The man with the familiar face slipped quietly into a seat in the sixth row of Courtroom 5A Thursday morning. He didn't speak to anyone, his head bowed and eyes cast downward.
No cameras were present in this particular courtroom; no drama was building. An ordinary young man with an otherwise clean record would soon step up to plead guilty to two felonies -- assault on a female and assault by strangulation -- committed in 30 seconds of white-hot fury in the halls of Parkland High School six months ago.
About the only thing left in doubt was whether Judge Todd Burke of Forsyth Superior Court would sentence Elston Johnson Jr., 18, to time in jail or let the young man off with probation.
The man in the sixth row -- Johnson's stepfather -- wrestled silently with more than the usual amount of fatherly anxiety over a youthful mistake.
Because more than almost anyone else alive, Darryl Hunt knows what can go wrong in a court of law.
‘A bad decision...an impulse'
The facts of the case, as presented by prosecutor Patrick Weede, were no more sickening than anything else heard on any given weekday in the Forsyth Hall of Justice:
About 9:30 on the morning of March 11, between classes at Parkland, Johnson got into an argument with his 16-year-old girlfriend and it turned violent. He wrapped his hands around her neck, lifting her off her feet, choking her until she nearly passed out.
The assault was captured on camera, and a quick-thinking school resource-officer preserved it for evidence. Weede played a copy of the assault on his laptop computer at the bench for Burke and defense attorney Fred Adams.
"Your honor, we're asking for an active sentence, given the seriousness of the assault, its violent nature, and the fact that it was during school time in plain view of students," Weede said.
Adams rose quickly to speak for his client.
"Your honor, this was a bad decision, an impulse," Adams said. "This is not the way he was raised and not the value system his family believes in.
"You can see he is supported by his grandfather, his (grandmother) and his father. His stepfather, Darryl Hunt, is in the audience."
Back in the sixth row, Hunt had shifted his weight forward. His eyes were still cast downward and his posture said it all: "This is going to be bad."
What the victim wants
After learning that Johnson had completed a community-service program and anger management, and was trying to get re-enrolled in high school, Burke ventured out loud that the most time he could hand down would be six months. And he said he could make sure that the victim gets restitution of $115.13 -- the amount of her medical bill not covered by insurance.
Then he asked the young woman -- who couldn't weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet -- what she thought.
"He should go to jail," the victim said.
Burke asked her if she had suffered any permanent injuries, and how long she was in the hospital (five hours). He cautioned her that he had to issue a sentence consistent with what others receive for similar crimes.
Nearly imperceptibly, Hunt winced.
"You have fine folks here in support of you," Burke told Johnson. "But what you did was deplorable. It was horrible. I assure you that if it was their wife who had been assaulted this way, they would be asking for active time, too ... you must weigh twice as much as her."
Gut-wrenching experience
The length of time it took Burke to consult his computer and a calendar must have seemed an eternity to the defendant and his stepfather, who had started scribbling notes when it became apparent that the sentence was coming.
The ruling was decisive.
"I'm going to sentence you to one day for each second of the assault," Burke said.
Technically, Burke sentenced Johnson to six to eight months in prison, but he suspended most of it -- 20 days of the sentence will have to be spent in the Forsyth County Jail.
The judge allowed Johnson to serve his time on weekends, starting immediately and ending Oct. 30.
As Johnson was led away, Hunt's eyes moistened. Adding to the swirl of emotions is the fact that much of what Hunt experienced throughout his ordeal played out in the very same courtroom, including his ultimate exoneration when his murder conviction was formally set aside on Feb. 6, 2004.
"I asked Darryl if he wanted to move up closer to the front with the other family (members)," Adams said afterward, "but he just couldn't bring himself to do it."
Hunt was polite when I stopped him at the courthouse door to ask what he was feeling, given everything he had been through. He wiped away a tear and struggled to find just the right words.
"That was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through," he said.
Even more than the 18-plus years he was imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit?
"Yes," Hunt replied before walking away.
ssexton@wsjournal.com | 727-7481
Advertisement