Sean Smith

VARGAS-EDMOND: MY HUSBAND, AT THE AGE OF 19, WAS FACING 150 YEARS TO DOUBLE LIFE FOR AN OFFENSE IN WHICH NO ONE WAS HURT. HE ENDED UP BEING SENTENCED TO 10 YEARS AND PLED OUT TO THINGS THAT HE DID NOT DO BECAUSE OF THE WAYS THE DISTRICT ATTORNEYS HAVE THE ABILITY TO STACK CHARGES. This past July, Taina Vargas-Edmond, co-founder of the Los Angeles-based prisoner rights group, Initiate Justice, addressed a congressional field hearing on criminal justice reform hosted by Representative Karen Bass (D. CA).  Vargas-Edmond shared her personal experience of California’s punitive tough-on-crime laws and summarized the hope...

This is the sixth in a series of articles about the hearings before the murder trial of Robert Durst. You may click on the hyperlinked titles to read Two Hearings: Robert Durst and Armon Nelson, While Robert Durst Flips Through Photos, Robert Durst Fades Away, Robert Durst and the Inequity of Judicial Time, and Robert Durst’s Warrior in Court. It’s mid-morning in Department 81, Airport Courthouse, and Deputy District Attorney John Lewin has me locked in a bearhug. Then again, maybe it’s more of an awkward embrace, a clumsy blend of affection and aggression? As I observe Lewin’s courtroom modus operandi more and more,...

This is the fourth in a series of articles about the hearings before the murder trial of Robert Durst. You may click on the hyperlinked titles to read Two Hearings: Robert Durst and Armon Nelson, While Robert Durst Flips Through Photos and Robert Durst Fades Away. A video camera operator for Dan Abrams’ website, Law & Crime, is setting up in the Department 81 jury seating area, training his lens on the empty chair across the room where the defendant will sit. The going rate for a video operator is $400 per day. In the gallery, there’s an unusual bustle,...

It’s late on a Friday morning in Department 117. The docket has been cleared and court personnel are straightening up their things in preparation for the lunch break. Judge Katherine Mader glances up at the mostly deserted gallery and spots her.  Late 40s. Restless.  And her hand is up in the air, like a student with an answer to a question no one asked. “Yes?” “Your Honor?” A long beat as the woman hesitates at the crossroads, then decides to do what she knows (and fears) is the right thing. “I’m here to give myself up.” And she begins to weep. Jody Lane (a pseudonym to protect...

Leo has been in 21 foster homes, three psych wards, and one group home. One of his foster mothers would pull him out of bed in the middle of the night in order to whip him and then force him outside like a dog. Belle was beaten so severely by her new housemate that she couldn’t see out of her swollen eyes. She somehow made her way to Los Angeles Trade-Technical College, where she curled up in a ball on the floor outside her counselor’s office. She remembers that she saw terror in the woman’s face when she discovered her...

Editor’s note: Out of respect for the privacy of one of the people depicted in this story, we have changed that person’s name. In the fifth-floor hallway, a middle-aged white guy is speaking into his iPhone. Late 40s, ruddy, he looks like someone you’d stand behind in line for beer at a Dodgers game. “I mistakenly fucked up,” he confides, “so I’m sorry….” Mistake. Fuck up. Sorry. The mea culpas pile up like cars on a fog-shrouded Interstate 5. Apologies are par for the course in the Criminal Courts Building. The Department 30 gallery is packed with mothers and sons, husbands...