Judge Richard Stanley wasn't anyone to mess with. A WW II paratrooper, he had a gravel voice and a icy stare that could turn a big-mouth lawyer into a stuttering wimp. And, he carried a .45 Colt under his robe. He could be so tough and mean, in some quarters he was known as Wretched Stanley. (The Judge knew this and loved it!)
He held Juvenile Court for many years. The juvenile justice system back then was not well defined. Judges could do just about what they pleased. And they did.
If a juvenile denied the charges in court, they were immediately given a lie detector test by the examiner assigned to court that day. I know, I was one of them. The terrified delinquents usually cracked when they just looked at the polygraph.
Sentences? The judge regularly put them on a diet of Gerber's baby food and water. And, he liked to lock them in a cell that had no light. Total darkness. They normally lasted about two hours before they were born again, on a righteous path.
Those who had traffic accidents got off fairly easy. Before sentencing, they only had to look at a series of 8x10 photos showing the most gory wrecks ever seen, with the judge doing the play-by-play. See that Son? That's where the driver's head used to be. They keeled over like French soldiers confronting the enemy.
This was a time of abundant hirsute adornment. The judge hated long hair on males. One of our cops, Mike Grimm was also a barber. The judge would have Mike use his shears to turn long-haired hippies into Parris Island recruits.
Have a child you couldn't control? Judge Stanley would command one of the cops in attendance to give the incorrigible turd ten good ones with that special piece of equipment. That equipment being the 3" leather gun belt we all wore. The juvenile would be bent over the defense table and justice would be applied.
I know, I know. Barbaric. Inhuman. Maybe, but it was a rare juvenile that ever returned to Judge Wretched Stanley's court. Makes you wonder, if we'd done things that way longer how society would be today.
When the Judge moved to Misdemeanor Court, he was still a tough customer. Once a gang of shoplifters, out of Miami, had been bagged and were on trial, defended by their Miami attorney. The gang would raid a store en masse, divide up so they were impossible to monitor, and go to work. They could steal merchandise worth thousands in one store.
After the prosecution presented its case, Judge Stanley, enraged, broke in and said, "It's obvious what's going on here. You think you can come over from the big city and rob us yokels. Well that's damn sure not the case. I find each of you guilty and sentence you to the maximum in the County Jail." (One year, at the time)
Astounded, the defense attorney jumped to his feet. "Your honor don't I even get the opportunity to present the defense's side of the side?"
Judge Stanley gave him that stare and said, "Can if you want, but I don't think it's gonna do any good." And it didn't.
Oh, for the good ol' days.
He held Juvenile Court for many years. The juvenile justice system back then was not well defined. Judges could do just about what they pleased. And they did.
If a juvenile denied the charges in court, they were immediately given a lie detector test by the examiner assigned to court that day. I know, I was one of them. The terrified delinquents usually cracked when they just looked at the polygraph.
Sentences? The judge regularly put them on a diet of Gerber's baby food and water. And, he liked to lock them in a cell that had no light. Total darkness. They normally lasted about two hours before they were born again, on a righteous path.
Those who had traffic accidents got off fairly easy. Before sentencing, they only had to look at a series of 8x10 photos showing the most gory wrecks ever seen, with the judge doing the play-by-play. See that Son? That's where the driver's head used to be. They keeled over like French soldiers confronting the enemy.
This was a time of abundant hirsute adornment. The judge hated long hair on males. One of our cops, Mike Grimm was also a barber. The judge would have Mike use his shears to turn long-haired hippies into Parris Island recruits.
Have a child you couldn't control? Judge Stanley would command one of the cops in attendance to give the incorrigible turd ten good ones with that special piece of equipment. That equipment being the 3" leather gun belt we all wore. The juvenile would be bent over the defense table and justice would be applied.
I know, I know. Barbaric. Inhuman. Maybe, but it was a rare juvenile that ever returned to Judge Wretched Stanley's court. Makes you wonder, if we'd done things that way longer how society would be today.
When the Judge moved to Misdemeanor Court, he was still a tough customer. Once a gang of shoplifters, out of Miami, had been bagged and were on trial, defended by their Miami attorney. The gang would raid a store en masse, divide up so they were impossible to monitor, and go to work. They could steal merchandise worth thousands in one store.
After the prosecution presented its case, Judge Stanley, enraged, broke in and said, "It's obvious what's going on here. You think you can come over from the big city and rob us yokels. Well that's damn sure not the case. I find each of you guilty and sentence you to the maximum in the County Jail." (One year, at the time)
Astounded, the defense attorney jumped to his feet. "Your honor don't I even get the opportunity to present the defense's side of the side?"
Judge Stanley gave him that stare and said, "Can if you want, but I don't think it's gonna do any good." And it didn't.
Oh, for the good ol' days.
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