Brauchler has been known to say "I don't come from government" — a curious statement from someone who's spent a decade as a county prosecutor and many years serving in the Army Reserve, including two mobilizations. His larger argument, though, is that Feldman has been part of the judicial bureaucracy in Arapahoe County for decades.
"I have no doubt that his motivations to be DA are because he thinks he can improve the office," Brauchler says of Feldman. "But the last time Ethan tried a case, Barack Obama was a teenager. My guess is that he hasn't ever used PowerPoint. That's why my experience, versus experience that's 32 years old, makes a difference."
Current 18th Judicial District Attorney Carol Chambers has twice been successful in prosecuting death-penalty cases.
James Holmes, the suspect in the Aurora shootings case, may face a preliminary hearing next month — but an actual trial is many months away.
Details
See also:
- James Holmes case exploited on Facebook by district attorney candidate?
- Edward Montour: The other death-penalty decision facing the new DA
Related stories by Alan Prendergast from the
Westword archives:
“
Sucker Punch: ‘Big Bitch’ policy could bite fighting concertgoer,” May 22, 2012.
“
"Welcome to Arapahell,” November 24, 2011.
“
Carol Chambers under fire for giving witness a car in death-penalty case,” May 13, 2011.
“
Perez acquittal: A stunning rebuke of Chambers’s death-penalty chase?,” February 2, 2011.
“
The Good, the Bad and the Mad: What happens to the mentally ill in the justice system is crazy,” May 29, 2008.
“
Bad Execution: Judge blasts prosecution misconduct in death-penalty case,” April 10, 2008.
“
Arapahoe County DA charges death-penalty fees to the state,” February 28, 2008.
“
A Thumb on the Scales: The DA weighs in on the wrong case,” February 8, 2007.
“
Carol Chambers: The Punisher,” February 8, 2007.
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Feldman bristles at the notion that his years in private practice and on the bench don't count. "His theory is that in 1980 I left the DA's office and ran away to the circus, then came back last year to run for DA," he says. "He's actually denigrating my whole career. But I tell the truth about my career."
As the race enters its final weeks, Feldman has gone on the offensive, accusing Brauchler of exaggerating and distorting his record. Brauchler denies the charge and suggests that Feldman is misleading voters by touting his judicial experience, since most cases in county court involve misdemeanors, bond hearings and traffic matters, in contrast to the life-and-death decisions confronting a district attorney in a place as besieged as the 18th.
In other words, both candidates are beginning to act a lot like prosecutors.
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George Brauchler first learned about prosecutorial politics in 2008, when he challenged the incumbent district attorney for her seat. It was his "trial by fire," he says. He started out looking for someone to support, a Republican bold enough to run against Chambers — whose husband, defense attorney Nathan Chambers, also happened to be the head of the GOP in Arapahoe County. When he couldn't find one, he was persuaded to take on the mission himself.
"The response from the entrenched supporters [of Chambers] was visceral," he recalls. "I had people put their finger in my chest and say, 'Who do you think you are?' I told them I'm a guy who wants to improve the DA's office."
Brauchler has always had a strong sense of who he is and who he might become. The son of a systems analyst and a federal civil-rights investigator, he grew up in a Lakewood household where "there was no mocking or making fun of people who were weaker than you," he says. He attended the University of Colorado on an ROTC scholarship and interned at the Jefferson County DA's office while still in law school. He began working there as a twelve-dollar-an-hour deputy, handling misdemeanors, and gradually moved up to more complex cases.
He credits his mentors in that office, including Chief Deputy DA Steve Jensen and Brian Boatright, now a Colorado Supreme Court justice, with influencing his own approach to prosecution. "You work with people who have a real sound sense of justice, and you start to look at the system differently," Brauchler says. "It's not just about convictions. It's not just about locking people up."
Sometimes, he learned, it's about knowing when to take a case to trial and when to settle it. His first sexual-assault-on-a-child case remains a touchstone of sorts; there was no physical evidence to support a five-year-old girl's confused account of being molested by a neighbor during bizarre "games" staged at his house, but Brauchler believed the victim and found the accused's explanations preposterous. A jury agreed.
"On paper, that was a case that was ripe to be plea-bargained away," Brauchler says. "But no plea bargain was appropriate. If you believe you have the right guy, and the victims are on board, you still go to trial. It's not going to be CSI all the time, but I'm never going to plea-bargain out of fear. I want people who aren't afraid to go to trial if it's the right thing to do."
By contrast, Brauchler describes the case against Mark Manes and Phil Duran, the seller and middleman in the deal that provided a TEC-9 to Columbine killer Dylan Klebold, as one that didn't need to go to trial. Brauchler was second chair in the case to Jensen, who hammered out plea deals that netted a six-year prison sentence for Manes and 54 months for Duran. Some victims' families were outraged that the penalties weren't more severe — but prosecutors were also accused of scapegoating the pair, since the killers were no longer alive to take the blame. At Duran's sentencing, Brauchler urged the judge to "send a message" about illegal gun sales by sending Duran to prison rather than probation.
"The easiest thing to do with these guys would have been to pile-drive them into the ground," he notes. "But we could achieve justice for the community by having them plead guilty to what they did and not seek to stack the charges. Nobody was truly happy with it. But we're accomplishing justice here."
In 2001, Brauchler left the DA's office, eager to start a family — he and his wife now have four children — and drawn by the prospect of higher earnings at a medical-malpractice defense firm. The job didn't work out as he'd hoped: "I went from being the second chair on Columbine to sitting behind a computer, going blind doing discovery letters, working for a partner, billable hours, all that. It was painful."
