ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, February 9, 1997 TAG: 9702100065
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: LORRAINE EATON LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
MINORS WHO WANT ABORTIONS but think they can't face their parents would have another option under legislation that has been debated in the assembly for 18 years. This year, it may finally become law.
She was 17. Her period was way too late. Scared, she called the abortion clinic on the sly.
She thought about telling her mother. But the Virginia Beach teen, with plans for college and a career, knew what her mother would think. Her mother calls a cousin who had an abortion ``the little tramp.''
She couldn't face her mother. But she says she also wouldn't have been able to face a judge to get permission to have an abortion. That is an option teen-age girls would have under ``parental notification'' bills being considered this week in the House and Senate.
After 18 years of debate, a Virginia bill that requires a parent's notification before a minor gets an abortion could become law. But even if that happens, teen-age girls would be able to get authorization for an abortion without their parents knowing by taking their case to a judge.
U.S. Supreme Court decisions have mandated that parental notification laws must contain provisions for bypassing parents. It's a provision that satisfies neither abortion supporters nor opponents.
Most kids tell their parents, abortion providers say. But those who don't often have good reasons, and judicial bypass does little to soften the intimidation factor that a parental notification law brings.
Abortion foes call the bypass clause a ``rubber stamp'' because few petitions are denied.
In states where parents are by law involved in their daughters' decisions on abortion, these judicial authorization clauses have sparked lawsuits, raised the ire of judges, and piqued the concern of clinic workers who believe teen-agers aren't aware of their rights.
Pregnant girls who don't want to tell their parents and instead want permission from a judge would likely follow a process similar to what is in place in North Carolina and 25 other states with parental involvement laws.
North Carolina's law, which went into effect in October 1995, calls for parental consent, not just notification.
A teen-ager seeking a judicial waiver must file a request in a district court, but not necessarily in the district where she lives. The court clerk gives the girl instructions that explain the judicial waiver process and her right to appeal. North Carolina's law guarantees a hearing with a judge within seven days of the request. In Virginia, the hearing would take place within four days. There are no court costs.
After meeting with a court-appointed attorney and/or guardian, a hearing is held, usually in a private office. Clerks in North Carolina do not take notes, and petitions are kept under lock and key.
``We're not even allowed to put them into the computer,'' said a clerk in one of North Carolina's most populated counties. ``Privacy at all costs.''
The issue of abortion and judicial bypass is so sensitive in North Carolina that several lawyers who volunteer to represent girls in these hearings declined to talk to a reporter. One clerk who agreed to be interviewed was worried she would be reprimanded if her name was used.
The clerk, who has been to many hearings, said judges ask about school involvement, grades and goals; whether the minor has a job; and why she feels she cannot talk to her parents. They also ask if she understands the risks of the procedure and try to find out why the minor believes she cannot raise a child.
``They try to be as compassionate as they can,'' the clerk said.
In North Carolina and elsewhere, judicial waiver has raised problems.
Soon after a Massachusetts consent law went into effect in 1981, eight of 62 superior court judges refused to hear judicial waiver cases on grounds that they were morally opposed to abortion, according to Patricia Donovan, a senior law and policy analyst with the Alan Guttmacher Institute, a nonprofit organization that researches reproductive health issues. And lawyers reported that a few judges ignored guidelines and asked inappropriate questions, such as how a teen-ager felt about having a ``dead child.''
In North Carolina, the American Civil Liberties Union has charged that the state law is unconstitutional because it does not provide for a swift appeal for minors who are denied a judicial waiver. Deborah Ross, executive and legal director of the ACLU of North Carolina, said that in one case, it took a minor more than a week to secure a court date.
The ACLU suit also charges that confidentiality is not guaranteed; in one of the first bypass hearings, the courtroom doors remained open. And because North Carolina requires that cases of rape or incest be referred to social services, many girls are afraid to go to court.
The ACLU case will be heard on appeal in federal court in Richmond in early April.
Things have since improved in Massachusetts and other states with similar problems, Donovan said. ``Most judges handle these things pretty matter-of-factly and aren't looking to make it any more painful than it already is,'' she said.
Tough judges or not, ``the vast majority of teen-agers that go that route [judicial waiver] get authorization,'' Donovan said. ``It is really the rare case that does not.''
Of more than 100 cases in North Carolina, only three have been denied, according to the North Carolina ACLU.
Still, clinic workers in North Carolina worry that girls do not understand the judicial bypass clause or its guarantee of confidentiality. Girls, they said, believe their parents will be told.
``We've not been getting calls from minors; I suspect that they are even afraid to call Planned Parenthood,'' said Janet Colm, president of Planned Parenthood for Orange and Durham counties. ``They don't understand the nuances of the law.''
In Virginia, 2,251 girls ages 10 to 17 had abortions in 1995.
Joi Chisholm, 17, a senior at I.C. Norcom High School in Portsmouth, figures six or seven girls she knew in ninth and 10th grade had abortions.
``Only one girl said her mother didn't know,'' Chisholm said.
Chisholm's reality is mirrored by statistics. A national survey by the Guttmacher Institute found that about 61 percent of minors who have abortions tell at least one parent, usually the mother. And most mothers don't tell the girl's father.
When a girl won't tell her parents, clinic workers and judges always ask the reason.
For some teen-agers, it's a question of physical harm, such as getting kicked out of the house. Others talk about the fear that the pregnancy would disappoint their parents and destroy their relationship.
The 17-year-old from Virginia Beach described a month of ``pure hell'' after realizing last August that she might be pregnant.
During that time, the girl never considered telling her mother, even though she describes her family as ``very close,'' one that sits down to eat together every night.
``I was, like, so scared,'' she said. ``I kept thinking, 'I'm so young, my boyfriend is young.' I didn't want to be in that percentage, just another pregnant girl in high school in 1997.''
Finally, after her boyfriend borrowed $10 for a drugstore pregnancy test, she learned she wasn't pregnant.
LENGTH: Long : 129 lines ILLUSTRATION: GRAPHIC: Charts. 1. Where things stand. 2. What happens next.by CNBcolor. KEYWORDS: MGR GENERAL ASSEMBLY 1997