THE MAKING OF A JUDGE

The Sun, Baltimore, Md.
Jan 4, 2003
Lisa Goldberg

The sight has become a familiar one in Howard District Court's Courtroom One: Judge Pamila J. Brown on the bench with a
determined look on her face, staring at the defendant over her half-lenses.

"You are aware you could spend the next year thinking about what you've done in the Howard County Detention Center?" she asks a
first- time drunken-driving offender one morning in late November.

Ultimately, she is lenient - granting probation before judgment with no supervision.

More than six months after her first day on the bench - the Tuesday after Memorial Day - Brown has adopted her judicial face.

Once an energetic and uninhibited speaker, she measures her words more carefully. And she rarely misses the opportunity to lecture
a defendant - at times even when prosecutors choose not to go forward with a case.

Brown, 48, has spent the past half-year in a fishbowl, her ever action, her every word, her every ruling and imperfection and mistake on
display and open for argument and criticism.

But while she says she is comfortable with where she is on the judicial learning curve, she also acknowledges that she is not a
finished judge.

She would welcome face-to-face discussions, she says, with lawyers and court workers who have quietly criticized her early
procedural errors and style.

But that candor has been scarce - a product of the inherent isolation that comes with her new job.

"I'm willing to listen and willing to learn and willing to change if I need to change," she said.

Columbia lawyer Clarke F. Ahlers offered a nuanced analysis of her progress:

"I honestly believe she does a good job," he said. "She gives you a level playing field, listens to your arguments ... and if she doesn't
have a perfect understanding of criminal law, so what?"

From lawyer to judge

Truth be told, the jury is still out on what kind of judge Brown will become. But as she navigates her new role, she can rest assured
that she has company.

Between September 2001 and October 2002, about 20 attorneys like her made the move from the lawyer's table to the Maryland
judicial pulpit, all of them as hungry as she for the job, all of them learning that life as a judge can be a very different thing.

For months, members of this group crammed alone, relying mainly on the more experienced colleagues in their courthouses for
day-to- day advice.

It wasn't until one week in late October, while the rest of the country was riveted on the search for a serial sniper, that all of the new
appointees came together in a room in the Mount Washington Conference Center, sitting in assigned seats around a U-shaped table,
for their official orientation.

The week, held once a year and known unofficially as "baby judge school," drew judges with a range of experience.

Judges who had only recently been appointed learned alongside those who had been on the bench as long as a year. Brown, who by
then had dispensed judgment for five months, fell in the middle.

Presenters at the orientation had a universal message: Being a judge comes with perks - no more hunting for parking spaces or
racing from court to court. It also comes with responsibility.

"Now, you are the court," Prince George's District Judge Patrice Lewis, an organizer of the school, told the assembled judges.

They would spend the better part of six days there, reading handouts stuffed into thick blue binders, watching Power Point
presentations and listening as more-seasoned judges talked about the tricks and shortcuts of the profession, how best to handle a
courtroom, how to avoid the pitfalls that might lead to an ethics violation or a call before the Judicial Disabilities Commission.

A stellar career can be smudged or even ruined by a single "slip of the tongue," Court of Special Appeals Judge Arrie W. Davis told
the group on the first full day of orientation.

"If you don't keep your temper there, then why are you there?" he said. "Your job is to keep a lid on things."

Issue of sentencing

Ask any judge what gives him or her the most pause, the most cause for reflection, the most angst, and the answer will often revolve
around sentencing.

And so, on the second full day of New Judge Orientation, the group sat for an entire morning, under the glare of fluorescent lights, and
listened to the thunder of Baltimore County Circuit Judge Dana M. Levitz.

A judge for 17 years (and college theater major), Levitz cut to the chase: "Without question," he said, "sentencing is going to be your
most difficult task."

So judges should know what they can about the sentences they impose. Visit a prison ("It is a scary, scary place"). Explain your
reason for imposing a particular term. ("I guess I'm still naive enough ... to think that occasionally, it's probably very occasionally ...
but occasionally, I think what I say has an effect on defendants.")

And know that the sentence you impose isn't the sentence the defendant is going to serve. The state corrections system has so
many outs built in - for good behavior, for work duty, for "special projects" - that a nonviolent inmate could earn enough credits to
shave off two-thirds of his or her time.

"You need to know what your sentence means, and this is what your sentence means," Levitz said, rising up on his toes, his voice
booming.

The variety and number of cases before a judge might become mind- numbing at times, he said. Take notes, save them for future
reference and move on to the next case.

"That is the bathtub. Pull the plug. Let the water drain," he said.

Time of `brain freeze'

The afternoon would see specialized sessions for district and circuit courts on civil and business law. The next day, traffic court and
landlord/tenant issues for district judges, jury-related issues for circuit judges.

And so on.

The information, crammed into 50-minute "periods," designed after the high school day - class change bell and all - could be a bit
overwhelming at times.

"I have brain freeze," Brown said during a break in the day. "It's so much to wade through."

The week would end up being a kind of bonding session - a "you're- not-alone-out-there" discussion of the unique issues confronting
the judges' new status as arbiters. Along the way, organizers and lecturers provided helpful hints, a trip to the Holocaust Museum, a
health screening and a refresher course on the law.

"It's like preaching to the choir, in a sense," said Court of Special Appeals Chief Judge Joseph F. Murphy Jr., a new judge school
organizer who taught classes in evidence and constitutional law.

What organizers also hope to impart, he said, is a sense that it's not the individual judge who is important but the judge's role in the
state justice system.

"When you walk out on the bench, you represent the Maryland judiciary," Murphy said.

Days later, Brown was still raving about the people she met - the new friends in the judiciary who, like her, were charting new territory
in their professional careers.

"They're at the same place and time as you are," she said.

Compartmentalizing

Making the transition from lawyer to judge hasn't always been the easiest ride. There were times when Brown wondered whether she
was doing the right thing, when it was tough to walk away from the queasiness that permeated the job at the end of the day.

She would learn over time to "decompress," to find 15 minutes of quiet time - with no chambers work, no discussion, no nothing - to
let go of the tough moments of the day before heading for home.

"It just will get better with time, and you have to force yourself not to think about it," she said. "You have to compartmentalize that this
is a job."

And so, home became just that. The husband. The kids. The incessant running that comes with raising twin 11-year-olds: Marissa's
cheerleading, Matthew's basketball.

Still, Brown's husband, Christopher Robinson, could tell there was something different about Mondays. His wife, he said, was always
careful not to say too much about her job, not to give too much away, to avoid saying anything about matters whose privacy she was
duty-bound to protect.

But she volunteered once that Mondays - maybe because of the influx of weekend-incident sparked domestic petitions, maybe
because it was, simply, the beginning of a new week - were a stress.

On Mondays, she would have to "hit the door running," Robinson said.

"She's picking up some confidence along the way," he said. "I don't hear about Mondays as much, but I know they're still there."

Now a veteran

For all her newness, Brown is now, officially, a veteran. Seven months after she first took the bench, she surrendered the mantle as
Howard County's "baby" judge on Thursday.

Longtime Howard prosecutor Sue-Ellen Hantman, appointed to fill the slot created by the death of Howard District Judge C. James
"Kit" Sfekas, is now the newest kid on the block - learning the ropes, bearing up under some of the most intense scrutiny from the
advocates who were once her peers and are now, in a sense, at her judicial mercy.

Brown could tell her a few things - about listening to fellow judges, about taking her time to make her decisions.

Despite any concerns about her growth in the job, Brown says she feels she has been afforded a "great deal of respect."

She knows she faces a steep learning curve and a responsibility to keep up with the latest interpretations of the law. But, she said,
she expects the attorneys who appear before her to be prepared. "It's not my responsibility to try anyone's case for them," she said.

And while lawyers always have an out if they don't like her decisions - an appeal to Howard's Circuit Court - she said she hasn't seen
many.

At least now, though, she knows she's in good company, among the other new judges making the same leap across the state.

Whatever the challenges, she said, she believes becoming a judge has been worth it.

"It's the thing I dreamed of and yearned to do," she said.

[Illustration]
Photo(s); Caption: With a new arrival, Howard District Court Judge Pamila J. Brown is second-most-junior on the
county bench. Judge Pamila J. Brown measures her words more carefully than she used to, but she rarely misses
the opportunity to lecture a defendant in Howard District Court.; Credit: DOUG KAPUSTIN : SUN STAFF DOUG
KAPUSTIN : SUN STAFF