In August, candidates will officially qualify for the November elections, and our intersections will soon be cluttered with campaign yard signs. Among the most consequential races will be for the 4th Judicial District Court, where four—and potentially five—vacancies are opening up.
In November, there will be a changing of the guard in the district courts. Judge Larry Jefferson and Robert Johnson can’t run anymore because of age. Alvin Sharp has retired. All three of them have created a frenzy for the $190,000 a year jobs, plus the judicial expense fund, supported by court costs and filing fees. At least two other judges who run from majority-white districts may also step down.
Some want to be judges, but they avoid being courtroom attorneys or prosecutors. They want to be chefs, but have never been a short-order cook or boiled an egg.
In Louisiana, the baseline requirement to run for District Judge is deceptively simple: be licensed to practice law in the state for eight years. But meeting the bare minimum to get on a ballot is miles away from possessing the wisdom required to wield the gavel. It’s like saying the minimum requirement to be an auto mechanic is that you have worked in a garage for eight years.
In a perfect world, our local judiciary would operate on a merit-based ladder. Seasoned jurists like City Court Judges Tammy Lee and Aisha Clark, who have spent years developing the necessary judicial temperament, would automatically ascend to the District Court without opposition. In that same perfect world, Newcomers would be required to cut their teeth at the city level or at least amass a track record as a prosecutor or an extensive trial court record before ever handling felony trials or complex civil litigations.
A district judge needs knowledge, but judicial wisdom is not in textbooks.
Unfortunately, we don’t live in a perfect world. Judges Clark and Lee will stay in their lower court positions until they are on walkers, while many others, with far less experience, will put up signs, make Facebook posts, and just like that, they are now able to sentence people to life or death in the penitentiary.
Instead, we face a crowded field of contenders jumping straight into the deep end.
Among them are local attorneys and politicians whose courtroom records are anemic. Many have rarely seated a jury or handled significant criminal defense or prosecutions, yet they seek immediate election to the district’s highest trial court.
Because ethics rules prevent judicial candidates from making platform promises, these races easily degenerate into popularity contests driven by name recognition and campaign budgets. But popularity cannot substitute for wisdom—the ability to know how to “cut the baby in half” when balancing mercy, law, and public safety.
A candidate’s trial record and courtroom experiences are the only true evaluators of fitness, not popularity.
When qualifying begins this August, voters must look past the slick slogans.
We need judges with proven courtroom knowledge and wisdom, not just those with the prettiest signs.
