Drunk & Disorderly

Scott Greenfield, a New York criminal defense attorney, has this post about a unique plea bargain made by one of the smarter South Carolina DAs. A victim was allowed to administer a slap to a con man, charges were dropped, and everyone went home more or less happy.

While it’s true, as Mr. Greenfield points out, that the deal wasn’t strictly by-the-book, and the DA was disciplined for his creative solution, that solution literally smacked of fairness.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve wished former President Bush (the younger, more dimwitted one), had been brought to task for his crimes in office by pulling down his pants on national TV and having his Commander-in-Chief buttocks spanked. Then our soldiers, and the other guy’s soldiers, could have just gone home, popped a few brews, and watched justice played out on their DVRs over, and over, and over.

Saw an article today in “The Colorado Lawyer,” the journal of the state’s bar association. It’s called “Laughter – the Antidote for Those Days When You Hate Being a Lawyer.” I like laughter. There isn’t nearly enough of it, anywhere in the world. But I didn’t like the title of this article.

I’ve never had one of those days where I hate being a lawyer. There are plenty of things I hate, but that isn’t one of them. This is what I really hate:

 Police who lie on the witness stand (or anyplace else for that matter).

 District attorneys who somehow can’t look past the law to see the person who has allegedly violated that law.

 Judges whose scales of justice bend more weightily toward re-election than actual justice.

 Lawyers whose first loyalty is to their wallets rather than to their clients.

 Clients who think they can outsmart their lawyers (they probably can, but the people you want to outsmart sit on the other side of the courtroom).

And what do I really love? When I can get a cop, a DA, a judge, a lawyer, or a client to remember their humanity, and respect the long line of experiences, choices, and mistakes that brought all of them to that particular point in time we call, now.