Debts often saddle juvenile offenders

When Cullen Bailey received a collection agency's bill for $630 last November for an account due to King County District Court, he figured it had to do with the times he got into trouble with the law a few years back as a teenager.

He paid it, thinking he was closing both his account and the door on the misdeeds of his youth.

But earlier this month, six yellow postcards arrived in the mail informing Bailey, 20, that he owed $575 in overdue King County Juvenile Court fines. And if he didn't pay the bills within a couple of days, the total would double from late fees. Bailey began scrambling to figure out how to pay the fines, an element of the juvenile sentencing system that legal experts say can be confusing, and at times damaging, to young people trying to get their adult lives off to a clean start.

"I don't really understand them," he said of the fines and fees.

Bailey, whose juvenile record includes convictions for harassment and trespassing, says he has tried to pay his legal debts whenever he has become aware of them.

"But every time I thought I was done, I wasn't. I've tried to ask if I have any outstanding fines, but no one could tell me," said Bailey, of Shoreline.

The Times generally does not name juvenile defendants unless they're charged as adults. Bailey, who agreed to be interviewed, hasn't been in legal trouble as an adult.

Like adult offenders in Superior Court, juveniles who plead guilty to or are convicted of a felony or misdemeanor in Juvenile Court are charged a Victim's Penalty Assessment — a fine that funds general public-safety and legal costs. They are given the fines in court, along with other components of their sentence such as probation or jail time, substance-abuse treatment, community service and sometimes separate financial restitution to their victims.

What happens after that is what's confusing.

Once sentenced, juveniles who are fined or ordered to pay restitution are supposed to make monthly minimum payments, and they are allowed to do that until their penalty is paid off, with no interest charged.

But unlike with a credit card, utility company or even medical service, there are no monthly bills or reminders for court fees.

As soon as a youth offender turns 18, the debt still owed is moved from Juvenile Court to the Superior Court Clerk's office and becomes a civil judgment, which the clerk is required to enforce. If an account is delinquent, the postcards go out and the late fees can be assigned.

King County District Court is more strict. Once offenders, juvenile or adult, leave the courtroom, they can pay their fines — including restitution and other fines — immediately, said Carol Jones, manager of Shoreline District Court, where Bailey had one of his fines. Or they can to do it monthly for a fee.

But if they forget or don't keep track of the fines they are responsible for, they'll eventually hear from AllianceOne Receivables Management Inc. — the collection company the court began using in 2002 to track down late payments. While court fines can be simple enough for adults to manage, even without a monthly bill, they can be confusing for teens, say legal professionals who deal with juvenile offenders. And even more troubling, they say, the late fees and collection agencies can wreak havoc on a young person's developing credit and financial stability.

Unlike adults, teens often don't have bank accounts, have never owed a monthly debt before and aren't aware of the credit implications later in life if they fail to pay, experts say.

"It does have all sorts of implications in the lives of these kids as they're trying to grow up," said Paul Holland, who teaches the Youth Advocacy Clinic at Seattle University's School of Law. "Whether it's a job, looking to rent an apartment — it complicates life in so many ways."

Tracy Lapps, a defense attorney with The Defender Association in Seattle, knows how difficult it is to make sure juveniles understand and pay the fines. "I don't know how many times I sit in court and give them a copy of whatever, and they walk out without it, and I have to chase them down and tell them they forgot it," she said.

"It is a barrier for them later," said Lapps, who believes youths should be better notified of their legal debts. "I've seen 20-year-olds booked into jail because they failed to pay their legal financial obligations from when they were juveniles."

She also noted that, although parents are expected to help remind their child about the fines, a copy of the court order isn't even given to parents.

There's not much sympathy at the county level, however.

The system "works for a high majority of cases," said King County Superior Court Clerk Barbara Miner. She said that although there aren't monthly bills, juvenile-probation counselors are supposed to make sure that teens and young adults understand and pay the fines.

In Bailey's case, she pointed out, the impact was so large because he had so many run-ins with the law. "He had six different cases. That's kind of unusual — the usual offender doesn't have that much trouble."

Miner also said that when the postcards are sent out, offenders have 30 days to bring their account up do date before late fees are assessed.

However, a close look at one of Bailey's cards, dated Feb. 24 and postmarked Feb. 28, shows a warning stating that a collection fee of $100 will be assessed effective March 1, just one day after the postmark.

Susan Waild, King County juvenile-probation manager, said it is part of a juvenile-probation counselor's job to help youths follow through with the court order, including fines — that is until probation ends, which for many juveniles happens before they've paid their full bill.

But, she said, "The fine is minimal compared to other things on the list of priorities," such as drug or alcohol treatment, school, restitution to victims. "We do go over it with them. But the kid and the parent have to take responsibility for it at some point."

Bailey's mother, Patricia Bailey, has helped her son over the years with legal costs. She says she was just as confused about what fines he owed to whom. "A bill of any kind would be helpful," she said.

Bailey says he wishes he knew about the fines sooner, when he had a job and could have paid them. Now he says his parents might loan him the money. "It just seems devious, the way it's done. Businesses don't work this way — they want their money, they send you a bill," he said. "It's like the [county] wants to give you fines."

Natalie Singer: 206-464-2704 or nsinger@seattletimes.com