Not many people are comfortable on the second floor of the Du Page County Courthouse. Fewer still are happy to be there. And since it is home to the county`s criminal courtrooms, one could say that a certain level of discomfort is not only understandable, but possibly appropriate.
Anita ”Kitty” Zamora, 48, of West Chicago is delighted to be there.
As a court-paid interpreter for Spanish-speaking defendants, Zamora is focused on a mission: ”I am there to make sure that they understand fully what is happening.”
Some of Zamora`s gifts were honored last summer by the Du Page County Bar Association when she was a recipient of its Liberty Bell Award. The award, presented each year to a nonlawyer, acknowledges her service to the courts, lawyers and defendants.
In a letter to Zamora, Lester E. Munson Jr., president of the association, spoke of her ”substantial contribution to the legal profession and to the public. . . . Her dedication and skills as an interpreter have enhanced the effectiveness and the efficiency of the court system here in Du Page.”
Awards and speeches aside, a day spent following Senora Zamora, as her clients call her, on her rounds reveals the depth of her commitment.
A recent Wednesday morning at 8:30 finds Zamora in Courtroom 206. At this misdemeanor court call she checks to see if any of her clients are present.
”If my clients don`t show up by 8:30 then I come back here later in the day,” she explains while walking to another courtroom.
At 8:45 Zamora is in felony Courtroom 204. ”I have a felony (case)
here,” she whispers. ”If the judge doesn`t start on time then I`ll go back to 208 and check back here around 10.”
By 9 Zamora is in her third courtroom. It is becoming obvious that much of her day is dictated by others` schedules. Talking to the judge here about the day`s agenda, she notices that one of her clients is in the wrong room. She steps into the hall with him and explains his error. ”I`ll meet him in a few minutes for his sentencing,” she says.
While she navigates the halls toward her next engagement she is stopped by a courthouse employee, a Spanish-speaking food service worker who has a problem understanding the complicated paperwork she has received from the Social Security Administration.
Since the worker`s residency in this country had been legalized by the president`s amnesty program, she needs to transfer previous contributions to a false Social Security number to her current, legitimate one. Zamora reads the instructions, translates them and adds clarification.
This done, she`s on to the next courtroom, where she is sworn in
(although she is not a witness, she must swear to translate as accurately as she is able). She listens and translates carefully and slowly the words of the involved parties. The judge, lawyers and defendant all look to her to unscramble their communication. As soon as a decision is reached, Zamora makes sure the defendant writes down the judge`s instructions.
”It`s so easy for them to get confused here,” she says, referring to a system that can seem a maze of blind alleys and cul-de-sacs even to those who speak English. ”Imagine being arrested in a country where you neither speak nor read the language,” she says. ”I see so many who have no idea why they are arrested, much less what is expected of them by the court.”
”Kitty is like a beacon that walks them through the system,” said Judge Richard Lucas. Lucas, presiding judge of the criminal misdemeanors division, has known her for several years, ”and I can`t rave enough about her. The demands on her time are enormous and yet she always has enough reserve to go the extra yard.”
The extra yard includes Zamora`s efforts to help Hispanics, such as the woman with the Social Security problem, for whom the court is not paying her. ”I always figure that as long as I am there I am working,” says Zamora. ”So I help anyone who needs me. If I don`t, who will?”
This impeccably groomed, petite woman cruises through the second floor halls surrounded by the buzz of activity that seems to define the judicial system. She zeroes in on a man who looks particularly befuddled amid a crowd of people who look merely lost.
”Buenos dias,” she says pleasantly, then inquires about his problem. Upon his reply, she escorts him to the daily court roster on the wall. Locating his name, she directs him to the appropriate room.
At 9:10 Zamora is back in Courtroom 206 for a client charged with driving under the influence of alcohol. This is just a hearing to determine the trial date. She explains it all to her client, giving him specific directions on when he is to return for his trial.
By 9:20 Zamora`s day is beginning to look more like a relay race. En route to the next courtroom she is intercepted by her daughter Anita, 22, who also works in the courthouse, in the County Clerk`s office.
”I come up at least once a day to say hello to my mom,” she says.
”It`s not easy to locate her, but I just keep peeking into courtrooms `til I see her.”
Mother and daughter having completed their visit, Zamora dashes off to felony Courtroom 204. Here she rejoins the young man who was in the wrong room earlier. He is to be sentenced for possession of an illegal firearm. He is extremely nervous since this his second felony conviction and a representative from the Department of Immigration is on hand. Deportation is a possibility.
After a brief recess, the proceedings begin at 10. The atmosphere is appropriate to a felony courtroom, somber, subdued. Several defendants are lined up for sentencing, most of them in bright orange jumpsuits, the garb of a County Jail inmate. The color seems particularly out of place.
Zamora`s client is sentenced to a prison term, but not deported.
”He`ll be okay. He`s relieved to be able to remain in the United States,” she says.
It`s 10:45 in Courtroom 207 when Zamora joins a young man accused of driving with a suspended drivers` license. If convicted, he also faces the possibility of being ordered to return to Mexico. During the proceeding Zamora explains to him what his error had been. He has no lawyer nor is he planning on contacting one. The judge orders him to appear at a future date for trial with or without representation.
Later, her husband, Vicente ”Vince,” 50, said: ”Very rarely does Kitty bring home her feelings about what goes on in court. She sees clearly that her duty is translating to help make the system equal for all.”
Before 11:30, Kitty visits two more courtrooms. She concludes her morning by giving up lunch in order to help a man who has been waiting in a courtroom since 8:30 for his name to be called. She takes him downstairs to the clerk`s office.
The remainder of her day at the courthouse is spent much like the morning. And after the court sessions are adjourned for the day, Zamora accompanies a client to a meeting with his probation officer.
”If they are placed on probation I like to go with them. It`s just a little extra support for them in a foreign situation,” she says.
Zamora herself is no stranger to foreign situations. A native of Mexico, she moved to Texas as a teenager with her family. Her father was a minister who became pastor of a small church in the southern part of the state. It was here that she met her husband-to-be.
Vince said that one of the things about her that most appealed to him was her strong will. It was not such a joy to her parents, who were trying in vain to get her to learn English.
”So her parents sent her to live with friends in Kansas where no one spoke Spanish and she was forced to communicate in English,” Vince recalled. ”It wasn`t `til much later that Kitty appreciated what her parents had done for her.”
In 1963, Vince and Kitty were married. Vince took a job with AT&T, and the couple moved to West Chicago five years later.
As members of the West Chicago Bible Church, they quickly became acquainted with many of the problems of friends and neighbors who spoke no English. Their efforts to help resulted in the two teaching English at night in the church`s meeting room.
Without conscious effort, they became a social service resource within their community, translating, and ultimately preparing, income tax returns, unemployment applications, employment applications, birth certificate information and citizenship papers.
The Zamoras still maintain an office at home to help harried immigrants adjust to life in a different world. Vince not only prepares tax returns but he also explains to his clients why there is such a thing.
The only service they no longer provide is the English classes. ”We just don`t have time anymore. Besides, there are now many good classes through the schools,” Vince said.
Putting his wife`s devotion to her community into perspective, Vince explained that most people come to this country for the opportunities available: ”But they can`t take advantage of an opportunity unless they can function in the system. And they can`t do that without first understanding the language and how the system works.”
Is the system paying off for Kitty? ”Yes!” she said, laughing. ”I`m proud to help, and I have so many wonderful friends.”
Judge Lucas echoed the comments of everyone in the courthouse who has worked with Kitty Zamora: ”She`s not compensated enough for what she does. But for her it`s a labor of love. She brings her warmth to a very difficult situation. She`s an integral part of our court system.”
Former English student and longtime friend Christina Garcia calls Zamora
”an angel. Anything you need, Kitty will help you get it. She is like a sister.”
