Who Plans These Things?

Maricopa County Superior Court’s Downtown Regional Court Center, or “Downtown RCC” as they call it, may be the most irritating place in the state to handle a case. The Maricopa County regional court centers are where a lot of felony cases end up in their early stages. The cases I’ve had there are ones in which the county attorney has filed a complaint but probable cause has yet to be found for the charges by way of a grand jury indictment or preliminary hearing. When I’m at the Downtown RCC, I usually have to find out what the initial plea offer is and either affirm the preliminary hearing or request a continuance to see about getting a better offer or a dismissal.

Downtown RCC is in the basement of the central court building. When you get out of the elevator, you walk down a hallway and go to an area that looks a little bit like an airport terminal. There’s a line to check in, a help desk, and seating for defendants. I often see a private attorney or two waiting in line with the criminal defendants. I once asked the lady at the desk if I was supposed to wait in line and she couldn’t give me an answer. I never check in, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m supposed to. Awkwardly standing around not feeling entirely sure about what to do is a recurring theme at the Downtown RCC. I think they cultivate that.

If you want to talk with the prosecutor, you have to go to the negotiation room. To get there, private attorneys have to go stand by a locked door and wait for someone with access to open it. It’s usually a public defender who lets you in. Sometimes, it’s a sheriff’s deputy, but that will only get you through the first door. You’ll just end up stuck between two locked doors, waiting for a public defender to let you through the second. Nothing says professionalism quite like looking like a poor puppy dog stuck outside, patiently waiting for someone to let you in.

After you get past those doors, you’re in the public defender’s office. To get to the negotiation room, you need to walk past cubicles, a copying machine, and a conference table. Three right turns and you’re there. Of course, then you have to get in touch with the prosecutor. There’s a dry erase board that usually lists the prosecutors and their extensions. You have to figure out who’s assigned then give him or her a call using a phone in the negotiation room. After using the county attorney hot-line, you get to wait again.

Getting to the phone in the negotiation room is reminiscent of the opening sequence of Get Smart. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it’s definitely more complex than it needs to be. Plus, I think the negotiation room is actually directly adjacent to where where you have to wait for a public defender at the beginning. Would an extra door have been that difficult? Also, the prosecutor’s office has a little window next to where you first wait. Couldn’t they just put someone there and have them get the assigned prosecutor if you need to talk? Never mind, that makes too much sense.

In the negotiation room, you’ll probably find the police reports and a plea. The prosecutor you’ve summoned on the bat-phone is usually going to be one of a generally pleasant group of lawyers. The problem is that they have basically no discretion to do anything. Except in the rarest of circumstances, they can’t change the plea, approve that extra continuance, or dismiss a guaranteed loser of a case for the State. They’ll tell you with a smile that they can’t do a damn thing to help you. At least you’ll know who does have authority to approve your deviation request when you write it.

After accomplishing a whole bunch of nothing, you’ll probably want to communicate what’s happened to your client. If your client is in custody, the fun has just started. You get to backtrack through the cubicles and enter a hallway with little visitation booths. That’s where you get to wait looking helpless until a sheriff’s deputy gets your client for you. You’d better be patient. There’s a good chance you’ll get to wait quite a while before you can contact a deputy to get your client, and a great chance you’ll have another significant chunk of time to wait before seeing your client.

If your client only speaks Spanish and you want an interpreter, you’d better clear your schedule for a day. Okay, okay. Not really. But it seems like that. Downtown RCC experts tell me a defense lawyer’s best bet for an interpreter is waiting outside of those first two locked doors. Instead of looking like a house pet that’s been locked out, you now get to look like a zombie. For best results, approach every professional-looking person who walks by and desperately asking them if they’re an interpreter. If you get one, you begin the process described in the preceding paragraph.

I wouldn’t shed a tear if I never had another Downtown RCC case. I might like it if I was a public defender or a prosecutor (or someone who liked watching private attorneys look dumb, for that matter), but even public defenders and prosecutors seem to hate it.

Every RCC experience I have leaves me wondering who thought it would be a good idea to set it up the way it is. Anyone know? More importantly, if any of you know, do you know if they still like their idea?