A loaded 9mm pistol tucked in his waistband and crack cocaine in pockets, drug dealer Bennett McCreedy struggled with police officers trying to arrest him in a public building. A behemoth, Bennett would not look out of place on a professional football field.

Tristan Rice drove a pickup truck around Toronto, slowing down to look for targets and laughing while he fired an assault weapon-style paintball gun at homeless people.

Newton Walters terrorized the east side, a cloth covering his face and knife in hand, robbing six convenience store owners of cash and cigarettes. He committed some of the robberies after consuming his third ecstasy tab of the day — what he called a “triple smack.”

Unreformed and unmoved by the damage caused by his first sexual assault, Cole Gilbert committed a second, this time in a high school bathroom.

After time spent behind bars waiting for the conclusion of their cases, the total amount of jail time these five criminals were sentenced to by a judge:

Data obtained from Statistics Canada and analyzed by the Star show youth courts in Ontario are getting softer on serious crime. Jail sentences are down. Non-custodial sentences are up. Since the current youth law came into force in 2003:

Custody sentences have dropped 25 per cent for all youth crimes, 9 per cent for weapons crimes, 15 per cent for major assault and 39 per cent for sexual assault.

Meanwhile, “other sentences” — which include absolute and conditional discharges, counselling programs and deferred custody and supervision — have risen 20 per cent for all youth crime, including a 40 per cent jump for major assault and 75 per cent increase for drug trafficking.

Stays — which include charges withdrawn due to diversion programs — have risen dramatically in some serious crime categories, including a 79 per cent jump for weapons crimes and 151 per cent spike for robbery.

The separate justice system for youth under 18 is based on the premise that while offenders should be held accountable they also lack the maturity of adults to fully understand their actions. Fix them, don’t punish them, is what the law says. The Youth Criminal Justice Act asks judges to find the least restrictive, most rehabilitative sentence for an offender. The law is about restorative, not retributive, justice. And it is out of step with the reality facing police and victims.

More kids are committing violent crime today than 10 years ago, data collected by the federal government indicates, though the number has fluctuated over that time. This trend is particularly stark given that many other crimes, including adult and non-violent youth offences, are down.

During a break in the trial of 17-year-old accused bank robber Benson Bailey, Toronto Police hold-up squad detective Nunzio Tramontozzi said of Benson and his accomplice: “They go in through the front door, they vault the counter. They typically put their hoodies over their heads, wear bandanas over their faces . . . demand everybody get down.”

Benson is on trial for one bank robbery. Detective Tramontozzi says the youth court granted Benson bail after his arrest, then he allegedly robbed five more banks, including one in which he fired a shotgun.

The veteran police officer says the law appropriately protects and aims to rehabilitate perpetrators of the minor crimes, the kids pushed by peer pressure into a stupid decision.

“But — and this is a big but — we seem to think some of these kids aren’t intelligent, don’t think for themselves. There are kids who take advantage of the system and they’re committing serious crimes, where they are firing shots off in banks.” These kids, Tramontozzi believes, know the punishment will not fit the crime. “They understand the game. They are using that to their advantage. I think this is where the law fails. These are planned out actions. There are victims.”

In the back row of the courtroom, Shaila Gray — in black flats topped with bows, jeans and a green T-shirt — sits still and nervous, looking as if she wants to disappear but holding her mother’s hand.

Her attacker, Cole Gilbert, sits a few rows ahead, his legs splayed and an arm resting along top of the courtroom bench. His fingers drum the syncopated beat of a song coming through his earbuds.

Loose. Confident. Charged with sexually assaulting Shaila, he is about to plead guilty and make a deal with the prosecution.

Judge Brian Scully walks in and the plea hearing begins.

This is what happened to Shaila Gray:

Cole told her to follow him out of the school lunchroom if she wanted her iPod back. The 17-year-old led her down the hall, into the boys’ washroom.

Bold, like he has done this before, Cole closed the bathroom door, prevented Shaila from turning on the lights and led her to a bank of three stalls, choosing the middle one. She said she wanted her iPod back. Cole said, “Relax. Be quiet.”

Shaila said she was on her period, it was not a good time for this. She said, “It’s not cool.” He pulled her pants down and used his foot to keep them down. She tried pushing him away but was overpowered. He put on a condom. He started in the stall then put her on the bathroom floor. Finished, Cole handed Shaila her iPod.

Filed with the youth court is Shaila’s typed victim impact statement. In it, she wrote:

“I cried many nights.

“The thought of attempting suicide was constantly on my mind.

“I felt as if I was nothing.”

A plea bargain is ostensibly a deal between defence and prosecution that sees the offender receive dispensations for admitting guilt, showing remorse and saving the court the time and expense of a trial. Details of how and why these deals are made are often not discussed in open court and kept from public view.

During the four months the Star spent in 311 Jarvis, most convictions stemmed from guilty pleas made before or during a trial. Completed trials resulting in a verdict were rare.

The court sentenced very few youths to jail. Except for one case, none observed by the Star resulted in sentences of more than a few weeks’ jail time.

Judge Debra Paulseth sentenced Tristan Rice, who went on a paintball gun “rampage,” to 18 months probation and ordered him to attend counselling as recommended by a probation officer, write a letter of apology and abide a midnight curfew, among other conditions.

Prosecutor Scott Graham urged the court to send 16-year-old Bennett McCreedy — who brought a loaded 9mm and a pocketful of crack and marijuana into a public school — to jail for a year. The youth spent a little more than 200 days in pre-trial custody before pleading guilty, a wait that “does not speak to remorse,” Graham told the court.

Judge Ellen Murray sentenced Bennett — who has was out on bail and facing two drug trafficking charges at the time of his arrest — to 30 days behind bars, followed by lighter punishments (time in an open custody facility similar to a group home, and a probationary term) designed to rehabilitate the offender.

Judge Murray notes Bennett’s actions were dangerous, and says to him: “The (youth criminal law) is set up to look at all other alternatives (to jail).” The judge adds: “You have a lot more potential than other kids. You’re very bright. . . . You don’t have any mental health issues. . . . You can see a future for yourself cooking, in culinary arts. . . . I wish you good luck.” Bennett, who committed a robbery when he was 13, has a history of bullying other kids and got into four fights while in pre-trial custody.

Monique Lyle — who in 2009 stabbed a young man in the back and head after getting into an argument “about almost nothing,” then fled from a “very bloody scene” — was found guilty after a trial. The disagreement went from loud voices to name calling — Lyle or her female accomplice shouted “batiman,” Jamaican slang for homosexual — to knives out. Their victim was unarmed.

He needed 13 staples in his scalp, said he feels “extremely terrorized . . . lives in fear . . . I have a huge revolting scar on my head for the rest of my life. . . . I’m trapped, I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m miserable, I’m hurt, I’m shocked, I’m confused, I feel outraged, I feel disappointed.”

The girl’s impertinence was on garish display throughout her court appearances. Sucking teeth, muttering, sometimes swearing in an undertone when the judge or a lawyer said something she did not like. She showed no remorse. Yet still, the court is handling her with kid gloves. Though she was found guilty in June, it will not be until February 2012 that she will be sentenced — more than two years after the crime. The reason, the Star was told: Monique is stuck on a waiting list for daycare and until she finds someone to look after her child during the day will not be able to participate in rehabilitative counselling and other programming the court may order her to attend.

Since the night of her arrest, when she was held in a cell awaiting her bail hearing, Monique has not spent a day in jail for her crime.

The stiffest sentence the Star observed was handed down Sept. 8, when Ricky Smith, who has a criminal record and history of violence, got nearly two years in jail for a gruesome sexual assault with a weapon on a developmentally challenged girl. His cousin Joseph Smalls, who also participated in the assault, got one year. The flexible sentences allow for reduced jail time and both to be transferred to an open-custody facility — which the provincial government describes as similar to a group home — when youth justice officials decide the kids are ready.

A police officer familiar with the case said of the sentence: “For this court, it’s amazing. For the crime, not really.”

Others at the courthouse think stiffer penalties are not the answer.

“Is there a lot of serious violent crime? Yes,” says Lisa Pomerant, a defence lawyer who represents youth at 311 Jarvis. “But no kid I’ve ever dealt with has come out better for having served a longer sentence; they learn how to become better criminals. These judges have worked very hard on making a difference in getting these kids out of the system.”

Curiously, Cole Gilbert pleads guilty to simple assault, not sexual assault. The reasons are not explained in court.

After his plea, Cole, head up and shoulders back, strolls out of the courtroom and on to the comfort of his mother’s home. He will be sentenced in a couple months. In preparation for that day, the court will request reports on Cole prepared by a probation officer and psychologist.

In the weeks to come, Cole, a repeat offender who sexually assaulted another girl in 2007, would be afforded one comfort and consideration after another: He would violate a court order but go unpunished; be required to attend a court-ordered counselling program, though a similar program failed to reform him after his previous conviction, and walk out of 311 Jarvis with a sweetheart deal.

Shaila Gray, meanwhile, would grow increasingly disenchanted with the youth justice system.

Sitting on a couch in her mother’s west-end house, stern and stoic, Shaila told the Star: “Cole should know the consequences by now, but he hasn’t learned. I think he will be punished too soft. The fact that he has a past history, I think he should get time.”

The judges at 311 Jarvis often hand down multi-pronged sentences that include counseling and other tools available under the YCJA designed to rehabilitate the offender. Custody is to be used only as a last resort.

So, when a prosecutor asked a judge to sentence Newton Walters — who terrorized the east side during a spree of knifepoint, drug-addled convenience store robberies — to nearly a year in custody, the young offender was sentenced to only one month behind bars.

The victims are not in court on this day. No victim impact statements are read. After one of the robberies, one of the clerks was rushed to hospital with chest pains. Judge Scully notes the “terrible nightmare” Newton caused for the store clerks. “. . . You made a terrible mistake . . . a number of times.”

“This system is a system of hope,” Judge Scully says to Newton, standing in the prisoner’s box, his T-shirt snug on his bulging biceps. “You had a very, very difficult life, there is no question.”

Giving Newton credit for 172 days served in pre-trial custody, also known as “dead time,” Scully hands the teen a “custodial” sentence of one month behind bars, five months in an open custody facility, then three months’ community supervision.

Under the YCJA, the word “custody” does not exclusively mean jail. Misleadingly, it also includes open custody. A youth “custodial” sentence also includes a term of community supervision, which is like a strict form of probation.

Judge Scully also requires Newton to attend school, and substance abuse and victim empathy counselling. He grants Newton a temporary pass from jail so he can attend a wilderness trip — four days and four nights, white-water rafting, “highly supervised, highly structured,” the court hears.

“I think you would regret it if the young man were to miss the opportunity,” Scully tells the prosecutor.

With the law, and the judges who interpret it, so focused on the offender, the impact of youth crime on victims and the community is not a primary consideration during sentencing.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

It is Aug. 9, sentencing day for repeat offender Cole Gilbert. The pre-sentence and psychological reports now before the court, Cole’s lawyer, Sergio Giacomini, tells Judge Scully his client is a cooperative, polite, punctual young man. He aspires to be a journalist. He is charismatic, intelligent and social. Writes poetry. “He is a young person who is capable of a very bright future,” Giacomini says. “He has a healthy attitude, overall, towards his peers.

“He does feel sorry for what’s happened. . . . From the outset it was an issue of boundaries. Given their adolescence, given their hormones . . . in hindsight, he realizes he went over that boundary. . . . He pleaded to simple assault. I know the facts underlying it may give it a different flavour.” The sex, Giacomini says, was “unwelcome.”

The prosecutor notes Cole served 18 months’ probation after a previous sexual assault that bore a “striking similarity” to the crime inflicted on Shaila Gray. Cole’s court-ordered counselling and therapy, ordered after his first offence, were ineffective, the court hears. The prosecutor says an assessment of Cole shows the repeat offender “gives himself 60 to 70 per cent responsibility and the rest lies with the victim because at the time, she did not say ‘no.’ ”

The prosecution and defence jointly ask for a sentence of 24 months’ probation.

To Shaila, Judge Scully says, “For victims, it must seem somewhat unfair that so much focus is on the accused. A judge has to focus on what is appropriate to hold that person accountable for their behaviour.”

“It’s a bright prospect Cole has in his future should he receive the counselling and assistance he requires,” Scully continues. “Cole needs time. It’s most important for this court and this community . . . that this time the therapy is successful.”

Now to Cole — who arrived at court dressed in Air Jordans, black-and-white striped sweater and a matching ballcap — Scully says: “This is your last opportunity, young man, to fully come to terms as to why this happened. There won’t be any more opportunities again in life like this.”

He sentences Cole to 30 months’ probation and orders a DNA sample. Scully says he may in the future consider shortening the probation term if the repeat offender can show significant progress.

The hearing over, Shaila and her mother walk toward the courtroom exit. Just outside, hanging on the lobby wall, is a framed copy of Page A3 of the March 12, 1957 edition of the Toronto Daily Star, featuring an article on the opening of the 311 Jarvis St. youth court. “Don’t get the idea we will be pampering the youngsters here,” senior judge V. Lorne Stewart told a reporter at the time.

One might think the spectre of court, the blue-uniformed court constables, the robed judges and JPs, and the formal, cold legal language would send these kids, castigated, back into the city as law-abiders.

Provincial data shows more than half of kids who commit serious crimes reoffend within two years. The percentage is slightly decreasing but in 2010-11 was still almost 60 per cent.

The Star saw many of these cases.

It is the afternoon of July 7 in Courtroom 6, and Kevin Robinson is back again. He has spent most of his teenage years in and out of 311 Jarvis, has had a probation officer since he was 14.

He wears a long sleeve grey T-shirt, baggy jeans, hair in corn rows, his cellphone in a hip holster. He looks relaxed. (A few minutes before entering the courtroom, he was overheard talking on his cell, bragging about getting very high on a “two-paper blunt.”)

Kevin has pleaded guilty to two counts of failing to comply with a court order. Last year, after a trial, he was found guilty of a shotgun robbery of a convenience store. A 311 Jarvis youth judge sentenced him to two years’ probation, no jail, and ordered him not to associate with any of his accomplices. A short time later he was arrested for violating this court order.

Lamenting his “lengthy record” of victimizing the public, Judge Paulseth says the youth court has tried over and again to set Kevin on the right path, fruitlessly using various rehabilitative services available under the YCJA.

“We have these tools available to us. We’re very fortunate to have them,” Paulseth says, noting Robinson failed to show at an alternative school the court wanted him to attend. “We’ve tried everything else. . . . Kevin, you are a conundrum, you are a mystery. You don’t have anything that the mental health world can help you with. You’re very smart. You can fool people. You have fooled a lot of people.”

Kevin’s psychological report in front of her, Paulseth says he is at high risk to re-offend. He is now 18. Any trouble with the law in the future, Kevin will face consequences in the far-less charitable adult criminal justice system. No second, third and fourth chances. Paulseth worries what will become of Kevin.

“It becomes a question of: How long can you live? We have seen a number of young people as likeable as you are, and read in the paper they are shot dead. We don’t want to read about you.”

The prosecutor asks for a sentence of two years’ probation. Kevin’s lawyer asks for one year of probation, says his client is willing to attend counselling and an apprenticeship program at a high school.

Judge Paulseth splits the difference, says 18 months’ probation, with conditions: Get a job or go to school, attend counselling and come back in January to update the court on progress, if any.

The judge says: “You gotta change your outlook” — something Kevin has not done and shown no sign of wanting to do. “Will you try these things?”

Kevin says: “Yes.”

From the womb of the youth court at 311 Jarvis, Kevin, once again convicted and sentenced as a youth, walks out a free man.

The sentencing hearing over, victim Shaila Gray sits on a bench in the courthouse lobby. The young offender’s mother and grandmother approach the girl.

“Please forgive him,” Cole Gilbert’s mother says, then hugs her son’s victim. For the first time that day, Shaila cries. The prosecutor rushes to the gathering with a box of Kleenex.

Cole’s grandmother raises her arms, points skyward, and says to Shaila: “God will help you forget what happened.”

Maybe God will, Shaila told the Star in a subsequent interview, but the youth justice system at 311 Jarvis will not.

Data analysis by Andrew Bailey

With files from Jesse McLean

David Bruser can be reached at dbruser@thestar.ca or 416-869-4282

Weapons of choice

This loaded 9 mm pistol was tucked in the waistband of a youth arrested in a public school. He was found guilty of gun possession and possession of cocaine for the purpose of trafficking.

Bullets from clip in 9 mm pistol.

As he drove his father's pickup truck around the city, a youth fired this assault weapon-style paintball gun at homeless people.

A Toronto youth used this knife to rob convenience store owners of cash and cigarettes.