Silence (Your Phone) in the Court
“Phones away!” shouted the court officer. “Turn the phone off and put it away. Not vibrate. OFF.” She was getting more and more frustrated as the day went on. Since enforcement of the “no phone rule” is pretty frequent in the courtroom, I couldn’t tell if she was in a particularly authoritative mood, but today her repeated rants were more distracting than, well, an incessantly ringing telephone. At the exact same time, I looked up to see a different court officer idly scrolling through his own cell phone while standing behind a black male defendant in chains. Later, a private attorney pulls out his phone to check his calendar to see if his client’s next court date will work, without reaction from the judge or court officer. The picture was pretty clear, defendant or observer: no phones allowed. Lawyer, court officer, court reporter, anyone with power: scroll away.
After one of the court officer’s repeated tirades, a person sitting behind me said, “She needs to calm down.” Her friend responded, “They think just because they got badges…” I couldn’t have interpreted it better myself. The continued policing of having phones in court, regardless of whether they were making noise, serves to signal who has power and who doesn’t. It is yet another example of reiterating the powerlessness and criminality of everyone waiting in the room. If you’re sitting here in the court, you cannot be trusted: not with your phone, not with food or water, not with your own decisions. From walking through the metal detector to the incessant comments of the court officers, the court room is filled with little signals that repeatedly remind people of their position. Even if the official legal storyline is innocent until proven guilty, the hidden narrative of the courtroom is guilty until proven guilty.
The irony of this situation sunk in further when, for the first time of the day, a phone actually rang. The court officer jumped on the opportunity. “Whose phone is that? Whoever’s phone it is, get out. Get out and turn it off.” The assistant district attorney responded, “It was mine, should I get out?” with a laugh. He knew his privileged position in the courtroom meant that he could use his phone with impunity, and they proceeded to joke around about the absurdity of him being punished for his phone ringing. Clearly, some people are too important to follow arbitrary rules.