Back Talk
By Kristen Lund • Photo by Andrew Wolf

Jill Marcrum
Magistrate, Vanderburgh Superior Court

As a college student at Indiana University in Bloomington, Jill Marcrum majored in accounting, and then an internship showed her “that was not what I wanted to do with my life,” she says. She was good with numbers, Marcrum says, but she wanted a job where she could work with people. A fascinating law class as an undergraduate inspired her to attend law school at IU, where she soon realized, “You know what? I like this. I like helping people solve their problems.”

After graduating in 1986, Marcrum — who was born near Cincinnati and lived in Missouri, Georgia, and Louisiana as a child — took a job with the Evansville firm then known as Statham, Johnson & McCray. Her law career gained steam, and she was a partner at Kightlinger & Gray when she was asked to apply for a magistrate position at the Vanderburgh Superior Court. She got the job and swore in 12 years ago.

“I’ve found that I thrive here,” Marcrum says, “looking at the bigger picture and trying to understand where the problem started.” Marcrum and the other four magistrates rotate monthly through small claims, domestic relations, misdemeanor court, and the “other division,” a mixed bag of juvenile hearings, extra misdemeanor trials, and more. Her work can be maddening: Marcrum recently heard 467 traffic court cases in one day. She credits her husband, David, and young daughters, Jessica and Samantha, for keeping her sane, and a passion for public service still motivates her work. Marcrum recently announced she is running for Superior Court Judge in 2010.

You preside over hearings for seemingly minor offenses — driving without a license, disorderly conduct, public intoxication. Although these crimes rarely make headlines, why do you feel it’s important to treat them seriously?

Those little crimes, while they may not be the most heinous thing in the world, are a slippery slope. If you’re willing to break that law, what other laws are you willing to break? By addressing those smaller, seemingly insignificant problems, you begin to give people alternatives.
It’s like the prostitution busts lately. The blogs are saying, “Why aren’t you doing something serious?” Well, those are people who are trying to get money. If you take that avenue away from them, if you make them deal with their problems without committing crimes, then maybe they don’t go on to commit another, more serious crime. There’s an underlying problem that’s leading them to do other things.

In addition to your work as a magistrate, you lead a crisis intervention team committee that educates police about mental illness. What’s the goal?

To educate law enforcement officers to recognize mental illness, to better communicate with the mentally ill people in the community so that they can de-escalate the situation and then decide, “Does this person need to go to jail?” Some of them do. Some of them have committed crimes, and they should go to jail. But sometimes they might have committed a crime — public intoxication, disorderly conduct — that really is a result of mental illness as opposed to evil intent.

What’s one example you’ve seen?

Here’s a perfect example: A man drives all night from California. However long it took him to get here, he did not stop. He goes to the West Sector (police) office and says, “I’d like to talk to the FBI, and I know the only way to do that is to punch a law enforcement officer.” So he punched him.

That happened on a Friday afternoon. I saw him on Monday morning after he’d been in jail for three days. Here’s somebody who has driven all night and obviously is in a manic phase. If you follow his actions, you begin to understand he clearly was mentally ill and needed to be in a hospital setting. Jail was not going to resolve his problems.

Law still is a largely male-dominated profession. At one time, you were the only woman in the Vanderburgh County judiciary. Have you faced any struggles or discrimination?

I grew up with three older brothers, so I’m kind of used to being in the minority. But I can’t tell you how many times I was asked if I was the court reporter. ... I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. If someone says something inappropriate to me, I’m more likely to joke about it, to laugh about it.

When it comes to being an attorney, a judicial officer, a parent, I don’t want to be a “female” this or a “female” that. I want to be remembered because I was a good judicial officer; I was a good parent; I was a caring person; I did things for the community. I want to be remembered not because I was just a woman, but I happened to be a woman.