JOLIET – Judge Robert Livas went out in style, sentencing a man who murdered a teenage girl to 122 years in prison while describing him as “cretinous” and “pathetic.”
But after the retiring judge had the murderer removed from his courtroom, he addressed a 16-year-old boy who had sat alone in the jury box all morning. The juvenile had tested positive for marijuana recently.
The boy, who only had a disorderly conduct charge, had not expected to be handcuffed when he came to courtroom 405 and was forced to watch as a stranger’s family described their pain and her killer’s family learned his fate. Livas growled at the teen to “shape up” before releasing him back to his parents.
It appeared, at least for the afternoon of Oct. 20, the kid got the message and as the courtroom emptied, Livas took off his black robe and hung it on the door behind his bench for the last time.
“Where I grew up, not a lot of guys went on to school. I wanted to keep going,” he recalled of his childhood in Chicago. He was teaching middle school students on the South Side while playing semi-pro football. A back injury convinced him it was “time to grow up” and he pursued the law from two different aspects.
Livas joined the Chicago Police Department in 1971 and also applied to law school. To work evening classes into his schedule, Livas took midnight shifts on patrol in the crime-infested Cabrini Green housing project before receiving his law license in 1976.
Ed Petka told Livas he could be a prosecutor if Petka became Will County State’s Attorney. Livas didn’t think about the brief meeting again until Petka called the morning after Election Day with a job offer.
“I’d never been to Will County before. My first impression of Joliet was a lot of used car lots and bad restaurants,” he said.
When the Cook County state’s attorney offered him a job six months later, Petka kept his prosecutor by giving him the chance to become felony chief.
“As a prosecutor, you have to sort out quick whether a case is going to plead or go to trial and work on the trial cases,” Livas said. “The best thing a prosecutor can do is find what the defense is going to hit you with and bring it out [in your case]. To close them off gives you a tremendous advantage.”
Livas believes a good defense attorney will pick one thing in the prosecution’s case to attack.
“The best disregard evidence to make it simple for a jury. They attack one thing because if they attack everything [the prosecution uses] they have nothing,” Livas said.
For two years, Livas put Chicago criminals in jail by night and put Will County criminals in prison by day. A line-of-duty injury forced his retirement from the police department in 1979.
The following year, Livas came into conflict with the state’s attorney for his “outspokenness.” The resulting appellate court case, “Livas v. Petka,” is still regularly cited for justifiable firings.
“Looking back, [Petka] was right. I’d have fired me too,” Livas admitted. “Strangely enough, despite the bitterness at the time, we’ve since become friends.”
For the next 16 years, Livas owned a dry cleaning business in Plainfield and Naperville, maintaining his law license but only practicing if a friend asked him to take a case.
“I missed being in a courtroom, so when there was an opening as a part-time public defender, I went back and I started getting involved again,” Livas said.
He was appointed as an associate judge in 2003 and elected in 2010 to the circuit seat Petka was retiring from.
Livas believes the best part of being a judge was the effect he had on people’s lives. He admits being tougher on younger defendants, hoping it made a difference. That’s one of the reasons he made the teen sit through the murder sentencing.
“If I could get through ... to let them realize ‘I don’t want to come back,’ it worked,” Livas said. “When you get probation, it’s a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean anything to you, that’s human nature. So I was tougher.
“It’s not like dry cleaning. I don’t want you to come back,” he added.
Livas credits his longtime bailiff Kim Gregory with helping him avoid “black robe disease.”
“I’ve gotten very lucky there’s been someone to tell me there are times when I’m wrong. You’re not just right because you’re a judge and judges need someone to tell them that,” Livas said.
“Whoever you are as a human being, your core comes out on the bench,” Livas said. “My prior jobs were being a teacher and being a cop. I think that’s my personality that came out.”
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