THE POLICE COURT
The procedure by which a law-breaker is convicted for his offence begins with his arrest and ends with the formal pronouncement of sentence against him after he has been declared guilty. Prior to his arrest he has been merely a criminal; after sentence (or, to be strictly technical, after the verdict against him) he becomes a convict; during the proceedings he is a "prisoner at the bar."
Whatever has been the manner of his arrest he is in most instances taken at once before the nearest magistrate in order that the latter may inquire into the charge against him and determine whether upon the evidence there is reasonable cause to believe him guilty.[15] If the arrest takes place after four o'clock in the afternoon, or no magistrate happens to be holding court, the prisoner is locked up until the following morning.[16] If he be charged with a felony he must remain in confinement until the magistrate admits him to bail, for no police official can fix or receive bail in such cases: if, however, he has been arrested for the commission of a misdemeanor only, the sergeant on duty at "the desk" must fix the bail and give him a reasonable opportunity to procure it.
If arrested while a police court is in session he is entitled to an immediate hearing, and to the services of counsel, for whom the magistrate must send, free of charge, through an officer. After the arrival of counsel or after waiting a reasonable time for his appearance, the magistrate may then proceed to examine into the case, and can only adjourn the hearing for forty-eight hours at a time for "good cause," unless at the request of the defendant himself.
The subjects of the rights of apprehended persons is too extensive to be adequately treated in a few pages. The power which the magistrate may arbitrarily exercise of holding persons merely "suspected" of crime for further examination is very great. Where a prisoner is brought in under arrest as a fugitive from another State he is frequently "held" (without any formal charge being made against him) for several days at the mere telegraphic request of some police official in a distant city. The writ of habeas corpus may secure his release, but persons unjustly arrested on "suspicion" have little redress in ordinary cases, whether they are discharged immediately or held for long periods. While no technical authority exists for such detentions (the right of arrest being strictly limited as set forth in the last chapter) they are practically necessary to prevent the escape of dangerous criminals. "Arrest on suspicion" is a euphemistic description of a technically illegal proceeding, which is universally recognized as necessary for the protection of society.[17]
The police court is the great clearing house of crime. Inasmuch as all persons arrested, whether innocent or guilty, are brought there together, they should naturally, so far as possible, be accorded the benefit of the doubt as to their guilt in the treatment which they receive. They are presumed to be innocent, and indeed many of them are, until a jury has declared to the contrary. However, the attitude generally taken towards a prisoner in a police court is that he is guilty and that it is useless for him to deny it, and he feels the discomfort and ignominy of his position far more at this state of the proceedings than he does later, when he is accorded more individual importance. As a rule he is brought into a crowded, stuffy court where a vociferous pair of shyster lawyers are shouting at each other's witnesses and the magistrate is with difficulty trying to preserve order. A great throng of complainants, defendants, witnesses, policemen, lawyers and idlers fill the room, and the prisoner instantly becomes the centre of vision for all eyes as the officer leads him up to the clerk's desk and makes his formal accusation. The altercation in front of the magistrate is suspended long enough for the latter to "commit" the defendant, who instantly finds himself locked in a narrow cell where he must remain until some friend or relation has had an opportunity to reach a lawyer, secure a bondsman, and compass his release.
What he must naturally feel most is his own insignificance. He is merely one of a huge multitude of miserable people who are all in the same box. The hours until his lawyer arrives are very dark indeed,—particularly as he probably has no idea of what is going to happen to him in the meantime. If he be a poor man accused of drunkenness or disorderly conduct he may be, and frequently is, sent to the island before he has any adequate opportunity to notify his family, who may suffer an agony of anxiety before they discover what has become of him. The punishment of the minor offender for trifling breaches of the peace is not only swift, but is characterized by a certainty unknown to that which the law attaches to crimes of a higher order.