Shooting someone for wearing the wrong clothes seems a strange way to find friendship.
Running away from parents to get closer to them doesn't make sense.And taking a drink and a drive is obviously asking for trouble.
From an adult perspective, the logic of teenagers is illogical.
But after serving eight years on the juvenile court bench, Judge Sharon McCully has a little insight into why kids end up in her courtroom.
In May 1991, there were 12 juveniles booked into juvenile court on gang-related homicide arrests. That's a new and disturbing record for Utah. And the month of July is typically the highest month for juvenile mayhem.
As strange as it sounds, says McCully, gang violence is an attempt by confused kids to find love. While they know killing is wrong, it is more important to prove themselves, to secure their position within their "gang family" by randomly shooting a kid dressed in the garb of an opposing gang.
Running away is frequently a desperate plea for attention from kids whose parents aren't home long enough to fix a peanut butter sandwich, let alone have time to talk things over.
Driving after snorting cocaine or drinking a six-pack isn't a problem for youth who are convinced "an accident could never happen to me. I'll never die," the judge said.
Trying to see beneath violent and bizarre behavior to the troubled hearts of adolescents is the focus of juvenile court. What distinguishes McCully's courtroom from an adult trial court is the emphasis on treatment and intent: What can the court do to prevent a mixed up teen from becoming a lifelong criminal and did the youth knowingly commit the crime?
According to national studies, Utah's juvenile court system, which is currently separate from the adult justice system, is a model of efficiency and successful rehabilitation.
McCully favors a proposal by the Commission of Justice in the 21st Century to merge the juvenile court into a single trial court system only if "the focus of helping and changing kids remains the priority and special services aren't reduced. We'll fight to keep those intact," she said. Several other states already have consolidated splintered court divisions into one system with success.
Sentencing specialized
If juvenile court is fully integrated into a district court system, sentencing guidelines for adults and juveniles should remain separate, McCully argues.
The purpose of sentencing for juveniles is not limited to punishment. While protecting the community from danger, the court is committed to imposing whatever sanctions necessary to help the kid get back on track.
Sentencing decisions are frequently controversial.
McCully received "hate mail" from those who didn't think the sentence she meted out to a teenage Alta High School girl who pleaded guilty to three counts of auto homicide was harsh enough.
On homecoming day 1990, the 16-year-old girl went home for lunch and had a drink. She then drove her father's Porsche to school and picked up three classmates. Driving the vehicle at approximately 80 mph around a curve on Dimple Dell Road near 2300 East, she lost control and the car skidded about 250 feet before slamming into a concrete barrier. The Porsche burst into flames, but the girl escaped with minor injuries.
"She heard the kids screaming for her to help get them out. They were roasting like hot dogs in the burning car. What happened to her - and the memory of the cries of her trapped friends - is much worse than whatever sentence I could impose," she said.
The girl did not have any prior juvenile record. The judge sentenced her to 1,000 community service hours. As part of her sentence, the teenager now speaks to school and church groups on a topic assigned by McCully: "What It's Like to Kill Your Friends Because You Decide to Drink and Drive."
Kids doing adult crimes
Gangs. Guns. Crack.
These are the fatal elements beginning to penetrate Utah's youth culture. As the seriousness of so-called juvenile crimes increases to make murder a common offense, moving juvenile court under the same roof as adult court is a crucial preparation for the future, said McCully. As kids commit more serious crimes, there is less distinction between "adult and juvenile behavior."
When a juvenile (under age 18) is accused of murder, it takes a request from the county attorney's office for the juvenile to be tried as an adult. A juvenile can be certified as an adult based on three criteria - age, criminal record and the seriousness of the offense.
"Certifying as an adult is the exception. Homicide is looked at in the context of the circumstances surrounding it," said McCully.
"If juvenile and adult courts shared the same courthouse, juveniles and their families would tend to see the courtroom as a real courtroom - not a `kiddie-court.' "
Instead of respectfully addressing the judge as "Your Honor," adolescents call juvenile judges by their last name - "Yea, McCully . . . " Their less-than-casual dress reflects their contempt for the law that tries to restrain them.
McCully is a parent figure providing the only discipline for many of the kids whose parents have officially disowned them. She watches families grow up in a system of foster homes and detention, never knowing their natural parents.
"A teenager charged with murder would walk into the same courthouse as a adult facing the same charge. I think that would give the impression that the crime is serious and would send a sobering message to kids."
Frequently, juveniles don't ask for the advice of an attorney because they don't take court seriously. As a result, the juveniles suffer. If the juvenile court or "family court" were housed in the same building, kids would see attorneys in the halls and more likely ask for the free legal representation they are entitled to.
Mystery court
Do you know the name of any of the adolescents booked for murder in connection with the gang shootings in May?
Probably not. But the name Nicholas Hans Byrd may be familiar. Byrd's name became public because he was qualified by McCully to stand trial as an adult for the kidnapping of industrialist Jon Huntsman's son. But generally the names of juveniles accused of crimes are fiercely guarded by court personnel to protect youths from public exposure. If a teenage offender's name gets printed in the newspaper, then it becomes difficult for that kid to turn his life around later. He's branded, said McCully.
Consequently, the juvenile court is a mystery to the public. Reporters aren't allowed to report proceedings unless permission is granted by a judge and names aren't published.
"The public doesn't understand the juvenile court, and we suffer from a lack of resources because of it. Including juvenile court under the umbrella of an adult trial court would improve public perception and hopefully increase resources."
Court hopping
A critical aspect of the Commission of Justice in the 21st Century's proposal for juvenile court is the possibility of creating an inclusive family court.
McCully gives an example of how families must now hop from district court to juvenile court on related matters, creating havoc and twice the legal fees:
Recently, a woman came to McCully seeking a protective order. She said her boyfriend was abusive. The state had also filed a petition for neglect in juvenile court against the woman contending that the woman wrongfully allowed the man to live with her even though she knew he was abusive and could harm her children.
And the woman must also deal with a battle brewing over child custody in juvenile court. There is possible criminal action - in another district court - on child abuse charges.
"The woman has spent her life lately juggling different court dates between differing court buildings. If we're really concerned about the best interest of children, we should minimize the trauma for parents."