Lawhorn’s Lawrence: Judge Michael Malone and the human verdict

Judge Michael Malone, pictured Aug. 26, 2014, in the District IV courtroom, is retiring from the Douglas County District Court.

You know there were a couple of older judges in the Douglas County Courthouse who were smiling about this one.

It was the summer of 1982, and they had just assigned the first case for newly appointed Douglas County District Court Judge Michael Malone to hear. A real barnburner of a dispute between the giant utility Southwestern Bell and the city of Lawrence over whether the city had improperly cut into one of the telephone company’s cables. Sounds about right: Give the new guy the case that features litigants who don’t just have lawyers but have their own legal departments.

Michael Malone was all of 34 years old when he sat behind that bench. He still remembers the thought he couldn’t get out of his mind.

“I had better do this right.”

On Friday, he did it for the last time. Well, sort of. Malone retired as a full-time judge in the Douglas County District Court, but will be serving as a senior judge assigned to the Kansas Supreme Court for the next few months. He’ll be hearing cases with the panel until newly appointed Justice Caleb Stegall takes the bench as a replacement for Justice Nancy Moritz, who was appointed to the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals. He has a stack of appellate briefs that say retirement won’t be leisurely anytime soon.

“It sounded like an interesting way to end my career,” Malone, 66, says of the decision to take the change in assignment.

To me, an interview with Malone sounded like an interesting opportunity, too. I figured there might not be a better person in the county to probe about the human condition. Think about it: He has presided over 200 jury trials, and thousands of other proceedings with people in various states of emotion. If anyone can, Judge Malone should be able to shed some light on how people tick.

Except, he didn’t.

“I don’t know that I see people in their best light,” Malone says. “Certainly, not in their best behavior.”

Oh well, I did learn other things. Like why judges wear those robes, even though there seems to be no functional reason to do so. Yes, it is a respect and solemnity thing, but Malone shed further light. He explained that they used to be multicolored, but they were changed to black in the 1700s to mourn the death of Queen Anne.

“We’re still mourning her death,” Malone says. “Near as I can tell, she must have stood for higher judicial salaries.”

I learned that every six weeks, Malone is on call to make rulings at all hours of the night related to search warrants and other such decisions that must be made in a timely manner. Some weeks, he says you may only get five or six calls the entire week. Others, you get 25 or 30 and get very little sleep.

In case you’re wondering, Malone does not drink a pot of coffee before making a decision at 3 a.m. on whether a police officer should be allowed to enter your home on a search warrant. He said the seriousness of the task is enough that he doesn’t require caffeine.

“It has never become mundane, and it has never become routine,” Malone says. “It can’t.”

I learned that his wife, Barbara, does not call him “your honor.” She does help ensure that he doesn’t suffer too badly from the “black robe disease.” That’s a condition where judges sometimes confuse their importance.

“I’m not important,” Malone says. “The position is what is important.”

Barbara also helps remind him when he is at home and when he is at work. The distinction can sometimes be difficult. Malone estimates that for every hour he spends on the bench in the courtroom, there are about 10 hours spent reading, writing, researching, and simply thinking.

“I have had conversations with Barb where I know I haven’t heard more than five words of what she said because I was still on that case,” Malone says. “She has been wonderful. She would say ‘we’re going to try this again. You’re at home now.'”

That’s all fine and good. The next time I don’t hear my wife tell me to take out the trash, I’ll tell her I was thinking about the finer points of tort law. But so far, I still haven’t learned much about the human condition.

Then, I learned something about criminals. Apparently, there are not as many of them as you may think.

“What the general public doesn’t understand is they say ‘this person is a criminal, that person is a criminal,” Malone says. “I don’t think I have ever seen more than a handful of criminals. What you see are people with a life story. People who are addicted to some sort of drug or alcohol and they make decisions based on those addictions. Or they are people who just make mistakes. Most people don’t try to go out and make mistakes.”

That’s one reason why Malone frequently gives speeches from the bench when he is sentencing someone to prison. He doesn’t have much discretion anymore on the length of sentences he can give a defendant. State law has reduced that process to something akin to how a football coach looks at a chart and decides when to go for one point or two. Really, Malone has a laminated chart, and he jokes the biggest attribute now needed is good hand-eye coordination so that his two fingers follow the lines on the chart properly.

But he can still say whatever he wants when he’s sentencing people. Usually, he tries to say something positive.

“Sentencing someone to prison, even though the law requires it, is a really sad thing to do,” Malone says. “I try to give them some encouragement. The last thing you want to do is send someone out feeling they aren’t any good. That doesn’t do society any good.”

He knows that may not always be the most popular sentiment with society these days. But that’s one of the great things about being a judge. Malone is pointed in saying he doesn’t serve a single citizen of Douglas County. He serves the law. He believes the law should treat defendants with dignity.

“They usually,” he says, “already have done a pretty good job of taking that away from themselves.”

Malone says it is far too easy for all of us to get caught up in the idea of retribution.

“Retribution, retribution,” Malone says. “That’s the type of person I hope will not be on the bench.”

Soon, someone else who hasn’t yet been appointed will take his or her seat on the bench. Malone, who was a Douglas County District Attorney prior to joining the court, has had it for 32 years. It does seem clear now that it takes a certain type of person to “do this job right.” Malone says there certainly will be times where retribution is a natural urge, and all signs point toward compassion taking a back seat.

“There are exceptions,” Malone says. “I have sentenced some evil people. But really, they are the exceptions. Most people are living human beings who are trying to do better.”

Maybe Malone did teach me something about people today: Pass sentence if you must, but don’t judge them at their worst.

Sounds like he did it right.

— Each Sunday, Lawhorn’s Lawrence focuses on the people, places or past of Lawrence and the surrounding area. If you have a story idea, send it to Chad at clawhorn@ljworld.com.