Spirit of the law: Worcester Central District Court staff rose to pandemic's challenges

WORCESTER — There are many things a person might think of right after emerging from a six-and-a-half-week, medically induced coma.

For Darlene Perro, it was the place she’s spent more than two-thirds of her life: Central District Court.

“Please can I have a laptop?” Perro, 62, recalls asking her boss, Clerk-Magistrate Brian M. D’Andrea, shortly after learning she’d spent the previous 45 days unconscious.

“You’re still in the intensive care unit. So no,” came the seemingly callous reply, which appeared to wholly ignore the fact she was almost literally dying to get to work.

“I coded twice in the hospital,” Perro — a lifelong city resident with a penchant for blunt assessments — stated matter-of-factly of her ordeal, which started with a bowel rupture on the same Sunday in 2021 when Tom Brady won the Super Bowl for Tampa Bay.

Respected inside the office for her moxie and her meatballs — the cloistered production of which, coworkers confirmed, is about her only secret — Perro isn’t one to give up.

She was back to work virtually within weeks, and while her athletic prowess may not rival Brady’s, her philosophy, and that of many of her coworkers, reflects the philosophy the Golden Boy lived by in Foxborough.

“They do their jobs,” D’Andrea, a former prosecutor and city native, said last week as he reflected on the whirlwind journey of the past two years.

Sept. 30 was Appreciation and Applause Day in the Trial Court, with courthouse workers throughout the state — from clerks, to probationers, to court officers — being recognized for their work during COVID-19.

In Worcester, roughly 80% of employees in the clerk’s office contracted the virus, many multiple times. Job descriptions changed, work hours intensified and everything shifted virtual. D’Andrea had only been appointed six weeks before COVID-19 hit.

Despite the adversity, people both outside and inside the office said it rose to the challenge of the moment.

“Their dedication to customer services exploded under COVID,” said Brian E. Murphy, a city lawyer whose firm, Murphy & Rudolf LLP, does a lot of business in the courts. “It was an extraordinary effort — they clearly worked very hard at it.”

'The Constitution didn’t stop'

While the world seemed to grind to a halt in early March 2020, with sports called off and businesses everywhere closed, the courts were still working.

“The Constitution didn’t stop when COVID hit,” Daniel J. Hogan, president of the statewide clerk magistrates association, noted last week.

People were still getting arrested and needed to be bailed; police still needed approval to conduct searches; battered domestic partners were still seeking restraining orders.

District courts statewide handled more than 2.5 million scheduled court events from April 2020 to this July, statistics show, with Central District Court handling at least 70,000 events, including nearly 14,000 arraignments.

Located on the first floor of the sprawling courthouse at 225 Main St., Central District Court handles adult criminal cases for Worcester, Auburn and Millbury.

While the most serious felony cases, such as murder and rape, are disposed of in Worcester Superior Court, many of those cases begin in Central District. Far more cases for lesser crimes are resolved there.

“It’s the gateway to the criminal justice system,” said First Assistant Clerk-Magistrate Paul Johnson, a 26-year employee who, like other assistant clerk magistrates, has a host of serious duties.

He and colleagues are responsible for deciding whether police have met their burden to bring criminal charges, and whether to sign off on search warrants that sometimes give police authority to knock down a person’s door.

Frontline clerks deal daily with often upset people trying to bail loved ones out of jail, people coming down from drugs, or people who have just had family members killed or injured.

In the days when the public could stroll into the clerk’s office — the counter is now closed, with a small annex outside staffed by two clerks — it was not unusual for reporters to observe people berating staff members.

“You can’t take it personally,” said office manager Beth Belsito. “They’re not angry at us — they’re angry at whatever brought them here.”

According to statistics from the Trial Court, the Worcester clerk’s office has facilitated more than 2,000 mental health or drug commitment cases since the pandemic hit, and more than 5,500 restraining orders.

Behind each one of those cases, clerks noted, is a person in distress — whether it be a person afraid of being killed, or someone afraid another person might harm themselves.

The importance of handling such cases kicked into high gear, employees said, that fateful March 2020 week when everything changed.

Restraining order or pizza?

On March 13, 2020, the state’s highest court issued the first of a series of restrictions that would effectively close the courthouse to the public for months.

But people still had to conduct court business, so the courts, after closing the buildings to employees for two days, had to figure out a path forward.

“People’s lives depend on us,” said Assistant Clerk-Magistrate Erin M. O’Connell, describing how, at the height of COVID-19, many people with expiring restraining orders called the office, distraught.

Clerk’s office employees — some of whom had to sneak into the building while it was closed to ensure prisoners still got processed — ended up splitting into teams.

While some worked from home on laptops provided by the state, others came into the office, ensuring that, if one team got sick, others could step up.

Since it was impossible for people to file restraining order papers in person, workers had to take the time to painstakingly process applications over the phone.

In addition to the time commitment — a process that used to take minutes could now take hours — clerks were listening to often emotional details of violence and trying to offer comfort.

“People needed to feel safe at a time when the rest of the world did not feel safe,” O’Connell said, crediting staff for the time and energy expended when many others in society were out of work.

“Everything was shut down,” she recalled. “I was joking, ‘It’s easier to get a restraining order right now than it is a pizza.' ”

'MASH unit'

O’Connell, Perro and other employees credited D’Andrea for quite literally leading the office from the front.

The first days the courthouse was closed to the public — a time when uncertainty about the virus reigned — D’Andrea and his top assistant set up shop outside the courthouse to help people who couldn’t come inside.

“It was like a little MASH unit,” Johnson said, recalling how he and others wore masks and used copious amounts of hand sanitizer that D’Andrea had painstakingly secured.

Hogan, who serves as clerk-magistrate in Boston Municipal Court, noted there  were many people living in larger cities who, in the early days, didn’t even know what was happening.

“A lot of them don’t have smartphones or CNN,” he said, and many are homeless. “They said, ‘What do you mean the building is closed. What’s COVID?’ ”

D’Andrea said he did what he could for such people who came to Worcester, including taking some paperwork for other court departments.

Employees said they appreciated that D’Andrea, in those early days, took the risk of dealing with folks face to face, while they worked inside.

“The safety of my staff will always be my paramount priority,” said D’Andrea, who explained his philosophy of one as demanding excellence of both himself and others.

“My goal is for Worcester to be the best district clerk’s office in the commonwealth,” said D’Andrea, who was raised on Grafton Hill by his father, Joe, a Worcester police officer, and his mother, Julie, a nurse.

D’Andrea, who often speaks in baseball metaphors and emphasizes the positive, also hasn’t been shy about offering criticism where he felt appropriate.

“Sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet,” said Johnson, alluding to the fact that there was some turnover in the office as the 47-year-old implemented changes.

“Some people decided it wasn’t for them,” said D’Andrea, who implemented a cross-training program that put some beyond comfort zones but helped with flexibility.

“Nothing is beneath anybody,” O’Connell said, describing how D’Andrea routinely handles the more mundane tasks of the office.

D’Andrea said it takes everyone doing their part to keep the courthouse humming. He thanked Michael Norman, director of facilities, and his custodial staff for their work during the pandemic.

“They’ve all been incredible,” he said of custodians, who have been wiping down the public areas of the courthouse fastidiously since it reopened.

Court run from kitchen

Employees credited D’Andrea for working swiftly to implement the now-ubiquitous tools like Zoom that allowed the court to transition most — and for a time, nearly all — of its business online.

“There were days we did criminal sessions from my kitchen,” O’Connell recalled, with Perro at her side and judges at their homes.

Employees would drive to work, or supervisors would drive to employees’ homes, with banker’s boxes full of files that needed processing, a previously unimaginable situation borne of emergency.

While the staggered teams helped ensure not everyone would get sick at once, employees still came down with the virus. Out of 38 employees currently in the office, 30 contracted COVID-19 at some point, O’Connell counted.

“At one point, all of our session clerks, who call the cases in the courtroom, had COVID at the same time,” D’Andrea recalled.

D’Andrea said he believes many courts would have been in disarray, but credited his other employees for filling the void.

“Everyone stepped up, and I’m so proud of all of them,” he said. “It’s what family does.”

At the Sept. 30 appreciation event, D’Andrea thanked employees before everyone chowed down  on a catered lunch.

“Thank you on behalf of the plaintiff who was able to get a restraining order because you were at your post,” he said. “Thank you on behalf of the homeowner who was hoodwinked by some unscrupulous contractor, but was able to get a small claims trial within 60 days because you were at your post.”

D’Andrea has moved both small claims court and motor vehicle ticket appeals to permanent virtual sessions — a move he says has led to speedier hearings and happier customers.

He said many people who couldn’t contest a ticket before — the trucker in another state, the person who can’t take time off from work — are now able to plead their case.

“Our mission is to provide access to justice for the most vulnerable among us,” he said. “To treat people not just like a docket number — they’re our neighbors, our brothers, our sisters.”

High marks

Paul DePalo, a lawyer who represents Worcester on the Governor’s Council, and Mark Monopoli, a longtime city lawyer, lauded the office for its work.

“The culture Brian cultivates is really positive and healthy,” said DePalo, who also praised the work of the Superior Court Clerk’s office under the leadership of Clerk-Magistrate Dennis P. McManus.

Monopoli, who has worked for nearly three decades in Central District Court, said many of his clients would have suffered without D’Andrea and his staff.

“They were all [at risk]. They all had to work harder, and they did,” he said. “I don’t know how they could have done it any better.”

Geoffrey E. Spofford, immediate past president of the Worcester County Bar Association, said he still doesn’t understand how the office pulled it off.

“Behind the scenes, to make all of this work, tremendous work was going on,” said Spofford, who was among the many lawyers sitting at home as clerks were in the courthouse.

“It’s impressive to think about what it takes to run a courthouse at a time when showing up meant putting yourself at risk,” he said.

Spofford credited D’Andrea — “the COVID clerk,” he riffed, since he barely had time to get set up before things hit — for ensuring the court’s business continued.

Spofford also saluted the top district court and regional administrative judge David P. Despotopulos for his steady hand throughout the pandemic.

The Bar Association recently awarded Despotopulos with its Judicial Excellence Award, he said, which it has renamed in honor of Worcester U.S. District Court Judge Timothy S. Hillman, who recently took senior status.

Lawyers interviewed for this story also saluted the work of court officers, noting they had to work with arrestees, many of whom were at high risk for COVID, throughout the pandemic.

As clerks would call cases on Zoom, court officers would often — and still do in some courtrooms — link up people in custody through smart devices from lockup.

Robin Yancey, regional security director for the Worcester region, estimated that about 70% of the more than 140 court officers in her district came down with COVID-19.

“We had to do our job — we had no other choice,” Tim Paquette, a 28-year Central District Court officer, said as he and others shared laughs over steaming trays of food the Trial Court brought to the jury room Sept. 30.

Job interview in a johnnie

Clerk's office employees said that despite the trials of the last couple of years – which included some virtual “Zoom bombs” with Nazi imagery, and some people Zooming in from the toilet — they’ve grown much closer as a unit as a result.

In a group interview, longtime clerk’s office employees Julianne Genatossio (16 years), Elena Inangelo (36 years) and Dawn Poole (26 years), along with one-year employee Doris Thomas, largely credited D’Andrea’s leadership.

Thomas, whom D’Andrea plucked from a Cumberland Farms after noticing her calm under the ire of decaffeinated customers, and the others said they appreciate the respect they’ve received.

They said D’Andrea has done little things – buying lunch, giving words of encouragement – that have gone a long way.

“We’re like a family,” said Genatossio, describing how D’Andrea’s sensitivity as her mother was in the last months of her life meant so much to her.

Inangelo, a talented singer who has already sung the national anthem at Polar Park twice, said that while COVID-19 was a scary time, coworkers always had each other to fall back on.

With tenderness — and a little bit of humor — the employees described how they have rallied behind Perro to help her with logistical challenges, including a colostomy bag, that followed her illness.

Such loyalty, they said, was borne of years of mentoring, joking and bonding — along with some excellent meatballs.

“She’s a meatball Nazi,” Poole cracked, describing how Perro won’t let others in on the cooking when she invites them to her home on Halloween, where she doles out full-size candy bars exclusively.

D’Andrea described Perro as the “heart and soul” of the clerk’s office. Perro, in a separate interview, eschewed the spotlight.

“I’m not a nice person,” she said mirthfully, giving O’Connell the side-eye before continuing. “I’ll tell you to jump. She won’t.”

Still, Perro allowed, it does make her feel good when she’s able to help someone avert a potentially disastrous mishap — a missed summons or ticket, for instance — that could threaten their livelihoods.

“I’m not trying to sell you solar panels, telling you you’re going to save money or something,” she said. “It’s a job that has a reward unspoken. And that’s the best part about it.”

While Perro projects a tough-guy image — and coworkers agree she isn’t to be trifled with — Poole described her softer side.

Speaking through tears, Poole detailed an unforgettable conversation she had with Perro inside the Kenmore Diner in 2006.

Poole had hit a rough patch in her relationship and, with two children still in diapers, was looking to get out.

Perro pulled out a key to her home from her pocket and placed it in Poole’s hand.

“She said, 'Whenever you’re ready,’ ” Poole said, dabbing at her eyes.

Poole and her children stayed with Perro for nearly four years.

“She’s a wonderful person,” Poole said. “She will do anything for you if you’re her friend.”

Belsito said Perro is “like the mother hen of the office,” though she also acts as courthouse rooster.

“She’s here, every day, at 6 a.m.,” Johnson said of the 42-year employee.

Perro said she likes to get in early and doesn’t mind leaving late, because she loves the work, and her boss.

She described the feeling of joy she got when she, under D’Andrea’s watch, was promoted to assistant clerk-magistrate — a job she interviewed for on Zoom, from the hospital, just days before her coma.

“I was in my johnnie, interviewing for this position,” she said, adding that the unusual attire didn’t blot her confidence.

“I said to the judge, ‘If you tell anyone I look like this, you’re going to go home hurt,’ ” she said. “He said, ‘I think you look beautiful.’ ”

Contact Brad Petrishen at brad.petrishen@telegram.com. Follow him on Twitter @BPetrishenTG

This article originally appeared on Telegram & Gazette: Worcester Central District Court staff rose to pandemic's challenges