Marchana Watts slept in her car for a month after being evicted from her trailer home outside of Baton Rouge.<\/p>\n
Inside Louisiana\u2019s justice of the peace courts, evictions often move swiftly, landlords rack up wins, some judges earn outsized incomes \u2013 and housing advocates say tenants\u2019 fundamental rights are at risk.<\/p>\n
The state\u2019s 390 justices of the peace work part-time \u2013 ruling on evictions, small claims and wage garnishments as well as, in happier moments, performing weddings. They are required to have only a high school diploma and their courts do not need to keep detailed records or follow standard rules of evidence. They are paid directly by the fees their court charges, including court costs in eviction cases that can total $150 or more.<\/p>\n
In court documents and interviews, tenant advocates and legal experts say the interplay between fees and justices\u2019 personal income creates conflicts of interest that can incentivize them to evict tenants and win the favor of landlords who bring in cases and fees.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would landlords prefer to go to a justice of the peace court?\u201d said Bradley Benton, a former legal aid attorney who has defended Louisiana tenants in eviction cases. \u201cIt\u2019s faster. It\u2019s cheaper. And it\u2019s easier to evict.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eviction fees helped the justice of the peace in one part-time suburban court earn more compensation last year \u2013 over $400,000 \u2013 than the chief justice of the US supreme court earns.<\/p>\n
That justice of the peace is one of five who earned more than $220,000 in a single year from filing fees, much of it derived from eviction cases. Renters are frequently compelled by their leases to pay court costs back to a landlord following evictions.<\/p>\n
A map of Louisiana showing that justice of the peace courts in East Baton Rouge and Jefferson parishes have brought in the most money through court fines and fees<\/a><\/p>\n One longtime justice of the peace calls some of these courts \u201cbig business\u201d. A clerk for another justice told a tenant\u2019s lawyer that \u201cwe are a for-profit court\u201d. A legal expert described a justice of the peace court in a New Orleans suburb as an \u201ceviction mill\u201d.<\/p>\n The Guardian\u2019s nine-month investigation draws on analysis of more than 11,000 pages of eviction records and 3,400 financial disclosure forms as well as deposition testimony, recently unsealed investigative evidence and documents released under public records requests. The reporting also draws on dozens of interviews with justices, tenants and housing attorneys, and the observation of eviction hearings at five justice of the peace courts in the Baton Rouge and New Orleans metro areas and in St Tammany parish.<\/p>\n \u201cI believe this system is blatantly unconstitutional,\u201d said Lisa Foster, a retired California appeals judge and the former director of the office for access to justice at the US Department of Justice. She pointed to a more than century-old US supreme court precedent<\/a>, which found that a defendant\u2019s rights were violated if their case was heard before a judge with a direct financial interest in the outcome. \u201cWithout question, the Louisiana justice of the peace system has failed its citizens, yet no one seems to be taking action.\u201d<\/p>\n This scrutiny comes as Louisiana\u2019s state government has quietly backed this court system with new laws that expand these justices\u2019 authority, while at the same time passing a law that carries possible jail sentences for homeless people<\/a>.<\/p>\n In Louisiana and across the US, millions of tenants are struggling<\/a> as the overall cost of living<\/a> continues to soar \u2013 and rents and junk fees charged on top of rents<\/a> have surged amid shortages of affordable housing<\/a>. Roughly one out of every 13 renter households faced eviction filings in 2025, according to research<\/a> by Princeton University\u2019s eviction lab covering 10 states and dozens of metro areas.<\/p>\n When landlords seek eviction, renters are often at a disadvantage because of their limited finances, lack of understanding of the eviction system and, frequently, lack of legal representation. Studies around the country often show that less than 5% of tenants have lawyers to fight for them in eviction cases, while more than 80% of landlords typically have attorneys on their side<\/a>.<\/p>\n Uneven playing fields in the eviction process can put additional strains on renters already struggling to get by \u2013 piling on court fees, moving charges and other costs and, studies show, harming families\u2019 mental and physical health<\/a>.<\/p>\n Louisiana, one of the poorest states in the US, offers some of the weakest legal protection for renters in the nation. A first-of-its-kind data analysis conducted by the Guardian found that the eviction filing rate within the jurisdiction of the busiest justice of the peace court was nearly three times the national average. The rate of legal representation for tenants in this court, according to documents reviewed by the Guardian, could be as low as 1%.<\/p>\n The Louisiana Justices of the Peace & Constables Association and the state attorney general\u2019s office did not answer a series of detailed questions from the Guardian for this story.<\/p>\n In a recent public statement, the Louisiana attorney general, Liz Murrill, said<\/a> the state\u2019s justices of the peace \u201cplay a vital role in serving our communities and upholding the rule of law\u201d and \u201cproviding access to justice close to home\u201d.<\/p>\n Praying for strength<\/p>\n After the short hearing in Justice Batieste\u2019s court concluded in July 2024, Watts left in tears.<\/p>\n She had moved into the three-bedroom trailer home after the death of her sister to be closer to her only remaining sibling. It was cramped and damp. But it was a stable place to live.<\/p>\n The eviction order, tacked to her door earlier in the month, had come as a shock. She had tried to find free legal representation, but Louisiana\u2019s eviction process \u2013 which generally requires just 72 hours notice before an eviction case can be heard in court \u2013 was so fast she did not have enough time.<\/p>\n Black women, like Watts and the majority of renters interviewed for this series, face greater risk of eviction than any other demographic group, according to numerous studies<\/a>.<\/p>\n Watts said she suspected her eviction was an act of retaliation. Her property manager, who had stood before her in court that day, had made continued, unwanted sexual advances via explicit images sent over text message and knocks at the door past midnight, according to Watts and records seen by the Guardian. In her written complaint \u2013 which was part of a tranche of recently unsealed records obtained by the Guardian \u2013 she told the state judiciary commission that the manager had \u201cemotionally and mentally abused me\u201d.<\/p>\n There was no chance to discuss that in court.<\/p>\n Batieste did not respond to multiple requests for comment from the Guardian. In an interview with the judiciary commission in February 2025, she asserted that when she ruled on Watts\u2019s case there were \u201csome materials that were missing that kind of had a question mark on them\u201d.<\/p>\n Under state law, Watts had 24 hours to vacate her home. She borrowed money to book a removal van and rent a storage unit to keep her possessions. She found a place for her boys to stay, moving 50 miles south to the rural town of Donaldsonville, which sits on a stretch of the Mississippi River and is surrounded by chemical plants.<\/p>\n For the next four weeks she slept in her car, parked nearby in the driveway of her late grandmother\u2019s abandoned home. She prayed for strength each night before falling asleep in the back seat.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a lot,\u201d she recalled. \u201cBut I had to stay strong for my sons.\u201d<\/p>\n Swift justice<\/p>\n Justice Chuck Cusimano II\u2019s courtroom sits off a tight corridor on the sixth floor of a tall government building in the New Orleans suburb of Harahan. A slight man with wavy gray hair, he has been the elected justice of the peace for Jefferson parish\u2019s fifth district for almost 20 years<\/a>. He previously served as a district court judge and a state legislator.<\/p>\n Eviction hearings begin promptly at 9.30am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, usually wrapping up before midday. A large clock adorns the left-side wall of the courtroom and wooden public benches are separated by sheets of hard plastic.<\/p>\n Justice Chuck Cusimano II presides over eviction hearings twice a week in Jefferson parish, Louisiana.<\/p>\n On a recent June morning, as the clock ticked a few minutes before 9.30am, a cluster of landlords and property managers lined the benches, waiting to appear before the judge.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll be done with this whole docket in 30 minutes,\u201d quipped one representative for a local leasing company. \u201cHe\u2019s fast!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love that!\u201d replied a property manager, also awaiting her turn.<\/p>\n The Guardian observed five separate eviction dockets at Cusimano\u2019s court throughout June and July, witnessing the speed with which cases were heard, almost always resulting in a judgment ordering a tenant to vacate their home within 24 hours.<\/p>\n On that morning in June, Cusimano ran through 11 cases in 14 minutes. Two days later, on 18 June, the morning after a tropical storm hit New Orleans, flooding parts of the city and downing trees<\/a> across roadways, he heard 86 cases in 36 minutes. All but one resulted in a judgment of eviction.<\/p>\n A calendar of evictions per day in the fifth justice court<\/a><\/p>\n Over the sessions observed by the Guardian, the tenants ordered to leave their homes included single moms, cashiers, healthcare workers and law enforcement professionals. Some had fallen behind on rent because they had been laid off from their job or missed time from work because of illness.<\/p>\n The majority of the cases, though, resulted in default rulings in favor of the landlord after a tenant did not appear in court. Louisiana, like nine other states, allows landlords to issue leases that waive a tenant\u2019s right to a notice period following a missed rent payment, meaning an eviction summons can be filed almost as soon as someone falls behind. In contrast, Washington DC requires 30 days\u2019 notice<\/a> and Vermont 14 days<\/a> \u2013 providing tenants more time to find legal representation, scrape together additional funds or negotiate payment plans with their landlords.<\/p>\n After Cusimano had issued several judgments at a hearing on 2 June, he joked with the landlords in the public benches: \u201cNo more tenants? Then we\u2019re winning!\u201d<\/p>\n The small group of renters who showed up at Cusimano\u2019s court on the morning of 18 June included Leroyalnika Pierre, a 24-year-old single mother who works at a Waffle House and as a part-time hair stylist. She sat in the waiting area, holding her two-year-old son, waiting for Cusimano to call her name. It was her first time facing eviction and she did not know what to expect.<\/p>\n As she heard her name called, amid the flurry of activity, the case began before she had even made it to the judge\u2019s bench.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you pay your rent?\u201d Cusimano asked, after the court heard from a property manager at a rental company named 1st Lake Properties, who said she owed $1,395.<\/p>\n A bench in Judge Cusimano\u2019s courtroom in Harahan, Louisiana.Eviction records in Cusimano\u2019s court.Eviction records in Cusimano\u2019s court.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d she replied, her voice barely audible. \u201cI was waiting on them to fix my place.\u201d<\/p>\n Justice Cusimano immediately ordered the eviction, informing Pierre she could not withhold payment over the conditions of her apartment, but could sue 1st Lake, one of Louisiana\u2019s largest rental firms<\/a>, separately over the issue. Pierre, like almost all others that day, had no attorney. Her hearing lasted less than a minute.<\/p>\n \u201cHe wasn\u2019t even trying to hear the reason why I hadn\u2019t paid,\u201d she said later. Her apartment was infested with termites, she claimed in a brief interview after the hearing.<\/p>\n During an interview, Cusimano acknowledged the speed of his hearings but said he always allows tenants to articulate a defense.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019ve ever told anyone they couldn\u2019t be heard,\u201d Cusimano said. \u201cI do stop them when the stories go off on a tangent that has nothing to with the eviction, including \u2026 when they start to tell me that they were laid off. I\u2019m not trying to be rude to them, but being laid off has nothing to do with their contract.\u201d<\/p>\n He added that Louisiana law does not allow<\/a> a tenant to simply stop paying rent if they have a termite infestation or other maintenance problems. If the landlord doesn\u2019t fix things after they have been informed in writing, he noted, the renter can hire someone to make the repairs and withhold part of the rent to cover those costs.<\/p>\n When Louisiana\u2019s current governor, Jeff Landry, was attorney general in 2020, his office released a document<\/a> that lauded justice of the peace courts for \u201cproviding constituents with an often faster and less expensive avenue to justice\u201d.<\/p>\n \u2018A very good living\u2019<\/p>\n The volume and speed of eviction cases heard by Cusimano help explain how, in 2025, his court raised revenue of just under $1m in fees, of which Cusimano directly retained $380,929, records show<\/a>. That amounted to over $63,000 more than US chief justice John Roberts earned in salary last year<\/a>. Cusimano has earned more money in fees alone than the nation\u2019s chief justice in six of the last 10 years. He is also paid an additional $21,600 in parish salary, taking his earnings to more than $400,000 in 2025.<\/p>\n \u201cI made a very good living last year,\u201d Cusimano, whose court\u2019s jurisdiction spans just over 25 sq miles, acknowledged in a recent interview.<\/p>\n \u201cI am not embarrassed for the work I do,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd I think that I do the exact same work as every other justice of the peace in this state for each case. I happen to have more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s my location. It\u2019s the numbers,\u201d he explained. \u201c\u2026 I have a lot of apartments in this district.\u201d<\/p>\n Chart of Justice Cusimano\u2019s yearly total compensation<\/a><\/p>\n Cusimano\u2019s court charges<\/a> at least $150 for filing an eviction \u2013 the maximum allowed by statute for justice of the peace courts that employ a clerk. Like other justices of the peace, he is entitled to keep roughly half of that amount. In some cases the court also charges an additional $60 fee for a writ of ejection, a separate order allowing the court\u2019s constable to physically evict a tenant and their belongings from premises. A justice and their constable \u2013 an elected official who enforces the court\u2019s decisions and also keeps a portion of filing fees \u2013 are entitled to an even split of the ejection fee.<\/p>\n Because justice of the peace courts are not courts of record, there is no digital record of case dockets or proceedings, making the sheer volume of eviction cases, their outcomes and who brings them almost impossible to track.<\/p>\n To do so, the Guardian spent three weeks inside his courtroom, and manually scanned more than 11,000 pages of eviction records from June 2025 to May 2026, to understand how these cases are handled. The records were kept individually stapled inside stacked document boxes at the side of the justice\u2019s bench.<\/p>\n The Guardian scanned and analyzed thousands of eviction records from Justice Chuck Cusimano II\u2019s court.<\/p>\n Data analysis by the Guardian revealed that Cusimano\u2019s district had an eviction filing rate of almost one in five renter households per year, which would rank third out of the states and cities tracked by Princeton\u2019s eviction lab. In the 12-month period ending this May, Cusimano\u2019s court ruled on nearly 3,300 eviction cases. Some were handled by his son and daughter, who occasionally serve as \u201cad hoc\u201d justices<\/a>, records show.<\/p>\n The analysis also found that eviction fees were responsible for the majority of Cusimano\u2019s salary and that 98% of the eviction filings in his court were for nonpayment of rent.<\/p>\n It costs at least $150 to file an eviction in the fifth justice court.<\/p>\n Landlords pay to file an eviction and a justice issues an order, summoning the tenants to court.<\/p>\n Each order lists the plaintiffs, the defendants and the date. Many had handwritten notes about the outcome.<\/p>\n Filing fees are frequently billed back to tenants.\n<\/p>\n The Guardian found more than 5,500 eviction cases over a 12-month period.<\/p>\n The fifth justice court in Jefferson, with about 30,000 renter households, has one of the highest eviction filing rates in the United States.\n<\/p>\n Eviction orders end in a judgment when a tenant loses in court.<\/p>\n The Guardian found nearly 3,300 eviction judgments. A judgment can be set aside if a landlord accepts late payment but it stays on the tenant\u2019s record.\n<\/p>\n Not every eviction filing ends in a judgment. More than 2,000 were canceled, usually because the tenant paid their late rent and any additional fees. These cases were not heard in court but the court was still paid filing fees and the tenant avoided eviction.\n<\/p>\n We could not determine the outcomes in 71 cases, either because the documents had no information or the handwriting was illegible. <\/p>\n A very small number of tenants won their case in court. <\/p>\n 88 eviction orders were denied because the landlord failed to show up in court \u2026\n<\/p>\n \u2026 and only 53 cases \u2013 less than 1% of the total eviction filings\u2013 ended in the tenant winning the case for other reasons.<\/p>\n The records indicated only 26 tenants had a lawyer. <\/p>\n The data showed that one landlord \u2013 1st Lake Properties \u2013 was responsible for over 60% of Justice Cusimano\u2019s entire eviction docket. 1st Lake won 1,974 eviction judgments in Cusimano\u2019s court from June 2025 to May 2026. Nineteen eviction orders were denied because 1st Lake representatives failed to show in court. Just three evictions filed by 1st Lake were denied for other reasons.<\/p>\n The company, which has \u201cdeveloped, acquired and managed\u201d more than 10,000 rental units in Louisiana, also charges its tenants \u201cany and all fees, including attorneys fees, and costs associated with eviction\u201d, according to a review of 1st Lake leases and interviews with attorneys who have represented their tenants in court.<\/p>\n Foster, the former US justice department official, said the Guardian\u2019s findings indicated the court was functioning as \u201can eviction mill and a \u2018company court\u2019\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen a single landlord accounts for the majority of cases in the court, when virtually all of the cases result in judgments for the landlord, when the tenants are paying for the cost of their own evictions, there is something fundamentally wrong,\u201d said Foster, who is a co-founder of the Fines and Fees Justice Center, a non-profit group that fights against what it sees as unfair fees and fines.<\/p>\n During an interview, Cusimano forcefully denied that landlords repeatedly paying fees to file eviction cases in his court might represent a built-in conflict of interest.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see a conflict at all,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s fee based, and they pay upfront to us, irrespective of the outcome.\u201d<\/p>\n Asked about any appearance of a conflict of interest, Cusimano responded: \u201cI don\u2019t know. I can\u2019t do anything about appearance.\u201d<\/p>\n 1st Lake was co-founded by Henry Shane Jr, a local businessman and Republican party donor. According to a 2015 media profile<\/a>, Shane had used his fortune to collect more than 160 vintage cars and personally commission<\/a> a recreation of the Nottoway mansion, one of the largest plantation homes built during the era of slavery.<\/p>\n 1st Lake Properties accounted for more than 60% of the eviction cases filed in Justice Chuck Cusimano II\u2019s court from June 2025 to May 2026.<\/p>\n The Guardian\u2019s analysis of a year of Justice Cusimano\u2019s eviction records found that 1st Lake filed an eviction claim against one out of every 10 renter households in the district, nearly all of which were for unpaid rent.<\/p>\n 1st Lake Properties did not respond to repeated requests for comment.<\/p>\n \u2018Like the wild west\u2019<\/p>\n Cusimano\u2019s court has consistently yielded the highest revenue from fees among Louisiana\u2019s justice of the peace courts, according to a Guardian analysis of more than 3,400 annual financial filings, which are mostly handwritten and document the self-reported earnings of each justice of the peace over the past decade. The analysis revealed that the 10 justice of the peace courts in the state with the highest revenue brought in nearly $31m in fees over the past 10 years.<\/p>\n It also revealed that the justices in those 10 courts earned nearly $12m from their court fees over that decade and received an additional $1.2m in salaries paid by their parishes. The rest of the fees were used to compensate their constables and other staff as well as pay for office expenses and training.<\/p>\n Scatterplot showing the disparity between what the majority of the justice of the peace courts bring in through fines and fees, and the few courts that make millions.<\/a><\/p>\n Hannah Adams, a senior attorney at the National Housing Law Project, said the findings highlight the \u201cmassive amount of money that is flowing through the system\u201d. The non-profit, alongside the Southern Poverty Law Center, is pursuing a class-action lawsuit<\/a> in federal court in Louisiana that claims the state\u2019s justice of the peace system is unconstitutional.<\/p>\n \u201cThe fact that it is flowing directly into the pockets of independent judges, combined with a lack of oversight over these courts, means it is like the wild west,\u201d she said. \u201cThere is no other state in the country that retains a system like this.\u201d<\/p>\n Justice Steven Sanders, in the fifth district of East Baton Rouge, is the state\u2019s second-highest-paid justice. His small courtroom sits on the south-eastern outskirts of the state\u2019s capital, surrounded by low-rise housing units and next to a moving company. He holds court on a foldout table draped in black cloth.<\/p>\n In 2024, his court generated more than $753,000<\/a> in fees. Roughly 90% of that came from evictions, Sanders has said.<\/p>\n Combined with his parish salary, the part-time justice earned more than $299,000, a salary that is almost equal to what an associate justice of the US supreme court earns. Sanders, like other justices in high-revenue courts, hires a part-time clerk funded by an additional filing fee. She was paid more than $145,000 in 2024. She is also his wife.<\/p>\n Sanders estimated during deposition testimony in August that his court hears 300 to 400 evictions a month.<\/p>\n Chart of Justice Steven Sanders\u2019 annual compensation. <\/a><\/p>\n Sanders, who has served in the same role for 30 years<\/a>, is the defendant in the class-action lawsuit, which was filed last year<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cLike all justices of the peace in Louisiana, Defendant Sanders\u2019s dependence on filing fees to pay his salary and the court\u2019s operating expenses creates an incentive for him to maximize the number of eviction cases filed in his court by ruling in favor of landlords, who select where to file a petition for eviction,\u201d the suit claims, adding that additional fees for ejection writs \u201ccreates an incentive for him to enter judgments of eviction against tenants\u201d.<\/p>\n In September, a federal judge rejected the Louisiana attorney general\u2019s office\u2019s attempt to have the case thrown out of court, marking a significant victory in the case.<\/p>\n Sanders declined to respond to written questions from the Guardian, citing ongoing litigation.<\/p>\n A Jefferson parish, Louisiana, constable enforces eviction writs on 3 September 2026. Photograph: Annie Flanagan\/The Guardian<\/p>\n Landlords in Louisiana typically have a choice of which type of court to file eviction cases in. The state\u2019s district and city courts also have the authority to handle eviction claims. Judges in these two more formal court systems must hold law licenses.<\/p>\n Litigants in justice of the peace courts also have more limited appeal rights. If tenants want to challenge a justice of the peace\u2019s ruling, they must seek an entirely new trial in a district court. These appeals generally must be filed within 24 hours to avoid eviction, and likely mean payment of a security bond that can equal one month\u2019s rent. They are nearly impossible to navigate without an attorney.<\/p>\n Cash App<\/p>\n Established during the era of colonization, justice of the peace courts were once<\/a> a mainstay of the American legal landscape.<\/p>\n By the 20th century, they faced closer scrutiny. In a groundbreaking 1919 American legal text, Justice and the Poor<\/a>, Reginald Heber Smith argued that justice of the peace courts had formed \u201cunholy alliances with collection agencies\u201d and \u201cvery generally became actually corrupt\u201d. Thanks to lack of oversight and justices\u2019 dependence on fees, he wrote, \u201cJP came to mean \u2018judgement for the plaintiff\u2019\u201d.<\/p>\n During the last decades of the 20th century, many states moved to abolish justice of the peace courts or limit their powers. In Mississippi, the justice court was reformed following a federal appeals court decision in 1981 that found the fee system to be unconstitutional and \u201ca malignancy weakening the administration of justice<\/a>\u201d. Now, only seven states<\/a> grant these courts judicial powers, and even fewer allow their justices of the peace to handle eviction hearings, according to a review of state laws<\/a>. Louisiana is the only state where justices of the peace reap income directly from the court fees they charge.<\/p>\n A century after Justice and the Poor was published, concerns about the system\u2019s vulnerability to misconduct remain.<\/p>\n In 2019, a justice of the peace in Jefferson parish was sentenced to three years in prison<\/a> for diverting money from his court to satiate a gambling addiction. In 2020, a justice of the peace in rural Morehouse parish was removed from office over a series of allegations<\/a> including overcharging eviction fees. In 2021, a justice of the peace in Ascension parish resigned after local news<\/a> revealed he had heard cases outside his territorial jurisdiction, which was described as a \u201cmoney grab\u201d.<\/p>\n In December 2025, Justice Tracy Batieste, the East Baton Rouge justice who evicted Marchana Watts, resigned from office after being temporarily disqualified<\/a> by the state\u2019s supreme court subsequent to the judiciary commission finding \u201csubstantial, credible evidence\u201d establishing probable cause that she was charging unlawful and excessive court fees during eviction proceedings.<\/p>\n Batieste\u2019s court raised more than $120,000 in revenue in 2024, according to her latest self-declared financial disclosure, ranking 10th in fees gathered by the state\u2019s justice of the peace courts.<\/p>\n Recently unsealed evidence reviewed by the Guardian revealed that the justice faced sustained complaints from landlords who came before her court. One told the judiciary commission that there seemed to be \u201can incredible increase in fees over the past few months\u201d.<\/p>\n Residents\u2019 belongings after evictions from 1st Lake properties in Jefferson parish.Belongings left behind after a resident was evicted from a 1st Lake property in Jefferson parish.A person\u2019s belongings after an eviction in Jefferson parish on 10 September 2026.<\/p>\n \n Batieste acknowledged some of these unlawful charges, which included a \u201cCovid fee\u201d and additional service fees and copying fees, in unsealed sworn testimony. She also acknowledged owing her constable thousands of dollars in fees.<\/p>\n Beyond his limits<\/p>\n Tyja Jackson fell behind on rent after tragedy enveloped her life.<\/p>\n In March, her son Kyion, a seven-year-old with dimples and a deep smile, was killed in a car crash.<\/p>\n Four months later, Jackson, 27, found herself before the justice of the peace Mark Miley in East Baton Rouge, facing an eviction summons from her landlord. Jackson, who had no attorney, explained to Miley, who holds court in the boardroom of his private law office, that she had been unable to return to her job as a cashier at a local Wendy\u2019s due to overwhelming grief.<\/p>\n \u201cI attempted to go back. I just couldn\u2019t,\u201d she told the court. \u201cIt\u2019s all just falling apart.\u201d<\/p>\n Kyion\u2019s funeral had cost $12,000, she later told the Guardian. Along with her overdue rent, Jackson said, she was now being charged $360 in late fees and court costs. The company was not responding to messages or maintenance requests, she said, meaning she was living without air conditioning. She had to send her infant daughter to live with relatives due to the sweltering heat.<\/p>\n She hoped to be heard in court.<\/p>\n Miley has held office since 2009. In 2025, his court, which hears eviction cases only once a week, generated $524,726 in fees, of which he retained $296,215 in compensation. At multiple instances during the Guardian\u2019s visit he referred to the \u201cbig business\u201d of justice of the peace courts around the parish. On a separate visit later in July, Miley offered a photographer for the Guardian a payment of two folded $20 bills alongside a small note that contained his phone number, telling them that they could spend it on \u201ccoffee\u201d. He expressed surprise when they said they could not accept the payment.<\/p>\n Justice Mark Miley holds eviction hearings in the boardroom of his private law office in East Baton Rouge.<\/p>\n In February of this year, Miley signed a deferred discipline agreement with the state judiciary commission after admitting that he had \u201cregularly and knowingly<\/a>\u201d ruled over eviction cases that fell outside the geographical boundaries of his jurisdiction.<\/p>\n The agreement acknowledged that Miley\u2019s conduct \u201cgave the appearance that he was improperly presiding over the matters due to the direct financial benefit he received from the filing fees\u201d and bound him to stop the practice.<\/p>\n Benton, the former legal aid attorney, said he defended about 100 eviction cases in Miley\u2019s court between 2022 and 2024. He estimated that all but three had been improperly filed.<\/p>\n Less than a month after Miley signed his reprimand, the state legislature took action.<\/p>\n A Republican lawmaker introduced a bill to expand the borders of Miley\u2019s district along with other justices in East Baton Rouge, across the entire territory of city court. It had the wholesale support of local landlords.<\/p>\n \u201cEssentially, the way my court operates is if you file an eviction by Friday, we have court the following Thursday,\u201d Miley told lawmakers<\/a> during a legislative hearing, describing the value of expanding the boundaries of his power. \u201cYou can pull up to my office and you can get in and get out. It\u2019s easy to access. It\u2019s good for tenants and good for landlords, in my opinion.\u201d<\/p>\n The bill was quietly passed by the state legislature \u2013 with no media coverage \u2013 and became law in June<\/a>.<\/p>\n It had been in effect for nine days by the time Jackson appeared in Miley\u2019s court. He listened as she told her story. She had just been able to return to work, and had taken on two jobs: one at an Amazon delivery warehouse and another for an events security company. But still, she was behind on rent.<\/p>\n Miley granted her an extra couple of days to find the funds, but issued a judgment of eviction nonetheless. He counseled her to contact a charity to look for financial support, and suggested his judgment against her might actually help.<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes, I\u2019ve heard if you let a charity know you\u2019ve got a judgment against you, it helps expedite\u201d them offering funds, he told Jackson as he handed her a copy of the ruling against her. She appreciated the suggestion, Jackson said after the hearing.<\/p>\n Chart of Justice Mark Miley\u2019s annual compensation. <\/a><\/p>\n The eviction judgment, later reviewed by the Guardian, revealed that despite the judiciary commission\u2019s reprimand and the new law expanding his jurisdiction, Miley had still unlawfully evicted Jackson. Her rental unit was located outside his newly enlarged legal domain.<\/p>\n \u201cUnlike in other states where these judges would have to remit all of their filing fees, and then be paid by fixed salary, either set by the county or the state, these justices have a literal financial incentive to break the rules,\u201d said Adams, the National Housing<\/a> Law Project attorney. \u201cThe more cases they take, if they stretch the boundaries of their jurisdiction just a few blocks further, they\u2019re going to make more money.\u201d<\/p>\n Miley did not respond to detailed questions from the Guardian.<\/p>\n \u2018No refunds\u2019<\/p>\n Justice Mark Spears of Jefferson parish\u2019s second justice of the peace court holds his eviction hearings in a small office suite next to a noisy highway in the New Orleans suburb of Marrero. A crinkled US flag is tacked to the wall behind his desk.<\/p>\n A notice stuck to the clerk\u2019s window reads:<\/p>\n NO REFUNDS<\/p>\n YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE OR [sic] MAKING SURE YOU ARE FILING IN THE RIGHT COURT<\/p>\n THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY NO REFUNDS<\/p>\n In May this year he appeared at a rare public hearing in front of the state judiciary commission, accused of engaging in \u201cwillful misconduct\u201d by lending \u201cthe prestige of your judicial office to advance your private interest\u201d. Specifically, the commission admonished him for using an Instagram account named \u201cjudge.markspears\u201d to promote himself not only as a justice but also as a private practice attorney and an NFL sports agent.<\/p>\n Constable Kendall Bussey serves eviction notices to households in Marrero, Louisiana.<\/p>\n He apologized multiple times during the hearing. He acknowledged to the commissioners that he now understood that \u201cI can\u2019t put out to the public that I\u2019m a justice of the peace and that I have private stuff, that I\u2019m an attorney also. Because people would think of the prestigiousness of a judge and maybe, you know, use me as an attorney.\u201d<\/p>\n Two weeks later, before an eviction docket hearing on 4 June, the court\u2019s constable, Kendall Bussey, touted Spears\u2019 work as a private attorney and a justice in a speech to landlords and tenants waiting for their eviction cases to be heard.<\/p>\n \u201cJudge Spears is very good at what he does. He\u2019s not only a judge, he\u2019s also a lawyer,\u201d Bussey said during a mass swearing-in, which took place in a cramped corridor outside the justice\u2019s earshot \u201cPart of what he do is tenant-eviction law. He understands the law.\u201d<\/p>\n Bussey acknowledged that tenants have a right to appeal the judge\u2019s decisions, but added: \u201cI will be open and honest, if Judge Spears gives you an order, 99.9% it\u2019s not going to be overturned.\u201d He then claimed that due to Spears\u2019 expertise \u201cthe higher judges actually call him for advice when it comes to Louisiana tenant law\u201d.<\/p>\n In response to questions from the Guardian, Spears distanced himself from Bussey\u2019s remarks. \u201cConstable Bussey is an independently elected constitutional officer. He is not my employee, I do not supervise him, and he does not speak for me or for this court.\u201d The justice said he has never instructed Bussey or anyone else to make those kinds of statements.<\/p>\n Justice Mark Spears\u2019 courtroom in Marrero, Louisiana. <\/p>\n \u201cI do not hold myself out as a housing attorney,\u201d he said. \u201cIn 20 years of practicing law, I have handled two eviction matters, and I handled both pro bono.\u201d He added that he had never received calls from \u201chigher judges\u201d for advice on housing law and that he always informed litigants of their right to seek a new trial in parish court.<\/p>\n Spears, a former parish councilman, was first elected justice of the peace in 2019 and is running unopposed this November. His court \u2013 which is located on the west bank of the Mississippi River across from New Orleans \u2013 has brought in more than $600,000 in fee revenue since 2020, according to his financial statements.<\/p>\n A 2022 recording obtained by the Guardian documents a clerk in Spears\u2019 court explaining to an attorney why it would not be possible to waive court fees for a low-income tenant: \u201cWe are a for-profit court and we have to collect those fees.\u201d<\/p>\n Spears said he \u201cwill not respond to a characterization of a four-year-old conversation to which I was not a party\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cMy court is not a \u2018for-profit court\u2019,\u201d he said. \u201c\u2026 If a clerk used the phrase you attribute, that was that clerk\u2019s phrasing, not the policy of this court, and I repudiate it.\u201d<\/p>\n Louisiana\u2019s supreme court is currently considering the judiciary commission\u2019s recommendation<\/a> that Spears be suspended for six months without pay, with all but 30 days suspended. Its recommendation of discipline stated his actions had \u201charmed the public\u2019s confidence in and respect for the integrity and impartiality of the judiciary\u201d.<\/p>\n Spears declined to comment on the disciplinary case.<\/p>\n Legacies<\/p>\n Marchana Watts is still fighting to recover from eviction two years on.<\/p>\n She lost her job around a year ago and started taking antidepressants. She developed diabetes and Cushing\u2019s disease, she said, which can be triggered by stress.<\/p>\n She found shelter at a relative\u2019s home but was sleeping with four of her sons in a single bedroom. Her eldest was forced to move out.<\/p>\n The cost of a storage unit became unmanageable and so she sold almost all her possessions.<\/p>\n \u201cEverything is still about my children,\u201d she said. \u201cI didn\u2019t want them to see me go through it. That was the hardest part for me.\u201d Over the summer she launched a GoFundMe drive<\/a> to help pay for school supplies for her sons. To date, it has received no funds.<\/p>\n At the Jefferson parish fifth justice of the peace court one recent morning, Justice Cusimano showed journalists from the Guardian a small wad of cash, held together by a clip, that he kept inside the back of a drawer in his private office. It was around $120, he later said, adding it was held in reserve for especially \u201csad\u201d eviction cases where he might offer to personally help.<\/p>\n But he added: \u201cYou can\u2019t change the law with your compassion.\u201d<\/p>\n In August, as the Guardian was reporting this story, Justice Cusimano announced his retirement at the end of this year, leaving the bench as perhaps the highest-paid judge in the nation.<\/p>\n The position will be filled without a competitive election because just one candidate is running to replace him. His name is Chuck Cusimano III.<\/p>\n He is the son of the justice of the peace.<\/p>\n Additional reporting Melissa Segura<\/a>, Rachel Shur, Mariama Eversley, Sophie Sullivan<\/a><\/p>\n Additional data reporting Tom Richards<\/a>, Cameron Armstrong<\/a>, Mahesh Makani<\/a>, Georges Lebreton<\/a>, Izzy Kiff<\/a>, Frederick O\u2019Brien<\/a>, Aliya Uteuova<\/a><\/p>\n Graphics Ana Lucia Gonzalez<\/a>, Pablo Gutierrez<\/a>, Andrew Witherspoon<\/a><\/p>\n Creative direction Angelica Alzona<\/a><\/p>\n Photo editing Gail Fletcher<\/a><\/p>\n Editing Michael Hudson<\/a>, Rusha Haljuci, Matthew Grace<\/a><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/evictions.png\")
A photo of the fees charged by the 5th Justice of the Peace court. An eviction filing is listed as $150. <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/10\/12_23_25_Orders_and_Judgments_batch_1_page-103_ocr-copy_Redacted.jpg\")
A scanned eviction judgment. The judgment lists the date the tenant has been ordered to leave their apartment. This judgment orders the tenant evicted on Christmas Eve. <\/p>\n
Another indicated to the commission that Batieste\u2019s preferred method of receiving payment was via the mobile payment service Cash App. A photograph obtained by the Guardian<\/a> shows a large printout of the Cash App account pinned to a noticeboard in her courtroom.\n<\/p>\n