just got dumped

which may be fodder for renewed posting.  Still trying to figure it all out.

on being a public defender: you should also be something else

I've been working hard at trying to value myself through something other than my job.  I'm working hard trying not to rely on my job for deriving my sole source of pride or accomplishment.  The reason for that is because this job sucks.  I am a smart, hard-working, personable attorney.  However, no matter how much time or favorable law or civility or hard work I bring to the job, the outcome feels so predestined.  I often feel that I could accomplish the same results by caring less, working less, using the law less, being less prepared, and having nothing more than a high school diploma.

 

My work environment is part of the problem.  Because the volume tends to be high in my jurisdiction, there are a lot of prosecutors, a lot of lawyers, a high turnover rate for judges and prosecutors and defense attorneys.  I take my professional reputation very seriously, and it's important to me that the people who interact with me can at least respect me if they don't like me.  I'd rather they didn't like me, actually, but just respected me.  Recently, I've been offended by some judges because I expected that they saw how hard I worked, that I had integrity, that I afforded the court and the proceedings appropriate deference and respect, and that therefore when I needed some leeway (more time to find witnesses, or file a motion, or when I didn't appear on my own cases one day because oh, I WAS OUT SICK ONE DAY THIS ENTIRE YEAR) that this leeway would be granted. Not being the type of attorney to abuse these things, I thought I was owed at least that.  Apparently I hold no such regard in the eyes of others.

 

The law is not often on my side, so when it is, I expect you not to do disingenuous legal gymnastics to avoid ruling in my favor.  You can so easily rule against me within the bounds of the law, every single day.  Why thwart the law unnecessarily?

 

I've known this before, but I recently have had to remind myself of this constantly: this job cannot be my life.  A job this abusive and demoralizing and sad and illogical cannot be what I base my happiness and self-worth upon.  I've invested so much of my life in social justice and social causes that I'm not sure what else I enjoy.  I'm reading a lot more now, which is great, and I'm trying to make exercise a non-waivable priority, and I'm getting into music a lot more than I have been in recent years.  I've been to two museums, one choral concert, and one play in the past 6 weeks or so.  I cook a lot more.

 

The other thing I can't quite explain is that I would rather that other people in the courthouse didn't know who I really am.  With these social networking sites, or just being within close living and working proximity to my adversaries and to judges, I've suddenly realized that I don't want these people anywhere near the real, complete me.  I don't go to the bar when I know everyone else is going to be there anymore.  I thought at first that maybe knowing each other better would be good, but I don't trust it.  I don't trust that these people wouldn't use it to their advantage, or take the opportunity to further estrange us.  (Ever had a prosecutor sidle up alongside you and be all, "But you know your clients are all guilty right?"  Awesome.)  I'm jealously guarding parts of myself from the courthouse, and hoping that doing so will let these parts flourish instead of stomping them out, the way the courthouse has managed to stomp out any incentives for me to be a good lawyer.

if you don't have anything nice to say

don't say anything at all.

 

I'll be back.

MLK Day

I was writing another PD-related post but had to stop and say something else. 

 

I'm watching a special on Dr. King right now in light of the holiday.  Dr. King is so incredibly captivating. His voice, his energy, his quiet power is just so incredible - and this is just from watching old video.  I can only imagine what it would have been like to be in his presence. 

 

Watching him motivate crowds of young African-American children, young African-American adults, watching these crowds fight for education and racial / economic equality, watching the police attack these crowds of black youth - these images leave me so conflicted.  I can't help but think that my job is a symptom of what we've still failed to accomplish of Dr. King's cause.  I know how frustrated urban youth are with the police.  And yet where is their fight?  I feel frustrated that there is no bigger movement to fight this fight.  I feel overwhelmed by the burden of fighting this fight as one person, trying to fight it one case at a time.  It's like trying to stick fingers and toes in the cracks of a dam.  I want my clients to feel empowered to do something about how they are treated by the criminal system.  I want my clients to feel empowered to do something about socio-economic stratification that is so glaringly apparent in urban areas.  I'm fighting this fight as best I can, both in my job and in my personal life.  But why am I fighting?  Who am I fighting for?  I feel like I'm fighting for a good number of people who want me to fight for them, but aren't interested in fighting for themselves.  Occasionally when my clients or their families voice complaints about rampant police lies and misconduct, or racial disparity in criminal consequences, I encourage them to be pro-active, to engage their communities and their political representatives.  I tell them that they know better than anyone else who is being victimized and how.  I want them to feel like this is something they are capable of changing, to work on changing the dynamic instead of just reacting to it.

 

I can take a look around a courtroom filled with 100-200 people, and see maybe one white face.  I want to take a look at those faces and see a movement like Dr. King did.  I fear that the same room of people would be so much more likely to take today and go see the movie Notorious, and who would rather fight for the opportunity to live a lifestyle of a rap star, or of gang violence, or drug money.  I fear that rap stars play too prevalent a role as leaders for the communities in which my clients live.  It's demoralizing to me, and I want to know where Dr. King's fight went.  I want to know what it would take to bring it back.  Have we been so successful in creating racial and socio-economic apartheid in our country that we've taken the fight out of those who we oppress?  We've been so successful in marginalizing the marginalized? 

 

Tomorrow, our first African-American president will be sworn in.  And I hope that in this historic event, where young people are flooding the inauguration just to be a part of President Obama, to just be part of his movement, to be in his presence and to be inspired by him, that this reinvigorates Dr. King's fight.  President Obama can empower these communities in a national, cohesive way that no one else has in some time.  I'm just a lawyer, I'm not inspiring anyone to action.  I'm so excited to see a leader who is capable of empowering communities, to inspire them to action.  There can be no better way to follow the celebration of Dr. King's life and legacy than by the inauguration of such an inspiring leader.  For racial and socio-economic justice - finally, a leader.  

It's been two months already?

I am shocked, SHOCKED, to discover that I haven't written an entry is more than two months.  Has it been that long? 

 

I don't have much to write about specifically, right this second, except I'd like to point out that either the PD blog community is dwindling or I'm not doing a very good job of following it.  When I was in law school, and maybe just a baby attorney, I was reading so many PD blogs and one at a time these blogs are going defunct.  It makes me feel sad.  It felt like a good community to be a part of, even if only virtually. 

 

I guess I'm not really doing such a good job of keeping the community going myself, but I hope to fix that soon enough.

calling all motion writers

I'm looking for a really good analysis, scientific or legal, that supports why DNA samples are testimonial evidence and thus protected by the Fifth Amendment (unlike blood, or hair, which are physical evidence and thus not implicated by the Fifth Amendment).  I cannot possibly do a thorough review of the millions of scientific articles on the endless possibilities of the information we can get from DNA, but I hope to use this information some day to write a motion in limine. 

 

I think it's fun to argue that 40 years of clearly established Fifth Amendment jurisprudence was wrong. 

 

If there are any non-lawyers reading this, how do you feel about the fact that the government has the right to get your fingerprints / blood / hair and use it against you as they see fit?  Do you think the government should be able to use your body to prosecute you?  Do you think the right against self-incrimination should be involved in that determination at all?

But my dream's not coming true.

The kid next to me at the coffeeshop said that to his dad.  I'd guess the kid is somewhere between 3 and 4.  I love listening to a child's thought process.  He was so upset that his dream wasn't coming true - when his dad asked what dream he was referring to, he kid said, "My dream of having sea animals."  His dad admitted right, it wasn't coming true, but maybe it would someday.

 

I was sitting at the table, finishing the best latte in the entire city, and my delicious goat cheese and onion quiche, and trying to slowly process the phone call I got from my brother the night before.  I was in a cab on the way to a honky tonk dive bar, a few glasses of wine and a few good Gillian Welch songs already in me.  My brother got his deployment date.  In about a week and a half, he said, he would be in the midst of the most volatile area of Afghanistan.  He wanted me to know what arrangements were made.  Who the life insurance beneficiaries are.  Who has power of attorney.  That our mother would be the first one notified, but he was going to try to change it.  He wanted it to be me.  And if it wasn't, he assured me there would be plenty of money in his account, and could I please make sure to get to my mother within 24 hours.  He didn't think she could handle it.

 

Of course.  Of course.  I got you.  I understand.  Consider it done.  Absolutely I'll make sure to.  I could only respond in calm affirmations.  I got this covered, don't worry, I'll make sure it's taken care of.  I know he's scared, there's nothing I can do to make it not scary, all I can do is make sure that he knows I've got his back, on this side. 

 

I'm tired.  I feel like I take care of a lot of people.  Why am I always the one to take care of it?  When is someone, anyone, going to start looking after me?  Before, it was a decision that my brother made that we selfishly and protectively tried to talk him out of.  He was so mad that we all tried to convince him that he was making a terrible decision, joining the military.  When he snapped one day on the phone, yelling, "Why can't any of you just appreciate that I'm doing an honorable thing?" all I could say was, "If anything ever happened to you, and we never tried to stop it, we'd never be able to live with ourselves."  But he went ahead, and after we couldn't stop him, all we could do is support him 100%.  And now this means not just accepting his choice, but taking on responsibility for his choice.  His choice means making sure I have some time set aside, if I ever needed to go home on a moment's notice.  His choice means I need to take care of my mom, several hours away, while trying to take care of myself.  His choice means I have to decide what and when to tell my father, with whom my brother hasn't spoken in years and to whom he still refuses to speak.  His choice means that if something happens, I have to keep it together, take care of them, help them, make sure they're ok.  That responsibility sucks, and I didn't ask for it.

 

I'm not saying that I don't want to take care of my family with every ounce of my being.  Of course I do.  I'm freaking out, though.  Why isn't my punkass little brother still living nearby, going to school, or working, or otherwise misbehaving in ways that cause us fits of anxiety?  Why couldn't he have decided to move to Thailand or Costa Rica and farm?  Couldn't he just have gotten another tattoo or piercing or stupid mechanical toy like a snowmobile?  Why did he have to decide to enlist?  There's nothing I can do to control this.  I can't make sure he's safe, I can't keep him from harm, but I'm supposed to keep it all together on the other end.  It's shitty.  I hate it.

 

So now I feel fiercely protective and mindful of my family, mindful of my role to keep them calm and ease their worries, while still trying to cope with that anxiety and worry myself.  On top of feeling the weight of hundreds of clients' problems on my shoulders, on top of constant worry and anxiety about my friends' drinking, or unacknowledged depression, or general recklessness; in addition to the regular old lesser worries about getting everything done in a day, not gaining weight, paying bills, or wondering if I'll ever be married and so desperately wanting kids.  I wish someone was making a phone call to say, Please look after her.  I don't know if she can make it through this one alone.

 

But I'm not really alone.  I have friends and family who love me, and we'll get through it together.  We'll work out our worry and our anxiety together, we'll look out for him the best ways we can, and we'll look out for each other too.  I love you, little bro, make sure you take care of yourself and be safe.  You're smart and resourceful and sensitive to others, I have faith these things will carry you back home safely. 

 

The old Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times" rings true.  I have lived through interesting times, and I'm hoping to live in less interesting times.  Boring family sitcom-type times.  I think I've encountered some fairly turbulent decades, and I keep dreaming of a time when I'm cruising at a steady altitude, turbulence free, where I can undig my nails from the armrest, relax my shoulders, and maybe even let my head rest gently against the seat.  That's my dream.  Not coming true right now, but maybe like the kiddo's sea animals, maybe one day.