The Love Court

In most urban American settings, the Compton Courthouse would seem a modest structure. But here, rising 14 stories above the flats of South L.A.--a low-slung landscape of scrappy bungalows, storefront churches and off-brand retailers hawking fried turkey or discount electronics--it's a formidable presence. From a distance, the block of white concrete striped with black windows resembles an enormous cage, or a prison cell. It's a tempting target: Police at one point counted 55 bullet holes in the building's western facade. Closer in, graffiti appears on every markable surface, sprayed on the front steps, scraped into the aluminum elevator frames and etched into the windows.

Decades of courthouse lore perpetuate Compton's gangsta image: a murder in the parking lot, an attempted carjacking of an attorney a block away and the courtroom stabbings of two bailiffs by a defendant. Bulletproof windows were installed years ago, after a judge found a potshot lodged in the bathroom in his chambers. The courthouse handles all the crimes in South L.A.--including more killings a year than any other jurisdiction in California. At any given time there are between 40 and 50 murder cases "in the building." It is the largest of the 10 branch courthouses in Los Angeles County, and its nearly 800 workers may be the most punctual; get a parking spot in the underground employee lot and you're all but assured that you never have to venture outside. Stephen R. Kay, who runs the courthouse district attorney's office, calls the environment "siege-like" and compares it to the film "Fort Apache: The Bronx."

Yet the Compton Courthouse has another, less-celebrated reputation--one of tolerance, humor and humanity. In the midst of a hostile climate, perhaps in part because of it, a close camaraderie and sense of common purpose have flourished. The place has the feel of a small town, where hard work is respected and eccentricities are indulged, and it has become an assignment of choice among judges, prosecutors and defense attorneys alike. Those who land positions here tend to stay, and those who leave often wind up coming back. A court reporter who trained at Compton when she was a student in the late 1970s returned after graduation and has been there ever since. One judge met his future wife at the courthouse when he was a criminal defense attorney and she was a courtroom clerk. They were married in a church he can see from the window in his chambers.