Accused of a crime, a Rwandan refugee has her day in court
For the Monitor's yearlong following Congolese third-grader and his charter school community in Atlanta, correspondent Mary Wiltenburg blogs several times a week about the discoveries and missteps his refugee family makes adjusting to American life. Like the roaches in their apartment that swarm as Bill tries to do homework. Or his 8-year-old brother Igey's decision to Americanize his name. 颅This week, Ms. Wiltenburg joined Bill's mother, Dawami, in court. This article is adapted from her blog report.
Atlanta
Tuesday afternoon, Rwandan stood before an annoyed Judge Catherine Malicki of the Municipal Court of Atlanta for her arraignment on a charge of disorderly conduct. As 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 friend translated, and her co-worker Felicia Jackson tried to testify on 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 behalf, the judge frowned over her glasses.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 have time [for this],鈥� she snapped.
顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 with the American legal system (earlier, an arrest warrant had been issued after she misunderstood a traffic court summons, costing her $340) began late one night last month when she tried to catch the subway home from work. She and Felicia, a Liberian refugee who came to Atlanta three years ago and has been doing housekeeping at Georgia State University two months longer than Dawami, bought fare cards and swiped them at the entrance of MARTA, the local transit system. A man stood on the platform, watching them.
Felicia鈥檚 card worked fine, but when Dawami scanned hers, the women say, the card-reader couldn鈥檛 register it. They were running to catch the train, which connected to the 10:45 p.m. bus home; if they missed it, Bill and Igey would be alone while they waited for the next one, at 12:15 a.m. So when 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 card failed to read, she piled through the gate behind Felicia and the women ran for their train.
The man, they say, followed them, shouting: 鈥淧ut your hands behind your back!鈥� Dawami 鈥� a native Swahili speaker who came to Atlanta two years ago 鈥� didn鈥檛 understand the command. Felicia, a no-nonsense mother of five, intervened, explaining that Dawami didn鈥檛 know much English. The man, a MARTA policeman, handcuffed Dawami and took her into a back room. Felicia says she waited nearly two hours for her friend鈥檚 release, frantically showing the ticket saleswomen 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 receipt and fare card. She says that one ran the card through her machine, and confirmed that, as the receipt showed, it had $5 on it.
The MARTA officer, unnamed on the ticket, wrote this report: 鈥淓nter[ed] into the paid area without paying the required $1.75 fare by following a paying patron through the faregate鈥� 鈥� and ordered Dawami to appear in court on a 鈥渄isorderly conduct鈥� charge.
There she was on Tuesday afternoon, missing work her and baffled by prosecutor William Wansker鈥檚 explanation of possible pleas: guilty, not guilty, and no contest. As he detailed the differences, Felix and Felicia conferred in French. Twice, Mr. Wansker asked them not to talk during his instructions. Then he took questions.
Hearing 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 charge on what he called a 鈥淒C-Section 5 fraudulent scheme,鈥� and realizing that she spoke little English, he recommended her for a 鈥減retrial release鈥� program through which she could return to court and get the charge dismissed by performing community service.
Felix, a naturalized US citizen from Congo, advised her to plead guilty and pay the fine, so she wouldn鈥檛 miss more work. Felicia argued that Dawami didn鈥檛 deserve to have a crime on her record 鈥� but said she couldn鈥檛 afford to take off work again to come back and testify at a trial.
Dawami was torn between her belief in her innocence and her fear of losing a job it . She needs to keep it if she hopes to be eligible to bring her daughter, , to the US from Tanzania, where the family spent 10 years as refugees.
鈥淚 need to finish today,鈥� Dawami said. 鈥渋f I come back, I lose work.鈥� She settled on a no-contest plea: She鈥檇 pay a fine, and the charge would remain on her record, but she wouldn鈥檛 miss work again.
When 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 name was called 鈥� Ms. Lenawhanga?鈥� the judge tried 鈥� she, Felix, and Felicia approached a microphone.
鈥淛udge there鈥檚 a language issue here,鈥� the prosecutor warned. Judge Malicki asked how Dawami pled. No contest, said Felix.
According to court procedure, that should鈥檝e been it. But Felicia had missed that instruction. Animated and indignant, she launched into her account of the incident.
The judge cut in, asking who the three were, which of them were charged, and whether they were related. She got quickly frustrated.
鈥淲ho鈥檚 Dawami?鈥� she asked. 鈥淎re y鈥檃ll here to interpret? What language does she speak? Does she want a lawyer, sir?鈥�
Felix conferred with Dawami. No, he replied, Dawami did not want a lawyer. The judge overruled them: 鈥淲e鈥檙e gonna put her down for not guilty, and I鈥檓 gonna recommend her for a public defender, and she will need to come back.鈥�
Felix started to protest that they couldn鈥檛 miss work to return to court, when the prosecutor hailed me. He鈥檇 seen me sitting with them before the trial, and called me up to join them. 鈥淐an you help?鈥�
鈥淲ho are you?鈥� asked the judge incredulously. I said I was a reporter following 顿补飞补尘颈鈥檚 family for the year.
At that, the prosecutor hustled the four of us into a side room and asked us to explain what had happened, while the judge moved on to other traffic infractions.
Felicia, her fringed turban flapping, launched passionately into the story in her accented English. Felix advocated paying a fine and getting it over with. Dawami looked silently from one to the other to the bearded prosecutor.
鈥淭his is too murky for me,鈥� said Wansker. Felicia tried to show him the fare card and receipt. He gestured for her to keep them.
鈥淕ood enough,鈥� he said hurriedly. He was needed in the courtroom where 10 more defendants waited in line. 鈥淵ou know what? Dismissed. Dismissed.鈥� He wiped his hands together, to be sure the Africans understood.
They thanked him.
鈥淭hese people don鈥檛 have a clue,鈥� he commiserated to me as we reentered the courtroom.
Outside, the group hugged, and Felicia tore the ticket to shreds. 鈥淚鈥檓 so mad at that policeman,鈥� she said, 鈥淚 say: 鈥楲et me testify, even [if] I鈥檓 late to work.鈥�
As I drove the women to work to finish their shift, they and Felix talked about American racism and anti-immigrant bias. About the white MARTA cop who could鈥檝e just explained to the newly arrived African what to do in case of a demagnetized fare card 鈥� but chose instead to handcuff her. About the court officials who treated them with impatience until my white face, fluent English, and press credentials stood beside them.
It鈥檚 true: They don鈥檛 fully understand the arraignment process.
There鈥檚 a lot about America they still don鈥檛 know. But they have a clue.
