It makes little
attempt to mitigate any of the wretchedness that it judges; in many
cases it moves only to inflict an additional burden of suffering. The
result is tragedy.
The magistrate sits high, between standards of brass lamps. His black
gown, the metal buttons and gleaming shields of the waiting police
officers, the busy court officials behind the long desks on either
hand tell of the majesty of the law.
In front of the desk but at a lower level is a space of ten or twelve
feet running across the court-room in which are patrolmen,
plain-clothes men, detectives, women prisoners, probation officers,
reporters, witnesses, investigators, and lawyers. Beyond in the
court-room a large crowd is on the benches. There are witnesses,
brothers and sisters, friends of the prisoners waiting to see whether
they go out through the street entrance or back through the strong
barred gate seen through the door on the left. Also there are the
"sharks" waiting to follow out the released prisoners, to prey upon
them as the circumstances may favor; and a number of curiosity seekers
watching intently. For them it can be nothing but a morbid dumb show,
for they are so far from the bench that not a word of the proceedings
could be heard.
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