Providing a Human Touch in the Legal System

The moment a prosecutor files charges in a murder case, Carol Waxman swings into action, guiding grieving families through a circuitous legal system where trials focus on the heinous acts of the perpetrator--not the memory of the victim.

She becomes the best friend a family hopes they never have.

The 52-year-old Huntington Beach resident has been a low-key presence at virtually all of Orange County’s murder trials, passing tissues to distraught family members, helping them deal with the media in high-profile cases or just giving a hug or holding a hand when it’s needed.

“She’s got a heart as big as Texas,” said Dennis Huber, whose daughter’s killer, John J. Famalaro, was convicted and given the death penalty by a jury in June. “She feels, she hurts and she guides you along and gives you the support.”

While a prosecutor is single-mindedly preparing to fight a case in front of a judge and jury, it is Waxman, victim advocate for the Orange County district attorney office’s homicide unit, who provides the human touch.

Her job starts with the first arraignment and doesn’t end until sentencing.

“She’s not a lawyer, which probably helps,” veteran Deputy Dist. Atty. Carolyn Kirkwood said. “Without Carol Waxman, the criminal justice system would remain a total mystery to [families].”

Waxman’s job sometimes extends beyond the courthouse. Last week, she was called to help when police were about to announce the arrest of John J.C. Stephens, suspected of killing Garden Grove Police Officer Howard E. Dallies Jr.

She went to the home of a witness in the case the night before a news conference to let them know what would be happening.

She attended the 1996 execution of serial killer William Bonin to provide support for the families of his many victims.

Her work is her calling, Waxman said.

“I am able to have a relationship, a rapport with people that I would not otherwise have that kind of intimacy with,” Waxman said. “When you’re talking about this kind of pain, the usual barriers that we put up between each other aren’t there.”

Waxman is the first county victim advocate to be specifically assigned to work on homicide cases. She began volunteering with the county’s Victim Witness Program in 1988 in Juvenile Court and also worked for a now-defunct program in which workers went out to homicide scenes to counsel families.

Two years later, Waxman became a supervisor at Municipal Court in Newport Beach until moving on to her current job.

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Sometimes, Waxman will juggle as many as five cases at once, moving from courtroom to courtroom throughout the course of a day. She must decide what feels the “most immediate” when determining where she will go.

When not in court, she’s usually counseling victims either in person or on the telephone--she had more than 1,200 such contacts in the last 12 months, according to her department’s annual report.

Her job also includes everything from helping families with emergency financial needs to returning a victim’s belongings that have been seized as evidence.

Although the work is often hectic, she explained, “It isn’t just something that just drains you. It replenishes you too. It gives back.”

Waxman’s small office is in the homicide unit of the district attorney’s office. She said this enables her to be in close contact with any developments in a case. Always, she said, she is thinking of how something will affect a family.

“I often have to remind the prosecutors, ‘This is a case for you, this is a legal proceeding for you. This is their lives,’ ” she said. “This is probably one of the most significant things they’ll ever experience in their lives, and we have to respect that.”

When a hearing is postponed or a legal decision doesn’t go their way, it is Waxman, not the prosecutor, who must face the family.

“When there is bad news, Carol bares the brunt of their frustration,” said Deputy Dist. Atty. Elizabeth Henderson, whose office is located next to Waxman’s. “A lot of times, people are just angry and she gets really lit into.”

One of the more difficult aspects of her job is trying to familiarize people with the rules of the courtroom.

“We ask them to not be responsive to the evidence, not to cry when they hear the details of how someone they love died because it could be viewed as an attempt to influence the jury and could be the basis for a defense motion for a retrial,” Waxman said. “I’ve had people just become incensed that I’m telling them that they cannot respond emotionally in court. But most people understand that. They don’t like it, but they understand it.”

Usually stoic, Waxman admits that she sometimes cries at sentencing hearings, an occasion where family members are given the opportunity to face the defendant and express their grief and rage for the first time.

Waxman is often the one standing by their side, sometimes physically holding them up.

Anything less than a first-degree murder conviction is often seen by families as “devaluing” their loved one’s life. A “source of great frustration” for families is that the trial is not personalized, she said.

“Generally speaking, the family of the victim wants the death penalty,” she said. “They feel this person has taken their loved one’s life and it’s only appropriate they forfeit their own.”

But it is the interminable delays that inevitably come with a murder trial--usually two to three years in a death penalty case--that tests patience and frays nerves more than anything else.

“It’s got the potential of being salt in the wound,” she said of the delays. “I try to head that off by telling them ahead of time that’s the way it’s going to be. Court proceedings will be continued time and time again.”

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Prosecutors in the homicide unit said the rely on Waxman to assist family members waiting for answers--and justice.

“Going through the system is not the easiest thing to do after losing someone,” Deputy Dist. Atty. Debbie Lloyd said. “We know that the suffering the families are going though is somehow a little lessened by Carol’s presence.”

Although the legal proceedings are often difficult emotionally, it is rare that a family doesn’t want to be there.

“They want to look this person in the eye who’s caused them such pain and make this person aware that they’re there watching,” she said. “They’re going to be there to do what they can to hold him responsible.”

Michaelle Paramour, 30, said being in the same courtroom as Darryl Lewis, the man convicted of murdering her baby daughter, was only bearable because of the steady support she received from Waxman.

“I never would have imagined there would be someone like her in the legal system,” Paramour said. “I felt like I had known her my entire life. I felt like she was there for me. Me and only me. She was like a backbone for me and helped me through a lot of grieving.”

Kristin Burt, the widow of slain California Highway Patrol Officer Don J. Burt, met Waxman shortly after Hung “Henry” Thanh Mai was arrested for her husband’s slaying last year. She has come to think of Waxman “like a mom.”

Seven months pregnant with the couple’s first child at the time, Burt said she welcomed the support.

“She has a very loving, gentle touch with people,” she said.

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Waxman underwent 40 hours of training before becoming a victim advocate but believes that she’s been training for the job all of her life.

A former high school teacher and mother of three grown children, she said she has always been the person friends and co-workers come to with problems.

“My neighbors used to tease me because they all used to end up at my kitchen table in the morning,” Waxman said, laughing. “That was my neighborhood role.

“I don’t want to sound too sappy about this, but I do feel like I can do this,” she added. “I have an ability that perhaps isn’t a common ability. It’s a gift, and I do think of it as somewhat of a ministry. I can do this for people.”

Waxman has been married to a Vernon police lieutenant for 20 years and said she plans to continue in her unique job for as long as she has the emotional energy.

“This is work of the heart,” she explained.