night time in the tombs

In a few short minutes his policy of zero tolerance on crime has taken her to zero liberty in the black hole of New York: the Manhattan Criminal Court. Dark, austere, The Tombs, as it is nicknamed, was built on the site of an Egyptian mausoleum. The original mausoleum, described by Dickens as a ''dismal, frontal pile of bastard Egyptian'', was replaced by a prison in 1893 which in turn was replaced by the court in 1939. 100 Centre Street by some irony of fate has housed death, incarceration and justice in reverse and perverse order.

The Tombs is an intimidating and uninviting place. It is adorned with doom-laden Dickensian inscriptions which serve only to instil a sense of guilt even in the innocent. ''Justice is the firm and continuous desire to render to every man his due'' and ''Only the just man enjoys peace of mind'' are but two. Built from white limestone, it is now filthy black and stained verdant round the lower storeys. It is as if the court is slowly drowning in its own criminality.

It is here that Gail has been brought. It is nearly midnight and deep inside the Tombs which have buried so many criminals she has been taken to a fading white-tiled holding cell which she shares with 20 or so other alleged miscreants. She has been held in custody since 11pm the previous night.

The system into which she has been sucked aims to have her brought before a judge within 24 hours. Arraignment within that time is an ideal rather than the norm. Gail's first piece of luck, and her only one, is that the Night Court this evening is relatively quiet so she can be processed quickly. She has been in custody for two days on earlier occasions.

Her entrance, or perhaps her provocative attire - she is mid-twenties, with long jet black hair and a lean body mummified in fake leopardskin - draws appreciative looks from the battery of lawyers, court clerks, social workers, bar officers and policemen who roam the spacious well of the huge court like actors on a Broadway stage.

They are watched nightly by New Yorkers who enjoy the free spectacle from wooden pews that look as if they have come from a church. The pews are as close as justice gets to divine.

Gail is charged with assault and robbery, and possession of crack cocaine. She pleads not guilty and her Legal Aid lawyer asks Judge Goldberg to grant bail.

In the most wonderful lawyer-speak, even by Noo Yauke standards, he outlines Gail's unfortunate circumstances. Gail had met a gentleman the previous evening on Eighth Avenue.

Discussion took place and a consensual agreement was negotiated for the commission of a consensual act. On reaching a certain point in proceedings her client requested his service provider to permit him to undertake a reciprocal service. Gail was not, anatomically speaking, able to oblige. She insisted she was all woman. She further insisted she had not at any time led her client to believe she was a transvestite. And that was the start of her problem.

Her client reneged on the deal. He refused to pay. Gail, perhaps understandably, reckoned she had fulfilled her part of the deal and was entitled to be paid. She tried self help. She tried to help herself to the contents of her client's wallet. And then the New York Police Department arrived.

It is an Oscar-nomination performance by her defence lawyer, but unlike the Titanic it does not go down well with the judges. Judge Goldberg bails Gail on $2500 cash. This means Gail will have to pay up before she is released. In the event, she does not have the money so she stays in jail. She will have to review her plea of not guilty and after a bit of plea bargaining plead guilty to a lesser charge and pay a fine or do community service. She had done it before. She will do it again.

Gail's crime, a felony heading towards a plea bargain misdemeanour, would have been ignored by the NYPD a few years ago. A trivial misunderstanding between (more or less) consenting adults would not have commended New York's finest to going to all the trouble of putting someone through the court system.

However, Rudy Giuliani, the mayor with the low entertainment quotient, has changed all that. A former US Attorney, a demon prosecutor turned demon politician, he seized on an initiative of William Bratton who reigned as New York's charismatic Police Commissioner until 1996 when Giuliani, many believe, engineered his demise. Bratton had NYPD put into practice a theory promulgated by the Manhattan Institute, a group of right-wing lateral thinkers.

Dennis Murphy, the highly experienced attorney in charge of the criminal defence unit of the New York based Legal Aid Society, explains the theory. ''The quality of life offensive is based on the broken window policy. A broken window in a community gives the appearance of disorder. If the broken window is tolerated then the community can expect greater degrees of disorder in the form of increased crime. And more serious crime.

''If the community deals with all elements of disorder, however minor, then more people will be brought within the justice system. More IDs will be checked.

''People will be processed through the system. Sooner or later everyone within the community will be interrogated about something. A large amount of information will be generated as a result. The police become more knowledgeable.

''The dragnet of the quality of life scoops up a lot of people and brings them into the judicial system. Would-be offenders know, for example, that should they be caught carrying a gun they are liable to find themselves in serious trouble if they are only stopped and searched in the first instance for ignoring a traffic signal. The process drives down the crime rate. The process discourages crime.''

Another New York lawyer puts the theory rather more succinctly: ''Rudy is nutsy on quality of life crimes.''

The term ''quality of life'' in this context endears itself more to the NYPD than ''zero tolerance'' which hints at intolerance, possible racism, and infringement of civil liberties. On examination most observers put ''zero tolerance'' nearer the mark.

Zero tolerance policing cracks down on panhandlers (there is no New York edition of the Big Issue), very petty criminals, litter louts, buskers, loiterers and is moving now to jaywalkers, kamikaze motorcycle couriers, speeding cab drivers and participants in Fifth Avenue's version of les vingt quatres heures du Mans. The range of activity covered has moved, quite distinctly, from recognised criminal activity, such as small-time drug dealing, to what is more or less rudeness. One court official maintains that masticating with an open mouth in New York is now classed as a misdemeanour. Rudy, of course, chews gum with his mouth shut. One of the few occasions when it is shut, say his critics.

It all means the courts are choked with ''criminals'' , according to Conrad Martin, the Senior Clerk in the Tombs. The number of less serious misdemeanour cases carrying a maximum of one year's incarceration has increased dramatically. He reckons these cases currently number more than 300,000 each year. His staff have to cope with an average of 900 cases each day. Martin has to organise 44 courts in The Tombs and the Supreme Court next door to deal with the daily trial, arraignments and procedural hearings. The system dictates weekend working. And a night shift. The Tombs is open for business all day every day, round the clock. All year. From 5pm until 1am two arraignment courts operate. This reduces to one court from 1am until 9am, the so-called ''Lobster Shift''.

Conrad Martin suggests the colloquialism evokes the work schedule of the New England men who venture out before dawn to set their lobster pots. Another lawyer suggests it is because colleagues who work it are able to catch the sun during the day and return to court looking like a lobster. But neither would argue that Gail is small fry compared with the ''catch of the day'' - the wonderfully named Ashley Latouch. His name is a misdemeanour in itself, although he could plead to a reduced charge and cite some of the other names on the charge sheets, which boast Jesus Diaz, Cooney Southern, Ramon Runcon, Richard Ruperto and Gregory Upshur. Ashley and his three companions have been picked up near Tomkins Square in Alphabet City. This is not an area listed in the guides to Manhattan as a must to visit. It has been in permanent decline since 1860. Two of its better streets are called Ragpickers

Row and Mackerelville. It is not, and never will be, twinned with Newton Mearns.

The crime rate, suffice to say, is above the national average. Ashley had inadvertently double parked his van outside his friend's apartment block. This drew the attention of the local cops who checked out Ashley and his group as a consequence of the apparent commission of a serious quality of life crime, namely lousy parking. What transpired was the NYPD equivalent of five numbers plus the bonus ball.In the pre-hearing conference between Ashley and his attorney in the small glass-panelled room, which looks like two telephone boxes jammed together inside the court room, the accused confesses he is in ''deep shit''. He outlines his predicament to his lawyer, who agrees with his client's considered assessment of the situation.

The court officer reads out the charge. Ashley is accused of double parking. A misdemeanour. Ashley is also charged with being in possession of 500lbs avoirdupois of marijuana, a felony. Almost half a ton of cannabis can make a lot of joints, as well as land you in one.

It comes as no surprise that bail is opposed by the D A. Ashley is in a desperate situation. He needs both a good defence and a miracle. He needs the MFI Defence.

The lawyer explains to Judge Garcia that Ashley had been asked by one of his chums to afford him a favour. Ashley and his van were needed to help him move house. Ashley had simply helped his friend put some boxes in his van and move them to his new apartment. Ashley's lawyer explains that Ashley thought the boxes contained - wait for it - flat pack furniture, not marijuana.

Judge Garcia pauses for at least a second - he has heard it all before - before imposing bail of $250,000 cash. No cash. No freedom. Ashley is looking at spending around 12 months in jail before having the opportunity of trying to prove his defence. If convicted, he is liable to receive a jail term of 12 to 15 years. Ashley is also likely to recognise the system discourages trial, otherwise it would collapse. Very few cases, less than 10%, actually proceed to trial. He will, in all probability, plead out to secure a lesser sentence.

And so the 24-hour court goes on. Case after case. One drug felony or misdemeanour after another. The attorneys drift in and out. The Tombs is on the outer fringe of Chinatown, near to the Thai and Vietnamese quarter. Attorneys rush from court to grab a quick meal in the busy Vietnamese Nha Tang Restaurant, where five dollars will procure a large pot of tea and a helping of Ga Sauce NanRom (chicken and mushroom in special sauce). Next door is ''Baxter's Pub'', named after its location in Baxter Street and not in commemoration of the great Slim Jim. Baxters does a two-inch deep roast beef sandwich which, washed down with a Coors Light, sets up many an attorney (and court reporter) for the long night ahead.

Back in the Night Court Robert is arraigned some 25 hours after his arrest. Robert is a postal worker who earns $1100 a month after taxes. He pays $600 a month in child support. Once he has paid for rent, food and travel he is virtually broke. His only vice in life is the odd joint. His attempt to escape briefly from the harsh realities of life is ended somewhat peremptorily by the NYPD. Robert pleads guilty. Judge Garcia lets him go with a warning. At least there is some justice in life.

But defendants aside, the jury is out on Mr Guiliani's ''quality of life'' offensive and the whole court system. The lawyers, judges and justice system officials agree on two facts. The rate of serious crime, felonies, has gone down. The homicide rate in New York traditionally averaged 2000 deaths every year. That figure is down by almost three quarters, to around 500 each year. The misdemeanour rate, on the other hand, has increased dramatically due to the intolerance of minor criminal activity.

The reasons, however, for these fluctuations are the subject of much debate. Mayor Giuliani would insist that his promotion of the zero tolerance policy has set new standards and resulted in a dramatic drop in the crime rate. Dennis Murphy sounds a more cautious note.

''The verdict is still out on the reason serious crime is down. The dealers make big profits from selling heroin so we have seen an increase in its use. Consequently, heroin, because it is a depressant, winds the user down and he is less likely to offend. Crack is now less profitable to dealers due to its widespread availability. The crack cocaine distribution network is more organised than before and the resultant resolution of territorial boundaries has manifested itself in a dramatic fall in the murder rate.''

With the startling increase in the rate and prosecution of less serious crimes the criminal court system is struggling to cope. The State is reluctant to fund the system properly and it is likely that a total reorganisation of the judicial system is on the cards. The Chief Justice has recently put proposals to the Governor which would involve the amalgamation of a number of the State courts and the streamlining of some of the judicial processes. The proposed savings of #52m annually are likely to endear the proposals to the political masters whose decisions reign supreme.

The Lobster Shift - with its front of house staff of at least 18 assorted attorneys, clerks, court officers, policemen, turnkeys as well as the Judge and the back room staff which double the numbers - could soon be washed away in a tidal wave of cost cutting.