Not Much News, but Much Blinking

It's been a long hard week of nothing much at all. 

Most of the week's energy was spent being a backup on a colleague's trial involving a former client of mine.   But not really.  It's kind of complicated to explain, but I'll start with our practice of backing each other up in trial. 

First off, I have to say it's a simply awesome lift to your spirits when you're working hard right before a trial and 4 other APDs float in to say, "Hey, any last minute issues I can pull case-law on?  Can I get you guys some food?  Anything I can do to help?"  It's clearly the right way to practice in our relatively small division, and it's something (in my opinion) we as a group are especially good at.  I think it's made a huge difference in some trials - having an instant research team to run right out and get something.

Usually my courtroom is the one that benefits from people coming in because we tend to go to trial more often than any other courtroom, plus we work longer calendars in court and thus start trials later in the day than anyone else.   However, now that we're up to full strength, we have the option of leaving the courtroom during our regular day (if we can) and helping out elsewhere.

On that particular day, we had to deal with the fallout from my colleague's trial.  It worked like this; for various good reasons, one APD replaced another APD on that trial.  This replacement created a sort of domino effect because the replacement APD's courtroom had to be covered and yet another trial APD had called in sick.  (So we couldn't just swap APDs - we were short).  We had one trial going, another which was set on calendar last minute which might have gone, and a third more regular trial which also might have gone. 

The result was that, instead of gophering full-time on the first case, I ended up being co-counsel on the third case.  It was a really good fit.  While I would have been in front of that particular judge for the first time, I had seen the judge in trial before.  However, I was going up against   one of my old prosecutors, and I was very comfortable with the facts of the case, the charges, and the applicable caselaw.  I was also very much looking forward to doing a trial with the APD of record in that court-room - she and I had never been to trial together.

Well, it turned out that the second case was nolle prossed after the state reviewed a video of the event.  A video they had.  It was about an hour away from picking a jury.  Blink. 

The third trial case (mine) was (in my estimation) an impossible-to-prove case for the State.  So I kind of liked it.  And, all the sweeter, we had that APD to pitch in from the now-dead second case.  I had also never been to trial with her before, and she's a rockstar.  So we prepped fully, were ready, and went right down to the wire. 

Blink. The State announced a nolle pross minutes before we were going to pick a jury. 

The Judge wasn't too happy with this behavior from what I gathered, but I was out the door on my way to  that stressful first trial case as the dressing-down of the State began.

I watched the remaining case (the first trial case) and was available to be a gopher.  It was a slugfest that ended with a single granted MJOA and Not Guilties on the final two charges.

The end result was that everyone had everyone else's back and my colleague got a NG for the client who had set all this in motion.  While we're non-fungible, in these cases it all made sense due to previous client contacts, counsel of record staying on the case, and so forth.  (It would make for an even more boring post to list all that out though.)  I'm proud that there was so much unselfish and behinds the scenes effort.  I told you all that I work with a good bunch of people. 

** 

While we didn't get to go to trial this week in our courtroom, the State also ended up pulling their  last-minute nolle pross stunt in my courtroom.  After being set for trial and declaring ready (witnesses on standby), the State sweetened their offer just before we called in a jury.  It was really the best offer the State could make short of dropping the case.  However, our client stood strong and said that this new sweeter offer was still bitter and that a trial was the only way to resolve this.  (Client also expressed great faith in us - one of the best clients we've had in this regard.)

Blink.  30 seconds later, the State announces a nolle pross.  State gets taken to task about the problem of sweetening an offer but not being ready to go to trial 30 seconds later.  What if our client had bit?  Would that be justice?  What if the client had gone pro se?  These are troubling questions to my mind.

During the discussion that followed the nolle pross, when the prosecutor was saying something, I raised my eyebrow.  The result was an on-the-record gem: "Just for the record, I'm announcing this nolle pross because I can't be certain my witness (on standby) will be here.  It's not because I'm afraid to go to trial."

Oh no - couldn't be that, could it?

Sometimes the best trials are the ones that don't happen for very specific reasons. 

Welcome Back (again) Recidivists

Some clients you know you'll see again.  You hope you won't, but you know you will.  And, in a division with as rich a history as ours, sometimes our division alumni will reminisce about certain clients, with the attendant speculative curiosity about where fate has taken them. 

For example, Client X was recently released by our hard work.  (Everyone who has worked our division has had Client X at one point or another.)  A Division Alumnus (DA) saw Client X on the street and called to congratulate me on getting Client X out and wondered how long it would last.   

However, by the time I got this call Client X was already back in.  Division Alumnus thought the next time I was able to get Client X out (if at all possible) he'd only be out for two weeks or so.  I said I couldn't even guess. 

Well, I got Client X out, but here's the tragic thing - he didn't even make it *out of the building* before getting re-arrested over some alleged incident that occurred while he was claiming his property.  That's fast.  And I don't even know if it counts as "out."

**

Some PDs get frustrated by this - I don't really.  It's disappointing on some kind of sympathetic level, sort of like the embarrassment you feel when you suspect others are embarrassed.  But, given just who are clients often are, it's completely understandable.  While we'd all like to represent the well-mannered, articulate, intelligent, virtuous, clean, humble, and easy-to-work-with poor, the fact of our country is that poverty feeds and is fed by low educational levels, psychological dysfunctions, emotional disturbances, personal challenges, addictions of various sorts, and, often self-destructive behavior.  I don't mean to suggest that I haven't had wonderful human beings as clients - I have.  Nor do I mean to suggest that poverty is the just punishment of the poor or anything as perverse as that. 

What I do mean to suggest is that you have to expect that some clients will come back.  And that they'll come back in ways that seem particularly avoidable or tragically cruel.  And while plenty of people will be able to judge them for this (in one way or another) they only get one advocate to help them out of their immediate troubles - and that's you. 

**

In a related note, I love arrest forms written about people in jail.  They always include the standard lines like "Defendant taken into custody and transported to jail without incident."  The defendant is ALREADY in jail!   You sir, are now *more* in jail. 

Roman Holiday

We're in that rare group of PDs who actively hope for trial.  Didn't happen this week, but in our cases set for trial, no one took anything worse than credit-time-served.  At one point we were down to two clients whom the state begged the court to warn about their potential time in jail and on probation for their various charges.  Both our defendants had faith in us, themselves, and their cases and refused to back down from their "we're taking this to trial, damnit" posture.  End result - the state ended up dropping both cases.  Good times.

Also in the Schadenfreude category - Roger Clemens, aka Fat Billy.  I think Hardin's next move ought to be holding a press conference where Clemens goes into a roid rage and beats something small and inoffensive to death.  Because that could only improve things.

New Highs and Lows

Appointed as back-up counsel to a pro se defendant today.  It was painful - I could have done so much with it instead of grinding my teeth and muttering most of the time.  All in all our pro se didn't do that badly, even when faced with an attitudinal aggressive officer.

End result - one guilty charge, one not guilty, but no incarceration. 

And, I got to hear the following: The court needs to ask a question to resolve an ambiguity:  what are "booty shorts?"  Our clerk was turning purple from some strongly (but not deeply) suppressed emotion. 

Even though it's only Monday, I'm pretty sure that's the quote of the week. 

To PD or not to PD?

Heard an interesting argument for IDing yourself as a PD to a jury.  Assume that juries think criminal defense attorneys are liars, but PDs are simply incompetent (perhaps not even lawyers).  You can prove yourself competent to a jury by the end of trial, but you may not be able to convince them that you're not a liar.  Thoughts?

Justice?

I think this is a somewhat timely post, given the local brouhaha going on over at the Justice Building Blog, plus random comments conveyed to me via the PDs, plus stuff I’ve heard myself from various parties. Anyway, I’d like to write a bit about roles and justice – especially for those non-lawyers who read the blog.  And if a few of the confused lawyers (and such) read it, so much the better.

Unlike the UK, we have an adversarial system of representation. There’s certainly a number of historical reasons for that. Basically it means that each “side” in the courtroom is represented by an advocate whose job it is to “work” for that side, to speak for that side. Each side acts as a check on the other. In the context of civil litigation, this makes sense and is easy to conceptualize. In the context of criminality, it’s a bit harder given of the “sides” and the relative resources of each.

Let’s start with the defendant in a criminal case. The accused person has just one person advocating for them – that’s their attorney. The criminal defense attorney can certainly advise their client as to what they might like to do with their case, or what they should think about doing with their lives. (And believe me, nearly all of us, myself included, engage in these discussions with our clients.)

And yet from a systemic perspective, it’s unwise to give too much power to the criminal defense attorney because of the client’s basic dependency on the attorney. Think about it – do you want your freedom, liberty, criminal record, in the hands of a stranger who might be professionally tied into the courtroom by currying favor with a judge or appeasing the prosecution? A stranger who might personally disapprove of the choices you’re making, or the kind of life you’re living. No way! Instead  you’d absolutely want a zealous advocate who is going to help you meet your goal, be it getting out of jail, telling your story in front of a jury of your peers, or working to get you into a drug program.

Given this, certain basic decisions, including whether or not to testify, whether or not to accept a plea offer, and whether or not to keep on retaining their attorney, reside solely with the accused.  Further, these decisions are hard wired by certain ethical stipulations – for example, the defense attorney must always convey any plea offer to the client (although we will then certainly advise them as to whether or not it’s a good offer).

On the other hand, certain “strategic” decisions, such as whether/when to file any given motion remain with the defense attorney (although the client can, and often does, participate in making those decisions as well.)  The basic systemic tension is between allowing a client to direct what they ultimately want to do with a case and allowing their representative to effectively work for them by allowing some latitude to exercise their specialized training and understanding of the court.

Thus, it is ethically improper for a defense attorney to do certain things, including, obviously, sell out their client to the state because the defense attorney happens to think the client did the act they are being charged with. In fact, the defense attorney is very constrained – often you want to share information you think might be tactically helpful, but you can’t because the client has forbidden you to share it.

Basically, the defense attorney must zealously advocate for the accused and is constrained in ways that protect the client.

My personal judgment of the client’s activities and goals MUST be as irrelevant as I can possibly make them, insofar as they might color how I go about defending a case. There are also certain other basic ethical considerations a defense attorney must honor such as not lying to the court. (On the other hand we are often ethically forbidden to divulge certain matters to the court, because to do so would harm the client – in those situations the correct response is to say nothing, even when questioned by the court. The prosecution can supply information if they wish.)

**

On the other hand, the opposing “side” is the State. The State is kind of a tricky concept. Basically, it’s “the people,” including the defense attorney and the accused.   (See how this gets murky?)

Representing the State are the prosecutors. They have lots of resources at their disposal, including the police. Think about that. Using these resources, they have the power to bring cases and to discharge cases, which is a tremendous responsibility. Unlike the defense, this responsibility is constrained not by a balance between the client’s wishes and the attorney’s skill, but by a mandate to do justice.

The reason that’s so is because the client, “the people,” are not a homogenous bunch.   A “victim” of a crime, who might feel horribly offended or violated, or completely amused and indifferent, might want one thing to occur. (The reason why I quote-mark “victim” is because some crimes, like selling paper flowers for a dollar at a bus-stop really seem to have no articulable “victim” who can stand before the court and say, “I am the victim of this crime, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury.”)  The politicians might want another which completely opposes the wishes of the “victim.” The general community the “victim” comes from might want a third. The accused’s general community might want a fourth. So on, so forth. It’s hard to say just who is a prosecutor’s client (because everyone really is), so prosecutors have to mediate between a number of competing interests.

Prosecutors have additional constraints. For example, besides simply not wasting tax money pursing frivolous cases (ahem, see flower-selling example above – yes, it’s a real case), the prosecutors have a general responsibility to not wrongfully convict someone on the basis of, for example, police testimony the prosecutor knows to be false. They also, as officers of the court, should not be eroding constitutional liberties by pushing cases that violate the basic constitutional rights of the accused. (Not that I’ve *ever* seen a prosecutor turn around, before a judge made a ruling, and say, “the officer clearly violated the accused rights – I’m dropping the case.” However, I did see a case where the prosecutor dismissed the case because the victim couldn’t identify the accused – a great example of the prosecution honoring their mandate to do justice.)

And that’s the basic lay of the land.  Defense is client focused and constrained via the client’s rights. Prosecution is “community” focused and has a mandate to balance how they go about things.

**

However some people often forget this and get wound up in “Justice Being Done,” which is usually framed in some 1 in 10,000 situation where a factually guilty person goes free “via a technicality” and further burdens society by committing the same crime. The boogyman for this is not someone who is drinking in public every third week, but the serial-stranger-rapist, the random-targeting-child-molester, and the spree-killer. The basic emotional argument is “we have to tighten the rules before these people slip out and hurt you and yours.” You’ve heard it on TV. You’ll hear it again.

Let me tell you why it’s a problematic argument.

First, the criminal justice system processes a huge number of people. When we tighten “the rules” to catch the extreme case (assuming such a tightening would actually catch the extreme case), we affect all the non-extreme cases we see every day.

For example, there’s currently a county ordinance that makes it illegal for a registered sex offender to live within 2500 yards of a school, day care, or playground. While that “sounds fine” on the face of it, it means that sex offenders are only allowed to live in a few places in the county – including camping out in areas under highway interchanges. Plus, there are a number of sex offenders who, for instance, had fully consensual sexual contact (not even sex) with a 16 year old when they were 19.  Does it make sense to put all those people under bridges? Not really at all.  What about when that 19 year old is 65? Further, is there any evidence that such a law actually deters child molestation? Nope. Sad, but no.

I’d talk about criminal process rules being tightened, but it’s a bit technical. The result is still the same – every rolling back of a basic right, every exception that gets added on, erodes everyone’s rights.  The reason you might not see this yourself is addressed below.

Second, as mentioned, these “technicalities” are our basic rights. We need these rights to push back at a culture of presumptive illegality. Dear Reader, think about every time you’ve broken the law by rolling through a stop sign. Or perhaps you were .0001% over the limit (but were effectively unimpaired) when you drove back from the holiday party. Or you scalped a ticket. Or bought a scalped ticket. Or God forbid once smoked a cigarette as a 16yr old. Or a joint in college. Or drove somebody home who had a joint in their pocket. Or had a beer before you were 21. Or (believe it or not) co-habitated with someone you weren’t married to. (A client of mine was charged under this statute.) Or you littered. 

The point is that were the state to find every “factually guilty” person in the state, we’d probably all be doing some kind of time.

Instead the State routinely manages to convict impoverished ethnic minorities, with the occasional white homeless person thrown in.

(Let me tell you I see 0 university/college students in my courtroom – and not to generalize, but you’d think if the state were serious about drug use and underage drinking, they might once in awhile find a single college student who violated these laws. But somehow they just don’t.)

You figure it out.  You call it what you will. Personally, I call it racism.  But let’s not get so hung up on the label that we pretend the basic facts don’t exist. They do.

So to put this together, when we “tighten” things, we’re only tightening them for a certain subset of the population, even though, I guess, they’re technically “tightened” for all of us.

When the prosecutors rail that someone they “know” (l love that) is guilty has gotten out because the police violated their 5th amendment rights, I just don’t know what to say.

Actually I do, but I’ll let you all figure out what to say for yourselves.

**

In my opinion, too often prosecutors fail at their basic ethical duties. And if you think about it, were they to adhere to them, they’d only be brining clean, strong cases against defendants. Instead every time a defendant has a case dismissed via a motion, or through an MJOA, or a jury comes back quickly with a Not Guilty, that should tell you something about the quality of the case the prosecutor was brining against the defendant. Meaning, it was a bad one. And anecdotally, let me say that were police activities videotaped, I’m certain there would be far more cases getting dismissed, and we’d get much better police work, targeted at the most important criminal violations.

Lastly, I’d like to point out two additional things.

One – the defense loses. A lot. Jails are filling up at a record rate, and there just seems to be more and more crime. Usually in poor neighborhoods the condos are moving into.  (Snort.)  90% of these criminals seem to be either ethnic minorities, impoverished, or both. So don’t think people aren’t being locked up at a record rate, even with our still existent Constitutional rights, with all those “technicalities.”

Two – if every time the defense lost, the state put the same amount of money just spent toward providing schools, housing, jobs, health-care (including psychological services), and some culture to defray our hyper-materialistic, corporately focused, have/have-not society, well, let’s just say we might see some Actual Justice Being Done.  (I’d dearly love to be laid off due to lack of work. I so very dearly would.)

It's not the heat, it's the humidity

Or, in my world, not the caseload but the turnover.   I've been in my courtroom for about 45 days - in that time I have had a total of 316 clients.  That works out to 1 case every 3.4 hours.  Which I think is an interesting statistic, considering I use some of those hours for sleep 'n stuff.  (The 40 hour work week makes that 1 case every 40 minutes.) 

Sunday

Doing trial prep on Sunday - and it's odd how the brain just connects things.

For example, last night I watched Dirty Harry after attending a friend's BD party.  While prepping I'm playing Siouxsie and the Banshees' JuJu. 

I blame these elements for the totally odd Voir Dire questions I'm tempted to ask.  Do you feel lucky?  I mean, really, do you?  I think you have to be that certain, certain beyond a reasonable doubt.

Loss of Liberty

As with many things, I’m pressed for time, although things are not quite so unrelenting-task-grim as they have been these past few months.  For example, last night featured dinner at a Hatian place in South Beach called Tap Tap. It’s worth the visit. After dinner I strolled around South Beach with a fellow PD (moniker forthcoming) and we chatted about any number of things as I got the tour. 

South Beach is fun.  Populated by backless dresses and small accessory dogs, it’s rich and venal, which begs contrast to the neighborhood I live in, Overtown. Not that I feel I really “live in” the neighborhood per se. I’m in a condo on the edge of the more depressed area, and thus am part of the gentrifying forces. I wish there was more local business/employment for me to route my wages though, but there’s not really even that. 

Anyway, all professions have their cants, their specialized tongues. Usually the common person is silent before them – who wants to ask stupid questions like “what does that noun/phrase you just used *mean*?” One of the things I want to observe is how legal language and concepts interact with juries. Hopefully I will be in front of 3 person misdemeanor juries fairly soon. 

Actually, let me take a moment to clarify something. I want the jury experience. I want to do well for my clients. But if before each trial, the magic trial-fairy were to appear to me and offer me a plea that was better than the trial outcome, I would *always* recommend my client choose the plea, no matter how much it might set me back developmentally as a trial lawyer. I realize in the real world you don’t get to make recommendations to your client from that kind of hypothetically perfect knowledge of what a trial outcome would actually be. I just wanted to be clear that I view the vocation as a service to others, not as a means to accrue skills, and hopefully my client counseling will always reflect that.

So, back to legal vocabulary. I hear ‘loss of liberty’ used in the courthouse. I’ve used it myself. But I often wonder if someone sitting in the jury box really knows what that means, what the “loss of liberty” truly costs a person.

Apropos of Skelly’s quote below, I often wonder if they know what the accused may have endured, just to get to this point. To take a step back, here’s a quick overview of the “cost” of a criminal accusation (just the accusation, not a conviction).  Please bear in mind this is a general thumbnail, given the kinds of crimes people are accused of, and the local rules, there can be greater or lesser costs.

When someone is merely accused of a crime, costs instantly attach. 

First, the accused bears some social burden which is recognized in our basic formalities.  One must disclose if one is facing criminal charges to certain entities. In some cases, even if you’re found “not guilty” or the state drops the charges, you will *still* have to disclose the arrest to certain employers, *even if* the record is “sealed.” In the internet age, you’re one google search away from someone finding out you’ve had “a brush” with the law.

Second, the accused will probably bear a burden of anxiety/stress as well – should the charge be proven, their life may well become derailed. Any future plans must be reconsidered, and some, should certain  charges be proven, will simply be precluded. Say, for example, joining the military to “straighten one’s self out.” 

Third, the accused might be held in jail before the trial actually happens. Sometimes the accused are released on their own recognizance (promise to return), sometimes into supervised programs, sometimes bail is required.  (There are different types of bail/bonding, but basically the accused might have to pay money to be allowed out of jail, prior to their trial.)

Now if you’re held before trial and can’t get out on bail, you’d better pray that you’ve got an understanding employer, an understanding landlord, and good friends who can get your stuff into storage and shut off your electric bill. Good luck with those car payments also.

Casual readers, please think about calling your boss collect and saying – “Hey, I was in this situation last night with an old friend from High School who is a bit of a head-case. Anyway, the upshot is that I’m in jail pending trial and I may be here for anywhere up to 6 months, depending on how the attorneys develop the case.” Seriously. 

But the good news is you’re innocent until proven guilty. I mean, we haven’t really started yet.

**

So  - the “loss of liberty.” “Liberty” itself sounds grand – an old word on an old document.  And surely the “loss of liberty” must be simply getting locked up for a bad thing you’ve done; you do your time, you come out, having paid your cost to society, and things are squared off. 

Not really. It’s a lot stickier than that.

First off, it’s true you do the time. But you do it in cramped, smelly, dangerous conditions, surrounded by desperate guys.  Personally, I have to say I don’t like large groups of guys. Be they found in locker rooms, sporting areas, or bars, large groups of guys often create trouble. But that’s an aside. Your food will stink. You’ll have little contact with those you love. Your medical conditions might go untreated or be under-treated.  You’ll have no privacy. I’m sure, if you imagine, really imagine, what that must be like, you’ll see it’s not as clean or simple sounding as “a loss of liberty.” 

The physical reality of incarceration is a far more profound thing than “a loss of privileges” or “a loss of enjoyments.” You don’t end up in some “neutral” space where your life is put on hold, where you miss television episodes and shopping at the mall, where you can spend time thinking about what you’ve done wrong. 

Incarceration goes *beyond* having someone else telling you how to run life for awhile. It’s the subjugation of one’s self in a very artificial and negative environment – the kind of environment no one would choose for themselves to be in, the kind of environment that will probably *not* make you a better person, and will probably actually scar and burden you when you are eventually released. 

Second, contrasted to the environment you’re hopefully enduring, there’s the cost of what you’re missing. While you are incarcerated, be it for a month or a year or five years, the world goes on. 

All your outside relationships and possessions are subject to the whims of the world, and the longer you are in, the more you will lose. Apartment, house, car, job, friends, experiences. Your personal relationships will become attenuated or break. Think of all the things that have happened to you and your friends in the past 5 years. That’s what you’d be missing. Holidays, birthdays, marriages, deaths, funerals, births – and beyond that, the general tenor of life that all these “events” punctuate.  You cannot help or care for your friends and family. You cannot use any of these tragic or joyous events to grow, to better yourself, to get things right, to take a step forward towards the kind of person you want to be. And that costs both yourself and everyone close to you.

If you have children, it’s doubly tragic. Your incarceration will affect them as much (or possibly more) than it will you. Who knows what kind of burdens *they* will bear from the experience? Who knows what doors will be shut for them? You know it’s not going to *help* them in any way.

Again, “loss of liberty” goes beyond simply “taking someone off the streets” – this is taking someone from their parent’s presence, from their children’s presence, from their most fundamental and essential community. 

Lastly, there are post-release costs.

When you do finally get out, you’ll probably be subject to all kinds of restrictions. You may have to drug test, to report to someone, to register your address and give notice of your movements, to attend programs, to reapply for licenses (driver’s or otherwise). Failure to do these things will probably result in *more* time in prison.

Honestly, I’m an educated guy, and I, in college, with time on my hands and no job to work didn’t make *every single one* of the various appointments I scheduled when I was in school. Did you?  (Stuff comes up.) It only takes one missed appointment for someone to be sent back in for more time. I’ve seen that happen.

Plus, post conviction, avenues will be excluded to you – some places won’t rent to you, hire you, or extend you credit.  You’re fresh out, want to put your past behind you by getting a job and working hard? Good luck. You’ll be tagged as a criminal for the rest of your life. When you’re 80, trying to get into a nursing home, you’ll still have to note your convictions on your form.

**

I suspect “loss of liberty” will sound to some like “loss of library privilege” – but incarceration is something that runs deep into multiple lives.

**

A lot of you have expressed some positive sentiments toward me – basically because I’m forgoing a lot of money (legal wages) to work in a public defender’s office. I very much appreciate hearing that.  (Although I don’t think it’s nearly as difficult or as noble as the things I’ve seen my client’s attempt.) 

I only mention this because if you did want to act on those sentiments, and do something for me (and all of us, honestly), I’d ask you to have a short conversation with a friend or a co-worker about what it means to be locked up, if the debate should really be about how many years we give people for bad acts, or if there’s a better solution for us as a people.

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  • First off, I’m not your lawyer. This is a strictly personal weblog which muses both on legal issues and my personal experiences. Writing to me does not make me your lawyer. Asking questions of me does not make me your lawyer. Any writings in this blog (or any links from it) are simply not legal advice, either generally, or in reference to anyone’s specific circumstances. Do not rely on anything you read here as a definitive statement of the law or as legal advice. Laws vary from place to place. If you have legal questions or require legal advice, contact a local lawyer, or better, several lawyers. All comments here reflect the changing views (such as they are) of the author, not my employer or any other person or party.

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