Ticket price of his pilfered DVD player: $180.
Charge to repair two front doors, kicked in beyond recognition: $250.
His piece of mind, faith in the judicial system and any chance for a relationship with his girlfriend’s 17-year-old son. Priceless. And long gone.
“I’m not the victim once. I’m the victim twice,” Litchfield said.
While Litchfield and most of his blended family vacationed in Maryland two months ago, his fourth-floor Lewiston apartment on Walnut Street was burglarized. That, despite Litchfield’s prescient plan that included screwing the windows shut, changing the locks and having his adult son house-sit at night.
None of it worked. The theft occurred during daylight hours on Friday, June 25. Litchfield, who learned of the break-in by cell phone in a Baltimore motel room, steered the Lewiston Police Department to the boy, who’d been kicked out of the home a few months earlier.
He confessed. He’d already sold the stereo to an unknown party.
Not a rat’
It wasn’t recovered. In a statement documented by Officer Alice French, he “said he wasn’t a rat” and wouldn’t divulge the buyer.
Litchfield planned to read a four-page letter at a hearing Monday, begging the judge for the stiffest possible sentence.
Then he got wind of the likely punishment. The letter stayed in his pocket.
“Twenty hours!” Litchfield said. “He gets to plant flowers. That’s a slap in my face. I fed him even after he moved out. I bought him a new pair of sneakers and he was wearing ’em when he broke down my door.”
Norm Croteau sympathizes. He’s the district attorney for Androscoggin County. He’s also a parent.
He says juvenile burglaries are difficult to prosecute, especially when the defendant previously lived in the apartment. And get this: Under the circumstances, Croteau said this sentence was relatively tough.
Even with a confession, fingerprint evidence, and the theft and resale of a big-ticket item, the DA didn’t think he had a rock-solid case. They even considered settling for “informal probation,” a process in which the accused meets with a juvenile officer and is instructed to keep his nose clean for six months.
Pending good behavior, the charge then is essentially dropped.
That reasonable doubt’
“There are things we have to consider when we aren’t sure we can prosecute the case beyond a reasonable doubt,” Croteau said Wednesday. “People think all somebody has to do is say it. Just because they’re juveniles doesn’t mean their constitutional rights are any different. And (reasonable doubt) isn’t clear from this police report.”
The court didn’t demand restitution, leaving Litchfield speechless. Croteau said it’s a typical ruling when a juvenile has no apparent ability to pay.
Litchfield put away cash from his construction work to buy the theater-style system originally priced at more than $2,200.
“I’d tell friends you have to work hard to get something like that,” he said. “Rich people have a system like that, not some old piece of s— like me. I’ll never have that again.”
Juvenile day at the courthouse opened Litchfield’s eyes.
Many kids were smoking and swearing. Few were accompanied by parents. Litchfield said he received a one-finger salute and sarcastic greeting from the boy in the familiar sneakers.
“I wonder,” Litchfield said, “if he stole from the district attorney if he’d get 20 hours community service?”
Croteau said the system is no respecter of persons.
“My heart goes out to (Litchfield). I’m sure he believes it’s an unfair resolution,” said the attorney. “But the law is designed for general conditions in society. In individual cases, it may not be fair 100 percent of the time.”
Problem is, Litchfield worries that the young man’s ultimate comeuppance won’t come from behind a bench.
“Someday he’s going to break into a house and the only problem is they’re gonna be home. And they’re gonna (kill) him,” he said.
“It’s a travesty of justice. I’m just trying to save this kid’s life.”
Kalle Oakes is staff columnist. He may be reached by e-mail at koakes@sunjournal.com.
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