Two years ago, Howard County voted to abolish its orphans court.

There were problems with the way it decided wills and estates, sometimes taking weeks to simply sign off on a personal representative or settlement. The three-judge panel’s decisions were regularly appealed.

People were leaving the court in tears, not because the judges were horrible to them — that happened, too — but because the judges were horrible to each other.

“People would come out of the courtroom angry, crying, upset, looking at the register and the register’s office and asking, what was that?” said Byron Macfarlane, register of wills in Howard County.

“I know this is happening in Anne Arundel, as well.”

He knows because of the highly public implosion of the orphans court that sits in Annapolis and the agency that serves it, the Register of Wills.

Judge Marc Knapp was suspended this month by the chief of the Maryland Supreme Court, but that didn’t happen until months after the two other judges and register’s office staffers sought help from the Maryland Judiciary Disabilities Commission in response to his insulting, hostile behavior.

Even standing outside an Annapolis courtroom for a hearing on a protective order that chief Orphans Court Judge Vickie Gipson sought against him, Knapp was defiant that she was the problem. He accused her of being incompetent, combative and in cahoots with the others who filed complaints.

“I signed up to do this job,” he said. “Judge Gipson doesn’t want me to. Screw her.”

It would be too easy to focus on this clash, or the fact that this is an elderly white man angrily questioning the qualifications of a Black woman. You could also look for meaning from the case of former Register of Wills Erica Griswold, who was removed from office and received probation after she admitted taking money intended to cover fees for an estate.

“The events that have transpired between Judge Gipson and Judge Knapp are inexcusable, untenable, and an embarrassment to the judiciary,” Jasmine Jackson, Griswold’s replacement, wrote in an email. She expressed hope that the judges on the orphans court “will simply stop their interpersonal squabbling and begin to conduct themselves in a dignified and professional manner.”

The harder thing to do — and the thing that voters should demand that state lawmakers do — is to reform the court itself. It is time to complete the job that Maryland started 60 years ago when it abolished almost all of its judicial relics.

If you don’t know anything about this court except the spectacle, you’ve never been involved in the last will and testament of someone who died in Maryland. That’s what the orphans court does, and that’s the origin of its name in English common law.

Frankly, it’s clear that no one really cares about this court unless you’re there at one of the saddest times of your life.

Not voters. Not lawmakers. Not state agencies.

Orphans courts were set up after the American Revolution and survived along with other forgotten courts until the Maryland constitutional convention of 1967-68. That’s the one that proposed tossing out Maryland’s old system of elections, which didn’t follow the principle of one person, one vote, and gave disproportionate power to rural counties.

The convention also created the District Court system, where appointed judges decide minor criminal and civil cases, start the process for major ones and set bail. It replaced the bewildering system of local chancery courts, rent courts, and people’s courts (really, it was called that) overseen by a cast of judges and magistrates enjoying the spoils of the state’s old political patronage system.

The new constitution was rejected by voters, but the changes were later enacted by state lawmakers and then approved as amendments at the ballot box.

“They weren’t lawyers. They would meet in the backs of restaurants and in people’s basements,” said Macfarlane, who learned the history as part of his campaign to abolish the Orphans Court in his county. “And finally, the state said, ‘Enough is enough, and we’ve got to do better than this.’”

But they couldn’t figure out what to do with orphans court, whether to shift its responsibilities to the district or circuit courts. So it survived, and election after election, people with no qualifications run for office and sometimes win.

Gipson and Knapp are both lawyers, although Knapp acknowledges he’d never heard of the court until he was in line to vote in 2018 and someone handed him a flyer as part of their campaign for a seat. Orphans Court Judge David Duba is a social studies teacher who says he studies relevant law on the job in addition to relying on Gipson’s experience.

Because these jobs are at the bottom of the ballot, and so few people know what they are, voters may go with their political party’s choice or pick a familiar name. Rascals sometimes see this as an opportunity. In 2022, a former Republican delegate who was both disbarred and stripped of his real estate license was on the ballot — four years after he had been tossed out of office by voters.

One way to look at the result is that people who are not qualified can get on the court and gum up its works or, in the case of the former register, pocket some of the money involved. (She repaid the funds nearly a month after she was indicted).

Another is that it keeps this little corner of the judiciary close to the people.

“I do think there’s something to be said for keeping the current structure,” Duba said. “What comes before the court are people at one of the worst times of their life. We are in a position to help them through that.”

There is a growing interest in change from the people who deal most often with this court — estate lawyers. It started with the charges against Griswold, who was indicted in January for cashing a $6,645 check intended to pay estate taxes.

Deborah Howe, chair of the estate planning committee of the Anne Arundel County Bar Association, convened a meeting this spring to talk about why Griswold was allowed to remain in office after she pleaded guilty. It was, she said, the most widely attended meeting the bar association had ever held.

The state constitution calls for the removal of public officials convicted of a crime, but it turns out the rules in law to accomplish that didn’t mention the register of wills.

“That was wildly inappropriate,” Howe said. “She shouldn’t have been there. She should have been out as soon as she pleaded guilty.”

It would be another week before the orphans court, guided by the Attorney General’s Office, voted to replace Griswold with Jackson, a longtime auditor in the office.

Even then, the court’s lack of resources became apparent. The AG’s office told the three judges they couldn’t call for candidates for the job because there was no staff to vet them.

Howe’s committee is working on language to make clear what happens when a register pleads guilty.

Some lawyers are also beginning to discuss reform of the orphans court itself in light of the conflict between Gipson and Knapp. Technically, the judges oversee the register of wills — the attorney general determined they hold the power to appoint a replacement — although that’s not how they operate.

“I would personally love to see reform in the orphans court,” Howe said. “Right now, we’re waiting a really long time for orders from the orphans court.”

Except no one really cares about this corner of the justice system. At least until someone they love dies or it blows up, as it did in Anne Arundel.

Both offices are included in the state constitution, and changing it statewide would require General Assembly action and voter approval.

The register, which is funded from inheritance and estate taxes, falls under the Comptroller of the Treasury for fiscal accountability. Strangely, Maryland’s exemptions to those taxes mean only nieces and nephews end up paying much when they inherit.

The court is part of the Maryland Judiciary but is funded by the county government. Its $279,800 annual budget is the smallest agency budget — roughly $5,000 less than the county farm bureau.

Statewide, Macfarlane estimates, the 21 orphans courts cost taxpayers about $3 million a year.

There is so little regard for the workings of the court and the register’s office that when the Circuit Court administrative judge kicked them out of the courthouse in downtown Annapolis in 2022, they lost their security. The county then entered into a contract to provide armed security guards outside the register’s office.

“The armed security guards are here to ensure that there is protection for the four elected officials [the Register and the three Orphans’ Court Judges] and my staff,” said Jackson, who worked as an auditor in the register’s office for 16 years before being appointed to the top job. “They are not here to babysit judges who can’t conduct their duties in a professional manner.”

Whatever is at the root of the conflict between Knapp and Gipson, both filed complaints with the Maryland Judicial Disabilities Commission. She filed court papers saying she was afraid for her safety.

Security inside the courtroom now falls to the county sheriff, Everett Sesker, who holds another constitutional office funded by the county. Although the county created a police department with the advent of charter government in 1964, it didn’t abolish the sheriff’s office. Instead, it took over the job of county courthouse security and warrant service.

When Sesker was elected in 2022, the Attorney General’s Office told him that his agency had no authority to provide security in the orphans court’s new location in a nondescript office park outside Annapolis city limits.

That changed after the murder of a Washington County judge in October. Sesker moved to put an armed deputy in every courtroom at the county courthouse, a first.

But he was also given authority from the AG’s office to provide them for the orphans court.

He is doing it by adding six special deputies, who will only have law enforcement powers inside the building where the judges meet. That will cost the county about $160,000 a year, far less than the expense of hiring and retaining sworn deputies with benefits and retirement. The first two were put in place July 1.

“I’m trying to save the county some money,” Sesker said.

Gipson turned to the court system for protection after a courtroom confrontation with Knapp. He was angry when Griswold approved a security officer for their hearings.

Knapp acknowledged that he told the security officer something like, “If I hit her, you could shoot me.” He claims he was joking, but nobody thought it was funny.

Gipson asked the court system for help, but she said she got no advice on what to do while the disabilities commission deliberated. It’s a drawn-out process with no firm deadlines. She eventually figured out she could seek a protective order, the same thing victims of domestic abuse can do.

When both judges showed up in Annapolis on July 16 for a hearing on her petition for a court order, they discovered just how little the Maryland Judiciary is focused on them.

District Court Judge Laura Robinson ruled that because another judge had delayed a hearing on the order for more than 30 days, she had no choice under state law but to dismiss the case. “I feel like nobody’s really responsible for the safety of judges in Anne Arundel County,” Gipson said outside the courtroom. “At least orphans court.”

Later that day, she applied for another temporary restraining order. A final hearing on that is set for Aug. 6. In the meantime, Maryland Chief Judge Mathew J. Fader issued an order suspending Knapp.

Knapp, who faces additional hearings over his behavior, didn’t know he was being suspended when he walked out of the courtroom.

“I would have won,” he said.

It’s not the first time judges have found themselves on opposite sides.

Gipson missed more than a year of sessions during the COVID pandemic because the judiciary didn’t arrange for the orphans courts to hold hearings remotely.

Then-Orphans Court Judges Nancy Phelps and Maureen Carr-York said they felt safe enough to come to work, but stopped short of criticizing Gipson during county budget hearings that year.

In the 2022 election, the issue came up again when someone created a website that cast Gipson’s absences as “cheating” taxpayers and highlighted past financial judgments against her. Phelps and Carr York both lost their bids for re-election.

Macfarlane, the Howard County register of wills, is convinced that this kind of behavior is common in elected orphans courts around the state. Other than his county, only Montgomery and Harford counties have shifted wills and estates to circuit courts.

In campaigning for a change, Macfarlane cited technical problems with his court’s operations, the number of appeals, delays in getting rulings and disputes between judges.

Although the change only affected his jurisdiction, elected judges from around the state testified against it — and emailed him to complain about his attempt at reform.

The change approved by voters handed the responsibility for wills and estate decisions to the circuit court administrative judge. Macfarlane estimates it’s added about 2% more work and predicts it would be a 4% increase for Anne Arundel courts if it were to make the change.

Appeals have dropped, rulings come faster and the “burning hatred” that arises from running against one another every four years is gone.

“If you can find me one human being in Howard County who says we should go back to the old court, who wasn’t a judge themselves or related to a judge, I would be surprised,” he said.

This column has been updated to correct the history of the state constitutional convention of 1967-68. Voters rejected the new constitution, but lawmakers later passed legislation enacting the proposed changes. Voters approved them in subsequent elections.