Scoplaw

In News of the Weird

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.

Cough-cough

Another jury win.  Cough. 

Walking Wounded

Another week, another trial, another win.  (Yea!)  But I'm sick again.  Meh.  Thank god the jury came back early - I have felt a little delirious since 6pm.  Seems I'm being treated to round two of the the high fever, tickling cough thing.  The morning wasn't so bad, but it got worse as my day went on.  By mid afternoon I was gently coughing through voir dire and it only went downhill from there.

This is a damn bad year.  Already two attorneys in the office got pneumonia (including one trial partner).  My other trial partner is (and has been) in the hospital.  Ack.  Working with the jail population does not help all that much, but what can you do?

Still, I'm proud to say that all of us don't have much "can't" in our makeup.  Which at this point is necessary - the slack keeps getting picked up by anyone around to do it.  I'm really very proud of the people I work with. 

And that's what we call the Bill of Rights. . .

Got the 4th motion today - the state promptly nolle prossed the case, so no jury trial.  Either I'm more tired than I thought or the state's argument didn't make any sense.  I mean, usually I can frame the state's arguments myself (and so prepare for them), but this one I just couldn't follow.  Which is irksome, because I think it sort of made sense.  Maybe.  But I can't tell.  There was one moment at the podium where I actually said, "Your Honor, I'd like to respond, but I have no idea why the state is arguing that particular point."  No matter though - we got the outcome we were after.  And we probably couldn't have done it (the motion was a bit of a stretch initially) if we hadn't been helped out by the officer who became trapped in a lie on the stand and thus shot himself down in front of the judge.  Thank you officer.   

My blogging has slacked since I started the job, I know, but I'm taking a 15 min break at 7:36pm to note such.  I got here this morning at 7:15 or so.  Take out a half hour for lunch and that's a long day of being on your feet in court, followed by mad trial-prep.  And there's more to go.  Apologies to all for not writing/calling anyone this week - the sickness sucked up all my free time.  I am feeling better now though.  And my trial partner only sounds like he's trying to cough up 1/3rd of his lung.  So there's improvement all around. 

Tomorrow is another trial day, and while we're set for trial, I also expect we'll both be glad to see Thurs. and Fri. come around (unless, of course, we're rolling a trial case along.) 

In other news, I have shaved off the beard.  This has prompted a lot of interested inquiries.  The anwser I think it's best to use, when responding to the various, "Why did you do it?" questions, is "Spiritual crisis."  But seriously - the hair grows, it gets cut, sometimes very close to the skin, sometimes a bit further out.  I think that makes me pretty much no different than anybody else out there.

Situated

The PD's office here gives a month's paid leave for those of us who need to take the winter bar exam (I don't).  Which is pretty awesome. Unfortunately, it also means people getting shuffled about to fill gaps. 

Well, I shouldn't really say "unfortunately," although I am sad one of the fab four from my division is now going to be across the hallway in another courtroom for at least a month. 

Also, as part of the various moves, I'm now in an office with a window.  A window juuust wide enough for a desperate public defender to squeeze through.  Oh - and my caseload is higher as well.  Is someone trying to tell me something about my recent performance?   And just who had this office before I did anyway? 

More updates as we get them. 

(PS - working in natural light can't be beat.  Plus I have a nice view of the city and the canal.)

And on. . .

Second NG jury trial tonight - that's 2 in 24hrs.  And tomorrow is a trial day.  More when I surface for air.  I did get a nice compliment though.  The state attorney said I make his heart race every time I step up to the podium on an MJOA.  I assumed he was talking about a panic response, but he may just like the new beard. 

The Trial Wheel

Got to go with my old clinic partner who was pressed into service following our slightly nutso setting of 61 cases for trial and the splintering of our division to judges who could take our trial cases.  (We literally had witnesses lined up out the door.)

I had a trial case shifted in front of another judge, bade my other guys farewell (and happy resets due to my non-fungibeness) and off we went. 

I'm happy to say that so soon after bitching about it I finally got to do a non-reactive voir dire.  I should bitch more comprehensively on the blog from now on. 

My former (now currentest?) partner was brilliant, and we ended up with a not guilty about 20 minutes after the jury retired.  But the impressive thing it was 20 minutes after pizza had been delivered to the jury room at the 5 minute mark.  Well, maybe it was a bit longer - all I know is that when I stopped stuffing myself the jury came back with the verdict shortly thereafter.

I think we made a good pair.  According to the jury I was "very calm" and "everyone understood what I said."  They thought my trial partner was "aggressive" to the point where it was a criticism - but he was on cross and had to be.  I thought he was fantastic - and it's hard to argue the results.

The Schweetness

OK - the prime sweetness in my recent life: MJOA1 granted. 

For non-lawyers, a motion for a judgment of acquittal occurs when the state rests their case. You turn to the judge and say "this just isn't enough."  As you might expect, it's tricky to actually pull off, given that the state usually brings (arguably) enough - otherwise they'd drop the case before they begin.  And that's the standard - if it's at all arguable that what the state's brought *might* be enough, the trial moves on. 

And still, we got it.  My Trial Partner was an under-the-radar marvel on cross - I don't think the witness or the state saw our argument coming.  During our hectic prep session, when it seemed like we might develop some traction for our argument, I looked up from my stack of interlocking and delicately balanced case law, still warm from the printer, and told the TP, "I need this, that, this, that, and this.  But absolutely no more or less."  And he went right out and got it as though he was strolling down the aisles of a supermarket.  Pluck, pluck, pluck, done. 

In retrospect, my actual argument could have been much stronger and comprehensive - or more streamlined and to the point.  It was somewhere in the middle and (again!) I fell into the trap of not exploring every branch of my argument, but only focusing on what I thought was most compelling.  But honestly, I  never really have the time I'd *prefer* to develop my arguments for cases, given the fact that, well, I have other responsibilities both to other clients and in the trial itself.  The nice thing is that if I touch this issue again in the future, I'll be starting from a more nuanced sense of the law in this particular area. 

All in all though, what's not to like?

**

*Someday* I will do a non-truncated voir dire with a jury panel that:

1) is not on the verge of (sleeping/bolting for the door) after the state's voir dire.

2) actually engages 'em.  (See 1).

3) does not involve me saying "Pardon me, but would you like some kind of compress for your bleeding ears?"  (See 1).

4) is not focused on rehabilitating.  (See 1).

We got a pretty sweet jury (I thought).  Perhaps that's all that counts.

**

I almost killed by boss by zipping out of the courtroom to ask a question of a retreating police officer.  Well, the door I flung open almost killed him.  So any credit gained by my recent work was probably erased via the contusion.  I think there's some kind of doctrinal name for this.

**

One cannot make shortbread without sugar.  The stupid try, but the clever notice this before the butter is creamed.  I think I'm very clever.  Well, clever on the subjective standard for "someone who beings baking projects without making a proper inventory."  And this is a real story, not a comment about the first section of my post.  I'm re-fridging the butter as I type.  And making a grocery store list for tomorrow.

OK - back to trial prep.

Crazy Plan First Concocted Somewhere in GA, circa 2003, Comes to Fruition

Hmm.  Am I filling out an order to have an AIDS test given in jail?  Or perhaps a clever Order to Grant a Motion to Vacate?  Speedy Trial Demand?  Transportation Order?  Notice of Expiration?  Motion to Dismiss?  Nope - that'd be my Oath of Attorney.   

It was short but sweet - a good end to a long day.  I think the best part was the 12 women in orange (my clients) applauding in the box, chains gently clanking.  One then immediately says: "Congratulations - but could you check my jail card and make *sure* I'm getting out?"

Other salient points:

- I may not be able to mail said oath to the FL Board of Bar Examiners on my APD salary, as I have spent this month's discretionary income on some ice cream.

- I should consider buying some Just For Men for those mid and close range encounters, where the gray is really coming alive. Also, while everyone seems to like the beard, it just does not photograph well. 

- (and this is actually salient, not frivolous) I was fortunate enough to be sworn in by a judge whom I very much appreciate and respect.  Her thorough and patient approach to legal research and argumentation has really given me the latitude to grow as an attorney - in no small part because I know she *also* puts in the long hours wrestling with legal issues.  And as a very young attorney, I appreciate that immensely.  Case in point - late last night, while preparing for today's calendar, I saw an oddball charge which I'd never seen before.  So I printed out the statute, found some analogous case law (there was nothing on point), and prepared my argument to address what I thought were some oddities in the charge.   I didn't get to say much of anything though, or present my "clever" arguments, because the judge had already beaten me to the punch by doing the same research (and having reached the same conclusion). 

 

And on a Slightly-More-Serious-But-Rambly Note (with Parenthetical Asides)

I’m going to head into work now, after a day of getting small house-projects done. I’ll be using substandard resources (no one would choose *this* level of resources to defend themselves) in an attempt to defend individuals constitutional rights and freedoms, to say nothing of their basic not-being-in-a-metal-cage-liberties, in front of an increasingly accepting and uncritical public. It’s the best job; it’s the worst job. But what else would I want to do with myself in the early 21^st century America? I hope my (frankly, highly theoretical) grandkid’s kids would not think me too much of a placidly embarrassing exemplar of this particular generation.

A lot of law-school-friend/acquaintance news has just rolled in, given the NY and CA bar announcements, which has sent me wool gathering. The juxtaposition of the reality of my job and my (thankfully fading) memories of law school is just plain scary. I must note, that some-small-bit out of law school, my opinions on the general ridiculousness/ineffectiveness of law school have not changed.  It’s rare that you see someone who brings their heart out of law school indoctrination in the same condition (I know I haven’t), unless, of course, your heart is so shaped that it can always and only hold a faux-race-neutral, empty-Christian, late 19^th Century Capitalism, expressed by combatively engaging others who disagree with you.  Meh. 

Where do we find the robust humanism which must inform both law and justice for us to survive as a moral and loving people? Everywhere I think, but in case-law. It’s certainly found in the small and normal acts of humanity expressed in the face of the very artificial law/law school/bar exam standards.

Thus I wanted to thank all the student blawgers, legal blawggers, and particularly the criminal law bloggers, who share themselves (aspects of themselves) with us. The most grand universal principals are always and only embodied in the particular, not matter how banal those particulars may seem to some. It means a fair bit to hear how you all feel about the profession, even if it’s via the tribulations of dry cleaning.  We all need to be reminded that people do these jobs – and that lawyers, judges, victims and defendants are, above all, people.

Of course, I’m proud of all my fellow law students who kept their soundly-emoting hearts, which is probably the vast bulk of Section 3 (including Section 3’s of the past, and I pray, the future). When professors, intentionally or not, provide a model for one-upmanship and snarky commentary by focusing on (when you think about it) unsystematic legal rationales (sans any equitable analysis) drawn seemingly blindly out of caselaw, AND you’re set head-to-head with your classmates for jobs which depend on your coming out ahead (just ahead) of your fellows in regurgitating those “principles”. . .well, it’s just plain remarkable how the core of Section 3 comported itself in the first year and beyond.  I think we’ll appreciate this more and more as we go. (Of course, one can be in Section Other and not prove yourself an asshole, as so many of our fellows showed.)

And (to continue my ramble by leaping about in quasi-related topics) I am happy to report that nearly  everyone I’ve heard from seems to have passed their various bars. I know a lot of you tried to keep your sanity through it all by actively resisting the BarBri Fear Mongers and the general snarkiness of law students, and (see above) I appreciate that and am glad you survived and passed and can stand in front of judges. I am also hella-glad (I keep saying this, but believe me, the pressure brings out random parts of you. . .) for those who helped us do this. 

Although all these bar-passages are significant accomplishments, I wanted to make a special shout out to the CAnarchist who got her good news yesterday. Although there are many unblogables here, I think I *can* say that there was a point where she really didn’t know if she should spend the money/time on this particular round of the CA bar, which is arguably the hardest bar in the country. She was behind the prep curve and had multiple friends (who had failed the CA bar) cautioning her not to get her hopes up. So, for her to have decided to go forward anyway, then cranked CA, well, that says something.  (We have the same job on different oceans, which kind of tickles me – defending from sea to shining sea. We may soon be joined by the James Bond Watch, provided he does not get assigned to do his JAG defender stuff overseas.)

And to all my friends who may not have (yet!) passed the bar of their choice, let me say that a difficult test is just that – a difficult test. Take a pause. Think about the worthwhile things you’ve accomplished; those non-multiple-choice-testable things like treating people right and being a good person. Have faith in who you are beyond the assessment of a bar examiner. Then take the damn thing again and rock it.

(PS – if anyone is thinking about taking the FL bar, feel free to drop me a line.  Ditto for anyone thinking about interning/interviewing at our office.  I also have a West Palm PD contact who I can refer you to - no guarantees though.)