Scoplaw

Window into the human

Yep.  It really does say something about us. This link Not Safe For Work takes you to the latest 50 images posted to Live Journal.  http://www.fuzzysquid.com/LJ.php  Or maybe it just says something about Live Journal. 

Still.  It's worth pondering. 

Thwarted

I like to think of myself as a thwarter, not a thwartee.  An important philosophical distinction, I think.

In this case though, trash on the roadways got the best of me in the form of a punctured rear tire at the 20th mile of my ride.  I was actually on my return loop down Miami Beach, headed for the Venetian Causeway on my way home.  30 miles seemed doable, cough and heat aside.  Now I'm left with three (count 'em) three bikes which need new tubes.  Sheldon, Little Red Rocket, and Hush.  They're all rear tire punctures too.  I need to upgrade my tires - that's the only conclusion. 

I have never had such a run of flats as I've had in Miami.  And I'm running Kevlar tires on the bikes!  In New England I went YEARS between flats, and that includes Boston and Providence, not just the rural byways of CT.  I had a couple in DC, but that was more snakebiting due to chunks of road debris.  In Miami, I've picked up screws, nails, staples, glass, and more glass.  I'm running the tires at about 110 PSI (125max), like I always do, so they should have a bit of give to them. 

I am truly at a loss. 

On the other hand, I haven't been hit by a car in Miami, although I've been buzzed often enough.  So I'm keeping my misfortunes unmixed. 

Alright alright.  Coffee and trial prep, with fresh strawberries courtesy the Kyaker.

Denial, Perspective, Jail House Lawyering

This is not so much a complaint about my clients, but rather, an observation.  I'm continually struck by how many people think the criminal justice system is an equity court. 

That means people think that things go "on the whole" in front of a judge - on one side of the scale is how the cops acted, how you've been keeping out of trouble, and how your friend jacked you up with his bullshit behavior, while on the other side rests what the cops say you did.  In reality, it's a law court, which means it's about what the state can prove as to the elements (required building blocks) of any crime they accuse someone of.  So all that stuff about what led up to the crime really does not matter in many contexts, nor does the fact that the cops were jerks when they booked you.

I'm just noting this because I've recently had a slew of clients in denial.  I'm thinking of situations where it is a foregone conclusion that something will happen or not happen - I tell 'em this, and there's a kind of bullish pressure forward on the issue regardless.  I'm not talking about innocence or guilt - I'm talking about the pratical realities of what's going to happen in a court of law.

To wit, a condensed and apocryphal conversation, taking place in one of the county jails.

SL: "How does it look?  Dude, they have you on video, they have your DNA, and the cops say you spontaneously admitted you did this.  You have no witnesses, and if you testify, the jury will hear about your 12 prior felony convictions.  You're also facing a probation violation, which means the judge only has to think, "I think there's a 51% chance this guy violated his probation by committing this new crime," before he gets the ability to sentence you to 20 years on your probationary case.  And that's Before we even try the new case, on which you're facing another 30 on top of the 20 for the case you're on probation for.  Furthermore if you go down on the new case, the video/DNA case, there's a 10 year minimum mandatory, which means the absolute lowest the judge can give you is 10 years.  So basically you can't win this, and you're looking at 10min, 50 max if we take this to hearings and trial.  The state's offer is 4 years - just think about it."

Client: "I want my trial.  You can't push a plea on me!"

SL: (20 min rehash of above)

Client: "I want my trial.  You can't push a plea on me!  People told me not to take any pleas from a public prentender - you're not fighting for me."

SL: "Trial it is then.  I hope I'm wrong, but I figure you'll be able to talk about this with your "people" for a very very long time."

Working the Weekend

Whew.  That was a week. 

Although for the first time in two months I didn't actually have to be in court for two of the four days I'm pretty much categorically not supposed to be in court (ugh - parse it), I finished on Friday with a huge calendar, two PVHs, and a Motion to Suppress. 

The motion killed me - the judge ruled for us, then reversed course.  You don't get closer than that. 

Friday was spent in cathartic chilling with some of the best people in my "class" of public defenders.  Most are still languishing in Juvie, but one has come to join me in Felonies.  I'd like them all up.  Life would be easier with them around. 

We went to a couple of good eateries in the design district and the tapas-like (really more small-plate) menu featured quail, bacon, garbanzos, artichokes, croquettes, tomatoes, caperberries, and lots of blue cheese.  I also had a new favorite cocktail: vodka, strawberries, basil, lime, and jalapeño syrup.  Yeah, I know, it's kind of a girlie drink.  But I cry at movies, so how surprising is it that I love this drink?  Unfortunately, it has killed my discretionary spending for the month.  Which is sometimes necessary.  And was in the best of causes.

Today will be a glorious-nothing day.  Coffee, novel, cat, I think. 

Although I'm trying to reserve it for Sunday, I may have to dip into work for a bit, as I got tapped for a Sex Bat (6 counts)/LL (6 counts) for Monday.  This will be my second significant sex crimes case.  When I started I thought I might be conflicted on some categories of crimes, sex-crimes being one.  Turns out I'm actually not.  And that, well, I'm not quite sure what to make of it, beyond it does not seem to implicate my one-case-at-a-time, one-soul-at-a-time focus. 

It's not quite meditative in-the-moment calm.  Nor is it the kind of constant absorb-while-attacking of litigating in court.  Nor it it the sort of blinders-on grind

I'm not sure if this makes me a hedonist or not. 

New Lows?

Today I got the number of a very attractive lady - in the county jail. 

Poem

Advocating the Use of the English Language as a Vehicle for Poetic Expression

 

The days’ awash in catchy lyrics – snippets of song,

the well-turned-whichever about which

we know nothing, but that

we can graft it onto ourselves.   Though not

quite exact – somebody elses’ good line

about heartache is just more flat-broke

than your own sour burbling.   But perhaps

we’re not so alone, even those of us who,

leaning  forehead to window-glass,

repeatedly whisper the single word

which bears our whole confused heart.

Achin' to be

Today is a day of nothing much at all.  Yea!!

I really can't be pulled into projects as they're all waiting on this or that thing.  So, it's me, grits, eggs, salt, pepper, coffee.  There's also El Gato Perfecto and. . .and

As I type this, I get a phone call from a co-worker:

CW "Remember that depo you covered for me?"
SL "Yes?"
CW "There was a motion to suppress you saw?"
SL "Yes?"
CW "Do you remember what it was?"
SL "Erm.  I remember being excited about it.  Do you have my notes in the file?"
(pause)
SL "They aren't legible, are they?"
CW "Nope."
SL "Sigh."

So much for a day of no demands.  Shouldn't take that long though to provide self translation services.  More updates as we get them.

I'm attracting all kinds of trouble apparently, but it's not the trouble I *want*.

Tonight should feature an art gallery, some wine, and perhaps more interesting conversation.  I'm apparently again running afoul of the many faces of Scoplaw problem.  Not very long ago a woman said she was very attracted to me but couldn't date me because I had no moral center.  Now, apparently, according to a friend, I'm coming across as too buttoned up or buttoned down.  I'm trying to think - have I ever done anything bizarre, reckless, stupid, rebellious, socially edgy, or anything along those lines. . .nah.  Probably not.  

4th (july/post-hiatus-post)

Well, the July 4th weekend has arrived, and thusfar it's been quite nice - dinner with The Mayor and family, unexpected work productivity (yeah, yeah) and a hike/ride, sadly gatorless, in the 'glades.  Also, excellent random conversations with a jeweler re: the recession, and some lesbian chicks on a bridge. 

Last July 4th, I hung out with the Cyclist Grrrl and some of her peeps out in unincorporated Miami-Dade lands.  There was beer, trains, and some good jokes/discussions.  We cycled there, which was pretty nice in this car crazy town. 

The Fourth-Before, the CAnarchist and I were chilling in San Diego - ocean side hikes, dolphins, and unfortunate bar study. 

The Third Fourth I spent with Lyco in Charlottesville/Shenandoah - great eating and river hiking and bicycling about (including Monticello).  There was also the horrible rabbit-road bike incident, which everyone survived, thankfully.

The Fourth Fourth was spent on the Potomac river with Lyco, and was mostly DC chill, cook-in/picnic style.  There were swarms of those annoying midges on the river though.  

So there's clearly a hiking/river/bicycling/food pattern going on here.  Which I think is good.  However, this fourth I have not had a really good cheese yet.  All the others featured good cheese.  My sense of subjective time is so screwed up though.  Really, all the prior fourths seem like decades ago.  But I don't think I felt that way even last year.  This was also the first fourth I've had in the same 100 miles as the prior fourth.  Am I fidgety because I've been in the same place too long?  Sigh.  If so, Gods of travel attend me.