Spirit in Action

Public Secrets & Justice - Heart & Hurt on the Circuit Court Bench

Laura Melvin retired after 10 years as a Florida circuit court judge, and the spirit of one of the young girls whose death came through Laura's courtroom required her to write Public Secrets & Justice: A Journal of a Circuit Court Judge. Laura stayed on the bench as long as she could and left when the pain & contradictions were no longer tolerable. What is the role of an open-hearted, conscientious, judge in the American court system? Laura shares her experiences & insights.

Broadcast on:: 28 Jul 2013
Audio Format:: other

[music] ♪ Let us sing this song for the healing of the world ♪ ♪ That we may hear as one ♪ ♪ With every voice of every song ♪ ♪ We will move this world home ♪ ♪ And our lives will feel the echo of our healing ♪ ♪ With every voice of every song ♪ Welcome to Spirit in Action. My name is Mark Helpes Me. Each week, I'll be bringing you stories of people living lives of fruitful service, of peace, community, compassion, creative action, and progressive efforts. I'll be tracing the spiritual roots that support and nourish them in their service. Hoping to inspire and encourage you to sink deep roots and produce sacred fruit in your own life. ♪ Let us sing this song for the dreaming of the world ♪ ♪ That we may dream as one ♪ ♪ With every voice of every song ♪ ♪ We will move this world home ♪ Today for Spirit in Action, we're headed to Greeley, Colorado. Because a few weeks ago, I spent a week there as part of the annual Friends General Conference Gathering. 1,000 to 1,500 Quakers gathered for fun, depth, and community. One of the people who was there was Laura Melvin, retired circuit court judge and author of Public Secrets and Justice, a journal of a circuit court judge. In the book, Laura gives us an inside glimpse of the powers and pain, the frustrations and feelings, and especially the children and their chances for hope, healing, and justice in our courts. This is a personal story, not a sterile analysis of structure and policies. We go now to a classroom at the University of Northern Colorado for a spirit and action visit with Laura Melvin. Laura, thank you so much for joining me for Spirit in Action. Good to be here, thank you. Of course, we want to talk about your lessons from the bench, what it's been like to be a judge, but I think so much of the information that you relayed to us through your book, Public Secrets and Justice, a journal of a circuit court judge. So much of what you say in this book, the stories, the things that hit you, while serving as a judge, flow directly from your experience of growing up in the deep south, of growing up in Florida. So that's actually where I want to start our interview. You were a tomboy growing up? Yes, I have two older brothers. You can't survive two older brothers and not be a tomboy. So you were a tomboy, but your father did not intend you to be a judge, although he was a judge. How upset was he when he found out you were going to be a judge, you're going on that path, or at least going to be an attorney? He was delighted, but truly it never crossed his mind that I might do that, because I was raised in the deep south in a pocket of the deep south, and as a female, I was to be a teacher or I was to be a nurse or I was to be a secretary. Education was encouraged for females. Ambition was not part of our wiring, and it never crossed his mind that I might do it until I told him I was going to go to law school. Was it part of your internal wiring or was it just a mentor who eventually led you into the judgeship? I mean, was it something native to you? Was it native to the part that was a tomboy, maybe? The tomboy helped because it frankly took a lot of scrapping, personal scrapping and not giving up in order to move from being the secretary, which is what I was doing before I went to law school, to being an advocate on my own two feet. You also worked for 10 years as an attorney before you became a judge. Talk a little bit about that, because I think that's got a form and important part of the background for you of what it meant to be a judge. It was very important, and let me back up and say before I went to law school, I was a court reporter and a secretary, so I knew from the ground up what that was like. Once I graduated from law school, I went to work with the state attorney's office for a little while and then the public defender's office, so I saw both sides, both the prosecution and the defense, and then I went to work on my own solo, then I went in with a law firm. It was a very diverse background that helped tremendously when I went into the courtroom, and for example, I knew by looking around that this one courtroom, the clerk did not have a safe to put evidence in, because I looked, there wasn't one there. That meant that the clerk couldn't go to the bathroom when I took a break, because they had to stay, this was a big bag of marijuana, and they couldn't just leave it on the side of the bench and go to the bathroom and come back. If you weren't there from the ground up, you may not have noticed some of those little things, and when I ordered them a safe, those women really liked me after that, because the men never, you know, they hadn't paid any attention to it. So knowing things from the ground up, I think, is a good thing. You said, Laura, that your father was delighted when you started on this track, but he had never thought of it himself. So what was his outlook? I'm kind of surprised he was delighted considering he hadn't thought of the idea. You describe in the book, and again, the book is Public Secrets and Justice, you describe your father very favorably, honest, a compassionate man. Why didn't he have this idea? He sounds like a good guy who should have thought it. Because, to put it kindly, I'm a female, and it wasn't part of his being to think a female could do that. What was the time where you grew up, where their house was? I think it was his lifelong house, wasn't it? His father built the house, and he and his six brothers were all born in the house, the same doctor. Dr. Rufus delivered all six boys, and then my mother had two boys in the house, and Dr. Rufus delivered them, and then he delivered me. So after eight boys in the same house... They took the jackpot. Or something happened. Well, let's talk about why you did go into the law. Because, I mean, I guess you were already a secretary or already a court reporter. You weren't just happy with your station, what was it? What led you in that path? I was bored out of my gourd. I had done a variety of things. I had my bachelor's degree. I had worked for a while as a secretary with the military, making good money, bored to death, went back to school after two years, finished up my four years, thought I was going to teach, that did not pan out because I was pregnant, and back then teachers couldn't be pregnant. They didn't want the kids to know about that, I think. So anyway, that's when I became a court reporter, because I've always been a good secretary, still am today. I've always had a very close relationship with my dad, and he was a judge, and quite candidly going that path was a way to deepen that relationship. It was something that he and I could talk about, because he had no interest other than law. Law was his mistress, it was his hobby, it was his love, it was his everything, and pretty much if you wanted to talk to my dad, you better be able to talk law. And I enjoyed it. My mind works that way, so it wasn't as rough as it would have been if he had been a mathematician, because my mind does not work that way. You mentioned in the book that there weren't a lot of females as judges in that area, or even attorneys, I think, in that area. And I think that that makes it all the more daunting to consider going into that kind of position. You mentioned that you grew up a Southern Baptist, although you said within your family, it was really a loving God that you talked about, but not necessarily at church. Almost never at church. Okay, so God was hellfire and brimstone type. But at home, it was different. Did that play any role in your sense of what vocation you should follow? Honestly, no. Micah 6-8, what does the Lord require of thee? But to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly before thy God. I can honestly say that for me, I realized many years later, I was trying to figure out what my father required of me as opposed to what my God required of me. And that's just being honest. And it was a great way to get him to talk to me. And we were very, very close. And as I said, my mind works that way. But in terms of it being initially a spiritual calling, I certainly felt that it was a positive move for me. And at that point, I moved through a variety of spiritual/religious processes. And at that point, I was a piscopalian. It was consistent with my spiritual beliefs, but I couldn't tell you that it was the prime motivator. Could you see a few things? There are a few stories that might give us an idea of what it was like for you to work as a lawyer, to be a public defender, be a work in prosecution. What was that like for you? Any stories that can give us the flavor of how that affected you and how it affected the world? I enjoyed my time in the public defender's office. I really appreciated the humanity that I was able to bump into people that I would never have met otherwise. It was there that I experienced prejudice. I was putting gas in my car in Ocala, and someone asked me something, and I said, "I work at the public defender's office." You would have thought that I said something awful because they absolutely recoiled from me, like I was some kind of monster because I did criminal defense work. They didn't know me, and I actually, you know, I did good work, but they recoiled because of an association they had. That was a good experience because it helped me challenge those times that I tend to do that to other people. I learned that there are people on the inside of the bars that, frankly, I would trust more than some of the ones guarding the bars. Out of the 30, 40, truly, thousands and thousands and thousands of criminal defendants, either at the public defender's office or on the bench, you know, I may have seen three, maybe, that I would say were evil people and no more. And I'm probably wrong about those three. And I've done many murder trials, many capital rape trials, many fill in the blanks. But working in the public defender's office, I got to know those people as human beings, and that served me very well. Well, you may not have met so many people who you would describe as completely evil. I'm sure, as a public defender, you must have thought I'm defending someone who's guilty. How do you do that? I've never quite understood how you can do it. I understand that the law gives everybody their day in court and all that kind of thing. But I have a hard time putting my heart into trying to get someone off who quite seriously is a danger. How did you handle that? You start with reminding yourself that if there's no one standing beside that person, there will be no one to stand beside me if I'm accused. Okay, so you have to start there. It's very important that there be someone to stand there. And it's also very important that there be someone that requires the state to jump through every one of the hoops. The state's obligation is to prove beyond and to the exclusion of all reasonable doubt. And it's important that they be made to do that, or else we end up with the policeman on the corner being the executioner. Okay, you've got to have those protections in place. Has there ever been a time when I was very uncomfortable? Oh, yeah. You know, I just remind myself that the system is bigger, better than letting something like mob rule determine. This is a better way. Also, many times, not all the time, but much at the time. You remember that old song I shot the sheriff, but I didn't shoot the deputy? A lot of times you're representing somebody that shot the sheriff, but they didn't shoot the deputy. But the state in its initial fervor will overcharge. They create intentionally at times, honestly, a great big basket. They overcharge. And then the defense attorney's job is to ensure that the client not be punished for more than what they actually did. You know, if they only shot the sheriff, don't let them fall for shooting the deputy also. So much of it is fairness. Yes, they did something, maybe something very bad, but they didn't do all of it. They only did part off. Did you ever have the fear that you were such a good lawyer and that maybe the evidence was a bit weak, spotty? The person got off and you knew they were going to go out there and do something horrible. Did you never have to deal with that kind of... Because of course, there's on the both sides. I mean, you can put someone away who's... You're just taking them away from their children and they're not guilty, but the other side could also happen. I don't recall ever having that sense as a public defender or doing private defense work. I do know that at least one time I sentenced a guy on an armed robbery charge into a special program with the consent of the state. I mean, it was an accelerated program and he was released in less than three years. And about two years after that, I had a warrant violation of probation to wit first degree murder and the same kid was accused of committing another armed robbery. And this time the victim was killed. That one has bothered me a lot because I know had I sent him to prison. The first time rather than letting him go into that special program, at least that one man would not have died. It's such a struggle to be concerned about both ends of it. And I believe our system, and you can correct me if I'm wrong here, but our system is interested in law, which is the rule of law that we're upholding. Theoretically, there's this thing called justice out there we're pursuing. How close do you think that the system comes to pursuing justice as opposed to just law? I mean, we all are too afraid that our Congress people can be bought and can make the laws that serve someone's special interest and not justice. How does that go in your head? Back a ways I began to have problems with the word religion because of all the things that can get tagged into that word. I now have that similar problem with the word justice. What does that word mean? You know, back I told you I'd never make it if my dad was a math major. So what was it 300 years ago? It was just to hang women in Massachusetts because they were witches. And what 150 200 years ago it was just to beat rape, kill, do whatever you want to to a black person. But if I did that to your black person, I had to pay you for damages. But it was just as long as I paid you. Then if the black person struck me for any reason, that was unjust. What does the word mean? You know, so there are many laws on the book today that do not meet my definition of justice, but the legislature has declared that that is the law and therefore it is just. And it reminds me more of the mindset around war than anything else. It's about power. It's about retribution. It's about money. I'll try not to go too far there, but the private prison systems, for example, you know, they make money. They're guaranteed a certain number of beds. And let's see, how do you guarantee that number of beds? Well, the sentencing guidelines is how you guarantee that number of beds. So the longer I have wondered what that word justice means, the more confused I have gotten about it, there are just many, many laws that represent individual interests. They have nothing to do with the safety of our society. Again, we're talking with Laura Melvin about her book, Public Secrets and Justice, a journal of a circuit court judge. You open the book with a dedication to autumn, and I understand that's the only name in the book. That's accurate. Tell us about autumn. Autumn is pretty much the reason I'm sitting here. I have tried for years to not write this book. She doesn't care. Autumn was four years old when she was kicked to death by her stepfather, and I handled the murder trial. How do you explain that someone you never met can be such an influence on you? I don't know. All I know is she's never been willing to put up with my not publishing this group of stories. She taught me many things during that trial. One of her legacies is that I know that stories matter, and the book is my attempt to write down her story and the story of some other children as a way of calling out their names to say that they matter. She mattered tremendously. I never met her. Don't know where she's buried. Hope may be one day I'll be able to find her mother. Shortly, I don't know if we had finished the trial or not. And I did a lot of divorces among a hundred other things, but I was doing an uncontested divorce in this woman. You go, they're like, head them up, move them out. You do a lot, okay? Boom, boom, boom. Next one comes in, and part of my spiel was, tell me briefly why you believe the marriage is irretrievably broken, and I wasn't paying attention. Didn't look at the name, and I said that to the woman, and she choked up, and she said, because he killed my baby, it was Autumn's mother. And I swallowed hard and granted the divorce, but the book is dedicated to Autumn, and she mattered. You covered all forms of law as a circuit judge. You weren't just dealing with kids or family issues. What percentage of the work that you did was specifically with kids? Because all of you out there in listener land, if you read this book, you're going to walk away with many dozens of stories of what happens with kids and how we deal with justice, and some of them are happy endings, and far too many of them are just trials and tribulations upon our souls to know that that's what's happening in our society. So what percentage of your work as a judge was with children specifically? The first three years I sat in a very rural area, and I was the only circuit judge, so I heard everything, and that included juvenile and everything, okay? Criminal, family, civil, probate. Then I transferred over to a much larger area, and I sat exclusively juvenile for three years, so for three years I only did abused and neglected kids and kids who were accused of crimes, which usually were the same kids if you just gave them a little while to get a little older. And then I went downtown to the Big Court House, but several of the cases that I had been working on followed me, so there's some of the cases in the book that I carried with me from juvenile downtown and downtown I did criminal and family, so still had kids, always had kids, and I like that. And so much of the book is around kids, is that intentional on your part, or is that just where your hearts led, or is that because Autumn told you that's what's supposed to be in the book? It's where my heart is led, and it's because Autumn said there are a bunch of other kids out here who have stories that they want told. The title of the book is Public Secrets, because people in general, but specifically kids, are required to tell in public secrets that they don't want to have to talk about when they go to court. And so, yes, I flavored it with a few of my own secrets, much to the dismay of my family I might have. I like your grandfather. Yeah, yeah, my grandfather was a child molester, bottom line, and no one ever talked about it. He was never confronted. He was certainly never prosecuted, but that does not mean it was untrue. Another theme for me is listening, and listening to the kids, and believing them, and supporting them, tell several stories about the difference between what happens with a kid when there's somebody that believes them, and when there's no one that believes them. I grew up in a household where it was not okay to tell, and I've seen way too many kids today, where it's not okay to tell, and part of that is that the girls don't know what to do, so they convince themselves that it's okay. And it's not, I don't mean they convinced themselves that it's okay that there's trauma less station going on. They convinced themselves it's not happening. Can you give us some other examples of the kids that you actually listened to while you were on the court? Maybe the success stories and maybe one that wasn't a success story? It's easier for me to remember their real names than the made up names I gave them in the book. I think you should call the boys Mark and the girls you should call Laura. No, some of them, neither one of us would want that. There was one little girl, you know, when you're a judge, people bow and scrape. It's a little ridiculous. And part of what I wanted to do was eliminate the mystique around judges because I promise they're people, but you get quite accustomed to everyone standing up when you walk in the room. And everyone saying your honor and yes, and yes, your honor and yada yada. Okay, so there was this little girl who was not impressed with me. And I had a custody hearing and had three, her older sister, her brother, and then she. And the older sister, I had to decide whether the kids were going to live with mom or daddy, and they were in two different states. Those are not easy calls to make. And so I was interviewing the kids one at a time trying to get a feel for them. And the oldest girl said it didn't matter because no matter where she went, she wouldn't be with her friends in the other place. Then the boy who was maybe eight or nine, he was being tough and he came in and he wouldn't ask me any questions, no matter what I did. I went through all this stuff, nothing. And I said, well, okay, we're done, but are you sure there's, is there anything you want to say to me or anything you want to ask me? And he said, yeah. Do you think it would hurt if you got dropped kicked in the mouth? I thought, I mean, I said, yeah, that had hurt. And he said, nope, didn't hurt a bit. Just shook it off and kept going out the door. He went. Then comes the next one. I couldn't get her to talk to me no matter what I did. And finally, I was giving up and I said, I may not be able to make a decision today. I may have to be a few days or a week. I may not be able to do that. That little booger looked me straight in the eye and said, how do you do that? I said, do what? How do you make a decision? How are you going to decide whether we go to live with mother or daddy? She was nine years old. It's not as easy to bluff a nine year old as it is a grown up. I could tell you and you'd be impressed with all the legal leads. She wasn't impressed at all. And I tried. I threw some of that fluff at her. She didn't buy it. Then she said, I don't know why anybody would be a judge. And I said, well, then I get to meet kids like you. She said, yeah, but you could have been a teacher. And then you would have met kids when they were happy. And now you only see kids when they're scared. And I said, well, if you had to be here, would you rather be here with a judge that liked kids? And she said, yeah. And she walked over to we were on the sixth floor. She walked over to the windows and she was looking out across the tops of the trees and she said, how are we? And I said, sixth floor. She said, this would scare some kids. You know, I was put in my place by nine year old. They're wonderful. You know, that's where you get the real. That's where life is. Some have been happy stories and some have not been happy stories at all. But they've still, okay, a story of courage is a little girl whose real name is. I was afraid to put it in the book and don't ask me what I called her because I don't remember. But she had been raped by her dad when she was four years old and almost died of internal injuries. They took her straight into surgery and she almost died. But she had to testify at trial because there was a plausible explanation that she fell on the bicycle that didn't have the seat on it, that the seat had been torn off. That was the plausible explanation that was going to be offered if she didn't testify. So her testimony was pivotal. She was five years old and you know that baby walked in there and did it. But coming and going the whole time, her mother and her grandmother, her grandmother's the mother of the defendant, they sat behind her the whole time. In other words, they were there for her. She had the courage at five years old to speak up in that courtroom and say what had happened. And I've seen so many grown women that were not able to do that. And I'm convinced she could do it because of those two women that were always, they had her back. I had way too many where the mother would come in and ask that the father's bond be reduced. And oh, by the way, the child had changed her story. Well, of course she changed her story, you know, wouldn't. I mean, if your worst nightmare has happened and you had a chance to change the nightmare and you're a little person, it's to be expected that when the pressure gets put on them, they change their story. This little girl never changed her story. And in my belief is no one ever pressured her to change her story. And she always had two strong women at her back and she stood there in front of that court and told us what happened. And he got life in prison without parole. And he had two violations of probation coming up. And they were a max of 10 years. But there was one little detail that no one had noticed except me. I made the 10 years run consecutive to the life. So he has to do the life before he can do the 10. You're listening to spirit in action. I'm your host for this northern spirit radio production on the web at northern spirit radio.org. And on that site, you can find just about eight years of programs we've been doing people who've been doing transformative work for the world. Great music. Just really important things that you won't hear on other radio stations. So please go to northern spirit radio.org. Listen, you can download the programs. You can order copies of CDs post comments. We love to have this conversation be two way. You can also find their place to leave a donation. Your donations make a big difference in terms of us being able to carry out this work. And I especially want to recommend that you make donations and offer to help your local community radio station. It's such a valuable alternative to the other forms of media we have. So please support your local community radio station. Today, we're speaking with Laura Melvin. She's author of a book, Public Secrets and Justice, a journal of a circuit court judge. And she's with us here at the Friends General Conference Gathering, which is being held this first week of July in Greeley, Colorado. And I'm very pleased that Laura has been able to join us for this. There's so much of what you've done. And we're just scratching the surface. When you finish this book, this memoir, that's about 11 years ago, 12 years ago. And you give us a little bit of view of the past 10 years. I want to ask you just a little bit more about your time as a judge. And then I want to catch up on your experiences in RVs and on motorcycles and gallivanting around the world. Like, I think a good southern girl is not supposed to do. First of all, as a judge, one of the things that you mentioned is you had been southern baptists. You were pissed all along the way. You did some searching along the way you had to preside and give out three death sentences. Two. Only two. Yeah. Well, your situation just got better. Just got better. So you gave out two death sentences. And of course, this is before you were hanging out with Quakers. Could you have done it now? No way. No way. Okay. Why not? First, I couldn't be a judge now. Why not? Okay. There are too many things there that I believe are fundamentally, too many things there that are fundamentally against my beliefs. I could not do it. The pressure of head them up, move them out. The requirement that you impose certain sentences in criminal court where you might have a guy who's on probation for filling the blank, a non violent crime. Okay. And then he does something heinous like doesn't stay in contact with his probation officer. Well, under the guidelines, you may not have any choice. That guy may be going down hard for many, many years. And then you're looking at another one who really should go down hard for many years and you don't have the ability to do it under the sentencing guidelines. So that specifically in terms of why I could not be a judge today would not, if I could, then the death penalty, I, even if I could figure out how to continue to be a judge. I'd have to resign because I would not impose the death penalty and you don't get to pick which laws you, you impose, you don't get to do that. You have to apply them all. The jury instruction that I've read a few hundred times that says these are the laws. These are the only laws that apply to this case, whether you like these laws or not, you must apply them. We do not have the right to pick and choose. So I didn't have the right to pick and choose which laws I would enforce. I had to enforce them all, including those that I did not think met my definition of justice. If I had gone into that saying I cannot, will not impose the death penalty, I would have had to turn in my badge because it is part of the law. The two that I impose the death penalty on, one of them, if you were ever going to create a poster child for if there's ever going to be a death penalty imposed, it probably would be him. But I hope they don't ever do it. Did your beliefs change or did you finally come to the point where you could occupy your beliefs? I mean, a lot of us, we suppress our beliefs because we have to do our job, right? Did you have the same beliefs at that point and then just finally realize that I can't deny these beliefs anymore? I think that's accurate. When I impose the death penalty on this guy was just referring to, there's a litany. There's judges don't talk on the cuff because everything you say is written down and so you've got all these things you read from. And there's a litany that you're to say in imposing the death penalty and part of it was, and may God have mercy on your soul. And I added, and on ours, I explained in the book that I feel a little bit like William Penn did about his sword. And most of us are familiar with that story, if not legend, that he had asked Fox what to do about his sword now that he was a recent member of the Quakers. And Fox had said where as long as thou can'ts. And then the next time he saw Fox, he didn't have it. And he said, I followed your advice and I wore it as long as I could. I wore my robe as long as I could. And I just wore it as long as I could. One of the things that I'm aware of from having read public secrets in justice is that you have a lot of heart, that you had a lot of heart. You're journaling what's happening, these stories with these children, while you were a judge, and it was obviously breaking your heart. There's the question of whether with blind justice, maybe like your father, I think your father, even though he had a very good heart, he probably didn't go home and cry at night about the senses, the violence that he had seen the senses he had to give out. Does that make you a better person to be a judge because you do have a heart that can be broken? Or is it better for judges to be somehow objective, impartial, whatever? That's almost the question I asked the little girl. I think it's important that law be able to break your heart, and I think that I would not want a judge that was a rock. I can be objective, I can and have more times than you would ever believe announced to something that I knew was going to break someone's heart, turn their world upside down, and did it anyway because that was my job. My dad was very tender-hearted, and how did he deal with that? He went home and drank. He drank it to sleep, and I did not take that approach. Well, let's talk a little bit about what you did after you stepped down from the bench. Again, you stepped down from the bench after serving for about ten years. You were appointed originally to the bench, stood for election twice, were re-elected, and you still had two years left on your second term when you stepped down from the bench. You couldn't wear that robe anymore and couldn't carry that sword. You probably couldn't carry the gun anymore. One of the things you do as a judge, they teach you how to shoot a gun and you have to carry it, right? So you stepped down, and so of course what you did is gotten your RV and traveled all around the country, found out how frustrating it is when machines don't work right. Why did you do that? I've always been a closet gypsy, but was raised in the deep south where good girls didn't do things like that. I've loved to travel, and I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I had to leave. I could not just leave the bench. I had to leave the area. So I took off and had a blast and busted my knuckles about five million times in the process, but I took off with my German Shepherd and a big pickup truck and a fifth wheel trailer and my parachute and went around the country. One of the things that led up to your departure, I think it must have been part of the altering of your psyche, was your rule of four. Explain what the rule of four is for these people, because maybe they've got five, six or seven. I bought a place setting of four dishes one day, and you know how you can have epiphanies over very common things. So I looked at that place setting of four and I went, you know, four is enough of anything. And I made up a rule of four, and I began to get rid of everything more than four in my life. So how many cups, how many towels, how many forks did I have, four or less. I got serious about it. Does that apply to shoes. It didn't. All right, it did not apply to underwear. Here it comes. It did not apply to underwear. Or what else. No, it probably, for me, it applied to socks, but depends on how you define shoes. If we don't count sandals, then yes. So you've got this rule of four, which it's changed. One of the things it does, and I think this is in line with Baker's idea on simplicity, it helps you review your life and lighten up. And so pretty soon you don't need a house anymore. You can fit in a RV just fine, because you've only got four of them. So I find that your RV violates the rule, because as you say a thousand times in the book, I'm not sure you're aware of this. You have your rule of four, but you're traveling with your fifth wheel. I'm not perfect. So you travel all around the country and eventually your grandchildren force you to come home because they're being born and you just, you just need to be there. And so now you're still, you're living in that area. You've actually bought a house in this rural area in Florida. If you didn't have kids, would you live there? No. Where would you live? One day I want to live in a place where there's a Quaker community. I've not lost anything on the east side of the Mississippi River. If I did not have kids there, I probably would never go back on that on the right hand side of the United States. So somewhere out west and somewhere where I could live with a community of Quakers. Why Quakers? You were southern Baptist. You were a Episcopal. You did a few other things along the way. What else did you do? Oh, 50 or 75 sweat lodges are more probably. Lots and lots of wonderful sweat lodges and Catholicism and Unitarian and Unity. Those come to mind. On and on and on. Why did you fall in with this reputable group, this Quakers? What was that about them? You said somewhere along the way that you didn't, I think religion became a dirty word for you. I liked the word then religiosity because much of the religion that I had known was full of that pomp and ceremony and what I call a gotcha God. No matter what I did, it wasn't good enough and at some point the hammer would fall and he would say gotcha. So I referred to that as religiosity. God has an interesting way of dealing with me and I have a prayer that I don't recommend to anyone but I continue to use it. And it is creator. Please don't be subtle. And so she seldom is. And it takes that for me. I was in New Mexico, which is a place that I've spent a great deal of time. I really enjoy that part of the world. And the stars began to line up. There were a series of little coincidences that resulted in my going to a Quaker meeting in Silver City, New Mexico, which is the heel of friends and part of the Intermountain Yearly meeting. When I went into my first meeting, I understood at a visceral level that I've always been a Quaker. I just didn't know it. I felt like the ugly duckling that had landed in the pond and all of a sudden there were other ugly ducklings around me. Look around the room and say that to their faces. And so I stayed there just to go to meetings. I think I went to three and it was on the cusp of the Intermountain Yearly meeting. And I'm living in an RV traveling by myself. And so I laughed and told them I was going to have to go to Yearly meeting because they wouldn't talk. I didn't know what was going on. I figured if I got 300 of them huddled up together, I'd be better able to figure them out. And so I went down to the Yearly meeting and it has been such that's been three years ago now, I think, and it has been such where I belong. One of the things that you did as a gypsy, you became gypsy judge and people can go to the website. It's gypsyjudge.com, right? How tacky is that? You kept writing as you traveled around. You were doing fundraising. Could you mention the four groups you were raising money for? How many miles you traveled and why did you choose to do this again? You know, some things you just can't explain. So I won't even try. But two years ago, I ride a motorcycle and I love it. And so two years ago, I wanted to take a long motorcycle trip and because my body had begun to age now, like my dogs, you know, seven years on the body for one year on the calendar. So I wanted to go while I still could. I wanted to make a long trip. Now, I live alone, so I talked to myself a lot and I said, okay, what is long? I've traveled back and forth from New Mexico and Colorado and Wyoming on the bike before. That's not long. And I decided to ride the four geographic corners, not the four corners, the four geographic corners of the United States, San Acedro, California, Blaine, Washington, Madawasca, Maine, and Key West, Florida. And because of this prayer that I don't recommend that says creator, please don't be subtle, I knew that I would have a ball, but would there be a way I could put a smile on the face of some kid by doing what I was going to do? Okay. And it very quickly took off and it was four corners, four kids, and it was a fundraising awareness ride for four child-focused charities. Sriners Hospital for Children, Ronald McDonald House, the Child Advocacy Centers, and Habitat for Humanity. And so I rode around the country by myself on a gold wing. If you know, that's about a 900 pound bike before you load it up. I tent-camped when I felt like it, stayed in a motel when my attitude wasn't very good, and then stayed with friends, and I went to meetings around the country, some. At least once I went home with someone from a meeting that I just met. From a Quaker meeting. Quaker meeting, yes. Quaker meeting. And it was wonderful. She called her husband and told him to cook us dinner, and he did. And I got up the next morning and took off. So I did just under 13,000 miles. I was gone seven weeks, but I sat down a week at different events around the charities. They would set up media things. So I rode six and sat down about a week for seven. So I was gone seven weeks. The downside to doing something like that, though, is I came back feral. So whatever sense I had of, you know, like social propriety and stuff was gone because you can't be alone that long. Doing that kind of stuff and come back and be good at cocktail parties anymore. You're my kind of judge, Laura. Now you've got a house. You actually own a home. And for the last 13 years, I think you said two of the years now you've owned a home. Wait, I've only had this house since November. I owned a house before for a while. And now this one since November. I'm not quite over it. Are you a pariah in your hometown? I mean, you're so, you're so different. I mean, I think you must be one of those outsiders now, even in your hometown. I have one friend in that town. And she's someone that I have a long history with, but she's not someone I could talk to as I can talk to everybody in this room. And I drive 70 miles once a week to go to my friends meeting, and I try not to talk a whole lot of the rest of the time, because it doesn't work out real well. I feel kind of sad for you thinking about that, thinking of you not having solid community right around you, and all that you've done for the community. It seems like you've offered so much of yourself to the community. I wish you could get it back in something in proportion to the work that you put in while sitting on the bench, looking all those people in the face and actually knowing them. We could talk for many more hours. I'm sure I would be delighted to talk to you for many more hours. But unfortunately, the bell is going to ring here soon. And I just appreciate so much, both your dedication to the children, your dedication to finding as much as you can of justice, and then to continue to serving justice in the nation on your travels as a gypsy judge. Thanks so much for joining me for spirit and action. Thank you. [applause] Our spirit and action guest today has been Laura Melvin. Learn more about her online via her site gypsyjudge.com. We'll close today with as much as I can fit in of a song by a recent guest I've had on Song of the Soul, Sue Krantz. Her music touches me and I'm sure that this one, her mother's eyes, will touch you as it tells of a frightened girl who could well have been one of the court cases Laura Melvin presided over. Her mother's eyes by Sue Krantz. Hiding in the closet for the second time this week, break the room, be late for school, there's just too much at stake, hurdle in the corner, rocking to and fro. She hums a lullaby to drown, rumble from below. If luck is in her favor, she'll make it past the stairs, signed and undaunted, 'cause no one really cares. If we're all of freedom's just beyond that wall to door, two blue eyes on the horizon, she can't take anymore. She's got her mother's eyes, daddy's gone crazy. Your good or bad, you hurt the same, no one's safe in his domain. Mama's crying, she knows it's crazy, she'll take his sight on a nightmare right away. Everything's of luck, through her mother's eyes. Mama's at the mirror, staring face to face, trembling as the makeup strains to cover her disgrace. Black and blue and red begin to fade before her eyes, 'til the streams of sadness reveal her thin disguise. She's got her mother's eyes, who's she protecting. Our garden captor with lock and key, traded to this family in Mama's size. But too familiar, she grew up with a legacy of lies, passing out. She's got her mother's eyes. The theme music for this program is Turning of the World, performed by Sarah Thompson. This Spirit in Action program is an effort of Northern Spirit Radio. You can listen to our programs and find links and information about us and our guests on our website, NorthernSpiritRadio.org. Thank you for listening. I am your host, Mark Helpsmeet, and I welcome your comments and stories of those leading lives of spiritual fruit. May you find deep roots to support you and grow steadily toward the light. This is Spirit in Action. With every voice, with every song, we will know this world alone. With every voice, with every song, we will know this world alone. And our lives will feel the echo from our healing.