omebody's cell phone was going off in Alameda County Judge Judith Ford's courtroom.
The electronic bleating cut through the morning shuffle like a gunshot. Attorneys exchanged nervous glances as Ford sent the bailiff out on a mini-search mission to find the hapless attorney in possession.
"Mr. Jameson, you know you are not supposed to have your cell phone on in my courtroom," said Ford, pausing from a packed criminal calendar to slap Oakland attorney Charles Jameson with a $25 fine.
In her 16 years on the bench, Ford has earned the reputation of expecting a thing or two from the attorneys who appear before her. Among them is a demand that no one disrupt court proceedings, especially when the defendant's rights are at stake. On the same morning as the cell phone incident, a criminal defendant was brought in to enter a plea of no contest to charges of rape. Ford piped up loud and clear, saying she wanted "everyone quiet, including attorneys," so the defendant could hear her explain what a plea of no contest would mean.
The legal community has largely come to respect this Judge Judy's methods of ensuring order in her court.
Alameda County Deputy Public Defender Brendon Woods, who regularly appears in Ford's courtroom, recalled a recent case in which his client was sentenced to probation. "She really made sure he understood what would happen if he screwed up again. I haven't seen him since, so that's a good sign," he said.
Priscilla Camp, an Oakland attorney and board member of the Alameda County Women Lawyers Association, said Ford has been underappreciated for many years -- not only for the genuine interest she takes in the people who come before her but also for the breadth of her experience and her other contributions.
Ford was the first African-American woman appointed to the bench in Alameda County, and she took a long road to get there. After earning an accounting degree from UC-Berkeley with the intent of getting a job in business administration, she wound up being one of the few African-American women working with computers at a radiation lab. She worked in computer science for 15 years before earning her law degree, just months shy of her 40th birthday.
"I wanted to become a judge, and I truly like what I do -- although I know we can't change everything that's wrong," said Ford. "But if I can have some effect on people, then I've done my job."
Ford took her experience with computers with her to the bench, as well.
"She was one of the first people I knew who talked about .^.^. computers in the courts at a time when I wouldn't have known the difference between a computer and a toaster," quipped Camp, whose association honored Ford last month with a Career Achievement Award.
Now sitting on the Judicial Council Advisory Committee on Technology, Ford has helped draft policy to get counties moving in the direction of tomorrow's paperless courthouse.
Ford has handled a host of calendars from criminal to civil. In fact, she's heading back to civil law and motion after the court does its biennial shuffle at the end of the year. There's no question her style and expectations will go with her.
Ford was sitting in for another judge's criminal calendar on a recent morning when a young man attempted to leave the courtroom via a shortcut, by hopping over the back of his seat. "Young man," boomed Ford, as he became stiff in his tracks. "Don't jump over those seats. You walk down the aisle next time, you hear me?"
