Covering the courts can be a really daunting task.

Initially, there is a lot of legwork involved. When a case that calls for media coverage is first filed, there are phone calls to make and reports to look over. I spend a lot of time combing over affidavits and checking facts.

Then I follow the case. Depending on what it is, it can take months ... sometimes years ... for a defendant to actually make it to court for a trial or sentencing.

The sentencing is my least favorite part of covering the courts. I mean, I realize that when people commit crimes, they should be held accountable. I understand that.

What makes me sad about the sentencing is sitting in a courtroom with the defendant's family.

When I was working in Montgomery County, I was covering the case of a young man ... I think he was in his mid-20s ... who had been nailed for meth charges on several occasions. I think the case I was covering was maybe his fourth or fifth conviction.

Anyway, I went to court for one of this young man's hearings. I sat in my chair, listening and taking notes. The young man, sitting at the defense table in his orange jail garb, pled not guilty, and another court date was set. He was led away by the bailiff, and I began gathering my things to go back to the office and write my story.

It becomes a routine as far as court cases go ... you sit in, you take your notes, you go back to the office, you write the story.

But on that day, as I was getting ready to move on to the next step in my court coverage routine, the young man's sister approached me. She asked me if I was from the newspaper. I said I was.

She then begged me not to write a story about her brother. This wasn't how he was raised, she told me. Every time her brother was in the newspaper for another offense, it devastated her mother. Couldn't I cut them a break? Her brother wasn't a dealer; he was just an addict. What purpose would running a story about him serve other than causing more pain and embarrassment for her family?

I'll tell you, at that moment I felt like a vulture, feeding off someone else's misery for my living.

Of course, I had to tell her I was running the story. She called me a not-so-nice name, and we parted ways. I wrote the story; it ran.

But I thought for a long time about what she had said to me. I struggle sometimes in this part of my job. Many people think journalists write and run stories without a thought of what they're doing to the subjects and the people close to them. And I'm sure some reporters don't give any of that a thought.

But I, and most of the people I've worked with who've covered this beat, do think about that.

The fact of the matter is, most major court cases cost the taxpayers ... many of whom never see the inside of the courthouse ... money. They deserve to know what's going on in the courts. They deserve to know if people who are doing or dealing drugs or who have violent natures are living next door to them.

My job is to inform. I don't always like what I'm telling people, and I know that sometimes what I do causes others pain. But it's the career I've chosen, and I believe it's important and necessary.