Small town law — Warren County: Law in a no-stoplight county

Tony Ross is doing well, as are most participants in Warren County drug court. “It’s changed my life,” Ross says of the problem-solving court. He’s advancing in his job at a steel plant, reconnecting with family, kicking a meth addiction. “It’s put structure back in my life,” he says. “Something I lost during my addiction.”

Judge Hunter Reece calls Ross and other participants one by one, asks how they’re doing. Of the six before him one recent Thursday morning, four are good. And tired. Working hard. Staying clean. One man is working construction seven days a week, racing to help finish a building before winter. A young mom is starting school and working. She tells the judge she’s exhausted from juggling. Effective counseling and treatment is a repeated concern. Some keeping with the program tell Reece they can’t get it, or programs like online chat-style counseling aren’t helping. Reece sympathizes, but resources are tight. He encourages them to make the best of what’s available, asks if there’s anything more the team can do to help. He says he’s proud of them.

But a couple aren’t doing so well; they may be terminated from the program. One was just charged with drunken driving in a nearby county. He tells Reece and the drug court team (below) he’s sorry; he knows he’s blown a good chance to change his young life. “I made all the wrong decisions,” he says remorsefully. “I hope you guys don’t feel like you’ve wasted your time with me.”

“The digital world is the only thing that has saved me,” senior judge Robert Hall says. Since childhood, Hall has been legally blind, but a rare genetic disorder has now robbed him of nearly all vision. He’s never let hardship deter him, though. As an Indiana University student, Hall repurposed a magnified lens from the biology department into a monocle he attached to his eyeglasses to improve his vision. Now, he demonstrates technology that translates and reads aloud digital documents, emails, printed documents, websites and more. Stephen Hawking-esque words fly past in an auditory blur. Hall seems to notice his visitor’s bewilderment. “Here, let me slow that down for you,” he says, and couple of mouse clicks later, the digital words become discernable to the untrained ear. Hall is in high demand as a senior judge. He thinks that is probably because, as he says, “in rural counties, judges have to do everything,” so they have at least a basic understanding of criminal, civil, juvenile, family law or anything else that might come before the court. Warren Circuit Judge Hunter Reece, who took the bench in 2017, knows who to call when he has questions. “I’ve got Judge Hall on speed dial,” Reece said.

Of the seven members of the informal Warren County Bar, three are current or senior judges, and two are in the prosecutor’s office. It’s like family — especially for Prosecutor John Larson and his deputy, Jennifer Larson, who’s also his twin sister. The sibling dynamic is always present but doesn’t get in the way, Jenny says. “I think he probably has to bite his tongue sometimes, and so do I,” she quipped. John Larson has been in office 28 years. He’s the the third-longest-serving elected prosecutor in the state, just a few months shy of the most senior. Elected to his seventh term without opposition last year, he can recall just four murders during his time, but crime linked to alcohol and substance abuse is keeping him busy enough that he recently had to close his private law practice and devote full time to the prosecutor’s office. He says this will be his last term; 34 years will have been enough. Jenny came to the law later. While working as a nurse in Indianapolis, she was called as a juror in a rape and criminal confinement case. “I got hooked,” she said. The law is also in the Larsons’ family tree — their grandfather and other family members generations before also practiced at the courthouse in Williamsport.