry wasn’t involved – but instead called the matron to testify against Henry, casting all of the blame for the unfortunate death on him.  Yes, the lawyer called to the stand one client to testify against his other client.  And after the matron testified against Henry, he didn’t cross-examine her.  Both were convicted in May of 2010.

Fortunately, Ugandan law doesn’t allow the High Court judge that tries juveniles for capital offenses to do the sentencing.  That task is borne by the magistrate judge, who in this case, had learned the truth about what had happened from those who were there.  Henry’s sentence was one year of probation.  But this wasn’t good enough for Henry or for me.  We wanted complete exoneration, so we appealed.

The Chief Justice of Uganda was kind enough to extend to me the privilege of arguing Henry’s appeal under an obscure Ugandan rule that allows him to grant a one-time exemption from the normal counsel rules – only the second time the provision has ever been used (the first was for a Kenyan).  After nearly three years of waiting, the oral argument was held on March 12, 2013.  After a few petrifying hiccups that threatened to further delay the case and remove me as counsel of record, the actual argument went according to plan, as discussed here.

Then we waited.  A few months after the argument, one of the three judges was elevated from the Court of Appeals to the Supreme Court.  Shortly thereafter, another of the judges became the Acting Chief Justice of the Country.  More than a year later, the case was reassigned to a new three-judge panel, but no further argument was scheduled.  Then we waited some more.

Yesterday, I received an e-mail from the lawyer for the prosecution letting me know that the judgment, at long last, was to be read on Friday, June 19^th – three days before I am scheduled to head back to Uganda.  I called my co-counsel in Uganda and explored the possibility of seeking a delay in the court’s ruling so I could be there when it was read.  No dice – the ruling had been given to the Court Registrar for delivery, and it would be difficult (and probably insulting) to request a delay.

Because we are in the middle of filming a documentary about Pepperdine’s relationship with the Ugandan Judiciary, and because Henry’s case is a central part of the story, one of the filmmakers in Malibu (Craig Detweiler) and I agreed that we should film me learning of the verdict.  Whichever way it turned out, it would be real.

The ruling was scheduled to be read at 9:30 a.m., Uganda time, which is 11:30 p.m. my time.  I knew it would be late, and I knew it would be a few hours before my co-counsel could get a copy, scan it, and then send it to me.  So I went to bed after praying for the tenth time that day for good results, or strength and stamina if the results weren’t so good.  Before I went to bed, I downloaded a program that would digitally record through my computer both ends of the Skype call I was scheduled to have with Henry right after I read the ruling.

This morning, Joline checked my e-mail to ensure the ruling had arrived.  It had, but she didn’t open it.  A couple hours later, Craig Detweiler and Kathryn Linehan set up two cameras in our dining room to capture the moment.

Capturing the Moment

I double-clicked the document to open the PDF and started reading the ten-page ruling.  Appellate rulings in the United States immediately announce the judgment, and then run through the rationale for the ruling.  Uganda takes a different approach.  The ruling started with a summary of the evidence presented at trial, and then set forth the trial court’s verdict.  I was so anxious to get to the result, I didn’t even read this first section.  Next came the three grounds for appeal we urged.  Immediately, the court rejected the first and third relating to the sufficiency of the evidence.  I swallowed hard and kept scrolling.

Next came a summary of my argument about why Henry was denied due process of law by having a lawyer with an inescapable conflict of interest.  Next came a summary of the prosecution’s response to my argument.  At this point, I had scrolled to page nine – one page to go.  When page ten appeared, I leaned in and started reading intently.  I tried to read it out loud, but couldn’t get through it.  Tears streamed down my face and my voice deserted me.

Here is what it said:

“We find that, in this case, the appellant was not accorded a fair hearing and we so hold.  The trial and conviction of the appellant contravened Articles 28 and 44 of the Constitution and was therefore a nullity.

On that account, we hereby quash the conviction and set aside the sentence imposed on the appellant, by the Children’s Court, Masindi, the fact that he has already served the same notwithstanding.  For the same reason, also rule out an order of re-trial of the appellant.”

That was it.  It was over.  The conviction was reversed and the case was dismissed.  We had won.  Henry now has a clean slate.

After I composed myself a bit, I called Henry on Skype at his home in Ishaka where he is studying for his final exams at the end of his second semester of medical school.  I cut to the chase pretty quickly, and he smiled bigger than Dallas and said, “Praise be to God! . . . This is an answer to our prayers.”

Showing Henry the Ruling

We talked for a few more minutes, and then we hung up so he could call his mother to tell her the good news.  Craig asked me a few follow-up questions so we could place this moment in the larger context of this story.  Fortuitously, I was sitting in the shadow of the door that used to keep the prisoners in at Ihungu – Bob Goff had torn it from its hinges a few years back and brought it to me as a gift and reminder that there were still prisoners in need of assistance.

I am still a bit wobbly from the emotion of it all, but I’m not sure I have felt this content in quite some time.  Thanks for your prayers and interest all along the way.

Last Friday morning, we bade farewell to the five Ugandan prison officials, none of whom had ever visited the United States before.  They were effusive with gratitude and determined to incorporate as much of what they had learned as possible.  The other five Ugandans and I (Luke returned home late Thursday night) began the day at the Louisiana State Court.  We had the opportunity to watch preliminary hearings, bail hearings, sentencing hears, and what is called “drug court.”

The New Orleans courthouse is the first in the country to be equipped with a drug testing lab inside the building.  Drug offenders in a certain category are given the opportunity to avoid prison if they can demonstrate they are able to stay clean.  This entails appearing in court regularly before the drug court judge, who gives them a much-needed dose of tough love.  The test results are delivered within minutes of the samples being given.

I understand and think I appreciate the arguments made in favor of legalization of at least some drugs.  But my opposition to such legalization strengthened significantly as I witnessed first-hand the devastation visited on the lives of those addicted to these substances.  And yes, that includes marijuana.  It is OK to disagree, but go spend an hour at the courthouse where you will see that the vast majority (95% in some jurisdictions) of crime (violent and non-violent) in our cities traces back to drugs, then we’ll talk.  (Sorry, enough preaching).

We had a chance to observe plea bargaining in action in the sentencing court, which will be a focus of the Los Angeles leg of the Ugandan delegation’s visit in the coming days.  Uganda is currently in the process of integrating plea bargaining into their criminal justice system in an attempt to address the staggering case backlog and prison overcrowding.

After a quick lunch, we were treated to tour of my old stomping grounds – the John Minor Wisdom Courthouse, which serves as the headquarters for the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.  The Fifth Circuit encompasses Louisiana, Mississippi, and Texas, which is why I visited this courthouse often during my 1994-95 clerkship with one of my heroes, Judge Edith Hollan Jones, whose chambers are in Houston.  After a simple phone call, she arranged the whole afternoon briefing remotely.

During the tour, we visited the extravagantly decorated and breathtakingly spacious court rooms where the appeals are argued.  Serendipitously, Judge Jones is hearing cases next week, and her name plate was already in place.  This made for a memorable photo opportunity, as I had a chance to sit in the chair of someone I greatly admire.

In the en banc courtroom

In addition to the tour of this historic building (now 100 years old), we had a delightful meeting with Judge Steve Higginson and his four law clerks.  Judge Higginson walked through the anatomy of an appellate case from start to finish and answered numerous questions from our guests about case management at the appellate level.  The Fifth Circuit is on the leading edge of technology and provided our visitors with a vision of what the future will eventually hold for their appellate justice system.

The court clerk thereafter provided us with an extensive case management briefing and gave them each flash drives with all of the important information covered.

From the Fifth Circuit, we journeyed to the airport and boarded a plane bound for Los Angeles, where the case management study tour will resume after a weekend of rest and sightseeing.