The word "forfeiture" didn't mean much to Judy Wiese before her only vehicle -- a 2009 Jeep Compass -- was seized by police while she slept the night of Aug. 31.
Now, the 70-year-old Moline woman is getting a crash course in Illinois' complicated civil asset forfeiture laws as she tries, without success so far, to get her vehicle returned.
Justification for the seizure is that the vehicle was used in the commission of a crime -- Ms. Wiese's grandson was caught driving it while his license was revoked. She said she lent it to him to drive to work after he assured her he had taken care of all his court obligations after a 2014 DUI conviction in Rock Island County.
That wasn't the case, however, as Ms. Wiese found out when the grandson was arrested by a Rock Island County sheriff's deputy for driving on a revoked license. He pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor driving-while-revoked charge and was sentenced to 10 days in jail, court records show.
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Meanwhile, Ms. Wiese said, she has been without a vehicle for the last four months and has few means to contest Rock Island County prosecutors' effort to take the car permanently under Illinois forfeiture laws that give law enforcement agencies the right to seize cash, vehicles and other property suspected of being linked to criminal activity.
Both federal and state level agencies use the forfeiture laws, most often in drug and financial fraud cases.
Prove your car isn't guilty
Different forfeiture laws govern each state, but in most cases, Ms. Wiese's included, the burden of proof is on the property owner to prove their seized item was not connected to, or the proceeds of, a crime.
Ms. Wiese, who said she cannot afford an attorney, is attempting to get her car back on her own, but it's tough.
At a recent court hearing, Ms. Wiese sat at a defense table in a fifth-floor Rock Island County Justice Center courtroom. The chair beside her, where an attorney normally would sit, was empty.
Judge Gregory Chickris told Ms. Wiese that her response to the forfeiture complaint had failed to indicate whether she was admitting or denying each of the state's allegations. He said Ms. Wiese also had failed to get the document notarized.
Ms. Wiese, clearly befuddled, let out a sigh.
"You gasp because you don't know how to proceed," the judge said. He added that, just as you call a doctor for medical help, you should hire an attorney to fight a court case.
"I can't afford an attorney," Ms. Wiese said.
Nevertheless, she was told she still was required to follow legal procedures normally handled by an attorney. "The point is, you're on your own -- you've chosen to represent yourself," Judge Chickris said. He gave her two additional weeks to refile a revised answer.
No legal help
Ms. Wiese said she had approached legal aid and Alternatives for the Older Adult but wasn't able to find help securing a lawyer.
"Welcome to the legal process," Judge Chickris said. After Ms. Wiese told him she lived off about $730 a month, the judge added, "Well, that's the problem. Have a nice day."
Outside the courtroom, Ms. Wiese shook her head.
"Why am I being punished?" she said, adding she had continued to make car payments and cover the cost of insurance for a car she hadn't had access to in months.
Her friend, Linda Rangel, said she knew enough to recommend Ms. Wiese look up forfeiture statutes but wasn't aware of the other requirements.
"It's tough, and it's terrible," Ms. Rangel said of the case against her friend. "How the hell do you get an attorney when you can't afford one?"
She added, "It's pathetic. It's like a three-ring circus the way they conduct this crap." She said the two would go back to make sure Ms. Wiese's revised response to the state's complaint was correct. "We're going to deny, deny, deny," Ms. Rangel said.
Rock Island County Assistant State's Attorney Justin Umlah, who handles most forfeiture cases and who filed against Ms. Wiese's Jeep, echoed the judge's sentiments, saying Ms. Wiese would need to comply with the necessary paperwork procedures before the case could continue.
"When she does that, we can actually determine the facts," Mr. Umlah said.
Seizures common
Ms. Wiese's situation is not an unfamiliar one.
Between 2010 and May 2015, Rock Island County prosecutors filed nearly 1,500 forfeiture cases. To date, the state has won nearly 1,200 of those cases, taking among other items about $2 million in cash, 500 vehicles, 14 properties and other assorted items, according to public records.
Proceeds from a successful forfeiture are divvied up among various law enforcement agencies: 65 percent to the seizing police agency; 10 percent to the Illinois State Police; 12.5 percent to the state's attorney's office; and 12.5 percent to the state appellate prosecutor's office.
Items seized locally range dramatically. In addition to cases in which thousands of dollars in cash are seized, other cases involve relatively insignificant amounts. In a 2010 case, Rock Island County prosecutors sought to confiscate a motorized scooter. In 2014, the subject of a forfeiture case was $10.
In the vast majority of cases, property owners either did not contest the case or agreed to give up their rights to the property.
In Rock Island County, the "majority" of forfeiture cases involve corresponding criminal charges, Mr. Umlah said.
In some cases, he said, the seized item's financial value is less than the cost of prosecuting the case. But it's worth it, he said, to discourage future criminal behavior.
Forfeiture effective
"People don't like their stuff to be forfeited," Mr. Umlah said, adding he believed forfeiture was a more effective deterrence for some people than jail or criminal charges.
Mr. Umlah said, in his experience, cases in which property owners, such as Ms. Wiese, don't have the financial means to hire an attorney are "not necessarily a common occurrence."
More often, he said, property owners don't see the benefit in contesting a case that might cost them more in legal fees than the item's actual worth.
As Ms. Wiese and Ms. Rangel left the courthouse after the hearing, they met two others facing similar cases. One man, visibly frustrated, said he was ready to give up his car if it meant the forfeiture case against him would be over.
Another woman decided not to wait any longer.
"I just said I was guilty," Francis Pizano Martinez told the other two women, as she came out of the courthouse. In a case similar to Ms. Wiese's, Mrs. Martinez said she lent her 1989 Toyota Cressida to her son to drive to work.
She said police stopped her son for a license plate light that was burnt out and seized the car after learning he was driving on a suspended license.
No energy to fight
Mrs. Martinez said she didn't have the energy to fight the case and, as it was a relatively older car, decided just to relinquish her rights to the vehicle.
She said she had put a lot of money into the car in the past and may have considered challenging the case if not for the hassle and cost of getting a lawyer.
"That's the law -- it's ridiculous, but what can you do about it?" Mrs. Martinez said, shaking her head. "I wasn't going to fight it."
Ms. Wiese said she intends to keep fighting. The loss of her vehicle has caused difficulties with getting to her doctor's office and other appointments.
"It's really put a hardship on me," she said. "I mean, give me my car -- I'm not doing anything. I pay my payments. What's the deal?
"Why are they taking this out on me?" she added. "I don't understand any of it, and neither do a lot of other people."
