At the mention of the Hsinchu juvenile reform facility, Judge Hsieh Chi-ta talks about "my children" in a tone of pity and affection, making one wonder, "Don't tell me she has sons of her own inside!"
Whenever she enters the facility, as soon as the watchman says, "Judge Hsieh is here!" a joyful chorus of voices greets her: "Hello Mama Hsieh!" "How are you, Mama Hsieh!" It turns out that all of the 50 or 60 young men and boys in the facility are her "sons."
But as soon as kindly and amiable Mama Hsieh dons her black robes and takes her seat on the bench, she's strictly business, and defendants get a taste of her medicine.
"Every time I go to Mama Hsieh's court, I'm so scared my knees shake," a teenage delinquent says. He's been there three times, and each time she scolded him so badly "I got goose bumps and my scalp went numb.
"And I'm one of the brave ones! Some guys burst out crying as soon as they enter the courtroom and see her expression."
Judge Hsieh chews out adults as well as children. She makes sure the parents are notified in juvenile cases because "when a child commits a crime, the parents have to bear part of the responsibility." When a junior high school student told her he gave up on himself and turned to drugs and stealing after his parents' divorce, she yelled at the father, "Now you see what kind of effect your divorce has had on your child!"
Scolding aside, she is lenient in sentencing and tries to avoid sending youngsters to prison or reform school so they won't be branded with a criminal record when they're just starting out in life. A citizen who enjoys attending court and has seen more than a hundred criminal court cases wrote to Judge Hsieh praising her as "the judge with the strongest sense of justice and the most merciful heart."
With one third of the juvenile court cases in the Taoyuan, Hsinchu and Miaoli district handled by her, however, the question arises of just how appropriate it is that she build up such deep feelings for defendants. She herself is well aware that the roles of justice dispensing "Judge Hsieh" and kind and loving "Mama Hsieh" are hard to reconcile, although the goal of each is to see that young people who have fallen into the toils of the law go straight. She wouldn't have to worry about the problem of role conflict if she were a lawyer specializing in juvenile cases, she says. But she's afraid that her leaving the court would remove a channel to assist young people who have run afoul of the law.
Her heart full of love and contradictions, Judge Hsieh continues to perform her dual roles with a mixture of difficult feelings. "Helping a child go straight is the same as winning one back," she says, looking out at a group of youths zipping past the court on motorcycles.
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Facing Judge Hsieh with both love and apprehension, the kids have to tell her what they've done wrong, one by one.
Facing Judge Hsieh with both love and apprehension, the kids have to tell her what they've done wrong, one by one.
With a conversion certificate, a few statues, and prayer beads, the kids have cobbled together Buddhist altars in their rooms.
At Mid-Autumn Festival this year the young people held a party, bringing along food and drinks provided by friends and family.