The Making of a Judge

Out of tough first year, a hard-won confidence
Growth: Pamila J. Brown has survived many challenges, learning case law and the daily routine of Howard District Court.
 
By Lisa Goldberg
Sun Staff

June 30, 2003

Judge Pamila J. Brown glared down from her Howard District Court bench at a 22-year-old man caught driving 100 mph.

She was about to pass judgment, but first she had something to say.

"This speed is ridiculous," she said disapprovingly, her words tumbling out lightning-fast. "A car going that speed is a deadly instrumentality."

Then the judge reduced his speed to a 2-point violation (the 100 mph was a 5-point violation), fined him $400, gave him one year of probation and ordered him to attend a program that targets people caught driving at high speeds.

To look at her this day, May 7, lecturing and listening and imposing swift, strict decrees as she efficiently presided over a docket jammed with 153 speeding and other minor traffic cases, you'd never guess the tumult of a year ago.

On May 7 of last year and in the weeks and months soon after, her unease on the bench was noticeable as she struggled to learn the ropes of her job, trying to figure out what to say, what to sign and how to rule.

One year later, Brown acknowledges that the learning curve wasn't always smooth, that she hit a few bumps as she navigated her way through the realities that came along with the realization of a longtime dream.

But she has reached a place where she feels more comfortable - more confident - in her new role. "Time just flew by. It doesn't even seem like a year," she said. "But it's a good feeling to have made it through - battered and bruised, but no worse for the wear. ... It's just like a hard workout."

Early challenges

Brown had been on the bench for eight months before the state legislature made it official, confirming former Gov. Parris N. Glendening's decision to tap her to fill the vacancy left by longtime Judge James N. Vaughan's promotion to chief of the District Court system.

Her hearing in front of the Senate's Judicial Proceedings Committee in January was marked by high praise.

Brown, said Sen. Edward J. Kasemeyer, the Columbia Democrat who sponsored her in front of the committee, is "a real quality person."

But the sentiment from those gathered in the Miller Senate Building was still far from unanimous in Howard County, where lawyers had been grumbling for months - always privately - about her judicial style and her knowledge of criminal law.

Brown's background wasn't in criminal or motor vehicle law, cases she would hear four days a week. Her expertise was in transportation, contracts, workers' compensation and civil litigation, experience gleaned from years working in the Maryland attorney general's office.

She would have to learn by reading and experiencing.

In the early days, that meant stepping off the bench to quickly look up case law before she rendered a decision. (These days, she says she's compiling an easy-to-reference list of appellate decisions she'll have at her fingertips, a list similar to one a colleague compiled.)

It also meant consultation with other judges, attending judicial conferences, and talks with lawyers and court staff. And it meant checking out the programs she was sending defendants to, such as Alcoholics Anonymous and a Mothers Against Drunk Driving victim impact panel.

As months passed and her ease on the bench increased, the tide of legal opinion in Howard County started to turn. As the end of her first year neared, those who criticized her early on and those who were comfortable with her style said they could see a surer footing from the bench.

"She's developed - she really has - over the year," said Lutherville lawyer George Psoras Jr., a frequent visitor to Howard District Court. "I think she's matured in the position."

"I see a much higher level of confidence in her rulings, and they're faster," said Columbia lawyer William E. Erskine. "Her rulings have always been correct, but she just reaches the decisions more quickly and confidently."

A fast pace

In Brown's courtroom, cases move swiftly, and the lectures are strict.

On a recent afternoon, she gave a defendant with a bad driving record a heated dressing down - and a visual illustration of the volume of offenses he had committed. She fanned out the pages, which were connected end to end, stretching her arms as wide as she could.

"Pretty much on an annual basis, you get suspended," she said, frowning.

Another defendant, this one with a history of substance abuse, got a dual message as a result of an impaired driving conviction: praise for his recent efforts to combat his addiction but a reminder that "there has to be a consequence for one's actions." She gave him a two-week term in jail.

The lectures are nothing new in Courtroom 1, although she has modified them, she said. She has cut out, for example, the stern warnings she once handed down to defendants even after prosecutors agreed to drop charges.

"I may have done more admonishment than was appropriate in the beginning," she said.

She has also changed some of her standards, particularly in traffic cases. Early on, she was prone to give people with clean driving records a no-points pass; during her first traffic docket last year, she even gave a probation before judgment to a young man caught driving more than 100 mph. These days, her upper limit for the coveted judgment, which keeps a conviction and motor vehicle points off a defendant's record, is up to 20 mph above the speed limit.

"You live and learn," she said.

Her comfort level on the bench has increased greatly during the year, she said, although she knows she will always wrestle with certain aspects of her job - namely sentencing. It's a balancing act, she said, to figure out the best result to address punishment and the possibility for rehabilitation in each case.

When an out-of-state impaired driving defendant came to court with her children in tow, she agonized, she said, over who would take the youngsters home. In the end, she exercised mercy - and delayed the start date of the eight-day sentence.

"You don't do it in a vacuum," she said.

From her seat on the bench, too, she knows she is the public face of the judicial system, and that carries hefty responsibilities. As she does her job, she knows that patience ("You have to reach down deep sometimes.") and impartiality ("Everyone has to feel they got a chance to say what they want to say.") are a must, she said.

She even keeps notes in a book on her bench - such as one that tells her "nothing's funny here" - to remind her of the special gravity of her role.

There will always be judicial lessons, she knows, as she continues the transition from advocate to arbiter. And while she doesn't yet consider herself a veteran of the job, she said she feels "well-indoctrinated."

A routine

After a year in office, she has settled into a routine. In by 8 or 8:30 a.m., she grabs her Special K cereal and sits down in her chambers to look through files, highlighting high speeds in motor vehicle cases and rereading her notes where a probation violation has been alleged before court begins.

She makes time for "decompression" during the day, she said, and tries to head to the Columbia home she shares with husband, Christopher Robinson, and their 11-year-old twins, Matthew and Marissa, by about 5:30 p.m.

As the twins grow older, their activities are increasing, and Brown often runs from court to basketball practice and games for Matthew, to ballet and Girl Scouts and cheerleading for Marissa.

But Brown's affiliations have changed drastically. Once a force in community activities, she offered her voice to numerous boards - she was, for example, chairwoman of the Hickory Ridge Village Board. Now she has gone "cold turkey" - her words - although the job still allows for her involvement with professional organizations, such as the American Bar Association.

She misses her community voice, she said, although she knows her bench gives her a new one.

"The metamorphosis is ongoing," she acknowledges.

She has also moved into a different social sphere, one populated more and more by judges. She often feels restricted to topics like the weather or sports in gatherings with other lawyers. With her judicial colleagues, she feels freer, she said, talking about the job.

Robinson said he knows the job isn't always a cakewalk for his wife. Sometimes, he said, she "tries to be everything to everybody."

"The thing I try to impress upon her is don't take the weight of the world on your shoulders," he said.

She knows the gravity of what she's doing, the responsibility on her shoulders, will never leave whether she's one year, 10 years - or 30 years - in.

And despite the uncertainty of the start, she's thrilled to just be a judge.

"I feel good about the year, believe it or not," she said. "I had all that anxiety and trepidation. Now I'm at a place where I'm very comfortable at being here. I just try to do the best I can do and not berate myself."
 

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