Injustice System

That kind of order is serious, a step up from a restraining order. A judge grants it only if there's evidence of a domestic violence crime — physically abusing a girlfriend, say, or stalking an ex-lover.

The docket shows that Jeffery chose not to get a hearing to contest the woman's allegations. His accuser was granted a protective order for 12 months. (Jeffery did not return calls for comment.)

It would be an ugly mark on anyone. But with Jeffery, it raises bigger questions.

Namely, after getting accused of something so ugly and not even bothering to fight it, how could this guy possibly think he was a good candidate for judge?

And where did he get the hubris, after serving as judge for only a year, to seek a promotion to become the court's top deputy — second-in-command at a court that handles more than 200 orders of protection each month?

A guy with this kind of record may be qualified for plenty of jobs. Helping to run a court that handles domestic violence cases is simply not one of them.

But rather than being taken seriously, Jeffery's dark history was virtually ignored by anyone with the power to look into it. Instead, it was Judge Carroll — who'd done nothing other than write some feisty e-mails to a longtime colleague — who got fired.

As with a lot of courts, we the people get little say about who serves at the municipal level. A judicial selection advisory board makes suggestions to the city council, and the council then picks new judges from its list of recommendations. For those judges to keep their jobs, the council must vote to reappoint them every four years.

The council almost always listens to the judicial board. But in this case, the board voted to reappoint Carroll. The city council fired him anyway.

A number of lawyers wrote letters to the judicial board and to council members, praising Carroll. Only Song Ong spoke against him.

Although Jeffery was up for reappointment at the same time as Carroll, Song Ong never raised a single concern about him.

And it's not like Song Ong didn't know about the protective order. Jeffery did not volunteer the information on his application to be judge, records show. But on January 25, 2006, Karyn Klausner says she talked about the issue with Song Ong.

On February 1, the judicial advisory board was weighing the renomination of both Carroll and Jeffery. But while Song Ong talked about Carroll's e-mails, she never said a bad word about Jeffery.

And by the time the city council voted to oust Carroll in May, Klausner says each member had been given copies of Jeffery's docket, which clearly shows the order of protection.

But Song Ong said nothing. And the city council didn't ask.

Karyn Klausner is livid that, even as the council fired her husband, neither the court administration nor city leaders bothered to so much as question Jeffery about the order against him.

"It is an outrage," Klausner says. "It is outrageous, incomprehensible, and inexcusable not to look into this, and to do it publicly — so that members of the public have confidence that the right thing was done. You don't ignore this kind of thing in the business we're in."

After all, this is the court that handles orders of protection for more than 2,500 people in Phoenix every year.

Shouldn't it take those orders seriously?

Beyond that, you don't run a good judge out of office for daring to criticize an administrative decision.

You don't do that unless you're afraid of anyone who dares to speak his mind.

So, here's what a hot potato all this is: No one wants to talk about it. City Councilman Dave Siebert, who chaired the council committee that railroaded a capable 20-year court veteran, wouldn't return my calls. Nor would Councilman Greg Stanton, who privately indicated to at least one person last May that he found the allegations against Jeffery "troubling."

Not troubling enough, apparently, for the council to investigate. The issue seems to have vanished into the ether — along with any memory of Judge Michael Carroll.

As for Roxanne Song Ong, she's not saying anything. The court's spokesman, Loren Broud, said she wouldn't be returning my call.

"On advice of counsel, it's inappropriate for us to make a comment on Judge Klausner and the other matters you called about," he said — matters that include Carroll and Jeffery.

But it's pretty obvious that if Song Ong cared about the truth, she'd have no reason to hide behind her "counsel."

Yes, Michael Carroll sued the city, but his suit was thrown out in April. U.S. District Court Judge Neil V. Wake ruled that the city had the right to fire Carroll — and to weigh his e-mails in that decision.

That doesn't mean the city was right to fire him, of course. (Wake wasn't ruling on that question.) But the case's closure means that the convenient "my lawyer says I can't talk" excuse is total bunk.

If I could get Song Ong on the phone, I'd like to ask her why getting rid of a dissenter was more important than investigating a domestic violence allegation. And I'd like to know why Eric Jeffery — a guy who scared a young woman enough that she asked the court for a protective order — is now the heir apparent to run the city's municipal court.