By Vironica Brown, JBA Young Lawyers Section
There was a time not too long ago when I thought that being a prosecutor would ultimately kill me. There was an inherent level of stress my body could no longer handle.
I was sitting inside a hospital room trying to cheer up my then 94-year-old grandmother when I complained of a headache. I’m never sick and my body usually runs like a well-oiled machine.
However, this time I said something that made the nurse want to check my blood pressure. She mumbled “this can’t be right” and checked again, then left to get a doctor. My dad and uncle, who also were sitting inside the room, were stunned.
At the age of 31, I had apparently reached a range known as “hypertensive crisis.” I didn’t know it until that moment.
I chose to become a prosecutor because I was able to realize early on the power in prosecutorial discretion and the real impact it could have on the criminal justice system. I wanted freedom to make choices.
There is a consensus among scholars that prosecutors are the most powerful officials in the criminal justice system. That consensus allows onlookers to blame prosecutors for a huge part of the problem plaguing the criminal justice system today.
The traditional model of prosecution is arrest, then compilation of evidence, formal charges, discovery, plea agreement or trial and sentencing to jail or prison. Obtaining a conviction was the standard in a traditional model of prosecution.
However, I am one of the lucky ones.
I was a member of the inaugural class of State Attorney for the 4th Judicial Circuit Melissa Nelson’s administration. I was instructed by my state attorney to “do the right thing.” Nevertheless, even with some discretion, I was overworked, overwhelmed and unsure of myself.
I was in an unspoken dilemma as a black woman: A key player in a system perceived as inherently unfair to black people.
As a black female prosecutor, I had been under constant pressure since the day I took an oath to pursue justice. My work did not feel meaningful because of the sheer amount of it and my unrealistic expectation that I could change the criminal justice system.
There was at least one relative at every family gathering asking me “how many of us you locked up today?”
One evening, I was even accosted by a black man as I was leaving the office walking to my car. He asked the same question, but with more colorful words.
I quickly told him I had no clue what he was talking about. I knew exactly what he was talking about.
What that man and my relatives failed to realize was these were not just cases to me. There was a reason I was leaving the office late at night. Every manila folder on my desk and in my filing cabinet represented an individual.
In half my cases there was likely someone wronged who needed assurance that the judicial system would make it right. I took my job seriously and in turn it took a toll on me. According to my peers, that was my problem.
Like most people diagnosed with hypertension, I plowed on with my work with medication by my side. I was not sure how long this scenario could have lasted, but it continued for nearly two years.
Everything changed with an email from our office’s smart justice coordinator asking if I had seen her initial email regarding a position she wanted me to consider applying to. The email referenced was titled: “Deadline Extended: Lead Community Prosecutor Application.”
When I opened the email and read about the new position at our office, I had to read it twice. I didn’t know what a community prosecutor was and whether it was something I wanted to apply for.
I called my Aunt D. She is the type of person you can always turn to for the best and honest advice. She has been a member of my life’s “board of directors” since birth.
I grew up blessed. I have a huge family and always felt loved. There were times I felt ashamed to mention my upbringing because I know my parents prayed hard for me.
As a kid, I watched Lifetime true story movies and my favorite television shows were Dateline and 48 Hours. Therefore, I was aware early in life that feeling loved was not every child’s story.
There are children growing up in high-crime neighborhoods without proper nourishment, housing, love and care. I had those things and more so I feel obligated to help those in my community who were not fortunate enough to be a part of my family.
Everyone is familiar with the adage “it takes a village to raise a child.” Yet, only recently has that principle come to the forefront of reforming our criminal justice system.
The “village factor” encompasses the belief that one unit or agency cannot overturn centuries of social-economic problems that feed into the cycle of criminality in America.
Crime is a social construct. The laws evolve with the people who change them.
Community prosecution is a proactive approach to solving problems and reducing crime. It is a departure from traditional prosecution as it involves bringing together different pillars in the community such as law enforcement, government agencies, businesses and organizations to better address societal issues plaguing the most vulnerable.
Prosecutors are in one of the best positions to bring the village together by bringing different agencies to the table.
One example of community prosecution is utilizing data to assist in prosecuting. Data has shown that recidivism rates for juveniles who are issued civil citations are significantly lower than among those who are arrested.
To combat recidivism, juvenile citation programs for low-level offenses were implemented. In 2018, the state Legislature voted to encourage agencies to use pre-arrest diversion programs, finding such programs had a positive effect on the criminal justice system.
Our office preceded even that legislative mandate. In 2017, the State Attorney’s Office finalized an agreement with law enforcement that has uniformly broadened their use in the 4th Circuit with much success.
However, it will take more than offering diversion opportunities to really put a dent in our violent crime statistics. Per statistics from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office, Duval County is on track to meet or surpass last year’s rate for homicides and other violent crimes by end of year. We are only in the second quarter.
As prosecutors, we know that violent gun crimes tend to occur in the same places. We know violent gun crimes tend to be committed by the same repeat offenders. We know gang members recruit young and try to fill a void of being a “family” typically missing in a young person’s life.
With such vast and present information, we are likely able to predict the profile of the next shooter or victim based on socioeconomic factors.
Gun violence not only costs lives but it costs our nation billions. According to recent research, that number in America topped almost $280 billion.
This is not sustainable. Black boys and young black men shouldn’t make up nearly half of gun homicide victims in this country while being 6% of the national population.
There are legitimate concerns of vulnerability and criminal activity among youth living in destitution. As evident by steps taken by cities across the country, the complexity of combatting high crime rates needs to begin with investments back into high crime areas.
Being selected as lead community prosecutor has given me a seat at many advisory council tables and meetings.
It has given me time to learn more about the Milwaukee Police Department and their Amazon Ring security program for local neighborhoods. It has allowed me to draft and hopefully execute a reading program similar to the state of Tennessee. They partnered with the Dolly Parton Imagination Library to gift every child in the state a book each month from birth until the age of 5 at no cost to their families.
Being a community prosecutor also has helped me lower my blood pressure to normal range without medication.
Reducing violent crime is not going to happen overnight, but maybe it will in a few years if we start tackling the factors rooted in criminality.
I am working toward building a blueprint for future community prosecutors. I foresee community meetings and better funding opportunities for quality of life programs and afterschool events.
I want every child to own 60 books in their personal library by age 5. One thing for certain is all children, certainly the ones here in the 4th Judicial Circuit, deserve the opportunity to pursue happiness and live their best life to the fullest.
They all could use an “Aunt D” like I have had in my life. They all could use a major investment in their surroundings, education, health and whole being.
We are more than capable of making that happen for them as a community. It begins with being a contributable part of their village.
Vironica Brown is an assistant state attorney and lead community prosecutor at the Office of the State Attorney for the 4th Judicial Circuit.
