an unfolding sense of one's place in the world

That's how my tarot card reading began and ended.  I was asking a lot of questions for one reading.  I wanted to know where I was going next, what I'd be doing next, who'd be there with me.  Will I be lonely?  Will I find someone to marry?  Will I have children?  Will I be a lawyer?  Will my life look the way I think I want it to look?

 

The thing I like about tarot cards, cynic that I am, is that it's not about whether they're true or not. (Although I have had some strangely accurate readings).  The tarot cards reflect back at you want you need to know.  This time it was no different.  The tarot reading didn't answer any questions about the entire unfolding of the rest of my life, just as the reading didn't tell me what to eat for breakfast.  but what the reading made clear is that I have no idea what the hell is going on.  It reflected back to me my own confusion about where I am and where I'm going.  Do I believe that tarot cards predict the future?  No.  But I think they tell you what you might already know.

 

I'm still searching for answers. I am pretty sure I don't have them.  I think I've identified that I'm ready to start planning some changes.  A new geographic location, and new practice.  (I like my job, I don't like my current practice.)  I have absolutely no insight was to what I want as to either location or practice.  And I haven't met anyone I want to marry, or have children with, or consider real estate with.

 

I'm young, but not so young to be this incapable of figuring out my place in the world.  Nothing is unfolding for me, as of yet.  I don't know if I'll go, and if I do I don't know where it will be, but I've decided that whatever this is, it requires a 2 year plan.  Two years from now I have to be living intentionally, and not so passively.  I have to be active and investing my time in something, instead of just continuously waiting for something to grab me and shake me to life.

on being a public defender: apparently we're all liars.

It's strange how much judges and prosecutors really believe that we lie, lie, lie all the time.  I often don't get involved in the "truth" or "what really happened" because no two people tell the story the same way.  This is how defense attorneys get to use the government's evidence to create their own defense without ever having to put on a witness.  It doesn't matter what I think really happened - if the evidence leads to the inference that there was a self-defense issue, then I get to argue that.  The flip side of that is, I have no interest in spinning falsehoods.  I don't need to create testimony or create evidence to create a false 'story.'  The government (usually in the form of the police department) gives me all the false evidence I need.

 

It really gets to me when participants in this very system seem to embrace and support the belief that defense attorneys are liars.  Often times when a prosecutor is confronted with a big booboo, the first response is to accuse the defense attorney of somehow craftily tricking the prosecutor into doing something.  It's strange.  Or when I file a notice of intent to introduce a particular defense, the prosecutor gets all *wink wink nudge nudge* "but you know he really did it." 

 

I can almost accept that prosecutors feel this way but when JUDGES articulate this, it disheartens me to the point of wanting to throw in the towel.  Why do I even show up for work every day?  If even JUDGES think I'm a flat out liar because I represent people who have been accused of crimes, if I'm guilty by association for representing clients who are assumed guilty because they wouldn't have been arrested if they hadn't done something wrong, why do I even need to get out of bed in the morning?

 

And when the government loses, it's always, "The government failed to prove each and every element" but when a defendant loses, it's, "Defense counsel hardly makes out the requirements of XYZ" or "Defense counsel's tenuous argument that ABC..."  I get called a bitch, I get all the adjectives, but the government never gets told that they are silly, ridiculous, and a colossal waste of time.  Furthermore, even if my argument is tenuous, can we please just leave out the bitchy adjectives as a way of acknowledging that IT IS MY JOB to challenge these issues?  That even if it's a loser of an argument, it doesn't mean that I should just fail to challenge evidence whatsoever?  I mean, it's like having a trial and not saying a word because I know I'll lose.

 

Last week I had an oral argument on a suppression issue.  The prosecutor alleged a certain set of facts that, for the most part, I agree with.  Where we differ is that I introduced an entire previous set of facts, that existed BEFORE this second agreed-upon set of facts, that strongly negates the prosecution's conclusion as to what the second set of facts means.  I discovered this first set of facts because I kept looking for a witness until the witness, in a very reluctant and hostile manner, told me what he observed.  Other objective individuals were able to verify different parts of this first set of facts, and I was so delighted to have discovered such great exculpatory material.  (although, sadly, if I can't ever get the witness in to testify, as is probably the case, then my client is in big trouble).

 

The government opposed my motion to suppress, mostly on the grounds that they deny the first set of facts existed because they say they looked into it and could not find any evidence this first set of facts existed.  The judge denied my motion and in the decision, the judge constantly referred to this first set of facts with words like "allegedly" and "defense counsel would have you believe that..."  The judge almost solely used the government's inability to discover my evidence (which is very strange, because it is technically THEIR evidence if they believe their own facts to be true) to deny my motion.  Basically, if the government says it never happened, then defense counsel is clearly fabricating this entire thing.  [Seriously, why would I MAKE UP facts?  I'll argue inferences but to create an entire scenario based on sheer imagination?  Why would I lie?  See above.]  I was so insulted that the judge, in no uncertain terms, called me a liar.  If the judge had denied my motion because there were not enough facts to support it, that's one thing.  But to characterize my argument the way the judge did...

 

I have a lot of words that come to mind in reaction to that decision, but the words I'll choose to use here are, "I'll see you at trial."

on being a public defender: reasons prosecutors make me scream

Most defense attorneys believe that, in general, prosecutors are unjustifiably arrogant about their roles and their individual capabilities.  I've become accustomed to the bravado of the courtroom and accepted the fact that they think the same of us.  Really, it's not personal.  We're just doing our jobs. 

 

But a surefire way to quickly and vehemently enrage me is to make it personal.  And when a prosecutor personally seeks me out to admonish me about how to represent my clients, violence ensues.

 

It often goes something like this:

P:  Why won't your client take a plea?

D:  He's not guilty.  He has witnesses.  As I've told you 4 times before, no plea.

P:  Ok, so what if I drop the plea down [one more notch]? 

D:  Go ahead.  Still not guilty.  Still has witnesses.  Still wants a trial.  Still no plea.

P:  But I just don't understand why he won't plead to XYZ.  I mean, you know he did it, and you have ALL THESE OTHER CASES WHERE YOUR CLIENTS REALLY NEED YOU.  It just doesn't seem right to waste our time and the court's time with a case like this.

D:  [jaw drops. violence ensues.]

 

I've had prosecutors tell me, several times, that I am doing all of my clients a disservice by wasting time and resources litigating certain issues.  Generally the issues I have encountered as a "waste of time" are issues such as 1. a demonstrated alibi, acknowledged by the prosecutor; 2. a procedural error by the prosecutor that results in an automatic dismissal of my client's case.  I've also been told that 3. defense attorneys are doing their clients a disservice by not making them do treatment programs when the clients need them.

 

I get angry when a prosecutor tells me I am wasting their time because my client refuses to concede guilt.  It is downright horrifying how much the "innocent until proven guilty" is one big *wink wink nudge nudge* in the courtroom.  I have two cases in particular where the judge has actually said as much on the transcript.  I really should have ordered those. 

 

But I get nearly BLACKOUT angry when a prosecutor admonishes me about the time I won't be able to spend on all my other cases that REALLY need my time.  And I get nearly blackout angry when a prosecutor tells me that I'm preventing her from helping other defendants because I'm wasting her time by litigating issues on that case.  Or when a prosecutor admonishes me for 'letting' my client get rearrested, or 'letting' my client out of jail without a program in place in the community.

 

I'll set aside the prosecutor's belief that I have some sort of moral influence or flat-out control over my client's life choices - that "reason Prosecutors make me scream" we'll leave for another day.  But I cannot comprehend how a prosecutor can, with a straight face, argue that a case is not worth the court's resources and then adamantly refuse to drop the case.  I cannot comprehend how a prosecutor can tell me that I am actively hurting my client's best interests by NOT advising my client to take a plea when I have at least a 75% shot of complete dismissal.  Or really, the point is, I cannot comprehend how and where a prosecutor gets off by TELLING ME I'M DOING MY JOB WRONG.

 

You don't have to be an attorney to know what I'm talking about.  There are people in life who always seem to think they have some higher authority.  People who are never wrong.  People who tell you, when you feel a certain way about a subjective issue, that you are wrong.  And these people are frustrating because they are locked in some small little world where things are so certain, and you are here in this much bigger world where things are not so certain, and there's nothing you can do to get them to step outside that tiny little world of theirs to take a look around at all the other things that could be.

 

I have received several very, very unprofessional calls or personal tirades from prosecutors calling me a liar and a cheat.  One example (and the most memorable because it was the first and most volatile) originated because they forgot to show up for a hearing scheduled by the court.  When ordered to appear, they were not prepared and then accused me of fabricating the hearing myself.  However, when asked by the judge earlier that morning, their office told the judge that they were ready to proceed on that very hearing.  I think what really happened is that they lied about being ready to proceed, and since the left hand didn't know the right hand lied, the left hand argued back that I made up the fact that the case had been scheduled for a hearing.  The tirade was so unprofessional and filled with personal insults that I considered making a complaint with the ethics committee.

 

I've also been accused of making up, wholesale, a conversation I had with a prosecutor.  When confronted with my screaming rage and evidence of one actual conversation in particular, the prosecutor admitted that conversation occurred but never once apologized for calling me a liar or for openly insulting not only me personally, but my professionalism and ethical duty.

 

There are occasions when a prosecutor's behavior is so unprofessional and ignorant that it merely reinforces the stereotype of their unjustifiable arrogance.  The real evidence of arrogance is when they think it is their place to call me and 'supervise' me personally by telling me what I, personally, should be doing for my clients and why.  Why do prosecutors think they know what's best for defendants?  That seems so strange to me.  They know nothing other than the charges written on the paper - often times they don't get around to speaking to witnesses - and yet they profess to know what's best for my client.  Furthermore, it's no secret that my job is to represent my client's express interests.  So if my client doesn't want to do what the prosecutor is suggesting, why does the prosecutor think that I am somehow a horrid attorney for working on getting my client the disposition my client wants?  It would be one thing if the prosecutor was discussing the "worth of the case" which really means, what this looks like on paper without regard to the actual specific facts of this case.  But in these instances, when accusing me of "wasting time and resources" the prosecutor makes it personal - makes it about me specifically, and about screwing over a specific defendant, and as a result I'm personally being a bad, bad attorney to all of my other clients.

 

This is not meant to personally insult or accuse every prosecutor of being a douchebag.  There are only a chosen few prosecutors that I believe have zero redeeming qualities, and that designation was well-earned by them individually.  Most prosecutors I respect / contempt on a case by case basis, and the prosecutors I respect are not the ones who do me favors but the ones who are professional, reasoned, and capable.  (In other words, if you're insulted by this post, it's not really about YOU.  Unless it is.  In which case, you should really REALLY think before you say something - "Is this about the facts of the case or is this me telling someone else what to do because I think I know more than everyone else?")

resolve: to find or be found.

I think I'm lost.

I recently went to a small political gathering and had the opportunity to discuss world politics and the presidential primaries and Benazir Bhutto's assassination and the economic and political influence of South America with a handful of people. Although I had signed up to attend, I was dreading actually attending. Who did I think I was? I hardly follow politics anymore, I'm resigned to voting third party just as a big Fuck You to our current system of government, and frankly, I'd rather do nothing at all than get all gussied up to speak with smarmy politicians. But I got there and I met earnest people doing interesting things with a variety of professions and interests and I nearly burst with happiness. I started to remember what it felt like to talk about Big Ideas and thinking about Important Things.

It made me downright giddy. I loved academia, I loved having a physical location dedicated to thinking and talking about Big Things. By the end of law school I was sick of talking and thinking and ready to do. But now "doing" is something I've had enough of, after two years of doing it and doing it and doing it well (Thanks LL Cool J) and I'm ready to start thinking again. I want to muse, to discuss, to learn. I want to stop talking about work all the time, or thinking about work all the time. I want to feel like I'm being an active participant in the world and not just going to work and coming home.

I feel like I somehow, somewhere along the way, stopped really living. I've just sort of been getting by, figuring that one day I'll stop being so busy and then have the time to live the way I want my life to be. There have been a few reasons for this. First, I met someone. Having a boyfriend was a great reason to not doing anything anymore. I have someone to lie around and watch TV with all day, someone who will order in takeout and lie in bed late into the day. Second, work took up so much of my time that in the absence of work, I wanted to do as little as possible. Third, I just sort of forgot what makes me happy, and never really thought to stop and update that list.

I learned last year, but somehow forgot again, that work cannot be the only thing in my life. It has always been important to me to work a job to which I am personally and deeply committed. But I need to remind myself that it's also ok to remember that it's just a job, in the sense that there is no way my job can encompass everything that's wonderful about the world. (As a matter of fact, being a public defender tends to encompass a lot that is deeply tragic about the world.)

I feel some long bouts of self-imposed isolation coming on. Or in the alternative, I need to switch up my scene quite a bit. Too much of my personal life is invested in work and coworkers, and too much of my work life has eclipsed any semblance of a personal life. I am ready to get out there and really participate in the world, to learn new things about people and ideas, to try things I've never done before. I'm going to commit to keeping my life and the people around me positive, and to give myself permission to release the things that are not positive, as painful as it may be. I have to keep learning and seeking and moving forward, and I'm ready to cut a bold path for myself in the world.

keep me motivated to work less.

I very suddenly just realized that I've lost myself and it's time for me to get me back.

 

It was a very busy fall, which came after a busy summer.  My work days and work weeks have been longer because I've just been trying so hard to keep up.  I seem to regularly be working 8 am to 7 pm, plus at least one day on the weekends.  I'm chasing the idea that I'll actually achieve a point of being "caught up."  With doctor appointments, family commitments, and just generally needing time to do laundry and eat on top of my work schedule, I haven't had much time to be social, or read a book, or make a phone call just to say hello.  I miss cooking. I miss baking.  I miss watching football.  I miss dancing like crazy to a jukebox that my friends and I have dominated. 

 

My solution to the problems are:

1.  Leave work by 5:30 p.m. at least 3 days a week.

2.  I will not work on the weekend unless I am on trial.

3.  When my friends ask me to go out, "I really just need a night in" will be the occasional answer, not the usual one.

 

These rules won't last forever, but I think I need them at least until mid-January, when shit hits the fan all over again.

 

I baked a double batch of snickerdoodles last weekend.  This weekend, I think it's going to be rugelach and peanut butter chocolate bars.  This week I hope to push out some florentines and some sugar cookies.  If nothing else, baked goods will motivate my friends to come find me, which is the beginnings of a renewed social life.

the best compliment ever

Last night I was introduced to someone who, after telling me her name, looked at me with wide eyes and said, "You look JUST like P.J. from My Boys!"  I stared back at her, my introduction smile frozen, wondering if someone had told her to say that to me.  She said it again, this time with an apology: "I'm sorry, do you know the show?  It's on TBS?  You look exactly like her to me."  I finally shook out of my stupor and beamed.  "I love that show!  She's my favorite!  That is the best thing that anyone ever said to me!"

 

Internet audience, I look NOTHING like her.  But I texted all of my friends who watch the show and told them I had just received the best compliment of my life.  One friend's theory was this:  I act and sound so much like PJ that it is easy to be mistaken for her.  I like that theory.  I accept it because it makes me happy. 

 

I know the past two months have been lacking any substance here on the internet.  In real life, there's been enough to keep me busy but nothing noteworthy in the sense that the story can't be told in a witty paragraph or so.  I had a series of bizarre medical ailments.  Work has been bonecrushingly overwhelming so I've been working many nights and all weekends  I haven't been socializing much at all and since I'm just dating one person now there are no new funny-then-sad dating anecdotes. 

 

I have started a few posts, about deep personal thoughts and struggles, about specific examples of raging injustices I see every day, and my thoughts on the legal profession and criminal defense in general.  Some of them I scrapped until the cases are really and truly over - some of them I just can't seem to write the way I want to communicate it.  I think about scrapping blogging completely, but I can't walk away from a forum where I can write something and know that a few someone's are listening. 

 

Between now and my next post, which could be a while, you should definitely catch up on the past two seasons of My Boys.  Your life will be better for having watched it.

everything needed to be done yesterday; or, how to win $20k and lose it 8 seconds later

I shuffled into the house from work around 8:30 p.m. It was another 12 hour day, one of the many 12 hr days of the six-day weeks I've been working since, oh, August?  I was tired.  I was resigned to spending the rest of my natural life sitting at my desk and getting nowhere.  I've been engaging in the 60-hr a week fallacy for months now.  The idea that if I can just work late for this short period of time, if I go in on both weekend days and work late every night, then everything will be in place and maybe I can work a regular 50 hour week or maybe, if it's a holiday, a precious 40 hour week.  And that day was no different.  A 12 hr day worked, still no feeling of accomplishment or belief that I've actually made a dent in the ever-increasing pile on my desk.  I had 3 hours before I went to bed, and exactly 12 hours before I was to start a trial that I hadn't really prepared because I had 8 other trials also scheduled.

 

When I walked in, I had two pieces of mail awaiting me.  One, my bank statement, telling me exactly how little my 60 hr week gets paid, which is exactly how little my 40 hr week gets paid.  Two, a flyer with a scratch contest.  If I scratch the right number, I get $20,000 or a 10 day Aruba vacation (I could certainly use both).  I scratch the number.

 

It matches.

 

I look again.

 

They match.

 

I look again.  There must be a catch.

 

"No purchase necessary!"

 

No fucking way.

 

"MUST CLAIM PRIZE BY...."

 

Yesterday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  I love that Thanksgiving is an entire day dedicated to eating and watching TV and socializing in a lazy way.  I wonder if there comes a time in your life when spending Thanksgiving with your friends, your family of choice, instead of your family or origin, becomes acceptable, or more rewarding.  I can't imagine not spending Thanksgiving with my mother, as I'm sure she'd be devastated if I told her I couldn't make it back.  She is proud of the fact that we have never once missed Thanksgiving as a family.  I'd hate to be the one to break her streak.  And it's nice to come back home and see people who come back for the holidays, to catch up and hang out, the only time we're all in the same place at the same time.

 

But.  The hassle of holiday travel.  Lugging the suitcase up and down the stairs.  Wrestling onto the bus / train / plane, stowing a bag.  Sitting in traffic.  Getting the time off work.  Not being able to shake work-related anxiety.  Dreading the return to my house, left in disarray in a packing frenzy, returning to a refrigerator left empty in preparation for the time away, returning to a pile of work that's a week behind.  It seems like just having one or two days off work, to fill my own house with smells of Thanksgiving baking, spending it with the friends in the city who have such limited free time generally, watching football, lounging around, being able to really actually relax - that would be Thanksgiving. 

 

Ah, the vacation conundrum.  Take time off to keep yourself busy with other things than work, or take time off and sit on your couch doing nothing all day, doing nothing to learn more about the world or to try something new.  After two years of work, it seems that I'm the latter type - as much as I'd love to do new and exciting things, at the end of the day, the only energy I have left goes to uncorking a bottle of red wine and planting myself on the couch.

 

I'm thankful to be with my family, to have a job that I love so much that it empties me, to have friends who, after all these years, I still see and enjoy and connect with.  I hope that your Thanksgiving is wonderful in the ways that are important to you as well.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I AM a real lawyer!

I am writing not one, not two, but THREE legal memos in an effort, on three different cases, to persuade the judge to see it my way. 

 

Gosh, I can't remember the last time "law" ever came up in conversation in court.  The conversations are usually about one of two things: 1. What a bad and horrible person my client is based merely on the charges, and 2. why every single one of my clients who is charged with something should take the very fair plea being offered (to which I always respond, "It would only be fair / generous / reasonable if he were GUILTY, judge."  And then they usually snort or snicker with disdain.)

 

With all this law stuff, I'm starting to feel like a real lawyer!  The only reminder that I'm a fake lawyer is the difficulty I'm having with cogent legal writing.  It's true that if you don't use it you lose it.

 

I'm looking forward to hearing "Defense application denied" without any rational factual or legal explanation at the end of these hours and hours and hours of work.

nooooooooo!

Tim Wakefield left off World Series roster.

 

Words cannot express my devastation.

 

When the Red Sox released a charity wine, I bought Caberknuckle.  And I waited.  And waited.  For months.  For the right moment.  Then the moment came, just like I knew it would.  The ALCS.  I wore my Wake t-shirt.  I pre-gamed with my bottle of caberknuckle and a select few Red Sox fans.  I kept the bottle to add to my Red Sox shrine, right next to the Mr. Potato Head.  And Wake pitched an awesome game (at first).  I only regretted that I hadn't secured a second bottle, for when Wakefield helped win the World Series.

 

But alas, it is not meant to be.  #49, you'll always be my #1.

I have a really good story

But I can't tell you until the case is over.  Which isn't going to be anytime soon, and is unfortunate because it was a good one.

 

So instead I'll tell you this one.  I was on my way out of the courthouse when I saw my friend and coworker across the lobby.  He looked like he was filling out a form for a client, and it was lunch time, so I figured I'd wait with him and then we could get lunch.  His client and his client's friend were sitting with him, both young males.  As I approached, one of them said not-so-quietly under his breath to my friend: "Ooooh look who's comin to see you..."  The other one was trying to get the attention of another young female, who had clearly come to court to find a friend or family member that had been arrested.  He kept saying, "Hey.  What's your name.  Hey.  You're cute.  Hey.  What's your name?  My name is Roger.  What, we can't trade names?" and she kept ignoring him.  Then the other kid got into it, just as my friend was finishing up their paperwork.  Finally I ask, smirking, "Are you really trying to pick up chicks in court?  That seems like a terrible idea."  And the first one replies, "No way man!  It's perfect.  They're upset, they're vulnerable, their man just got 10 years, it's perfect timing!"  and the second one says to my friend, nodding in my direction, "Well look who came up to you!"  Ha.

vacation won't help.

Showing up to work every day has become difficult.  I have a staggering caseload, an all-time high number not only for me personally but the office caseload is at an all-time high as well.  Taking time off only exacerbates the problem - because then I come back to work and the same number of cases is there, except a week behind.  Or covered by another attorney and not done as I had preferred.  There's no way to keep up, and no way to predict what will actually happen as scheduled.  So I'm maybe 30% prepared for everything, fully prepared for nothing, and stressed about everything.

 

When something DOES go as / when scheduled, I can then finally fully prepare and abandon my other cases in pursuit of representing one or two people fully. 

 

And that's how my day goes, day after day after day.

 

I was supposed to call Mr. Smith to remind him to keep his appointment.  I was supposed to see if Ms. Lynch actually maintained her treatment program as she promised, otherwise her case will become a lot more complicated.  I promised Mr. Williams that I'd visit him at the jail, because we really need to discuss important elements of his case, but I just could not leave the office.  I meant to finish adding to that DWI motion but I never did, so I guess that issue will be overlooked one more time until I have the time to argue it adequately.  Besides, why argue it fully if the judge denies it every time I peripherally mention it?  I'm not sure whose phone calls I've returned and whose I still need to return.  It never goes away!

 

I am really looking forward to when the weather gets cold, in hopes of arrest numbers going down, and more time for me to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea and a book.  Instead, the AC is still running, I'm still sweating profusely, and the work still goes on, and on, and on...

three

Today I took two pleas for clients who I believe were absolutely innocent and who were begging to take the pleas, and I took one plea for a client who was guilty and was indignant and enraged with the system about taking a significantly generous plea offered today only.

 

I don't like to fault my clients for not liking the legal process.  I don't particularly care for it either.  But I'm not a miracle worker.  I cannot get you out of jail just because you don't want to be there.  I cannot get your case dismissed just because you don't believe you should have been charged with a crime.  I cannot convince a judge to give you a 6th try at a program when you showed up once and failed to show up 4 subsequent times, despite repeated admonitions from all parties as to the ONE YEAR IN JAIL alternative.  I cannot beat your case at trial, which you so badly want me to do, if you never once return my phone call and skip every appointment I try to set up for us to prepare your defense.

 

One of the innocent clients had a case that I was sure was a slam-dunk acquittal.  He just didn't want to sit through a trial.  He wanted it over, Now Now Now, and took the plea that would have gotten him out instead of waiting a week to walk out an innocent man.  The other client I believed to be innocent had no way of winning at trial.  There was no doubt in my mind he would have been convicted.  The judge was giving him a really hard time about taking the plea.  We had to try it several times.  I was getting frustrated - my client could only allocute so much because he was innocent.  He couldn't say every detail because he just didn't know the details that he would have been expected to know, had he committed the crime.  I started to fear that my client would be forced to stand a trial he didn't want, to be convicted of a crime he didn't do, and experience and significantly harsher and longer penalty as a result.  In the end, it worked out.  But I didn't feel good about it.

 

I know I'm getting burnt out when I start minimizing my role in this crazy system.  (i.e., I am not a doctor, I am not an immigration attorney, I am not the person who decides your bail.)  I am completely overwhelmed by my caseload and the intense needs of handfuls of my clients. 

on being a public defender: Taking a punch and getting back up again.

I made the sign of the cross when I first came out of there, instinctively, the way my 2nd grade CDD teacher from Puerto Rico did it, with a kiss at the end right before the Amen.  I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the hallway.  On the wooden bench outside the courtrooms, in the hallway.  I was one of four attorneys.  Then one of three, then one of two.  Until I was the last one there on the bench, having handed over my one hope, the one thing that had convinced me that we could win.  I tried to read but couldn't.  I couldn't talk.  I was relentlessly thirsty.  My nerves were shredded.  Everyone else had left for the day some time ago.  I sat there, alone, on the wooden courthouse bench in the institutionally lit hallway.  I sat in the quiet courthouse, hearing the occasional echo of footsteps at the other end, nervous but confident that we would prevail.  There could be no other way.  Silence.  Anxiety.  Pacing.  More water. 

 

And when the news finally came, that things didn't go our way, that justice would not be done, I was there, alone, in silence.

 

I fled the deafening silence, reentering the rest of the world, the world I had forgotten existed because I had been so consumed by this.  I called the boss to report the defeat and confessed that my next move would be to curl up in a ball and weep softly.  By the time I got back to the office, just a few minutes later, I walked into an office with the boss and the three best trial attorneys one could ever want and they had another plan hatched for me.  A plan of action, not inaction.  A plan of attack, not retreat.  And long after the lights had been turned off elsewhere and the courthouse had emptied, the plan of action became action.  Then I turned off the lights and joined my people at the bar. 

 

Satisfied that I had done something, but still achingly disappointed, I joined my fellow PDs at the bar, where they circled their wagons around me.  They helped break that lonely, agonizing silence of the courthouse hallway by cracking open a few $2 PBRs, by aiming goldfish crackers across the table into mouths, and by offering that incredible support of people who know just the right way to help you move on.

Things I've been doing instead of posting

Traveling.  Not in the, Let's see the world! type of way, but more in the, I have a wedding / birthday / commitment / family gathering that I have to be at this weekend, last weekend, next weekend, and the weekend after that. 

 

Working.  Of course.  It never ends.  Current caseload: 120.

 

Playing skeeball and turning in my tickets for plastic rings and fake tattoos.

 

Getting in as much baseball as I can before the season ends.  Let's go Red Sox!

 

Creating a Facebook profile.  How embarrassing.

 

Trying to see if I'm capable of being "in a relationship."  The jury's still out on this one.

 

Getting in as much lobster and BBQing as I can before the season ends.  Yum, crustaceans. 

 

Edy's Butter Pecan ice cream. 

 

My Boys, 10 p.m., Mondays, TBS. 

 

Having a one-woman party on the first weekend evening I've actually been home in months, by unintentionally discovering that my CD player miraculously cured itself and started playing a mixed CD that was created 7 years ago, leading to dancing and singing and searching for other long-forgotten CDs, and in the process coming across pictures of happy memories that were good reminders of why we are all here and what it all means.

 

Things I have not been doing instead of posting:

Going to the gym.

Writing those motions.

Cleaning the house.

Doing laundry.

Cooking.

These are not defenses.

I've heard a lot of interesting legal theories lately.  The ones that I've heard with bewildering frequency:

 

WOTL:  "Ok, so you're being charged with marijuana possession.  It says you had it in your right hand."

Client:  "Naw, man!  I didn't possess anything!  I was with my friend, and these two other guys my friend knows came over.  I just took a hit and was about to pass it to one of the other guys.  Then the cops came out of nowhere and arrested me!  Not even anyone else!  That ain't right."

WOTL:  "So the marijuana was in your hand when the police came up to you?"

Client:  "Yeah, I guess."

WOTL:  "So you possessed it."

Client:  "Uh, yeah."

WOTL:  "Let's talk about the plea bargain."

 

Client:  "I don't think you know this, but the charges have been dropped."

WOTL:  "No they haven't."

Client:  "Yes they have.  Maybe you didn't bother to check, but the case is dropped.  He/she told the DA they're dropping it."

WOTL:  "'Dropping charges' is like the Tooth Fairy.  Doesn't exist.  Only the DA can drop the case, and the DA is recommending 6 months jail."

 

WOTL:  "It says you possessed cocaine."

Client:  "Well that's not right.  How much does it say I had?"

WOTL:  "Two zips."

Client:  "See?  They gotta drop the charge because it was just personal use."

on being a public defender: destroying my youthful good looks

Not quite being at the point where I can coexist peacefully with the burgeoning wrinkles under my eyes, or the (GASP!!!) dreaded vertical wrinkle emerging from my upper lip (only grandmas have those!) because I am only 27 damnit, I figured I'd start accusing. 

 

Hereinafter, every blemish shall be labeled.  Did you ever have a family member or teacher that did that?  One that used gray hairs as a consequence of bad behavior?  Like somehow, my misbehaving or anxiety-inducing behavior influenced my mother's follicles.

 

"I can't help you stay out of jail if you're so damned insistent on finding your way back in" = wrinkles under left eye.

 

"I can't help you stay out of jail if you insist on never keeping your appointments with me or returning my calls" = wrinkles under right eye.

 

"Telling me that I'm on the DA's side and I suck and I ain't fightin' your case and I'm a worthless piece of shit" = wrinkle above lip

 

"Being accused by the DA of being deceptive and / or sneaky for requesting what my client is owed pursuant to the U.S. Constitution" = I imagine I must be sprouting a gray hair or ten for that.  I mean, I don't have any that I know of, but seriously, I owe an entire post to this discussion, because it happens so often that I am incredulous and mind-boggled.  Today, I was accused of using this "tactic."  Choke.  I'm sorry.  Did you really just call this a 'tactic'?  I'd call it "due process" or "a fair trial" but whatever.  If that's sneaky, then count me in.  

 

I do believe that my employer should reimburse for beauty maintenance expenses.  Not that I do any beauty maintenance.  But damn, a look in the mirror today really convinced me that maybe I should.  That wrinkle above the lip is scaring the bejesus out of me.

growing pains

Usually I'm up as soon as the alarm clock starts blaring Mike and Mike in the Morning.  This morning, I woke up earlier than the alarm and decided that it would be more painful to fall back asleep for the last 15 or 20 minutes I had to spare.  I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom.  I stared emptily at my bleary-eyed reflection, squinting under the unflattering flourescent light, toothbrush in my mouth.  I looked around the bathroom, fairly tidy despite being shared among 4 roommates, wondered if any of my suits were clean, cursed myself silently for never having gotten around to getting those pants tailored (for the second summer in a row), and wondered when I'd have income to get that taken care of, or when I'd be able to afford another suit.  Or a bathroom all to myself.  I squinted at myself again, hair tousled, and thought, I wonder when I'll really be grown up.

Sallie Mae is a nightmare

I just had the most infuriating interaction with my loan provider, Sallie Mae.  It was so infuriating that it erases all previously pleasant customer service I've received from them.  Heretofore, I have recommended them as a loan provider.  Hereafter, I will not do so.  It was so bad that I'm now very concerned about them handling my [massive] debt for the next 30 years.  If I had any way to transfer my debt elsewhere, I'd do it this second in a heartbeat.

 

I applied for a 2 month forbearance.  It makes me feel yucky to do it, but just postponing two payments on one of my loans will help me get my finances straightened out.  (It's been a tight couple of months).  I got a letter in the mail confirming my forbearance, and informing me that my next payment will be in one month.  That doesn't make sense, I applied for two months.  So I called.  And so begins today's nightmare.

 

The first rep I spoke to informed me that the forbearance was applied to last month's payment.  I informed her that last month's payment was made, so it could not have been forborne.  She informed me that it was made late.  I responded that it wasn't possible, because I have auto debit from my account.  How could Sallie Mae be taking out money automatically, every month, and then deeming it late?  And if that's the case, why has no one brought this to my attention earlier?  Well, the rep informs me, I only started auto debit last month, after the late payment was made.  No no, I respond.  I've had it for at least one year.  On your other loans you have had auto debit, she says.  But not this one, not until after you paid late last month, she tells me.  I didn't pay late last month!  I insist.  It was automatically deducted!  I'm staring at my bank statement right here!  I'm staring at my Sallie Mae account right in front of me!  We argue back and forth like this for several minutes.  I'm growing increasingly agitated because this rep is telling me that I had one previously late or not-made payment forborne, which is why only next month's payment is forgiven.  Then she keeps trying to railroad me into just extending my forbearance one month.  I insist that I don't want an ADDITIONAL forbearance - I want a two month forbearance that I applied for, one that means I don't have to make two months payments.  (I was so insistent on NOT asking for an additional month's forbearance because there's a finite number of forbearances you can request over the life of a loan.  I didn't want to burn one because some idiot can't push papers).  She goes back to telling me that I missed a payment.  I ask what payment I missed, and she tells me a different date - this time a June date.  I informed her that the payment was made, she said I only paid part of it.  I told her that Sallie Mae took MANY HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS out of my account in the beginning of June, the entire amount due, and there's no way I missed that payment, because I'm staring directly at my bank statement.  She said I paid it late, I told her it was impossible because I had auto debit, and she told me I didn't.  They have been automatically deducting my payments for over a year - probably two years, at this point.  She kept assuring me I was wrong, and I offered to send her copies of my bank statements to show every single deduction made, endorsed "DEBIT", over the past year, on the due date.  She didn't need my bank records because her records were not wrong, she said.  And the forbearance covered that payment I made in either July or June that was either late or not made. 

 

After a solid 10 or 15 minutes of this, I was livid.  She kept telling me, "Ma'am, I'm not trying to argue with you, but our records aren't wrong."  And about then, about that point, was the time that I was going to reach through the phone line and throttle her self-righteous neck.  Finally I said in a voice that could slice through flesh, "Stop telling me I am wrong and let me speak to someone who is going to fix this."  So I got a supervisor. 

 

Only marginally less frustrating, this second conversation.  I explained to the supervisor exactly what I was calling about and what the representative told me.  The supervisor said oh yes, the forbearance that you applied for online was applied to the last due payment.  Well, I explain, that's impossible because I PAID that payment and made sure to apply for forbearance AFTER that payment was made!!  But that's how it was processed, she explained.  My two month forbearance covers last month's payment (which was made) and next month's payment.  So I don't have to pay next month's payment.  Well, if the forbearance applies to last month, then refund last month's payment to my checking account.  I cannot do that ma'am, the supervisor bristled.  So, I posit, if I had applied for a ONE month forbearance instead of a TWO month forbearance, I would have to pay next month anyway?  Yes, she says.  Which means I would have asked for one month's forbearance, and had to make every month's payments anyway?  Does this make any sense to anyone else?  Apparently the Sallie Mae reps are crystal clear on this. 

 

In the end, she cancelled my original forbearance request and reissued a 2 month forbearance for August and September (which she explained so poorly that I honestly had to say, "I want two months forbearance and just want to NOT pay for August and September.")  And she responded, Yes, that's July through September.  I'm pretty sure they went ahead and fucked shit up again, but the supervisor continued to assure me that what I wanted was exactly what she was saying.

 

Whatever.

 

And then, the call didn't end with a friendly, "Is there anything else we can do for you today?" so thusly, the call never addressed the issue of my late / missed payments because I've never had auto debit before, and it's just as well.  Fucknuts.  She was all, Bye.  And I was all, Bye. 

 

I tried to get online to send some customer service feedback email but lo and behold!  No such thing exists.  So the only person, it seems, that I can complain to are the very people who I wanted to complain about.  Excellent.

 

So this is my customer service complaint, Sallie Mae.  For the whole world to see.  Everyone will know that you are accusing citizens of not making their payments for YEARS when said payments have been made, everyone will know that you will tell your customers that they are wrong (inexplicably.  I mean, how in the world did you come up with this fucked up, "You don't have auto debit until last month" shit?  Of all the things to dispute - how in the world could you believe that you've never automatically deducted my payments?)  Sallie Mae, the whole world will now know that even though SallieMae.com tells me that every payment has been made, on the due date, for the past year, on the auto-debit plan, that your reps will insist that's not the case.  I hope the word spreads far and wide, I hope all are forewarned, I hope that hundreds of thousands of people will become aware of the risks that they take with their finances when they agree to deal with you.

 

I anxiously await my next confirmation letter in the mail, due to arrive in 7-10 business days.  They'd better not dare to fuck this up again.

is it ethical...

to answer a client's family member's questions regarding the client's case?  What if your client's family member is on your side?

 

We all talk to family members.  Sometimes you can answer their questions, sometimes you have to insist on NOT divulging information to them.  Today in court, my client's mother was there and asked why her daughter couldn't get into therapy instead of doing a year.  I agree, as does the DA - the DA is recommending treatment or 1 year incarceration.  My client has adamantly declined both offers.  She doesn't want to be in therapy.  She's going to lose the case.  She admits she committed the act but doesn't think she should be punished for it.  If she loses, she will certainly get one year incarceration.  I think therapy is a much better alternative, given the strength of the government's case and the certainty of her incarceration.

 

So if my client's mother asks why she can't do therapy, do I say, "That's been the offer the entire time and your daughter rejected it."  Or do I say, "I can't really discuss the case with you." 

 

I feel pretty strongly about taking the therapy route, so I said, "I'm not sure.  We MIGHT be able to try it.  But it's really hard to do therapy as a sentence.  I wouldn't usually recommend it.  Unless someone was already really committed to it, it's a big risk because it's a long time to receive therapy, and if something happens along the way, it lands you in jail for one year.  Therapy is good, but it's difficult to do it in a courtroom with the judge and DA breathing down your neck."

 

I was hoping that throwing it out there, Mom can help me convince my client to take it.  And if my client doesn't want it, then she can always blame me, saying that I said it's too hard and too easy to end up in jail that way. 

 

Anyone else?  What would you have done?