Arraignment

The following section describes Esther’s experience during the arraignment phase of her case. “Before I saw the judge for my arraignment, I met my public defender, Maya,” Esther says. A drawing of a young lawyer is paper-clipped to a manila envelope. Her name, Maya, is written above it. She is a lighter-skinned brown woman, with her curly hair up in a bun and small hoop earrings in her ears. She is wearing a blazer with the sleeves rolled up and carrying a load of files under one arm. She smiles and waves. Esther narrates the experience, saying: “I was only able to speak with Maya for 15 minutes. Here’s a snapshot of our conversation.” Esther is locked in a holding cell as Maya approaches. To each side is an armed guard. In the cell are many other people awaiting trial, busily having other conversations. “Hi Ms. Pierre. My name is Maya and I am going to be representing you,” Maya says. “Can I call you Esther?” “Yes,” Esther replies. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time,” Maya explains. “I’m going to tell you what I know about your case and the charges the prosecutor has filed against you. Then I am going to ask you a series of questions, mostly personal. I should say that everything you tell me is confidential and I will be taking notes. The two are now face to face, separated only by the bars of the cell. Maya continues: “I know you’re likely processing a lot. But, the more information I have about you, the stronger I can argue for a prompt release.”

Esther asks, “What do you mean by prompt? Am I not going home today? Am I going to Rikers?” Maya responds, “Well, we don’t know yet. Based on your charges, we can assume the prosecutor is going to be asking for money bail.” “Oh no, no!,” Esther pleads. “I don’t have money, I just lost my job!” “Okay right,” Maya says. “That is a good place to start.” As Maya calmly asks questions, the word balloons surround and enclose Esther, who looks on with concern. “When did you lose your job and what did you do? Where do you live? Do you have kids? Can you tell me about what happened leading up to your arrest? Are you a U.S. Citizen? Do you have any health conditions?”

Esther narrates: “I remember feeling very overwhelmed by the questions. I was actually facing the possibility of going to jail!” Maya, holding up Esther’s charging document, explains the charges against her. “So, your top charge - meaning the most serious charge - is Robbery in the 2nd Degree and that comes with a maximum of 15 years in state prison. Because this is a felony, there is no way to resolve this case today. The prosecutor will decide whether he wants to present this to a grand jury, and then we’ll know more about how serious he is about this case.” “But I can’t spend 15 years in prison!” Esther responds. “And I can’t be deported. What about my kids?!” “Right,” Maya says, looking off to the side and considering the options. “Well, this prosecuting office is supposedly ‘progressive’ so I’m hoping we can get you a better deal down the line to resolve this without a trial and avoid the maximum sentence.” Maya and Esther face each other on opposite sides of the bars as Maya concludes the conversation. “Let’s try to get you released today so you can fight your case from home. Can you tell me if you have any mental illnesses or if you struggle with addiction?”

Esther, speaking from the present, sums up her conversation with Maya. Esther says: “When Maya talks about ‘resolving’ the case, she means finding a way for it to end. Cases can end in multiple ways: Through being dismissed - ‘thrown out’ - by the prosecutor Through a guilty plea - offered by the prosecutor Or through being found guilty or not guilty by a jury and/or judge. Even though the prosecutor had not yet offered me a plea bargain, and it was only my first appearance, my lawyer and I were already talking about a plea and the risk of losing at trial. That risk is determined by the prosecutor’s initial charging choices, which, for me, came with a maximum of 15 years in prison. If I lose at trial, I face 15 years. That number framed how we thought about the case from the beginning. After the quick conversation with Maya, it’s my turn to see the judge.” A panel shows a close-up of the door to a courtroom. In the next panel, there is a close-up of Esther’s hands, handcuffed, as she approaches the judge.

A court security officer stands below the Judge’s dais. The judge, an older white man, is seated in a black robe and glasses. The officer calls out: “Defendant Pierre, step up. Now calling docket ending 0103 People V. Esther Pierre.” The officer reads the charges as Maya and Esther stand before the judge: “Robbery in the 2nd degree, Assault in the 2nd degree, and other related charges.” Now, the prosecutor stands and says, “There is no offer or recommendation at this time. Esther closes her eyes in tense anticipation. “The people are filing grand jury notice: We intend to present this case to the grand jury next week.” Esther, narrating, discusses the next steps. “They are about to discuss my bail. In New York, bail is decided at the arraignment and so the judge also decides whether to release me or not. If I am released, he’ll set the conditions. In other states, bail would have been decided before the arraignment. Remember that every state and jurisdiction does things a little differently. It’s important to find out the details about your particular place!”

Back in the courtroom, the prosecutor continues. “The people are requesting money bail in the amount of $75,000. The defendant has 2 bench warrants and 3 arrests, one resulting in a misdemeanor conviction. In this case, the defendant slashed a security guard. She cannot be trusted to return to court, and her continued contacts with law enforcement demonstrate an unwillingness to live a law-abiding life.” Maya responds to the prosecutor’s recommendation, speaking directly to the judge. “Your honor, I am respectfully requesting that you release Ms. Pierre on her own recognizance,” Maya says. “Her first bench warrant was issued because she did not complete community service in a prior case. She never missed a court date. And she promptly completed the community service after being given a second chance and securing childcare. While Ms. Pierre has one misdemeanor conviction, I would like to note that it was a drug charge for possessing a controlled substance. For that, she was given community service and she completed all 10 days. Ms. Pierre also has young children at home and she is their sole caretaker. I have spoken with her sister, who lives in her neighborhood, and she has agreed to remind her of court dates.”

Maya continues to explain the context for Esther’s situation. “Ms. Pierre recently lost her job as a home health aide and so any amount of bail is unaffordable for her and her family. She has every reason to return to court because of the seriousness of the felony charges. If your honor is not inclined to release her I urge you to consider supervision conditions instead.” The judge folds his hands and pauses to think. Then, he says, “Bail is set in the amount of $100,000 insurance bond over $50,000 cash bail. This case is going to Courtroom F next week for grand jury action.” Esther is shocked. The bailiff directs her out of the courtroom as she looks down at the ground in disbelief. As Esther exits, the Bailiff says, “Bail is set, step in, one going in.”

A large drawing shows a prison bus that will take Esther to Rikers Island. A long bridge stretches down the page from the city skyline in the distance to the island where Esther will be imprisoned while she awaits trial. Below, there is a vignette of Esther hugging her children. A barbed wire fence shows the force that will separate their family. Esther narrates from the present, describing the effect the judge’s decision had on her. “As you can imagine,” she says, “this was devastating. The whole hearing lasted all of three minutes and then I was on the way to Rikers Island Jail. I didn’t have the money to pay for my freedom, and neither did my sister. So, I spent the next nine months in jail waiting for my case to end. My kids had to move in with my sister, who had to get another job to support them. I lost my apartment because I couldn’t pay the rent. In many places and cases, people have to wait much, much longer than I did. With the pandemic, courts were closed and thousands of people were waiting in jail for their cases to be resolved. Meanwhile, they were facing increased risk of infection and serious illness because of jail conditions and lack of medical care.” The Arraignment section of Esther’s Story ends here.