THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, August 25, 1994 TAG: 9408250590
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A01 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARC DAVIS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: Long : 204 lines
A vision of Sitting Bull changed Charles Cloud's life.
It happened last September on an airliner. Cloud, a General District Court judge, was sitting by the window, soaking in the scenery. He was on his way to a legal conference in Santa Fe, N.M.
Suddenly, Cloud was on a grassy plain. Men and woman of all races approached, dressed in Native American regalia. They wept because racism and sexism abounded, and because the court system was being undermined.
From the crowd, Sitting Bull emerged. He gave Cloud a feathered bonnet, a new name - ``Thunder'' Cloud - and a mission: Warn all Americans that they must fight prejudice and guard the independence of their judiciary.
Just as suddenly, Cloud was back on the plane, tears streaming down his face.
``I don't apologize for the vision,'' Cloud says. ``I'm kind of self-conscious about it at times. I can't explain it. But this thing happened. It's not controlling, but it has significance.''
Cloud, a 61-year-old part-Cherokee, calls it his ``vision.'' He calls the words of Sitting Bull his ``commission and duty.''
It explains, in part, why Cloud has suddenly, publicly done a lot of very un-judge-like things, raising eyebrows in the button-down legal community.
It explains why Cloud likes to visit inner-city neighborhoods wearing full Native American regalia, talking to kids about the court system, telling them how they, too, can overcome prejudice to become judges.
It explains why Cloud has challenged the city's top prosecutors, accusing them of ignoring violent misdemeanor crimes, mostly against women and blacks.
And it explains why Cloud has issued a rambling four-page letter to Virginia's candidates for U.S. Senate, touching on everything from inner-city crime to anti-Native American prejudice.
For a sitting judge, these are unusual, attention-grabbing actions. In Virginia, judges usually steer wide of controversy outside the courtroom. They don black robes, hear cases, and confine their remarks to in-court observations or writings. Afterward, they retreat to their chambers, take off their robes, decline to explain their decisions, then go home. Judges rarely get involved in political issues.
But Cloud, a soft-spoken, introverted man who has served eight years as judge, has come to a new philosophy late in life. He now believes it is his mission to fight injustice, to improve the court system, to restore public confidence in the judiciary.
Politics be damned.
``I'm taking the risk of going public because I think, as a judge, I must,'' Cloud said this week. ``I'm ready to speak to any group and any organization to talk about justice.''
But the price of such activism is high.
In Norfolk, some lawyers regard Cloud as eccentric. He has made powerful enemies and hints he does not expect to be reappointed in 1998. Local lawyers love to gossip about Cloud, but none will talk about him for print.
City Attorney Philip R. Trapani, a target of Cloud's recent attacks, says it would be inappropriate to comment. Commonwealth's Attorney Charles D. Griffith Jr., another target of Cloud's wrath, says he has gotten a flood of supportive calls since Cloud criticized him this month. Otherwise, he will not discuss Cloud generally.
Cloud acknowledges that what he does is unusual, and it worries relatives and friends.
``I have friends who say, `Why don't you get smart? Sit back, play golf, retire?' I can't do that,'' Cloud says. ``If I can't work to improve the system, I shouldn't be here.''
CHARLES CLOUD'S GRANDFATHER, in full Native American dress, watches over everyone in the judge's chamber.
The photo of Henry L. Cloud hangs over a couch. The Cherokee ancestor holds a bow and wears a headdress of eagle feathers. He was an ordained Methodist minister.
Behind the desk, Cloud, the judge, wears a white shirt, red tie and business suit. He holds a blue laminated card, certifying him as a member of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma, registry number C0043677.
Cloud's chamber is filled with such contrasts. An exquisite marble Native American figure sits on a shelf beside a first-place golf trophy. The judge's desk holds 33 bound volumes with titles like ``The Scopes Trial'' and ``Jerry Falwell v. Larry Flynt,'' alongside a professional journal article titled, ``Iroquois Influence on the Founding of the American Nation.''
``I've got an Indian heart,'' Cloud says, ``but it's set in a white body. If the trauma starts, people of color who may be angry are going to look at me as the enemy.''
Cloud regards himself as a Cherokee - albeit one-quarter Cherokee - and delights in signing a recent political statement ``Charles Riley Cloud, A Savage Virginian American.''
``As a Cherokee judge,'' Cloud wrote, ``I say to the world that I am a savage. I am proud to be known as a Redskin, an Indian, a quarter-breed and even a Scotch-Irish, who many called savage. Call me those names, and I will answer proudly.''
Cloud says his Native American heritage makes him sensitive to other minorities, especially inner-city blacks. He knows their problems intimately.
For eight years, Cloud has presided over the lowest court in the city, the criminal section of General District Court. Every day, he hears dozens of misdemeanor cases, brought not by police or prosecutors, but by ordinary victims with no lawyers.
His clerks call them ``the messy cases.'' Next door, Norfolk's other General District criminal judge hears the neater cases, the ones with police and prosecutors.
``Bear in mind,'' Cloud tells a visitor, ``I'm at the bottom. This is the bottom court.''
And that's the problem, Cloud says. Prosecutors will not press misdemeanor cases in his courtroom. They don't have time. Instead, victims bring charges of domestic abuse and gun threats to a magistrate, then prosecute their own cases before Cloud.
No wonder victims, mostly women and blacks, resent the court system, Cloud says. ``I hear them talk,'' Cloud says. ``I hear them see things that make them think justice is not fair, no matter how hard I try.''
That, Cloud says, is why he wrote a 120-page letter earlier this month, supported by about 100 pages of court documents, asking the state attorney general for help. He wants the city attorney and commonwealth's attorney to assign regular prosecutors to his court, to help victims of misdemeanor violence.
But prosecutors say Cloud is wrong. They say their policy is no different than that in nearly every other city in Virginia.
In Virginia Beach, for example, prosecutors do not handle General District Court misdemeanors. Chesapeake prosecutors take them only if a victim asks for help.
And this is not uncommon throughout Virginia. On Aug. 8, the state Compensation Board denied Griffith extra money to hire a new prosecutor for General District Court.
Other, smaller cities may prosecute misdemeanors in General District Court, the board wrote. But, ``as you are well aware, this is seldom the case in urban areas.''
It is a matter of money, not philosophy, says Beach Commonwealth's Attorney Robert Humphreys.
``We ought to be handling every crime, whether it's jaywalking or capital murder,'' Humphreys says. ``But I can't do that unless I have the resources.''
Griffith makes exactly the same point. Like Chesapeake, his office used to take misdemeanor cases at the victims' request, but now, ``I'm not going to pick and choose between people. I either have the resources to do it, or I don't.''
Cloud argues that if defendants deserve court-appointed lawyers, so do victims.
The judge says he is inspired to speak out on the issue by Sitting Bull and civil rights leader Jesse Jackson. He saw Jackson speak at a recent bar conference.
``At the time,'' Cloud wrote, ``he called for a few judges in the nation to stand up and begin speaking out against the discrimination and bias which threatens to tear America apart. His words were added encouragement to a similar commission and duty commanded of me in the first `Vision' of my life.
``I have embarked on that mission.'' [The following statement appeared as a side bar to this article. It was printed on Page A7 in the front section.] STATEMENT Excerpts from a statement Judge Cloud released Saturday to candidates for U.S. Senate.
For the People of Norfolk and Virginia, my brothers and sisters:
I am a judge. A judge is permitted to engage in political activity to improve the law, the legal system, or the administration of justice. Today, I engage in that political activity. Few judges will do what I do, because the risks are great. The other politicians make the rules, and by their rules, a judge may be threatened by a few with the loss of his or her judicial life. The other politicians may lie, but they risk only the scorn of the people. A judge must only tell the truth. Even if it only looks like a judge is not telling the truth, then he or she may be (politically) killed as a judge. Most judges say it is silly to take such a risk. I say there can be no higher honor than to be (politically) killed in the service of your people.
There is only one member of a recognized Indian Tribe who serves as a judge in Virginia. It is I. And, I serve not at the top, but at the very bottom, which most of you call a district criminal court. As a Cherokee judge, I say to the world that I am a savage. I am proud to be known as a Redskin, an Indian, a quarter-breed and even a Scotch-Irish, who many called savage. Call me those names, and I will answer proudly. Because I am a Savage, I love your children, as I love mine. Because I am a Savage, I am concerned about your peace and happiness. I want to do what's best for all of our people, including you. Because I am a Savage, I put the welfare of your family equal to that of mine. For you, I stand up against the disease many call civilization, but which is in reality greed and hunger for power so that a few families can be safe and comfortable, while those of the people must suffer and know no peace.
For those of you who live in fear of being shot, and for the women who live in fear of being beaten, I want to tell you that for many months I have been trying to get prosecutors to help some of you when you come to my court. You understand that I must in fairness give an appointed lawyer to the defendants because they risk going to jail. But what about fairness for the victim? How can anyone say it's fair for only one side to have a lawyer.
Prosecutors are lawyers, and they are paid by you!. . .
Now, about justice politics and activity.
I respect Doug Wilder, Marshall Coleman, Ollie North and Chuck Robb. Each is human, and surely has made mistakes. All their mistakes together probably don't add up to the mistakes I've made in life. So today, I have two questions from the front lines of the battlefield for each of those four who would be servants of the people. All of you say much about punishment of crime. All of you say you want the people to be safe from handgun violence. My questions are:
Do victims of misdemeanor and handgun violence have equal rights of those said to be criminals? If so, why in Norfolk has not even one of those victims I have pointed out been given the protection of a prosecutor when government gives a lawyer to the defendants? ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
General District Court Judge Charles R. Cloud
KEYWORDS: PROFILE
by CNB