LOST IN LEGAL LABYRINTH; FAMILY LAW CENTER COULD EASE COURTROOM HEADACHE.

Byline: Peter Hartlaub Daily News Staff Writer

Rhonda McCool's marriage ended amicably enough. It's her attempt to get a divorce that's been a rocky mess.

The Canyon Country mother of three's nightmare has included a legal maze of paperwork to fill out, procedures to follow and $249 for a paralegal's help. After that, a judge said her forms were in disarray and instructed her to hire a lawyer, adding $1,500 to a bill she says she cannot afford to pay.

All this for a divorce petition that her husband, who left the state last year, hasn't even challenged.

``A woman shouldn't have to stay with a man they don't want to be married to, simply because they're afraid to go to court,'' she said last week.

In nine out of every 10 family law cases - including divorces like McCool's - at least one side ends up representing themselves, state officials say.

Yet Los Angeles County, with the highest caseload in the nation, still offers meager services to citizens who can't afford an attorney. Fortunately, for the growing number of Rhonda McCools wandering around the county courthouses, help appears to be on the way.

A family law center is set to open in the downtown Los Angeles courthouse next month, while the board of supervisors is looking into ways to aid people who want to fight their own legal battles.

McCool just wishes the help had been there when she filed for divorce last year.

``It's like running into a brick wall,'' the 34-year-old said. ``You walk into court thinking you're ready, then you have to start all over again.''

Criminal defendants like Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski get the choice to hire, fire then rehire legal defense at no cost. But people forced into civil court don't have the same luxury.

Citizens who don't have a lawyer in civil cases file in propria persona.

These ``pro-per'' litigants have to follow the same rules as the attorneys they face, without the benefit of three years in law school or experience in the courtroom.

The Judicial Council of California said that the amount of family law cases where only one party is without a lawyer may be as high as 60 percent statewide. In 30 percent of cases, both sides don't have a lawyer.

McCool read self-help books, went on the Internet and tried to get assistance from an overloaded nonprofit legal center (``It was like a cattle call''), but never made it past the waiting room.

After paying a paralegal to type up her motions, McCool went to court without an attorney. She showed up for her hearing date last month, entering a San Fernando courtroom filled with pro-per litigants like herself.

Help on the way

Nonprofit law firms, already hurting for funds, are threatened further by a U.S. Supreme Court case that challenges one of their prime sources of income. Depending on the outcome, it could slash annual budgets by 10 to 40 percent.

Meanwhile, case workers say, the number of pro-per litigants is on the rise.

``If we don't do anything, in five or 10 years, it will be an absolute disaster,'' said lawyer Ken Babcock, who works at Los Angeles-based Public Counsel.

Public Counsel, the nation's largest pro bono public interest law firm, served 15,857 clients in 1997, up from 11,677 in 1996.

Other nonprofits handled thousands more last year, but no agency can help every person who comes through its door. That leaves the government to lend a hand.

Julie Paik, Los Angeles County's family law facilitator, said a new Los Angeles County law center will be ready to help pro-per clients with family law cases by the beginning of March.

Fueled by federal funding, the law center will open with a staff of 25, including two lawyers and 19 paralegals, to explain court protocol and help litigants fill out forms. In the future, Paik said, there will be a paralegal at each Superior Court branch, including courthouses in Van Nuys and San Fernando.

``We can assist any client who comes to us,'' Paik said. ``We can help the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich.''

Still, the family law center cannot help people with cases outside the realm of family law, such as landlord-tenant disputes.

Los Angeles County Supervisor Zev Yaroslavsky hopes his colleagues can help, by supporting other new pro-per programs. But even if more law centers are created, they would ``start in bite-sized chunks, and if it works, expand countywide,'' he said, offering little in the way of immediate relief.

A pro-per paradise

While Los Angeles starts on the foundation of a structured system to help pro-per litigants, a comparative utopia for lawyerless clients has already been built 60 miles to the northwest.

The Ventura County Courthouse has a room filled with computers, VCRs and books for residents who want to handle court cases themselves. A full-time attorney is on staff to help fill out forms and answer questions.

This week, a second room will open specifically for pro-per litigants with family law cases, who can already attend weekly clinics in Ventura and Simi Valley to get help from lawyers, law students and paralegals free of charge.

Gay Conroy, Ventura County's family law facilitator, said she's noticed fewer confused faces since the program started there 18 months ago.

``I'm amazed at the number of people who really can't afford an attorney who don't know what to do and are begging anybody and everybody to help them,'' said Conroy, who has 15 years experience as a family law lawyer.

Conroy said the center helped 4,000 people from September 1996 to December 1997.

Down to nothing

``I married too young,'' Rhonda McCool admits.

She wed her husband in 1983, had two children and separated ``without a lot of arguing'' in 1996. Now she makes $10 per hour doing computer work at home so she can care for her 2-month-old baby.

``Me and my children went from six figures to nothing in less than 60 days,'' she said.

She sent her husband a copy of the divorce filing, but court records show he didn't respond. In January, McCool asked the judge to sign a default judgment, which would force child support payments.

``The judge seemed very concerned that (my husband's) rights were protected,'' she said. ``He never asked about the kids, whether they had food to eat or a roof over their heads.''

McCool borrowed money from her mother and hired the cheapest divorce attorney she could find. At her next court date, in March, she plans to keep quiet and let him do the talking.

``When I was in high school I had dreams of being an attorney. We went to court once a week,'' McCool said. ``I guess I didn't learn enough.''

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