County Prosecutor Art Curtis retiring after 30 years

When Clark County Prosecutor Jim Carty announced in 1980 he was retiring mid-term, he assessed potential successors.

“Art Curtis is a very fine attorney,” Carty was quoted as saying of his 32-year-old chief criminal deputy prosecutor. “He’s got a very good mind.”

But Curtis wasn’t into politics.

“I don’t know if he’d be willing to campaign,” said Carty.

That hasn’t been a problem.

After his 1981 appointment by county commissioners, he ran unopposed in 1982 for his first four-year term.

In subsequent elections he was opposed only once, in 1998, when he easily defeated a defense attorney.

As Curtis, 62, nears the end of his eighth and final term, he’s lauded for his professionalism and the way he shaped the prosecutor’s office into a place where attorneys want to spend their careers, instead of an office that’s a revolving door for young attorneys.

At a Dec. 14 reception, Curtis thanked the 140-plus people in attendance. He said he did not have a speech prepared.

“Those of you who know me know I’m a behind-the-scenes guy. I don’t like to be the center of attention,” said Curtis, a Democrat.

He did love taking cases to trial but gave that up to be an administrator, which he calls his biggest regret.

When he took office, he didn’t know the county’s population would explode from 190,000 people to more than 435,000, with crime rates rising accordingly.

The office tripled in size, from 14 deputy prosecutors to a high of 46; currently there are 40 deputy prosecutors and more than 50 support staff.

His initial annual salary was $42,316; now it’s $148,836.

His office files more than 2,000 felony cases and 7,000 misdemeanor cases annually.

The office also includes civil attorneys who advise county officials, a child support enforcement unit and a victims’ assistance unit.

Running the largest law firm in town is a lot harder than it looks, Curtis said.

Curtis gets credit for starting specialty units to prosecute child sex abuse cases, domestic violence cases and, most recently, elder abuse cases. He endorsed felony diversion, a program in which first-time, nonviolent offenders can stay out of jail if they stay out of trouble, making it an acceptable practice statewide.

He was a lead lobbyist for the Washington State Patrol crime laboratory that opened in Vancouver in 2005.

Superior Court Judge Roger Bennett, who was Curtis’ top deputy before taking the bench, worked with Curtis on arguably the most horrifying case in county history.

They prosecuted the death penalty case of Westley Allan Dodd, who kidnapped, raped and killed three young boys. Dodd was executed in 1993 at the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla. Bennett calls Curtis “the most influential member of the criminal justice system in Clark County history.”

Retiring with Curtis this year are Chief Deputy Prosecutor Curt Wyrick and Chief Criminal Deputy Prosecutor Denny Hunter.

All three have been with the office since the 1970s.

“The good news is we leave behind a solid foundation of experienced attorneys,” Curtis said.

Started as defender

Curtis never set out to make such an impact.

After Curtis, who grew up in Lake Oswego, Ore., graduated from the University of Oregon with a degree in psychology, he was unsure what to do.

He went to the Northwestern School of Law at Lewis and Clark because it was the only law school that accepted him. His LSAT (Law School Admission Test) score and undergrad grades were far from dazzling.

Over the years, as he has hired deputy prosecutors, he never put much emphasis on where they went to college or how well they did.

After law school, his first job was with the Clark County Public Defender’s Office, where he worked from 1974 to ’77.

As a public defender, Curtis tried “eight or nine” felony cases and won them all.

Those victories included an acquittal for a rapist, who went on to rape another victim and was convicted in Oregon.

Curtis realized that no matter how vital the role of defense attorneys is in the criminal justice system, he couldn’t be one.

“I used my legal skills to get a guilty guy off, and then he went out and did it again,” Curtis said.

Defense attorney Gerry Wear worked with Curtis at the public defender’s office, which was closed by the county in 1979 in favor of the current contract system.

Curtis’ mother, who has since passed away, was a Methodist minister; his father had been an executive with Boy Scouts of America.

Wear recalled his first impression of Curtis.

Curtis fit in fine with the other public defenders and was well-regarded, Wear said, but he was still the straight-laced son of a minister and a Boy Scout.

“There’s not a thing wrong with it, except it’s not your typical criminal defense attorney,” Wear said.

Wear does credit Curtis for working in criminal defense before becoming a prosecutor, gaining a perspective most prosecutors lack.

Great influence

While defense attorneys don’t see much of Curtis, as he spends his time answering up to 100 e-mails a day, dealing with budget issues and meeting with senior staff members in his office near the Clark County Courthouse, defense attorneys know Curtis still wields great influence over how cases play out.

That includes assigning deputy prosecutors to units within the office, including major crimes, general felonies, drugs, juvenile offenses and misdemeanors.

Approximately 95 percent of felony cases are resolved by plea deals. Curtis signs off on deals for major felony crimes, plus other “high profile” cases.

Those include low-level offenses that would not be newsworthy but for the person involved or special circumstances, such as failed Congressional candidate David Hedrick’s pending domestic violence charge, or the theft charges against Bethany Storro, who made worldwide news when she staged an acid attack on herself and then accepted donations for her medical costs.

Wear said Curtis is understandably sensitive to the way his office is perceived, particularly since most people don’t understand that plea bargains are a necessity.

“If everyone chose to go to trial, the system would break down,” Wear said. “The PA’s office rarely gives up more than they have to in plea bargain cases.”

Curtis said he has a written policy that he must approve any deal that will receive media coverage, “because I feel like the buck stops with me on all cases.”

While he’s sensitive to press coverage, he doesn’t seek it out, letting deputy prosecutors field questions on specific cases.

His office has received an unusual amount of unflattering attention this year.

Two men, Alan Northrop and Larry Davis, were cleared of rape convictions that had kept them in prison for 17 years; new DNA evidence pointed toward different assailants. Then, child rape charges were dismissed against a former Vancouver Police Officer, Clyde Ray Spencer, whose grown children now say they were forced to blame their father by a retired detective and former deputy prosecutor.

Spencer, who spent nearly 20 years in prison, was the subject of a “20/20” segment.

Curtis said he could not comment on those cases because of potential lawsuits.

The county did settle a claim this year from a Vancouver man arrested and charged after the son of a YWCA children’s advocate made up a story about a stranger trying to pick him up. The mother decided the man, who lived in her neighborhood, was the “stranger” and charges were filed. Charges were eventually dismissed; the man settled his claim for $6,000.

“It’s a teachable moment,” Curtis said. “I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

The only personal embarrassment for Curtis stemmed from a 2008 incident when he argued with a deputy sheriff who responded to Curtis’ Hockinson home after a neighbor made a noise complaint. Curtis and his wife, Sheila, had been hosting a wedding reception for one of their two daughters.

Curtis was not cited for the incident, which was publicly reported in 2009.

Won’t miss the stress

While Curtis, who did handle murder cases earlier in his career, has kept a low profile, his daily routine is as predictable as his wardrobe. (He doesn’t remember how many years have passed since he bought a new suit).

Instead of going out to lunch, he eats from a sack lunch on his way back from his workout sessions at Club Green Meadows.

He exercises five or six times a week to help cope with stress that comes from making decisions about people’s lives.

The biggest decisions have been matters of life or death.

He has considered whether to seek the death penalty in 21 aggravated murder cases. He sought it in five cases; three men were sentenced to die, but only Dodd was executed.

Clark Hazen, who killed two Fargher Lake residents in 1985, hanged himself in his death-row cell. James Brett, who killed a Hi-School Pharmacy executive during a botched home robbery attempt in 1992, had his sentence reduced to life in prison with no possibility of release.

A jury deadlocked 11 to 1 for James Dykgraff, a 23-year-old who killed a young aerobics instructor in 1986. Dykgraff was sentenced to prison for life.

Curtis sought the death penalty for Russell Francis Stenger, who kidnapped, raped and killed a Cascade Park homemaker while she was on a routine late-night walk in 1987.

But Curtis, who had represented Stenger as a public defender, was ordered by the state Supreme Court to hand the case over to Cowlitz County to avoid a conflict of interest. Cowlitz County Prosecutor C.C. Bridgewater let Stenger plead guilty in exchange for a life sentence.

Asked whether he ever spoke to Bridgewater again, Curtis pointed out that Bridgewater became a judge on the state Court of Appeals.

He denied holding a grudge.

For retirement, he said he’s looking forward to traveling with his family and spending more time with his two young granddaughters.

He leaves office as the third-longest serving county prosecutor in the state in modern times.

Whatcom County Prosecutor Dave McEachran, who took office in 1975, can attest to the stress.

“It’s an all-consuming type of job,” McEachran said. “You never escape.”

And every decision will be criticized by someone; rarely if ever can a prosecutor resolve a case in a manner that pleases everyone.

“How thick-skinned or thin-skinned you are, I don’t think anyone likes being a piñata,” McEachran said. “All of us can say (the criticism) doesn’t bother you, but it does.”

McEachran said he has turned to Curtis for advice.

“He can look at complicated facts and boil them down into straightforward facts,” McEachran said. “I really benefited from him when I had a death penalty case.”

Even people who have questioned Curtis on cases don’t question his principles.

“He’s done good work for this community,” said Wear, the defense attorney. “I have a lot of respect for Art. We’ve certainly disagreed over the years, but he’s done what he thought was right. Who can argue with that?”

Stephanie Rice: 360-735-4508 or stephanie.rice@columbian.com.