Intern Research Spotlight: Police Interrogation and Its Impact on False Confessions

At the Family Justice Support Alliance, we believe understanding is the first step toward navigating the judicial system—especially in times of crisis. This summer, we’re honored to share a series of thoughtful, firsthand reflections from our intern, Sara Santerre, as she explores the human side of our courts and communities. Through powerful moments and personal insights, Sara’s experience reminds us why access, empathy, and reform matter. We begin the series with her visit to the S. James Foxman Justice Center.

Observing three different court sessions at the S. James Foxman Justice Center was like being transported to three separate realms. It was evident, from observing an hour-long session, that the workload for public defense attorneys is extensive and time-consuming. They’re utilizing every available second, even when clients are at the stand, to make preparations and speak with other clients. The underlying issue is that private attorneys are expensive and not accessible to everyone awaiting trial. Often, public attorneys are the only financial option as they’re provided free of charge, so they become flooded with cases and do their best to stay afloat. Private attorneys have more time to consult with each client and advise them of the best actions and options, often appearing on their client’s behalf in court. An attorney appearing on behalf of their client didn’t occur during the public defender portion. The reality is, the more money you can put towards a case, the better your odds are.

 Attorneys and judges have a reputation for being sleek, professional, and sharp. In every high-profile case or lawyer-centric movie, you see the attorney dressed to the nines who pays attention to every little detail. They’re put together in all areas, and it starts with the wardrobe. I’m not so naive as to believe everything I see on television, but the dress code was surprisingly relaxed. It’s not always fair to judge outward appearance, especially for defendants, considering not everyone can afford a suit and tie. However, showing up to a job, especially one that involves supporting another through criminal charges, with wet hair or a mismatched suit implies a lack of preparation. Beyond appearance, I anticipated a stricter code of courtroom conduct. Some signs of respect were upheld, such as standing for the judge and sitting at their command, though people still talked and moved around during the session without regard. The people in the row opposite Chris and I whispered so loudly that I could hear their conversation. I would feel disadvantaged as a defendant if I couldn’t focus on the judge because of the side conversations. I wasn’t necessarily expecting silence, but at least some level of self-awareness, especially when a single verdict can drastically change the course of the defendant’s life. 

I found my heart breaking for the 22-year-old defendant dressed in orange, hands shackled to his thick black belt. (Learn more about this in Part 1 of the Pre-Trial Observation Series) At the stand, his pants started to fall. I watched him twist the belt to the left, pull, twist it to the right, pull, just to keep them up. Separated by a court divider and circumstances, I thought about our life paths and experiences. Two 22-year-olds in a courtroom, one observing for an internship, the other fighting for the best case scenario, seven years in prison. I thought about my life and the opportunities I’ve been blessed with. Two supporting parents, family dinners, a sister, and a dog. I thought about his mother, the abuse he experienced at her hands, the path it sent him on. We’re not so different, just two kids who were dealt different hands. Two kids who had the opposite definition of normal growing up, and who acted accordingly. I wonder, if the roles were reversed, would I be in a similar position? Struggling to keep my oversized prison garb from falling, facing a prosecutor unwilling to compromise, accepting that I’ll likely be in prison well into my 30s. It crushes me to know that his 20s are behind him and they’ve only just begun. It feels like a waste of life, of potential, of the chance to overcome what happened to him. I say this with the understanding that punishment is necessary. One cannot steal a car or break into an unoccupied home armed without consequence. However, my parents provided me with the love and resources that made a car and a steady income possible. I have never been in a position where theft or robbery is the only conceivable option for my survival or comfort. Many who break the law do not have the same luxury. Wherever he is now, I hope that 22-year-old boy can overcome what happened to him in a world that’s stacked the odds against him. 

While my heart was heavy watching the 22-year-old boy disappear behind the inmate door, a light at the tunnel emerged when we blindly ventured into drug court. ((Learn more about this in Part 4 of the Pre-Trial Observation Series) Observing three different court sessions at the S. James Foxman Justice Center was like being transported to three separate realms. It was evident, from observing an hour-long session, that the workload for public defense attorneys is extensive and time-consuming. They’re utilizing every available second, even when clients are at the stand, to make preparations and speak with other clients. The underlying issue is that private attorneys are expensive and not accessible to everyone awaiting trial. Often, public attorneys are the only financial option as they’re provided free of charge, so they become flooded with cases and do their best to stay afloat. Private attorneys have more time to consult with each client and advise them of the best actions and options, often appearing on their client’s behalf in court. An attorney appearing on behalf of their client didn’t occur during the public defender portion. The reality is, the more money you can put towards a case, the better your odds are.

In the thirty minutes I sat in that courtroom, I witnessed the kindness and support that experiencing hardship can instill in us. Judge Blackthorn celebrated every victory and rewarded every accomplishment to program participants. They and their loved ones clapped and cheered for everyone “leveling up” at the stand. The drug court program even considers work hours as community service hours, allowing participants to financially support themselves while meeting court requirements. I left that courtroom feeling a pressing weight lighten slightly, incredibly inspired by the love and support that radiated behind those doors. It proves that mistakes and addictions don’t determine character; rather, it’s the strength and resolve it takes to accept help, improve, and support others who fight to change. Although the circumstances are entirely different, it gives me hope for that 22-year-old boy. One day, when he’s out, I hope the same love and support will be extended to him. 

Bartol, C. R., & Bartol, A. M. (2021). Introduction to Forensic Psychology (6th ed.). 

SAGE Publications, Inc. (US). https://mbsdirect.vitalsource.com/books/9781071815328 

Mears, D. P., Brown, J. M., Cochran, J. C., & Siennick, S. E. (2021). Extended solitary confinement for managing prison systems: Placement disparities and their implications. Justice Quarterly, 38(7), 1492–1518. https://doi.org/10.1080/07418825.2021.1944286  

Silverthorn, R., & Zgoba, K. M. (2024). Unlocking the truth: Exploring the impacts of solitary confinement on recidivism and the need for mental health support for individuals with mental illnesses. American Journal of Criminal Justice, 49(6), 768–792. 

https://doi.org/10.1007/s12103-024-09771-x