a prosecutor asked me if he could read my hallway interview notes with the officers from our impending (as in one hour away) trial case, because, you know, it was really busy this morning and he didn't have a chance to talk with his own witnesses on this case he'd, like, declared ready on, and which were were about to, you know, pick a jury for.
No. I am not shitting you dear readers. And to keep in the world of profane colloquialisms, my proper response should have been, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Instead I settled for, "No."
I mean really, these are the state attorneys I work with. And usually I try (as you might notice from the dryness of the blog) not to talk too much about the job for various reasons of professional courtesy and client confidentiality. But come on. While I could probably curl the hair of the average reader with bathotic tales of incarcerated men, women, and the state attorneys who seek to keep them locked in little metal cages, I'd rather the blog not become blindly reflexive. However, there are some high water marks that should be noted.
In general, it was a banner day - even with the alleged indecent exposure (inmate to corrections), the usual family member drama ("Whoa, that "perjury" thing sounds pretty bad. . ."), a separate alleged act of inmate/inmate fellatio in the holding cell ("Our Lady of Purell, protect us". . ./I wiped my shoes well after conveying pleas in there this afternoon, I tell you), the general chaos of a trial day with Russian, Creole, Spanish, and English being bandied around the courtroom, the mental health clients, the regular clients who probably should have been mental health clients, and an infestation of jailhouse lawyers resulting in one person having an absolute conniption (Injustice! Conspiracy! I will Kill You ALL!) when his case was legitimately court continued on good grounds for an entire week later (but still within his artificial speedy trial period), well, I still think that the State Attorney asking for my notes so he could evaluate his own case was the oddest thing I dealt with that day.
Odd, because when I said "no" he got very angry and, before huffing off to pout, direly informed me that keeping his good will was the most important thing I could do as an attorney. Never mind that this guy has never won a case against us, yet offers the *most* ungenerous pleas of all our State attorneys. Never mind that this guy has never won a case against us and nolle prossess the *vast* majority of the cases he brings to trial day. Never mind that this guy can't figure out that being offered professional courtesy and/or common politeness is not the same as earning any kind of respect via showing, in action, one's personal integrity through exercise of discretion (as several of his fellows have). . . Oh, and then there's that kind of subtle argument that he's asking me to turn over work product prepared in the defense of my client! - so he can do what with it? decide if he wants to keep going in his quest to lock my client in a little metal box for six months?
It's so perplexing I rely on the reaction of a far more experienced attorney/friend of mine had when she heard about this (and not from me!): "Oh my. Oh my. Well, that will be so embarrassing for him. Someday. Possibly. I mean, if he ever understands how embarrassing that is. Which seems unlikely, given that he did that. Oh my."
So, anyway, more craziness updates as we get them.