Inside Chambers: A Federal Judge on Media, Judiciary Convergence

“I’ll buzz you in.” An assistant for U.S. District Judge Ellen Segal Huvelle pressed the button that allowed me to enter the judge’s chambers; restricted access, no more.

I walked through the narrow hallway, praying that I wouldn’t pass the judge’s door. I read the names of the other judges placed boldly on signs outside their offices. Before now, the names were less real—only printed on court dockets and calendars. But passing their placards, knowing they were all working right there, was very intimidating.

4223. Judge Huvelle’s chambers. Her assistant buzzed me in once more and asked me to sit in a waiting room while the judge finished a phone conversation. Apparently another judge was on the line, hoping to trade his courtroom for Judge Huvelle’s chambers. She wasn’t biting and I don’t blame her. Her chambers seemed nicer than the others I passed in the hallway. (I guess the person on the phone was aware.)

I had to walk through a hallway lined with bookshelves to get to her waiting room. Every book—of the hundreds—looked the same, a clue that they are all law books. I wonder if she had to read through each, or if they’re just used for reference. I really hope for the latter, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she could quote from every one. Judges in this court, as I’ve observed all week, are sharp. I wagered that she probably knows everything.

■□■

She hung up the phone and I could hear the judge coming out of her office. She rounded the corner to meet me in the waiting room. I stood quickly as she entered, though no one pounded a gavel to make me do so. She was striking up close with piercing eyes and a witty grin. I saw her in court yesterday and she is much like I imagined: cool in timbre and warm in temperament. She shook my hand and invited me to take a seat in her office. She’d be right back.

I seated myself in a chair in front of her desk and took a moment to gaze around her office. It was comfortable looking, with two of the walls made of windows that looked down on the city streets below. She had a sitting area and a conference table. Her desk was large but had nothing much on the surface—just a few papers and desk ornaments. Bookshelves full of photo frames and awards lined the wall behind her desk.

The pictures were mostly of Judge Huvelle and her family—posing on a ski slope, smiling in a studio, shaking hands with Attorney General Eric Holder. I even saw a photo of her, beaming, riding a camel in a desert.

It was seeing the nameplate that read “The Honorable Ellen Huvelle” that made me remember I was supposed to be conducting an interview. I quickly looked down at my notes. Only moments later did she come in the room, bearing a fresh cup of coffee and a willingness to speak with a student reporter. From what I had read, she doesn’t give many interviews.

“So where are you from?” she asked me.

I told her about Washington and Lee, my journalism class, my professor. I told her about the paper I was writing and how her comments would add to it. I asked if I could record the conversation and, to my shock and delight, she agreed—if I’d turn it off on her instruction. Of course I would!

I pressed record and posed my first question. I asked for comments on the importance of truth to the judiciary and the effects that untruths can have on it.

“You know, the judiciary runs a lot like our tax systems—,” she began until she was cut off by the phone ringing in her purse. She motioned for me to stop the recorder and I did. The call was only a minute or two in length and there was no way I would complain. I was sitting in a room few people are privileged to see. I’d wait.

She hung up the phone and looked back at me. She didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a little bit like our tax system. We are a hundred percent dependent on people obeying the laws and telling the truth under oath. I’m not sure all societies work this way, frankly. The same way that our tax system depends largely on people self-regulating and paying their taxes.

“The adversarial process—which, in my view, is about as good as any for determining the truth—is the backbone of the litigation process. You depend a lot on the witnesses telling the truth and the lawyers using their skills to bring out the problem with people’s testimony.

“But we also have rules of evidence,” she said, “that, in some instances, preclude the finder of fact from knowing all the pieces of evidence—for instance, a criminal defendant’s record. We don’t make that available. Unless they testify, in most cases the jury doesn’t learn (about the defendant’s record). And maybe that is relevant, but the laws of evidence have concluded that it is more prejudicial than probative. So, it isn’t a pure truth-finding process in the sense that all facts are put before a jury.”

On the other hand, in discussing the media, Judge Huvelle thought that news media are less willing to except a partial story—less than the whole truth.

“There are limits, of course, on us that are not on the media. Juveniles have certain protections. People in the neglect system in local courts have certain protections. Those are not public proceedings because, again, there’s been a balancing. Now, from the press’s point of view, they don’t recognize limitations. I mean, they respect them, but if those were open, they would be there,” she said. “They don’t choose not to cover because it’s sensitive.” Instead, the reporters stay away from these trials only because the judiciary requests this. “We’re (as judges) much more concerned.”

“The biggest frustration is obviously the press can’t report everything that goes on.” Huvelle went on to explain how certain victims and witnesses need protection from violent offenders. She told me how certain cases that involve national security are kept from the public and press only for the safety of the country. She said that there had been a recent debate about providing juror names and addresses to the press once a trial has finished. All of these cause clashes between the court house and the news room.

But, she said, the decisions to shut out the press aren’t made out of spite. “The law is fairly strict on when we can close courtrooms and when we can seal proceedings or pleadings.” Still, the closing of these courtrooms creates what she calls “a tension” between the press and the judiciary.

Nonetheless, Huvelle said she both respects and appreciates the press; she sees similarities between the two. “The inter-relationship between the courts—the judiciary—and the media is really quite critical,” she said. “I mean, we have a job both as judges and the media… we need to educate the public about what we’re doing. Obviously, the more transparent we are, the more legitimacy we are accorded by the public.”

“It’s not always a harmonious relationship, but that’s fine, too,” she told me. “We have slightly different purposes. But, overall, the goals between the judiciary and the media should be and are often the same.”

I asked a few more questions (those responses are more directly related to my paper) and then stopped my recorder. She gave me the number of the reporter at the Washington Post who covers this court house. She even called him for me, telling him I’d be in touch.

■□■

Then, Judge Huvelle relaxed. She started asking me about home. I told her where I lived and she told me she actually had rented a house several years ago, just down the road from mine. Small world! We knew some of the same people and ate at the same restaurants because she now owns a home in a small town only a stone’s throw from Easton.

She collected herself and told me she was headed to an initial conference. “You’re welcome to come.” She told her assistant it was time to go and then we left.

I kept expecting her to send me off, thinking I’d be watching the proceeding, like usual, in the spectator section in the back of the courtroom. Instead, we walked through doorway after doorway that only opened when the judge swiped her access card. I was excited by this “journey.” I was seeing something only clerks, juries, and judges are permitted to see as they prepare for a day in court.

We neared a door at the end of the hall and she told me, “You can just sit in the jury box.” Before I even had time to reply, she banged twice on the door and threw it open, revealing Courtroom 14—hers. I was behind the judge’s bench! She left me and took her seat and I quickly found my way into the jury box.

I watched her in action, so sure of everything she did. Two corporate lawyers from Chanel stood before her asking for damages from the sale of counterfeit goods. The man responsible for selling the fake Chanel products was supposed to be in court, but he was not. The lawyers persisted in their suit, asking for more than $2 million per Chanel logo used and item sold. They explained that the absent defendant has been selling Chanel boots online and no one was quite sure of how much money he has made.

Judge Huvelle interrupted. “Boots? For your feet? I always thought they made perfume.” I guess she knew almost everything.

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