Anita Malichi/Eyewitness News
Indianapolis, April 30 - When four high school girls walked out of a Broad Ripple photography studio and told police Andrew Scalini enticed them to pose nude, Jay Meisenhelder went to work. "We can't afford to allow people to take advantage of our children by sexually exploiting them."
Meisenhelder convinced a jury, the photographer once considered one of Indianapolis' best, is a criminal. In January a judge put him behind bars for at least three months.
One hundred and twenty-five thousand students enter American law schools each year, a small number with plans to serve the public and ensure liberty and justice for all.
In Marion County that sometimes means an unexpected sacrifice.
Meisenhelder spends many nights and weekends in a classroom tutoring potential lawyers to take the law school admissions test. Tutoring is a part-time job to supplement his full-time salary. "I make about $43,000 a year right now."
And that's with several promotions in his five years with the office.
A third-year Indianapolis Police officer earns the same without a law degree.
In St. Louis a brand new prosecutor makes more with no experience.
Although Meisenhelder's wife is better compensated, the couple is putting two daughters through college and must meet his law school loan payment each month, thus the struggle to pay the bills and the part-time job.
He's not alone. Kristin Erato spends weekdays in Court 99. When you see the deputy prosecutor in the mall on the weekends she's not looking for an outfit for court. Shoppers may not realize their clerk is a lawyer. "Between the mortgage and student loan payments, that is my entire salary from the prosecutor's office per month. We're not talking about car payments, insurance, utilities."
Kraig Kinney's part-time job takes him to Putnam County. He's a paramedic, the job he gave up to become a deputy prosecutor after graduating law school. "From the job I came from I gave up $3,000 to come and do this."
Ron Buckler moonlights too. Buckler, a single father, says his job at a south side Meijer helps him provide a car for his teenage son.
Former Prosecutor Scott Newman says he grudgingly allowed outside work, but would discourage certain types of jobs. "We don't want any employment that would reflect badly on this office. Of course it reflects somewhat badly that we have deputy prosecutors who have to wait tables and things like that."
"We understand we're not going to be paid on par with law firms who are paying $80,000 a year coming out of law school," says Erato. "But we're definitely underpaid, even for other counties."
Fresh out of law school, a Marion County deputy prosecutor starts at $33,000 a year. The same person in Hamilton County would make $40,000, Madison $51,000 and Monroe $45,000.
Taxpayers expect sacrifices of public servants. But what would you do if dissatisfied with your salary? Quit? In the City-County Building, turnover goes right to the heart of what is easily one of the most critical issues facing the Marion County criminal justice system right now.
Jail overcrowding, 80% of inmates are waiting for their trials. Depending on the seriousness of the charge that can take more than a year. If a new prosecutor must take over a case, often that trial is delayed.
"Since it takes time to become familiar with a case you have to ask for a continuance," explains Meisenhelder.
And remember, even jailed suspects are innocent until proven guilty. Most can't afford to defend themselves. They have a constitutional right to a lawyer.
"It's common among lay persons to believe public defenders aren't real attorneys, didn't go to law school, that public defenders come out of law school and have to be a public defender. That's not true. I work with a number of attorneys dedicated to indigent defense." Shatrese Flowers represents those least able to afford a private attorney. Starting pay in that office is also $33,000 a year. Flowers works part-time at a ladies clothing store in the mall to make ends meet.
"You need to be able to pay an adequate wage so I can demand their full-time." The chief public defender, David Cook, says he has to replace at least a quarter of his staff each year. Newman says he was able to hold his turnover rate to about 15 percent.
The money does get better. Deputies have the potential to make up to $80,000 annually as their responsibilities increase. Since potential doesn't pay the bills, what's a struggling servant to do?
It's now Carl Brizzi's problem, the prosecutor since January. He plans to continue a debt repayment program Newman set up which offers a couple hundred dollars toward their school loans each month in exchange for their promise to stay with the office two years.
Brizzi says he'll look for grants to help ease the burden.
