He Hands Out Justice As Tough As Steele Tribal Judge Works To Bring Respect Back To The Court

A woman, charged with child neglect, stood before the judge.

“Do you understand the penalties and charges?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, what?” the judge said.

“Yes, I understand the penalties and charges.”

The judge frowned at her.

“‘Your Honor’ would help,” he growled.

Graying, soft-spoken and bespectacled, Coeur d’Alene Tribal Judge James Steele Sr. is no milquetoast. In a courtroom made from a trailer home, the tribe’s newest Chief Judge hears misdemeanor and civil cases involving Indians on the reservation. Dressed in a black robe trimmed with tribal embroidery, he doles out fines, jail time - and lectures.

“To keep the glue of our society - Anglo or Indian - you have to show some respect for the system,” he said recently. “You cannot have a laid-back court and have people respect you.”

There’s been rapid turnover among Coeur d’Alene tribal judges since the mid-1980s, when Judge Mildred Prentice stepped down after more than two decades on the tribal bench.

In 1994, the tribe passed a law that judges would be subject to a referendum after a year on the job. In the first test of that law, Judge Wanda Miles last year was voted out, 143 to 104.

Tribal officials said they wanted a replacement who had strong community support and respect.

The person they found was Judge Steele, a steelworker’s son and a member of Montana’s 7,000-member Flathead Indian Tribe. Steele has been a tribal cop, a Bureau of Indian Affairs bureaucrat and a tribal politician. He’s a former vice chairman of the Flathead Tribe.

“He’s personable, with a strong personality and a strong commitment to his heritage as a Native American,” said Colville Tribal Police Chief Jay Goss, Steele’s boss when they worked as police officers during the early 1970s.

Because of the judicial turnover, Steele said, many trials had been postponed again and again. Defendants felt free to ignore the court.

“I’ve had to carry the burden of bringing that respect back,” he said.

Steele is no stranger to the Coeur d’Alene Reservation. He worked there in the 1970s as tribal police chief. Twenty one years after he left, his old mailbox is still leaning against tribal elder Henry SiJohn’s shed.

“If not as judge, I would’ve been back here some other way,” he said. “Indian and non-Indian, I have friends here.”

During the week, Steele lives among borrowed furniture in a single-wide trailer in Worley. He said he keeps a low profile, but likes to live in the community. He doesn’t drink or smoke.

“You need to carry a certain amount of dignity and keep your life clean,” he said.

On weekends, he hops in his 18-year-old Oldsmobile Delta 88, kicks in the four-barrel carburetor and makes the 198-mile trip home to see his wife in Montana. Sheryl Steele is a law office administrator for the Flathead Tribe.

Steele is not an attorney - judges in tribal court don’t have to be. He’s worked as a “defense advocate” - similar to a public defender - and an associate judge for the Flatheads.

One recent Tuesday, Steele donned his robe and took his seat under the courtroom’s buzzing fluorescent lights. Tuesday is the day for criminal arraignments.

“Alrighty, let’s get in the groove here,” he said. Defendants whispered in a darkened hallway outside.

Leonard F. Davison was first. He was accused of dumping construction debris at a tribal trash bin - a violation of tribal law. Prosecutor Fred Gabourie Sr., wearing cowboy boots, a turquoise ring, earring and ponytail, read the charges. Davison pleaded not guilty.

Next came Rhonda A. Williams, charged with receiving stolen goods - $200 worth of lottery tickets taken in a burglary from the Benewah Market. She pleaded not guilty.

After her came Tony A. Peregrina, charged with wasting game. He allegedly killed three deer, taking only the hindquarters. He also pleaded not guilty, thanked the judge and waved to the prosecutor, who smiled back.

Last was Blu Ann Matt, charged with leaving her 7-year-old son unsupervised. The boy allegedly broke two windows at Lakeside Elementary School and climbed inside. She pleaded not guilty to neglecting the boy.

Steele said he’ll sometimes give defendants, especially juveniles, a break. For lesser crimes, he’ll sometimes let defendants suggest appropriate sentences.

“I try to be firm but fair,” he said. “People have to have their dignity. You have to leave them that. If you try to overhaul a motor with a hammer, you’ll get into trouble.”

Some cases he sends to “Peacemaker,” a mediation process borrowed from the Navajo Tribe. There, under the eyes of an associate judge, feuding parties are encouraged to work out the dispute themselves. If that fails, they go back to court.

Still, Steele said he only gives people one chance.

He recently sentenced an 18-year-old man to 30 days in jail for aggravated assault. Halfway through the sentence, the judge let the young man write the court a letter asking to be freed.

“You convince me that I should release you,” the judge said.

The young man sent the letter, promising to get a job and see a counselor the day he got out of jail. The judge OK’d his release.

Once free, the young man ignored his promise.

The judge had him arrested again and returned to jail.

“He thought he was going to play this game,” said Steele. “He went back to jail. The word got around. If the judge gives you a chance, take it.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo