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 BEST
GUY TO HAVE IN YOUR CORNER IF YOU'RE AN ADDICT
Tom Buhler's got a thing for drug
addicts and alcoholics. Especially those who are charged
with crimes. "I deal with everybody's problem children of
the problem children," he says. As one of four alternative-sentencing
advocates for Metro Public Defenders, his job is to help
find ways for some of the firm's indigent clients to stay
out of prison--or at least minimize the time they spend
there. The idea is that if these folks can lick their addiction,
they won't return to lives of crime. "These are people with
a disease," Buhler says. "It doesn't do any good to keep
incarcerating them, especially when treatment works." As
it is, he adds, "They do life on the installment plan--six
months here, six months there--and never get meaningful
treatment." Aside from the daily drama of working at the
public defender's office, Buhler says his job gives him
a lot of satisfaction. Getting someone in treatment, he
says, means "the odds of them going to prison in the future
are dramatically decreased, and their life is changed."
Not bad for a day's work.
BEST
PUNISHMENT THAT FITS THE CRIME
For more than a year, a new kind of justice has
been doled out in Northeast Portland on the first and third
Wednesdays of each month at the King Facility. Here, the
judge doesn't preach from on high, the defendants don't
show up in shackles and the main point isn't punishment.
Instead, offenders are made to face the consequences of
criminal acts by giving back to the community. According
to Robyn Gregory, the coordinator for Portland's Community
Court, people in North and Northeast Portland have long
been "frustrated with the way they thought law enforcement
and criminal justice were practiced or not practiced in
their community. They felt there was a revolving door of
justice, little accountability and very little attention
being paid to them and their problems." District Attorney
Mike Schrunk heard their concerns, and after a trip to New
York City, where the nation's first community court was
founded, decided to take the idea back home. In 1997, a
citizens' advisory board was convened to be the court's
"governing body," and in March 1998, court was in session
for the first time. The court handles only misdemeanors
and violations--usually shoplifting, prostitution, selling
alcohol to minors and trespassing in a drug-free zone. Instead
of traditional sentences of jail, prison or probation, the
judge orders defendants to complete community-service assignments
like cleaning the streets, maintaining parks or building
neighborhood playgrounds. Lately, the judge has been sentencing
shoplifters to interview risk managers at local retail stores
about loss prevention. Some social-service providers are
also on hand to help defendants hook up with the social
services they may need. According to Gregory, almost 600
defendants have passed through the court's doors since opening
day; 86 percent complete their sentence. "So many people
commit crimes and don't see the consequences," Gregory laments.
"It's great if the punishment can also repair the community.
On top of that, if people need help, we try to get them
help."
 BEST
FAIR AND JUST GREETING CARD
Around this time each summer, the staff at Swanson, Thomas
& Coon sits down to plan the law firm's holiday
card. The success of last year's card is going to make the
annual task a lot harder this year. With art direction by
office manager Lynne McHarry, photography by Ray Thomas
(the finger pointer on the right), and design by Roberta
Lampert, it features all members of the firm--not just the
lawyers--working together to tip the scales of justice--"for
the underdog," notes McHarry. Swanson, Thomas & Coon
mailed out some 2,250 copies of its holiday card in 1998.
Who knows what's in store for the millennium.
BEST
PLACE TO GET SCARED STRAIGHT
Some weekday afternoon, when you've got a free hour or two,
wander over to the Multnomah County Justice Center
at 1120 SW 3rd Ave. It's the elegant concrete structure
that houses the Portland Police Bureau and the county jail.
Walk up to the second floor and look for JC 3 or JC 4, courtrooms
where, in a compressed period of time, you can take a front-row
seat to the intersection of our judicial system and the
accused. It is in these two courtrooms that defendants are
formally charged and can enter pleas. It's a great place
to bring kids (seriously); the sight of prisoners being
escorted in handcuffs before a judge is more powerful than
any lecture about minding your manners. (The courthouse
has even gone high-tech--some suspects appear before the
judge on a big screen, standing in front of a camera from
the jail in Troutdale.) On a recent visit, we saw a woman
accused of burning a house down for the insurance money
so she could support her meth habit; a guy who assaulted
another fellow after a disagreement over drugs; and a man
who had committed breaking and entering so he could stay
high. Hmmm, is there a theme here?
BEST
EVIDENCE OF A LEGAL CONSPIRACY
Portland's a small town, right? So how to explain the proliferation
of lawyers whose names are eerily similar? Could it be a
conspiracy? At VavRosky MacColl there's a Stephen L.
Pfeifer who handles workers' compensation cases. At
Stoel Rives, there's a Steven L. Pfeiffer who practices
land-use law. And at the U.S. Attorney's office, there's
Stephen F. Peifer. Pfeifer, the workers' comp lawyer,
tries to divert attention from himself, telling WW,
"I'm the little quiet one." Of the others, he explains,
"One is a famous assistant U.S. Attorney, and the other
is a powerful land-use attorney." But Pfeifer does admit
to being mixed up in occasional confusion. "Once, somebody
called me to talk me out of running for the city council
in Gresham," he says, noting that he wasn't considering
anything of the sort. Peifer, at the U.S. Attorney's office--who
differentiates himself from the others by noting, "I'm the
'P', not the 'Pf'"--says that a number of years ago, he
was surprised to find his name on a list of supporters for
a judicial candidate. "I had to call them about that," he
said. But the confusion doesn't stop there. Peifer, who
was involved in criminal cases against the Rajneeshees and
anti-abortion radical Shelley Shannon, goes to the same
dentist as Pfeiffer does. "Even our dentist mixes us up,"
he says. Word is, however, there has so far been no mixup
in whose teeth get pulled.
BEST-NAMED
DETECTIVE
OK, so it isn't spelled exactly the way we'd like it, but
we still think Detective Sgt. Doug Justus is the
winner in this category. After all, it's tough for a crook
to argue with a guy whose name is so righteous. "One time,"
recalls Officer Henry Groepper, "Doug had this fraud case,
and we ran the suspect's picture in 'Crime Stoppers.' The
guy was going to turn himself in, and he called Doug and
said, 'Justus? I want justice!'" Groepper still gets a kick
out of that. But Detective Justus isn't the only guy at
the Portland Police Bureau with an intimidating moniker.
There's also Detective Bill Law, Officer John Laws and Sgt.
David Virtue. No wonder Portland feels like such a safe
city.
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 21, 1999
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