SACRAMENTO — Both are past 70, with creaky limbs, gray beards and an eye on retirement after long careers in the black robe.
But like it or not, federal judges Thelton E. Henderson and Lawrence K. Karlton hold the power to help California fix a catastrophic failure: its broken prison system. It is a task neither man covets.
Karlton has had heart surgery and carries a full load of cases aside from his prison work. Henderson suffers an autoimmune disorder that is attacking his muscles. He says he'd be enjoying his golden years already if not for his desire to see inmate medical care improve.
"I want to retire and go fishing and hang out with my grandson," Henderson said in a recent interview. "But Larry and I feel an obligation, a duty, here."
Now the judges' long-running role in California corrections is taking on new urgency. Each is poised to decide a potentially far-reaching question: whether crowding in the state's floundering prisons has become so severe that a cap on the inmate population is warranted. Hearings are set for June.
Last week, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and lawmakers reached agreement on a $7.4-billion program to relieve overcrowding. The package will add beds, permit the governor to transfer some inmates out of state and boost rehabilitation programs. But it is not clear whether this new effort, which includes few measures offering quick relief, will impress the judges. Both declined to comment on the legislation.
Admirers hope the jurists will step in. They describe the judges as heroic figures unafraid to act, even if it means authorizing the early release of prisoners.
Critics see the two as activists bent on seizing total control of one of government's most essential functions, the incarceration of lawbreakers.
Either way, scholars say the politics of punishment have made the judges' participation in prison reform all but inevitable. With politicians eternally fearful of appearing soft on crime, federal judges -- protected by lifetime tenure -- embody the best hope for curing the myriad ills of the $10-billion correctional system, they say.
"The truth is, these judges give politicians cover to stand up and do things they would otherwise be afraid to do," said Malcolm Feeley, a professor at UC Berkeley's Boalt Hall School of Law. "If someone complains, they can point at the court and say, 'Sorry, but he made me do it.' "
Henderson agrees. Although he prefers to see elected officials lead the charge for improvements behind bars, he understands the political dynamics.
"Unlike the mistreatment of veterans, nobody is up in arms about prisoners," the judge said during a lunch break in his chambers at the U.S. District Court in San Francisco.
He added that even Schwarzenegger -- the popular, twice-elected Terminator -- told him in a meeting that politics dictated caution on prisons. Though the governor seemed genuinely interested in reform, Henderson recalled, he feared being perceived as a law enforcement wimp, or someone prone to "hugging a thug."
Rooted in a cause
More than any of their colleagues on the bench, Henderson and Karlton have long-standing ties to California's struggling prison system.
For Henderson, who was raised in Los Angeles, the son of a janitor and a maid, the work began with a case on the treatment of inmates at Pelican Bay State Prison near the Oregon border.
In 1995, Henderson issued a landmark decision calling a pattern of beatings and brutality at the prison cruel and unusual punishment.
"The dry words on paper," he wrote, "cannot adequately capture the senseless suffering and sometimes wretched misery that defendants' unconstitutional practices leave in their wake."
Henderson appointed a special master to oversee improvements.
More recently, he has led a wholesale restructuring of inmate medical care, and last year he appointed a federal receiver to run the $1.2-billion prison healthcare operation. He describes that move as "something I was reluctant to do."
But independent experts told him one inmate was dying every six days because of medical incompetence or neglect, so he hired Robert Sillen as receiver and bestowed on him sweeping powers.
"It was a last resort, a huge step," Henderson says. "But when you have life at stake, it tips the balance."
Karlton, who sits on the District Court in Sacramento, oversees the state's lumbering 11-year-old effort to improve conditions for mentally ill convicts. The reforms were spurred by a class-action case over care, and the state's sluggish progress has sorely tested the judge's patience.
"More than 25% of the persons in prison have certifiable mental conditions, and huge numbers of them have been treated as recalcitrant prisoners, despite the fact that they were motivated by voices in their heads and the rest of it," Karlton said in a recent interview. "I don't think the Constitution permits that."