Abuse, he thinks that is too strong a word. “If I’m such a big bogeyman, why did the police let me go right afterwards?”
E. is 27 years old. He is suspected of hitting and pushing his girlfriend around Christmas time last year. He was in the shower, she turned on the hot tap in the kitchen, the shower got cold. That turned into an argument, in which he “reacted physically” to his girlfriend, E. told the police.
“What exactly happened?” asks Judge Samir Djebali.
“It was action-reaction,” says E. “She had started, but I am being looked at for all the actions. If I start yelling, I’ll be the bogeyman.”
‘From the file,’ says Judge Djebali kindly, ‘there is no picture of a bogeyman at all, you know. You were also seen to be injured.”
Residents of the vulnerable multicultural neighborhood Venserpolder in Amsterdam Zuidoost who come into contact with the law usually have more than one problem. Also E., as it turns out during this session of the neighborhood court, where it is more informal than in the regular court. E. is not in a dock but at an oval table, together with the judge, the clerk, the public prosecutor and his lawyer. He can tell his story extensively.
His driver’s license was revoked a few years ago, says E., because the Central Bureau for Driving Licenses (CBR) thinks he is addicted to cannabis. He only works sporadically – partly because of his missing driver’s license. And the relationship with his girlfriend, with whom he has a 2-year-old son, is difficult.
Despite a mediation process that resulted in a letter with good intentions, he repeatedly complains during the hearing about her impossible behavior. His girlfriend was invited, but did not come.
“Your son has to deal with two parents who stand opposite each other,” says Djebali. “We could also say: we are now discontinuing this case, and we will see if help can come?”
E.: “I have come to put this behind me. I want to continue, I want to work and be a father to my son.”
The public prosecutor: “We want to prevent something like this from happening again”.
E.’s lawyer Manon Almoes: „You want to close it, but it is not closed yet. You can also see this session as an opportunity to make better agreements, for example joint custody of your son.”
The neighborhood court in Venserpolder, which has been in operation since the beginning of this year, is not the first in the country. There is also one in Eindhoven, just like in Rotterdam. But unlike in Eindhoven, the sessions actually take place in the neighbourhood, in a neighborhood building next to a vegetable garden. It deals with minor criminal cases: shoplifting, assault, domestic violence – issues that would normally end up in the magistrate’s court. Condition: the offense must have been committed in Venserpolder. Or the suspect must live there.
Also read about the neighborhood court in Eindhoven: A second chance for perpetrators, but the neighborhood barely benefits
living world
Project leader and judge Maria Leijten took a year and a half to get to know the neighbourhood. The intention, she says in the council chamber, is that the informal setting of the neighborhood court “better reflects the living environment of the people, so that they can reconnect with law and justice.” This is not about punishment, says Leijten, but above all about “solutions”.
In addition to the public sessions, every Monday afternoon, Leijten holds private ‘preventive discussions’ about absenteeism from school. Instead of going to the subdistrict court, the judge tries to find a solution together with the truant student, the parents, the attendance officer and other authorities. The first results are encouraging, says Leijten.
The neighborhood court also hears debt cases. Residents of Venserpolder are called up every two weeks who are more than three months in arrears with health insurer Achmea. The idea: A debt with the health insurance company usually points to other financial problems – and the earlier you spot defaulters, the better you can help them. “People in debt wait an average of five years before seeking help,” says Leijten. She copied the approach from Amsterdam subdistrict court judges, who have been working in this way for a number of years.
On a Monday afternoon in April, seven local residents came by. The youngest is 18, the oldest early 50. Their debts range from 750 to 3,500 euros. They recently got divorced, lost their jobs, or struggled with sickness benefits. Some are open about their personal situation, others are embarrassed: “I think it’s a shame that I’m sitting here,” says a man in his 40s, who divorced the mother of his two daughters after ten years. “After a divorce, many people have debts, that is very normal,” says Leijten, who does these sessions himself.
In addition to the judge, the clerk and the debtor, Klaske de Haan from Achmea and Fannie Janssen from debt counseling are also seated at the oval table. “Do you have any other debts?” Judge Leijten asks everyone who appears. And then again: “Are you sure?”
If the debtor is indebted to several authorities, Judge Leijten will stay the case and the possibility of a debt rescheduling process will be examined. If this is the only debt, then a payment arrangement is agreed on the spot. Sometimes Janssen and the debtor go to the council chamber together to calculate and discuss: what is a sensible monthly amount? You cannot pay an amount that is too high, you are endlessly stuck with an amount that is too low.
Also read: The court looking for solutions
Tuition fees
The 18-year-old H. – glasses, hair slicked back, soft voice – has an outstanding bill of 1,119.12 euros: premiums, plus the deductible that has gone into an operation. Her financial tightness started with college tuition. “I didn’t dare ask my father if he would pay for it.” She has since stopped studying and works at a caterer. She wants to start another study in September.
“You won’t get the financial position you have now when you go back to college,” says De Haan of Achmea. “So I would do a higher monthly amount. You now have the opportunity to get rid of it in five months.” They come to an amount of 150.59 euros per month.
“If it still doesn’t work, call Achmea!” Judge Leijten tells H. when the settlement has been signed. “That you don’t think: it will work out. You really get into trouble with it.”
Not all debtors show up this afternoon. The turnout for debt cases in the neighborhood court is about 50 percent, says Judge Leijten. That seems low, but it is much higher than the turnout of debtors at the ‘ordinary’ court: 4 percent.
If the defaulter shows up, it’s a win for everyone. Before the judge, who can assess the seriousness of the situation. For the debtor himself, whose debt is not transferred to the collection agency – which quickly costs hundreds of euros extra. And for Achmea, which spends less time and administrative burden on chasing defaulters.
But the patience at the neighborhood court is not endless. If people don’t come to court, Judge Leijten is not very sentimental: go, just go to the debt collection agency. “I see no reason to invite him again”, says Leijten about a gentleman who did not show up for the second time in a row – and did not make a sound. “If he calls again, we can look further.”
C. also does not appear at the agreed time. The clerk says she has tried six times to contact him – without success. “It’s a shame”, says De Haan of Achmea, “because what I see here is becoming dramatic.”
The clerk calls C’s administrator on the spot. She is visibly shocked by what she hears. “Government lifted due to unworkability… house evicted… missing person… police investigation… oh… then I know enough.”
“It makes no sense to send her another letter, I think,” says Leijten when the clerk has hung up.
De Haan: “No, if we don’t even know where she is…”
Leijten, dryly: “I hope she’s somewhere they can’t find her.”
Also read how Mayor Halsema in New York saw how small-scale courts worked
More than a blow
Back to the criminal case of E., who is on trial for assaulting his girlfriend. It’s time for the verdict. The public prosecutor believes that it has been sufficiently proven that E. has punched and punched his girlfriend in the face. “There was more to it than just a blow, but it still applies: violence is not okay, especially not in a relationship.” She demands 40 hours of community service, wholly conditional.
Judge Djebali shows understanding for E’s frustration. He considers it proven that he has beaten his girlfriend, but acquits him of the punching. E. gets twenty hours of community service. Also conditional, with a probationary period of two years. “Just so you know: if I do this again, I will be punished.” He looks at E.: “And I especially hope that things remain calm between you and your girlfriend.”
“I certainly don’t agree with this,” says E., before walking away disappointed.
A difficult matter, Djebali agrees afterwards. “It would have been better if his girlfriend had come. Now he feels like he’s getting the blame for everything.”
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