Justice and mercy

‘We are the last best shot for the community. It’s hugely exciting; it’s full of challenge, full of promise, full of potential. That’s a huge privilege, to be at the edge, the last chance for these young people.’  For 15 years as Principal Youth Court Judge His Honour Judge Andrew Becroft has dealt with the country’s worst teenage criminals. He still sees hope in every one that steps into his court room.

Judge Andrew Becroft describes his own job as the ultimate ambulance at the bottom of the cliff— society’s last resort. But even as he says it, his eyes light up. The courts he runs may be society’s last best hope, a place where you find ‘the most problematic, disordered, damaged young people in the country’, yet he remains excited about the job and cautiously optimistic about the future.

People don’t realise how much better things are getting in bringing down the rate of crime among young people. New Zealand has one of the best systems in the world. But there’s still work that needs to be done, Becroft says.

He grabs a ruler and turns the chart so I can see—‘If that chart continues, I think we’re looking at about May of 2019 and we’ll be out of business.’ Then he pauses and mutters, ‘Wouldn’t that be nice!’

There is good reason for his cautious optimism. Last year, 1801 young people aged 14 to 16 ended up in court in New Zealand. That’s out of about 175,000 in the country. It’s a record low for youth court appearances, and the numbers have been dropping steadily since 2007. There was also a record low number of teenagers apprehended by Police last year, another number that’s been falling consistently, down 40 per cent in five years.

The caution comes with those still committing crimes. They are ‘undoubtedly becoming tougher’, Becroft says. But, in 15 years as the Principal Youth Court Judge and more than 30 years in the law, he’s seen the successes and he’s still passionate about providing justice for everyone.

The early years

That passion can be seen from Becroft’s earliest days in the law.

A serious speech impediment meant he required intensive speech therapy and support from his first firm in Queen Street, Auckland, before he was able to go into court. A few years later, though, he left that comfortable and prestigious job to start the Māngere Community Law Office. It was just the fifth community law office in the country at a time when ‘the movement was in its absolute infancy’, and senior lawyers advised his co-founder Johnny Moses that the pair were throwing away their legal careers.

Becroft’s passion for Community Law started on a university placement providing legal advice to people visiting the office of then Ōtāhuhu MP David Lange. ‘We realised that in the whole area of Māngere, 40,000 people, there were no lawyers permanently located there.’

He wrote a dissertation on Community Law and travelled to Oregon on scholarship to study offices there, before striking out with a team to start their own. It was a merger of his passion from university and the Christian values he and his colleagues shared that drove a desire to ensure legal representation to the most marginalised with the least access.

It was a tough, scary experience at times. Despite enormous support from the legal community and the wider community the centre ran out of money after three months. Their weekly team prayer meeting that week was ‘particularly earnest’, Becroft recalls.

‘Within about 10 minutes of finishing praying a representative from the Community Organisations Grants scheme came in with an envelope saying they were very sorry, they had been sitting on our application for support, but here was a cheque for $20,000. I think the representative was shocked at being called the quickest answer to prayer most of us had ever had.’

It wasn’t the last in seven rewarding years there, he says. ‘It’s trite to say it, but we truly got more back than we ever gave.’

After that, Becroft became a barrister and criminal defence attorney in South Auckland, then a judge in Whanganui for five years, before being asked to apply for the role as Principal Youth Court Judge.

He took the job believing he could make a difference, and it’s clear he still strongly believes it. It still feels a strange, solemn responsibility being a judge, he says. ‘You always feel the imposter syndrome: “Who, me?” It’s a sobering thing to sit in judgement of a fellow human being, seeing them sweating and shaking.’ But he wouldn’t have stayed in the job if the justice system wasn’t making a difference and turning lives around.

Teenage realities

In Judge Becroft’s job, though, turning lives around is never straightforward. Dealing with teenagers, ‘you’re just about dealing with a different species of human being’, he says. From about age 14 the human brain starts a rapid, dramatic change that can last well into the 20s for late developers and includes higher risk-taking and pushing boundaries—including the law.

But while the brain is developing nothing is set in stone, even for the worst offenders, Becroft says. Research shows about 80 per cent of youth offenders will stop offending as their brain matures. That’s where New Zealand’s system works best, offering help and good programmes, without tarnishing those young people with a criminal record. 

‘It’s probably the most successful system in the world at dealing with such a vast number of young offenders alternatively. What we’re left with in the youth court is a small group of the most problematic, disordered, damaged young people in the country.’

They are ‘strikingly similar’—80 per cent are male, 61 per cent are Māori, but just as common is their history before they reach court. Almost all are not engaged in school, have a lack of male role models, and have brain development disability, psychological disorders, or drug and alcohol problems. Child, Youth and Family have received notifications on the care and protection of about 75 per cent. Most, in fact, have been victimised and damaged before they victimise and damage others, Becroft says.

‘I would say that probably most New Zealanders would be profoundly shocked at the level of disorder, dysfunction and damage in most of the serious young offenders we see. For the majority of offenders that life of abuse, neglect and violence is at the root of their offending.’

They come to court well known to almost every agency and ‘with a thick file’. It’s easy to see them as always destined for court, but they are just a small number among a larger group of high-risk young people, the majority of whom won’t end up in court, Becroft says.

Mental health is a huge factor, and the court has improved its efforts to address this in the past five years. Along with greater awareness of the issues, there are now youth forensic nurses in every court and better access to mental health reports. A new mental health unit for mentally unwell youth offenders will also open in Porirua this month.

That history isn’t an excuse for the young people’s crime, but it is important to understand where they come from to help them and others. Judging these young people is harder, because it is a real opportunity to prevent them from becoming enmeshed in a life of crime, Becroft says.

And the system works in roughly half of all cases. ‘To which people say, “What sort of strike rate is that? What sort of namby pamby, Kumbaya-singing, roman sandal-wearing outfit do you run, Judge?” But that’s 50 per cent of the 1800, the really tough group. No one in the world does better than that. Most do worst.’

Alternatives to court

The perception the court is soft, he thinks comes from the fact that 80 per cent are dealt with using diversionary measures without appearing in court. While the rest, if they are not actively denying the charge (most don’t) must go through a Family Group Conference, not before a judge.

However, Becroft insists that Family Group Conferences, which the victim is invited to, are not a soft option.

‘Having to confront an aggrieved, angry victim and having to hear what went on, the human dimension, for most young offenders that is quite a powerful experience—uncomfortable, unnerving, but quite a powerful experience. And about 90 per cent of victims say it was a worthwhile experience, more than they expected.’

At the conference, a trained coordinator helps prepare a plan to address the crime and meet the underlying causes of offending. Plans must be approved or modified by a judge, and if the conference agrees these plans can take from three to 18 months to complete. About 75 per cent are agreed and monitored by the court, and if they are completed the young person is released with no criminal record.

In the remaining cases where a plan can’t be agreed or the young person doesn’t complete the plan, the court may issue orders that appear on a young person’s criminal record. Where the offending is too serious, cases go straight before a judge—and they don’t shy away from sending a teenager to prison if necessary, Becroft says.

He talks of another youth court judge sending a 15-year-old to prison for six years for committing two violent rapes on two different females on successive Saturday nights as a 14-year-old. As a judge, Becroft is not unrealistic about the rehabilitation prospects for some, but remains hopeful nonetheless. ‘I do very occasionally meet a young person who I think is so damaged and so disordered I wonder if we can contain them. But even then I don’t know. And that is so rare. I could count them on the fingers on two hands in 15 years in this job.’

That is balanced against an overwhelming majority where there is clear hope for the future, he says.

‘It’s full of challenge and full of success. You see in the same day, sometimes in the same young person, the most spectacularly poor choices, with some very encouraging and good choices. Most progress in young people isn’t linear; it reads like a heart monitor graph.’

Grateful to serve

Outside the courtroom, his role as Principal Youth Court Judge involves setting the tone and direction for the court nationwide. There are huge areas to address, including mental health, and better engaging with and involving Māori. To that end, he has been a big supporter of Rangitahi Courts on local marae, which young offenders attend for court appearances after their Family Group Conference, strengthening the youth and their family’s ties to their community and culture. It’s a huge task, but one he’s still energised for.

‘It’s a job that completely takes you over, and willingly so. I never cease to be grateful for it. We’re face-to-face with some of the most serious and challenging issues in New Zealand. And it’s a chance to play a meaningful part in bringing about change and improvement to New Zealand’s community. What could be more challenging but satisfying than that?’

His Christian faith can be a support, and he often prays silently at the courtroom door for grace, wisdom, patience and the ability to make the right decision, he says.

‘I hope where my faith shows itself is in the way I treat people. I always try and bear in mind that everyone in the dock is human and there, but for the grace of God, could I have gone also.’

And, although it’s always ominous as a judge when someone asks, ‘Do you remember me?’, people do seek him out to tell him how he changed their lives. One memorable occasion was a man he had sent to prison for five years.

‘He said, “The reason I’m coming to see you is I did a lot of the courses they offered in prison. I got off the drugs and alcohol, became a Christian and made a real change. I wanted to shake you by the hand and say, “No hard feelings, you did what you had to do.” ’ 

Building resilience

While there will probably always be a need for courts and prisons ‘this side of Heaven’, Becroft would still like to see more efforts made to stop young people ending up in his court.

A resilient young person’s life is like a chair resting on four legs of home, school, friends and community involvement—often integrated with a faith or strong values, he says. Those who end up in youth court are weak in all four areas.

Keeping young people engaged in meaningful education would be the best, most effective first step to helping address youth offending, he says. That requires parents getting engaged, but also more funding at the earliest stages. ‘From all the research we know zero to two, zero to five are the crucial age groups, and it’s cheaper and more effective [to work with them] at that age than to put the money in at our stage.’

There is also ‘hugely more’ that people can do if they want to make a difference; including  supporting sports teams and youth groups, providing parenting sessions, events for dads or significant male role models and children, and respite care for solo-mums and foster carers.

But there is also a great team of New Zealanders who devote their time, money and resources to helping young offenders, people he meets in courts up and down the country who humble and inspire him, he says.
He looks surprised a moment. ‘I mean that actually. I wasn’t going to tell you that. But they’re the guys I find really inspiring. They are some of the biggest unsung heroes in New Zealand. They’re the ones I really admire and want to support.’

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by Robin Raymond (c) 'War Cry' magazine, 2 April 2016, pp5-7
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