Overseas, a 13 year old girl watched her father be executed in her home and witnessed her young mother get shot in the leg by a team sent by a country that would abhorrently celebrate this death. Here at home, flying would present innocent travellers with tedious decisions such as, should we walk through a pornographic body scanner or should we get groped and prodded in our most private of parts? And last night I had to sit through a new show “The Voice” and watch Blake Shelton and come to terms with the fact that I will never marry him.
In light of these recent world and national events, I have decided to retreat into my work and not think about the hard stuff.
Unfortunately, I found myself overcome with questions that were hard to answer. I thought about things like:
Unfortunately, I found myself overcome with questions that were hard to answer. I thought about things like:
Why do people confuse my role as their attorney with the roles of people who actually care about them in their personal lives?
Why does this man with an inch thick film of what appears to be an endangered species stuck to his teeth keep telling me that he doesn’t have a girlfriend and why does he try to touch my clean hand with his fungus infected fingers when he reaches for my pen?
Why does this woman cry and tell me about her stay at a mental institution and her medications and her need to drive even though she has been in court no less than seven times for the same thing in the last year and shouldn’t this be routine for her by now?
Why does this woman pull me to the side and tell me that her son, the one who committed a home invasion and sold drugs in front of a cop,is a good boy?
As I counseled the underclass I secretly analyzed their unique behaviors and thought processes. The only way I could comprehend some of the insanity that I had to endure was by making the whole busy court day into a musical in my head. Through courtroom versions of Grease, Damn Yankees, Les Miserables, and one fabricated out of my own imagination, I was able to dance and sing and understand things a little better.
My clients believe that if I am convinced that they are good people, that I can somehow convince the court and the prosecution to just get rid of the case. Some even believe that an attorney is not only an advocate in a court of law but is also a mother, a lover, a friend, and a life coach.
My clients believe that if I am convinced that they are good people, that I can somehow convince the court and the prosecution to just get rid of the case. Some even believe that an attorney is not only an advocate in a court of law but is also a mother, a lover, a friend, and a life coach.
I learned this when in my head I belted out that the drug dealer was a good boy (in a Christina Aguilera fashion) and his parents sang in chorus that he just got mixed in with the wrong crowd. In the fantasy, the Judge and the Prosecution were so moved that the case went in the garbage and the boy and his family flew through the window even though they didn’t grow any wings.
After the chorus, and while momentarily back in the throes of reality, I had to tell the kid that he is likely going to state prison. And I had to tell his mom the same thing because unfortunately, the legislature didn’t create a loophole for criminals whose parents think they are good people.
While I now understood their point of view a little better, I also understood how my response to their fantasies could be somewhat anti-climatic.
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