近距离内射合集

In the courtroom of Judge Michelle Castillo Dowler, an experiment is underway.

On Friday, for the first time, the Bernalillo County Metropolitan Court hosted an open court session for homeless people facing city ordinance violations, such as blocking the sidewalk. From now on, between 9 a.m. and noon every Friday, Castillo Dowler will preside over a flexible docket where people, most of them homeless, with minor city ordinance violations can make a first appearance.

Once there, people can meet with both public defenders and social workers, progressing not only their cases but also jump-starting recovery.

鈥淚f people get help, that鈥檚 wonderful, but my role is to get people to court,鈥� Castillo Dowler said. 鈥淲e really can鈥檛 do anything if we can鈥檛 get them to court.鈥�

And with more and more cases flooding the courthouse, getting people through the doors is only getting harder.

At the year鈥檚 midpoint, homeless people in Albuquerque were cited for city ordinance violations five times more often than in the entirety of 2025. As of mid-June this year, there were 5,335 citations for unlawful camping, sidewalk obstruction, unlawful storage of personal property on public property, obstructing movement and blocking streets, Castillo Dowler said.

Most people with these citations don鈥檛 show up to court, at least not until their minor violation becomes a warrant for failing to appear 鈥� a ticket to the county jail.

But how do you get people without addresses and oftentimes without reliable access to the internet to court on time? Predictability, Castillo Dowler said.

The court notifies defendants of their court dates by mail, an impossible task when they have no permanent address. Now, Albuquerque Police Department officers will inform people they cite of Friday鈥檚 open court session and hand out flyers. Castillo Dowler hopes that with a consistent schedule and some patience, more people will show up, ultimately avoiding jail time.

Castillo Dowler wouldn鈥檛 speculate about the reason citations have increased fivefold, but data points to both an increase in citywide homelessness and more enforcement of violations related to living outdoors.

Last year鈥檚 point-in-time count by the Coalition to End Homelessness puts Albuquerque鈥檚 homeless population around 3,000, though that鈥檚 widely considered to be a low estimate. According to this data, homelessness has doubled in Albuquerque since the pandemic.

In recent years, an increase in encampment sweeps by Mayor Tim Keller鈥檚 administration has led to the unhoused being cited for code violations and later jailed for missed hearings. Currently, homeless people make up the largest population cycling through the Metropolitan Detention Center.

A humble turnout

On the first Friday, six people showed up. They conferred with public defenders, appeared in front of the judge, and sat, legs bouncing, in the back row of the courtroom before being dismissed for the day.

It鈥檚 a start, said Lou Packer, a clinical social worker for Recovery Connections, an addiction treatment center in Southeast Albuquerque. Packer, a heavily bearded man with bright eyes, sat behind a foldout table with his colleagues outside the courtroom Friday.

鈥淚f you build the house, they will come,鈥� Packer said.

Meanwhile, at a table scattered with inspirational quotes printed neatly on business cards, Fabiola Gomez and Steve Chavez took more of a tough-love approach.

鈥淚t鈥檚 about zero excuses, you walk out and we鈥檙e here,鈥� Gomez said, grayscale tattoos poking from her shirt collar. Gomez does street outreach for State of the Heart Recovery, another treatment center in the International District.

鈥淲e鈥檙e in recovery ourselves, so we know what it takes,鈥� Gomez said. 鈥淵ou have to be tired of being tired.鈥�

That day, the people trying to help 鈥� public defenders, case workers, and court staff 鈥� outnumbered the people who needed it 4 to 1. Still, both outreach teams said they鈥檇 keep showing up for as long as it takes.

To close the court session, Castillo Dowler sifted through manila case folders, reading out the names of those who had been scheduled to appear that day but never showed. She read dozens of names, her voice faltering slightly with the repetition.

Of the 28 people scheduled that day, 22 now had bench warrants attached to their names for failing to appear. This means a likely trip to jail should police encounter them on the streets, an outcome Castillo Dowler hoped to avoid.

But she left the door open, saying the court would forgive warrants if they came to a future hearing.

鈥淗opefully we get more next time,鈥� Castillo Dowler said, before dismissing the court.

Gillian Barkhurst is a general assignment reporter for the Journal. She can be reached at gbarkhurst@abqjournal.com.