Tuesday, January 15, 2008

No Title

Whatever made me want or need to write about being a PD seems to have, um, gone. Part of me, most of me, actually feels like I've established some semblance of control over my caseload. Am I delusional? I have roughly 350 cases and have been doing this for a grand total of six months. I know the drill. I know what's going to happen on most of my cases.

This cannot be good. Another thought that plagues me is the fear that I don't know the substance of the law the way I should. With this many cases, the courts are like factories that manufacture mass quantities of dispositions. There really aren't very many hearings, let alone trials. There is essentially no time to sit down with some kind of treatise or practice guide or even in front of Westlaw to just read stuff. Under the assumption that the best way to learn the substance of the law and to hone my cross-examination skills, I try to set as much as possible for hearings or trial, but that's no guarantee that they'll happen. I had three cases set for bench trials last night. None of them went. Though, with each of these cases, setting them was less about strategy and more about desperation. One defendant has serious mental health issues. The judge actually ordered a mental health examination. The second blew between a .25 and .30 and just bombed on the field sobriety tests. So much so that he basically didn't do them. Even a little bit. The third had a resisting arrest charge. The cops were there. There was no way I could do it. She was looking at 6 months. No way.

No one went to jail. And, more to the point, all the defendants were white, between the ages of 37 and 54 and had no previous or only a few previous convictions. These people do not consider jail as an option in their lives. They'll take the deal.

My favorite case is on for motion arguments tomorrow night. I spent a lot of time on my motion, more than any other. Stayed up four or five nights in a row, sometimes until 2AM working on this thing. Bounced it off of friends, appeals bureau, and my supervisor. Assistant District Attorney's response was one sentence long. I was expecting a substantive response. Silly me. Something like "The People deny all allegations and assert that the defendant was engaging in lewd conduct in a public place." Weak.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Suicide

Last week, two people I represent tried to end it all. Part of me is glad that neither succeeded, part of me wishes they had been successful. Its what they wanted.

The one guy got out of custody after I won a hearing securing his release. It was a Friday. He had nowhere to go because an order of protection prevented him from going to his house. He literally had nothing except his clothes, his seizure medication, and the money in his pocket. There was enough to cover a few nights at a motel. By Monday, he had no money and was denied emergency housing. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, with two or three more felonies on the horizon, he decided it was time to end it.

I went to the hospital on Friday night. Walked into his room and found him curled up in bed. The only thing he had left was his little Bible.

He got booted from the psych ward a few days ago. No insurance. Indictments on new felonies went through. Cops were called. They were waiting for him when he got booted. Back in jail.
Sometimes I have visions of vultures feeding off of carcasses. I think there is a class of people here who have "made it," the elite, the few, the proud, the white, the men, the lawyers, the judges, the DAs, that feeds on those who have to "break the law" to survive. This city continues to slowly rot, people have to break the law to survive, and those who run this joint are somehow totally incapable of recognizing that people have to break the law to survive. I hear it over and over and over and over. No one wants to do it. In that sense, I suppose those who call the shots could also be characterized as vampires, but I like vampires. Vampires are often portrayed as having a dignified air about them and you gotta feel sorry for someone who can't die and is really in constant pain about not being able to do so. I like vultures too. At least more than the people I'm talking about. But I gotta characterize these people as some kind of animal and for now, the vulture it is. Sorry vultures, just making a point.

Probably time for some lyrics. Looking for a song by The Modulations called "Rough Out Here," but I can't find them for the whole song. Its from like 1975.

People out of work (Can`t get a dime) Still they wonder why (That there is so much crime).

Friday, December 7, 2007

White People

Court was over. There was one guy left, he was just hangin' out waiting for some paperwork or something. His skin was darker than mine. A cop came in after arresting some dude whose skin was also darker than mine. He was about five feet tall, wasn't wearing any shoes, and was in cuffs. The cop said he didn't have ID on him, so there was no way to verify who he was. The guy said his name. The other dude waiting for his paperwork said, "Yeah, I've known him for years, that's who he is." The dude in cuffs said, "Yeah, that's my peoples, we go way back."

The judge then figured it was an appropriate time to do his black talk thing. Or was it his you could be a terrorist thing? Sometimes I get them confused. The judge said, "Oh yeah? How do I know you're not Abdullah bin Wahidi the III, right-hand man of Osama bin Laden?" Everyone laughed. The clerk, the clerk's assistant, the court officers, the police officers, and the ADA, who is not white. The guy in cuffs grimaced, seemingly not able to understand why he was being compared to Osama bin Laden. I don't know what his problem was. After all, you were given a citation for having an open container in a vehicle while in the drive thru at Burger King.

I stood there in disbelief, not really knowing these people, wondering how they could think something like that was funny. The guy in cuffs said something like, "For reals judge, I got a good job and I just wants to be able to get up in the morning and go there. I've been supportin' my kids and I gots to be there." Something like that. The judge chimed in again. "Hey man, how do I know you're not Sheik Ramadi al Haladi?" Or something like that. "You feelin' me my man?" Multitasking white man can do black talk while explaining the nuances of of the more arcane aspects of US foreign policy. Cuffed dude just stood there. Everyone laughed. Harder.

The black talk continued. He does that. Up to that point, I had never seen it with a man, only with women. He fucks with someone. He leans forward in his chair, looks her straight in the eye, and the staring contest begins. I've yet to see either back down. He simply chooses to do it. His demeanor changes. I mean business. I WILL DOMINATE YOU. He says something that's just a little off. She leans back a little, or just to the side, surprised at what she just heard, wondering if the judge is really pullin' this shit. He reacts to that. "You know, I kind of get this feeling that you don't like me." Or something like that. Silence. "Let me tell you something." And it goes on.

After the second accusation of being a terrorist, I stepped in. "What is this man charged with?"

What words could adequately describe this mentality? Straight up racists of course. But these are people who have made a career out of dominating others, of controlling the lives of other people. And its a fucking joke to them. Here we are in the middle of fucking nowhere and you just feel like exploiting the opportunity in front of you: the ability to totally fuck with a guy who is maybe five feet tall, in cuffs, isn't wearing shoes, is black, and is now a terrorist. You just had to do that. Your life is so fucking miserable that you had to take advantage of that? That is some weak ass shit right there. Oh yeah and I left out the comment of the other cop to the guy in cuffs after he heard him say he had been to one of the Carolinas, "You think we're bad? Man, the Southern cops....at least we're fair." That's fair?

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Hating

Burned out. Already. For so many reasons, many of which have nothing to do with work.

Indignities pile up. Vision gets clouded. Levels of disdain.
What does Lil' Wayne have to say about this?

What I'm doin, gettin money, what we doin, gettin money
What dey doin, hatin on us, but dey never cross

We're gonna get ours, but you sho as hell ain't gittin yours. Layer after layer, strata of accumulated nonsense. Brushed off here, ignored there, snide comments from the judge, from the clerk, the ADA rolls her eyes, feigns concern. People are made to wait because they were less than five minutes late for community service and weren't let in. They took it upon themselves to actually do the "service" somewhere else and bring proof. But that wasn't enough. You see, you didn't obey the court. Its like not obeying a schoolyard bully. Resentenced to disorderly conduct and more community service, you walked away from the bench, snatched up the piece of paper telling you where to go and left the courtroom with an attitude. So fucking hot!! You got everyone. They all stared at you and literally gasped in amazement, "Did you see the way she grabbed that paper?!" Even the ADA approached me at the end of the night and said, "I know her, she and her friends are rowdy!" You're fucking hot and they're not. Rowdy too. Best of luck.

I have four preliminary hearings today. What is a preliminary hearing? First of all, no one calls them preliminary hearings. Everyone calls them "PHs." A preliminary hearing is scheduled after someone is charged with a felony. For the most part, I think the hearing, or H, determines whether or not someone who is charged with a felony AND is in custody, will remain in custody. Sometimes there is an offer to a misdemeanor instead of a felony. Sometimes there isn't. This is the first time for me, so I don't really know what I'm doing. If they actually happen, I'll have to ask some questions and try to lock in testimony of whoever is testimoaning. Ahhhhhhhhhh ha ha!! Testimoaning. Everyone says "testilying" but I've never heard testimoaning. I should copyright that shit.

I helped this one dude.

Watched a homeless dude get sentenced to eight months. Pretty cool. Woman with mental illness is looking at eight months. This is actually cooler than the homeless guy getting eight months. This Thursday I have a case that involves a woman with some pretty serious brain trauma. She is looking at a year. This is cooler than the homeless guy, but maybe not as cool as the woman with mental illness. Living here makes you mentally ill. This place is seriously fucked up. It ain't for me. Another dude with mental health issues wrote a letter to my supervisor and the head of the office. He doesn't like me. I was replaced. Fine. Its just that it was done without me being part of the meeting or anything. Kind of weird.

The dude that I helped is not the homeless dude who got eight months.

Haven't paid my student loans. Up to something like one hundred and thirty thousand. Maybe more. I literally don't have the energy to deal. Spent Thankstaking opening mail from September. Now I get it. You get swallowed by this caseload. Eat garbage because you get home so late that you're too tired to cook and there isn't any decent food around here so just get some takeout and maybe cook on the weekend but usually just end up going out because thatz more fun than cooking for myself. Stopped doing any kind of exercise, starting smoking. Maybe my fingers will be all buffed out from rolling cigs. Does anyone know how that new student loan bill works?

Love,
Me.

PS Still learning at the expense of the accused.

PSS Drug court or mental health court? Holy fucking shit is all I gotta say. The toughest decision that I can't make.
Love,
Me.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

CLE

This is what I learned at the CLE:


NOTHING.


My Goddess Dressing. What a waste of time. Oh you want my Saturday? You mean the day I spend staring at the wall wondering why I even bother I mean recharging my battery so I can wake up on Sunday and continue the fight? Take it, I don't need it.

The Fire Is Out

What happened? This week my brain has been sitting on the couch watching movies.

Looks like I got a Gulf War Veteran acquitted on assault charges. Very happy about this. More to come.

My supervisor told me I opened 70 cases in October. Apparently this is an unusually high number. I wouldn't even know. They just keep sayin' that you have to live our way and if you don't we're gonna arrest your ass and prosecute you for not bein' like us. Howz that for justice?

People wave to me in jail. Smiles too. Two female inmates stuck up for me when some dude was baggin' on me. I didn't really care about what the dude was saying. But, with my confidence level as low as it is, I couldn't help but wonder about the things he was saying. I doubt myself enough as it is. My supe tells me I beat myself up too much. With this many cases, any positive feelings are fleeting. I just move, bounce, and careen from one thing to the next.

I feel better.