It starts as a simple question: “Where is this case?” A staff member asks it. A partner asks it. Sometimes the client asks it, after days of silence. In justice work navigating the justice system, silence isn’t neutral. It can mean a missed deadline for survivors of crime, a lost housing window, a protection order […]
Justice Referral Handoff Process (End “Where Is This Case?”) Read More »
It’s 4:47 p.m. Someone forwards a court notice to “the team” with a subject line like “URGENT.” Two people assume the other one will calendar it. A third person saves the PDF to a folder “for later.” The next morning, the attorney swears they never saw it. Everyone’s trying. The system isn’t. A court notice
Court Notice Workflow: Stop emailing court notices around Read More »
At 4:45 pm, the intake queue is still long. A partner calls back with a “quick question,” but they don’t have the full context. A supervisor needs an answer that’s safe to stand behind. And the client is asked, again, to re-tell the hardest parts of their life. Repeating the story isn’t just inefficient. It’s
The intake queue is blowing up, staff are hopping between forms, and someone is asking, again, “Can you tell me what happened?” The client pauses. You can hear the strain in the silence. Your team isn’t trying to be careless. The system is. When a person has to repeat their story across programs, partners, and
Your intake queue is already too long. Your staff is already doing triage with one eye on the clock and one eye on client safety. Then a privacy scare hits: a mis-sent email, a shared link left open, a spreadsheet copied to the wrong drive. The harm isn’t abstract. It can put a survivor at
Your intake queue is growing. A referral handoff breaks. A board report is due, and the numbers don’t match what staff see on the ground. Meanwhile, you’ve got plans: a new case management system, a refreshed intake flow, an AI pilot, a reporting fix that should have happened two years ago. But execution feels chaotic
It’s 4:47 p.m. on a Friday. Someone pings you, “Did we file the response?” Another person says they “had it on their calendar.” A third swears the hearing date changed. You can feel the room tighten, not because people don’t care, but because the process depends on memory, inbox searches, and personal calendars. For justice-focused
At 4:45 p.m., someone asks a simple question: “How many people did we actually serve this quarter?” The number doesn’t reconcile. Intake is in one place. Referrals are in someone’s inbox. Program notes are in a shared drive. The report is due tomorrow, and staff are already carrying too much. This is how the justice
You’ve seen the same story play out. A client calls legal aid organizations, then gets sent to a court help desk, then to a housing assistance partner, then back again. Each stop has its own form, its own script, its own waitlist, its own “can you tell me what happened from the start?” That’s not
It’s 4:45 p.m. The intake queue is still climbing. A partner emails, “We referred three people today, did you reach them?” Your team searches inboxes, a shared spreadsheet, and someone’s notes. No one can say, with confidence, what happened next. This is how trust leaks out of the system. Not because people don’t care, but
