Bueno Bueno Bueno

Well, Megan made it through today. That is something. I feel like an insecure woman after a date. "Will he call me again?" In this case, of course, the question is: "Will she come in tomorrow?" She claims she will. I look forward to the day when I don't wonder if she will be showing up. Rejection sure can play with one's emotions, can't it?

I made it through my busy day. It began with a visit to the jail, and it ended with a visit to the jail. Instead of having my clients get sent off to prison, I had a couple of them released from jail. That feels a bit rewarding.

I came up with an idea that other day. It is another one of my idiotic money-making invention. The purpose of the invention is to help Hispanics who get pulled over by the police. What is it? It is a small handheld electronic device. It has three fields. Each field has forty possibilities. This allows for 64,oo0 possible combinations.

It is a Hispanic Name Generator. Each field is comprised of Hispanic names. You press the button, and the machine randomly chooses your name. Simple enough. Get pulled over by the police? Hit the button. "Juan Garcia Ramirez." Bond out and get pulled over the next week? Hit the button: "Pablo Manuel Diego." And so on. It can't miss.

The problem with this idea is that I think it has already been invented. I have not seen it, but how else to explain the name of the woman I represented today: "Angela Vasquez Vasquez." Is that even possible? Does anyone give their child the same name consecutively? I figure that a Hispanic Name Generator would have to be responsible for this. Of course, that creates the possibility of an incredibly fun slot-machine-like game. What if you are a cop and you pull a guy over and the following occurs:

"Speak English?"
"A little."
"Name?"

"Name?"
"Garcia Garcia Garcia."

Surely, there would have to be prize money for that.

Well, if the name generator does exist, it clearly needs to be fine-tuned. Look for me to be selling this handy device through this blog within the year.

Megan a Choice

I had some interesting interviews today. The male I interviewed, Scooter, was quite a character. If you are familiar with The X-Files, Scooter is Byers of the Lone Gunmen on that show. He was the guy with the beard. The Lone Gunmen were supersmart conspiratorial nerds who helped Scully and Mulder on occasion. Scooter was ridiculously smart and an intellectual, too. Our conversation was very interesting, but I found myself almost embarrassed to be explaining to him what the job entailed. I felt like I was interviewing Superman to be a crossing guard.

I like to think that I won't hold someone's overqualifications against them, but in this case I think that I will. I just can't imagine that he will not be in hot pursuit of something else the entire time he works in my office. On the other hand, he would probably be able to do some kickass research for me. Oh -- and he was in a sketch comedy group in college for three years. So not only is he smarter than I am, but he is funnier, too. I don't think so. I mean, what would I do without my ego?

I was stuck for a while trying to decide between Rosalita and Megan. Rosalita speaks Spanish and has an unbelievable amount of enthusiasm. There is nothing really negative about her. Megan just seems like she will be the best fit. I got along very well with her, and she had the right combination of qualifications (college degree, some office work) and personality. So I am going with Megan. Of course, all that really means is that I will be hiring Rosalita in a few days.

Our office Christmas Party is on Saturday. I am going to dangle that out there as a carrot for Megan to try to at least keep her employed through the weekend. After all, that will be a new record.

I think I have to be at the jail tomorrow at eight. I am not looking forward to that. Tomorrow is going to be a long, long day. I cannot wait until it is over.

The Temp(s)

This is Tuesday's entry.

Hard to believe this, but I had another new employee quit today. For those of you keeping score at home, this is the third person I have hired to replace Apple. The first one trained for an hour on two consecutive days after work. Then she called me and told me that her boyfriend got a great job out of town and that they were moving. The second one worked one afternoon, then sent me an email that night telling me that she could not work right now. This most recent one worked yesterday and today. Toward the end of today she informed me that this job was just not for her.

On the plus side of things, I suppose that I should be happy that each one has lasted a bit longer than the previous one. I may very well get someone to work an entire week for me soon. That will be exciting. I have a couple of leftover people who I can hire. However, I have scheduled a couple more interviews for tomorrow. If I am going to have someone new quit after a few days again, I might as well make sure that quitting person is the best person available.

Everything in the office is so backed up that it is scary. I was at work today until eight. I know that twelve hour days are the norm for many lawyers, but I can assure you that my days are usually in the nine to ten hour range. Luckily, the holiday season quickly approaches. The good part about that is that Thursday is really my last heavy court day for the year. It will give me a lot of time to train whomever it is that I wind up hiring.

Life Imitates Life

This is Monday's entry.

Every once in a while something happens on the national stage that brings light to something that I have to deal with on a day to day basis. That thing today was the sentencing of Michael Vick. The judge had some range within which he could sentence Mr. Vick. What this sentence would ultimately be depended, in part, on what Mr. Vick did with himself between his last court date and this court date.

Mr. Vick knew this. He had to. Why do I say that? Well, he had some very good attorneys working for him. They undoubtedly instructed him that even though he had already been convicted, he had not yet been sentenced. He should not throw in the towel because his actions could still influence the sentence.

So what did he do? Well, among other things, he smoked some pot. He was told to remain drug-free, and he smoked some pot. The story or two I saw today about this expressed bewilderment that he would smoke pot when it could literally add months to his prison time.

Welcome to my world.

"You are charged with possession of marijuana. If you are clean on your court date, you will be able to get a deferred prosecution and have the case dismissed. If you do not, then you will get a conviction." Defendant then smokes pot.

"You have violated your probation and your case has been continued for one month. If you are clean by then, you will just have your probation modified. If you are not, then your prison sentence will be activated and you will do two years in prison." Defendant smokes pot.

"Your court date has been continued for three weeks. If you test positive, Social Services is going to take your child away from you. If you test negative, you will be able to keep your child." Defendant smokes pot.

None of the above are exaggerations or hypothetical situations. I have seen them all happen. I don't know if it says more about the addiction of some drugs or the stupidity of criminal defendants, but it sure happens all the time.

Apple Turnover

I think I need to add a cast of characters or some type of directory on here. Not only will it help me keep straight the fictitious names that I have given to all of these people I know, but it also will help any reader I may one day get sort of keep track of things.

My secretary that I am replacing -- the one who no-called no-showed on Monday -- was back in action today for her final farewell. We were informed that she had a bit of a breakdown due to a break-up with a boyfriend and that this break-up lead her to a hospital. Well, that is obviously not good. She is fine, though, and it was nice to see her today. And her name is Apple. That much I can remember.

I interviewed four candidates to replace her today. Times are desperate. When one asked when I wanted her to start if she gets the job, I responded, "Think of it this way: my office is on fire right now, and I am interviewing firemen." That about sums it up.

Of the four today, I really liked the one who worked in the Peace Corps. I have a soft spot for people who do things like that. Of course, it also makes me feel like a loser because I never did anything like that. The closest thing I ever did to joining the Peace Corps was probably buy some poor guy a beer at the bar in law school. Is that comparable on any scale at all?

I also was able to start catching up on my messages from the week today. I always feel like a jackass when I start a conversation with, "Hi, Mr. Owens, I am returning your call from five days ago. How are you? Do you need help? Is your case already over? Have you already been sentenced to die?" Most of them have no problem with it at all and are just happy that I am calling them back.

Tomorrow I have four more interviews set up. I hope to have the newest employee working Monday. If someone starts working for me on December 10th, what sort of obligation am I under to give her a Christmas bonus? It's like going out on a first date on February 13th.

Branson, Missouri

I am absolutely exhausted. I was in court the entire day. When I walked back into my office for the first time after five, I had three people waiting for me in the lobby. The woman I hired to work as a secretary yesterday quit today. I don't think I have even returned a telephone call this week. It has been rough. Well, tomorrow is a new day, right?

Gregory Giles had court today, and his case was finally resolved. He was charged with felony breaking and entering, and felony larceny. What was the evidence against him? Well, when he was found he had in his possession the owner's manual for the vehicle and the registration. Pretty clever to carry around items that have absolutely no monetary value but have enormous evidentiary value.

Gregory Giles is not altogether there. He rubs his feces on the wall of the jail cell. When I walked into the holding cell to talk to him for the fifth or so time since I first represented him on this case, he greeted me with a quizzical look.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"
"I am your lawyer."
"No. From somewhere else."
"Nope. Just from being your lawyer."
"Missouri? Or was it Kansas?"
"I've never been to Missouri or Kansas."
"I think it was Branson, Missouri."

Amazingly, he accepted the plea. The charges were reduced to misdemeanors and he received an eight month sentence. As he already had enough time spent in custody, he was released today. I can't imagine it will be long before he pops up again in court.

The good news was that his nephew happened to be charged with a felony and had court today, too. The nephew, Trey, approached me and we went out to the hallway and talked. He informed me that Gregory was his uncle and that the family had not seen him for two years. They didn't know where he was. I told Trey that I knew where he had been for the past eight or nine months, but that I didn't know where he had been before that.

Next thing I know, Trey is on the phone calling relatives and trying to get someone to pick up Gregory from jail. They are hoping they can get him on some medication and maybe get him a place to live. I am not sure how much luck they will have, but it was just sheer luck that Trey was in court. If he had not been, then Gregory would have just walked out into the world with nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no idea how to get it done. Now he at least had some family looking out for him. I was able to make some recommendations to Trey and to his grandmother. It made me feel like I might have done something useful for Gregory after all.

Still Shaky

Just the other day I stepped out of my office to go walk a block and get myself something to eat. On my way, I encountered Shaky. It is always a treat to see Shaky outside of the courtroom. He didn't seem particularly drunk. Even sober, he sounds drunk because he has had his teeth knocked out and suffers from physical ailments that I have possibly never heard of. When I first represented him about nine years ago, he was fairly easy to understand. He had a bit of a spark in his eye. Now neither of those things are true.

Typically, when the police charge Shaky with something, the magistrate gives him a one hundred dollar bond. Shaky can't post the bond, so he stays in jail until his court date. Once I get appointed the case (and the court always appoints me to represent him -- it may be because I am the only lawyer who can understand him), I immediately try to get his court date moved up to the next date the Judge Cribble will be on the bench. Judge Cribble will give him time served, and he will be released.

Today Shaky had court. I was walking down the aisle in the courtroom and he waved me down from one of the seats. I was a bit startled. What was he doing there? He wasn't in custody. Had he somehow actually made his bond? Nope. The magistrate just gave him an unsecured bond, so he wasn't in jail for that case.

How Shaky knew to be in court today I cannot imagine. He is homeless. He seems to have no idea what is going on. But not only is he in court, but he is in court on the right day and in the right courtroom. How is that even possible?

So I helped expedite the process of getting him up to the judge to request court appointed counsel (ie, me). I was appointed. Now, the problem with Shaky not being in custody is that he has no jail credit on the case. When we go before the judge (hopefully Cribble), Shaky will not be able to get time served. The judge can't put him on probation because he is homeless and can't possibly be effectively supervised. The judge can't fine him because he can't possibly pay any money. But the judge can put him in jail, and that is probably what will happen. Hopefully, he will get one day in jail. So instead of Shaky going home on his court date like he usually does, he will probably go to jail.

And if memory serves me correctly, it will be the 23rd time I represent him.

Ay, Caramba!

This is Tuesday's post.

Rafael Fuentes was recently charged with DWI. I represented him today. It was the first time he had been charged with DWI. He had been in jail for 47 days awaiting trial. I pled him guilty, and he received credit for time served. I actually felt badly for him because he spent so much time in jail awaiting trial.

As I was walking away from the bench after doing the plea, I was approached by Stan Lentz, another attorney. Stan informed me that he Rafael Fuentes' name was not Rafael Fuentes. His name, according to Stan, is actually Marco Ramirez. Stan has represented Rafael numerous times. For numerous DWIs. Stan estimates that Rafael/Marcos has been convicted of eight or nine DWIs. If that is true, then he should have received years in prison instead of days in jail.

On Thursday, I represent Jacobo Ortiz for possession of cocaine. I have just learned that Jacobo Ortiz is actually Rafael/Marcos. Somehow, he was in jail under two names. If I could explain how that is even possible, I would. But I have no idea. What sort of ethical obligation do I have to the court to tell them that Jacobo is not who he says he is, and that he actually has a pretty terrible record? I have no idea. This is sort of an ethics dilemma. It is not something I look forward to dealing with.

I have always like the idea of shapeshifters in science fiction movies and television shows. I never thought they could really exist. I have now learned that they do. Hispanic illegal immigrants who get in trouble with the law are as close to being shapeshifters as anything there is. They get arrested, give a fake name, get sentenced as a first time offender, then get released on probation or get time served. If they are released on probation, they give a fake address. No one is ever found with that name. Then the get arrested again, give a new fake name, get sentenced as a first time offender, then get released on probation or get time served. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

People think that fingerprint databases prevent this. People think that the police run your fingerprints, get a match, and can identify you if you have been fingerprinted before. But that is not really how it works. To match prints, the police have to intentionally be looking at two sets of prints they think might match. Typically, they match prints found at the scene with the prints of the suspect. They don't take the prints at the scene, run it through a computer, and then find a match to a guy they weren't already looking at. It just doesn't work that way. It does in the movies, but not in real life. Of course, I used to think that shapeshifting worked in the movies, but not in real life. Obviously, I was wrong.

It doesn't register

Apple didn't show up today. She was supposed to stay on for another week and train a new person. I hired a new person last week, Susie, but Susie let me know on Friday that she was going to move to another city because her boyfriend just got a job. It was a busy day, we were shorthanded, and it is going to suck until I have someone firmly in place. I am hoping to hire a former Marine for the position. I figure she will be able to keep everyone and everything in line. I am still waiting to hear back from her to see if she wants the job.

Joseph Dobbs is a 22 year old sex offender that I represent. He was convicted of a sex offense when he was 18. Now, for the rest of his life he has to keep the state informed as to where he lives. He has to register as a sex offender wherever he goes. This strikes me as being so flagrantly unconstitutional that I can barely talk about it. Go kill a person, and you will get your fifteen or twenty years in prison. At that point, society says you have paid your debt and you don't owe anything else. You don't have to register as a murderer before you go live somewhere.

But, of course, having sex with a fourteen year old when you are nineteen is much more serious than murder. Now you are marked for life. Life. There is no amount of time you can spend in prison that will make society say, "Okay. You have paid a large enough punishment." It is crazy the way our society deals with these sex offenders.

The argument, of course, is that sex offenses have such a high recidivism rate that we must keep track of sex offenders at all costs because they are going to strike again. Okay, let us suppose that is true. Are there studies that show us that making them register as sex offenders everywhere they live for the rest of their life is going to decrease the chances that they will offend again? I am not quite aware of that study.

I see two things accomplished by making sex offenders register: 1- People like Joseph Dobbs wind up serving another couple of years for not telling the state where they live. You want a victimless crime? How about not telling someone where you live? Two years. And 2- Regular citizens get to freak out and become frightened over things that are not real dangers. Go look up a site that shows you where sex offenders in your state live. Pull up a map of your neighborhood and see just how many live near you. Hint: it is a lot. You have a better chance of being struck by lightening twice than you do of having a stranger grab your child and molesting him/her. Want to avoid having your kid molested? Be watchful with family, friends, teachers, and sitters. Don't worry about Joseph Dobbs around the corner who shows up as a red dot on one of those websites.

Well, you might want to worry about him, actually. He has an armed robbery conviction and has a new gun-related crime that is pending in federal court. Of course, there won't be any red dots on your monitor for any of that.

Strung Out

Josh Keene has a bit of a heroin problem. The first time he had court for his possession of heroin case was about three weeks ago. He showed up in court just as he was supposed to. Then he proceeded to nod off throughout the day in court. I called his name out a couple of times and he did not respond. I assumed he wasn't there. Toward the end of the day, the DA told me that he was there in courtroom and pointed him out to me. He was asleep, and very pasty looking. I woke him up, told him his case had been continued, and sent him on his way.

Josh had court again yesterday. He called the office first thing in the morning to tell me that he could not make it to court because his child was sick. It is simply amazing how often people get sick, have deaths in the family, etc., when it is time for their court dates. Shockingly, I have never received a copy of a death certificate after asking for one. And the only medical proof I ever get is some sort of outpatient bill that shows essentially nothing.

I mean, what would it take to keep you from making it to court for your felony? Wouldn't that be a pretty big deal? Wouldn't you be there unless you were literally physically prevented from being there? Well, that is not the case with real criminal defendants. They have other things to do.

He called the office late yesterday afternoon to ask what had happened in court. My secretary, Apple, told him that an order for his arrest had been issued because he missed court. Just like I told him would happen when he called that morning. He asked what he had to do to get the order for arrest stricken by the judge. I told him to be in court first thing this morning and we could ask the judge to strike it.

Judge Cribble did not strike the order for arrest (and I do not blame him for letting the order stand) and Josh was taken into custody and made to post a 2,000 dollar bond. He will likely not be able to post that bond and will remain in custody until his next court date in two weeks.

Josh was simply beside himself that Judge Cribble would not strike the order for arrest. He couldn't understand it at all. I explained, "You can't just show up for court whenever you want and get a new court date. You have to go when they tell you to." He wasn't happy. He apparently goes to the methadone clinic for his heroin addiction and is terrified of going without it over the next couple of weeks. It will be hell for him, I am sure. I am not sure what the jail does with people in that situation, but I do know that they definitely don't give them methadone.

A Good Number

Well, I had another encounter with Judge Cribble today involving a Hispanic defendant. Jaime Morales was charged with DWI. It was his first offense. Sure, he blew a .20, but it was his first offense. I have only one time seen someone receive any jail time for a first time DWI. In that case, the person had caused a serious accident and was an unbelievable ass to the officer and to the other party of the accident. I think that person got a thirty day sentence.

Jaime Morales was obviously very drunk. But he didn't cause an accident. And he was so polite to the officer that the officer noted that to the judge during his plea. Jaime also was not able to make his bond. He has been sitting in jail awaiting trial for the past 87 days. Since he couldn't make his bond, he couldn't get out. So I pled him guilty in front of Judge Cribble. The sentence? Ninety days in jail. So he would have to stay in there three more. Bear in mind that I have never seen anyone other than the ass mentioned above get a single day for a first time offenses. But Judge Cribble gave Jaime ninety days. Should I be calling the ACLU or something about this guy? It would involve an enormous amount of research, but any investigation would conclusively show two things: 1- Judge Cribble sentences Hispanics much, much more harshly than he does any other race for like offenses; and 2- Judge Cribble sentences Hispanics much, much more harshly than do other judges for like offenses (though I guess that part is really irrelevant. I mean, if other judges did it, too, then it would just mean the problem is even greater).

After steaming over this for some time and bitching about it to an attorney who has been at it about fifteen years longer than I have, I went back to Judge Cribble.

"So why did you give him ninety days?"
"He had 87 already. What's the difference? You want me to change it to 87? I can change it to 87."
"Okay. That would be great."
"That's fine. It was nothing personal. I just thought that ninety sounded like a good number."

The bottom line, I guess, is that Jaime is out of jail by now. But Judge Cribble's actions regarding yet another Hispanic are particularly troubling to me. I am very glad that I talked to and took the advice of that other attorney. He said I had to call out Judge Cribble and he would back down. He was right. But I told that attorney that I was afraid that if my conversation with Judge Cribble got heated, then I might say something about his treatment of Hispanics. That attorney told me he was sure I had more self control than to say something like that.

Meanwhile, I am starting to think that I might be a better person if I had a little less self control.

Feliz Navidad

I had a Hispanic guy today who was charged with disorderly conduct. He was arrested fifteen days ago and given a thousand dollar bond. He could not make bond, so he spent the past fifteen days in jail awaiting trial.

The facts of his case? Well, I am not exactly sure what the officer's version was because the officer was out sick today, but I can tell you that that Rico Cuervo was apparently waving a toy gun in the air. I approached the DA to talk about the case.

"So he's charged with playing with a toy, essentially. What are you supposed to do with a toy gun? Put it in a gun safe?"

He chuckled. We both imagine that Rico was displaying the gun in some way as to maybe make someone believe that it was real. Nonetheless, he was kind enough to dismiss the case. Even with the possible menacing circumstances, the warrant actually said "waving a toy gun."

I mean, in just under a month you might have to charge some jolly old guy with a million or so counts of that if waving a toy around constitutes a crime.

I also just found out that a colleague of mine is no longer practicing law. His client had posted bond on some serious cases. Ultimately, the client wound up going to prison for a long time. Well, when you post bond and your case is disposed of, you get your bond money back. Apparently Ricky Mernins signed over his client's bond money to himself. It was tens of thousands of dollars. Oh, and did I mention that Ricky Mernins had been appointed by the court to represent the guy? So, essentially, Ricky Mernins -- attorney at law -- stole tens of thousands of dollars from a guy who the court decided was too poor to be able to hire his own lawyer.

Well, at least there is one more lawyer that Eddie Schlipple officially ranks ahead of.

I'll Have Another

I represented a lovely woman today. Her name was Flora Downing. Flora was charged with being intoxicated and disruptive. She is approximately fifty years old. She wore heavy makeup and was dressed fairly nice in a conservative way. Her hair looked rather nice, too. She looked like a fifty year old woman who is trying to look like she is thirty. It would be very difficult to guess her age if you didn't know it.

She also smells completely of alcohol. And she is stinking drunk. What exactly would be the thinking involved of showing up for your court date completely drunk? And wouldn't it be even worse if the offense you were charged with was an alcohol related offense? She apparently was asking random attorneys if they could represent her prior to my arrival. Once I got there and told her that I was representing her, she began to focus her attention on me.

She approached me the way drunk older women tend to: quickly, and way up close. I think I may have caught a contact buzz off of her. Her words were largely coherent, but she was slurring an incredible amount. I suggested that she might want to continue the case because the judge on the bench might not appreciate that she came to court drunk. She assured me she was not drunk and told me she wanted to dispose of her case today.

So what was this drunk but otherwise mildly elegant-appearing woman doing to get charged with being drunk and disorderly? Well, she was hanging out in the parking lot of a mini-mart and shouting "Fuck you!" to all passersby. Fun stuff.

I was able to convince the DA that she was an alcoholic and that alcoholism was a defense to being drunk and disorderly. He dismissed the case. I went to inform her that her case was dismissed, but she was nowhere to be found. A half hour or so she was asking deputies on another floor of the courthouse how to get to her courtroom. They were all getting a good chuckle over how drunk she was. She made it back to the courtroom, but before I could tell her that her case was dismissed she was already being arrested by the deputies who realized that she had an outstanding warrant for being drunk and disorderly. It was a totally different case. Perhaps I will be representing her for that one, too.

No Jacket Required

So I traversed to a neighboring county to handle a couple of cases today. Somehow I forgot my jacket. I have never done this before. One time I forgot a tie, but I left my office knowing I needed a tie. This time I was in the parking lot of the courthouse and I realized that I didn't have my jacket. I thought to myself, "Maybe no one will even notice that I am not wearing a jacket. Surely, plenty of other people in the courthouse don't wear jackets."

As soon as I entered the courtroom other lawyers looked at me and started pointing and laughing. So much for the "not even notice" nonsense. Another lawyer who was just about finished with his business told me I could wear his jacket when he was through. So I waited. And I wore his jacket. A little blue on black action never hurt anyone, did it?

Ethel Diddi is around 68 or so years old. She has a son who is a piece of crap. He thinks he is some big shot, but he really just runs a small restaurant and sells coke out of it. Well, crack, really. He has a couple of poker machines in the back, too. He also actually has people who work in his restaurant in exchange for being allowed to sleep in the storage shed behind the restaurant. I wish I were making that part up. So, in short, the son is a total winner.

I met the son years ago when his daughter -- Ethel's granddaughter -- was in some minor trouble with the law. I represented her, and ever since then he has made me Tommy Hagen to his Don Corleone. As if. The daughter is really a piece of work. She herself had a daughter (Corleone's granddaughter and Ethel's great-granddaughter). She went around living in crack houses and doing her thing. One time she got busted in one of them with her daughter. Understandably, the State took her child from her. The State kept it all in the family, though, and awarded custody to Ethel.

So Ethel is the only great-grandmother I know of who has custody of a baby. She is poor. She also is in poor health. Her condition calls for her to have to buy diapers not only for the baby, but for herself, too. One day Ethel found herself without adult diapers and without money. She can't afford to pay anyone to watch the baby, so she has to bring the baby wherever she goes. She brought the baby to the grocery store to shoplift some adult diapers. She got caught. Not only did she get charged with shoplifting, but they also charged her with child abuse as she was committing a crime while having the child with her.

Would the real Don Corleone allow his mother to find herself in a position where she needs to steal diapers for herself? I am guessing "no."

The State failed to get the subpoena served on the employee of the grocery store. It is looking likely that the case will be dismissed. If it is not, then the State will likely take the child from Ethel. On the plus side, it is nice to find myself in a position where I feel that I really am helping someone in need.

No Child Molester Left Behind

This is my Wednesday post.

It was a good financial day today. In fact, it has been a fairly strong week. That always helps right before a long weekend, of course. I really wish that I did not have to worry so much about how much income I generate, but the truth is that I do have to. Debt from student loans, mortgage, etc. just seems so insurmountable at times. The money I make is fine, but the debt is out of control. I am actually hopeful that the sale of some real estate may alleviate this problem in the near future.

It looks like I am going to be hired for a sex offense case against a child next week. That will certainly improve my financial situation. I don't know too much about the allegations yet, but based on what degree the person has been charged with I believe that it will involve improper touching of a ten or twelve year old. It is not going to be a vaginal intercourse case.

Sex offense cases are difficult. Society is revolted by such actions. But the cases are almost impossible to prove. If there is semen or something, then it is a slam dunk for the state. But in the absence of semen or an adult witness, it is a difficult thing to prove. Often, it is simply the child's word that comprises the entirety of the state's evidence. We think to ourselves, "Well, why would a child make something like that up?" Indeed, why would they? But they might. They have exposure to those concepts and ideas now. The idea can get put in their head. They can be directed to make allegations at the request of someone who wants to get at the defendant. You just never know. But I think it is much more likely that the kids are telling the truth.

So I find myself having to defend cases by suggesting that someone -- maybe a kid -- is not telling the truth. And I feel strongly that my client is guilty. These are the kinds of situations that earn lawyers the ire of society. People think that lawyers are pond scum for defending child molesters, etc.

But what are we to do? Our job is to make sure that the state can prove that someone is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt before entering a guilty plea. What happens if lawyers stop doing that in sex offense cases? People would start being convicted just for being accused. It would provide even more power to those who would accuse. By defending cases like sex offense cases, I believe that I am directly helping to avoid having people persecuted by the state. We don't want a world where someone is convicted of a crime simply because of the color of his skin. Nor should we want someone to be convicted of a crime simply because of the nature of the allegations. Our system of government demands proof, and I am simply trying to make sure it happens.

In law school I had a really great professor who equated the Salem Witch Trials to the present-day environment for sex offense cases. In our society, being accused with committing a sex offense ruins an accused's life. The accused is never looked at the same again by his family, friends, co-workers, etc. Even in the rare case that it can be proven that the person in not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, the accused will have that label attached to him. It is a label that sticks more than it would from any other type of allegation. In Salem, people were convicted and hung based merely on allegations of others without the need for supporting evidence. We all know where that got us as a society. Accused child molesters face a similar situation today. The need help. If I turn my back on them, then it is just Salem all over again.

Apple Turnover

I have one attorney who works for me and two staff. The first one, Babette, has worked for me for only a month or so. Babette is 40 and she has worked mostly as a social worker. The other one, Apple, has been with me only for about two months. Apple is 18 years old and has worked mostly as a...well, I guess she has probably worked mostly for me at this point.

Babette is a rather super-energy, friendly woman. Today she brought in a bunch of pumpkin cookies. I am using the word "cookies" very loosely here, as the are really more like flat muffins. Or flat cake. Or flat bread. I think that if people were given an option of bread, muffin, cake, and cookie to describe these items, then "cookie" would finish a distant fourth. Anyway, it was nice of her to do. It went splendidly with the leftover pizza that I had on my way to work.

Apple moved here with her boyfriend five or so months ago. Early on, I asked her what she would do if she broke up with her boyfriend. Would she move back home with her family? Would she try to stick it out here?

I got the answer today. Apple and her boyfriend have parted ways. Apple gave me her two week notice today. Back to the drawing board for me. Now I have to find someone. And I need to find someone good. My office has been in unprecedented disarray these past few weeks. It is a combination of me not being in the office much because I am in court, and the fact that everyone working for me is new. It is nice to have at least one person who has been around for at least a year working in the office. But that is not the case. No one has been here that long. Even the attorney who works for me has only been with me for about three months. It is rough going. Losing Apple just sets me back that much further.

Any of my millions of readers looking for work?

It's Hard Out Here for a Wimp

On my way to the office, I received notification that one of my two secretaries would not be coming in because she was sick. Everyone in the office is fairly new right now, and she is my secretary with the most experience. If I am able to be in the office, then her absence would not be too big a deal as I would be able to answer most questions. However, if I were really held up in court for a while, then things could get a bit messy in the office.

So did I get held up in court today? Of course I did.

I was in the office for all of about thirty minutes before getting back from court at five o'clock. Upon arriving back at my office, I was greeted by four people who had been waiting for me in my lobby. Straight from the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak. I was not able to actually take a breath until about six.

I was in court so long because I had a trial for assault. My client and a group of her friends were at the park. There was another group of four or five people there. The two groups knew each other. One of the girls from each group started fighting each other. People -- including my client -- jumped in and pulled people apart. One of the girls said that my client kicked her in the head two times. Of all the people there, only my client was charged with a criminal offense.

It was a fairly quick trial with little excitement. I didn't even get to ask if anyone was a vampire. I was able to get a Not Guilty verdict returned. I capitalize "Not Guilty" because I want it to stand out more.

That was about the excitement for the day. It was really a grind-it-out blur of a day. Well, I did approach the assistant DA in one of the courtrooms and -- looking at the thousand or so icons on his laptop that he keeps on the table of the courtroom -- told him, "You're monitor contains more icons than the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame." That was about all I had to offer. It got a laugh out of him, and I slipped in a plea or dismissal or continuance while he was laughing. Often, that is all I really have. I try to make the prosecutor laugh and then get him/her to do something favorable while he/she is laughing.

On an unrelated note, I cut my finger this weekend while cutting an onion. It was bleeding rather quickly. I overbandaged it and went to a movie with my wife. Upon returning home, I unbandaged it blood was pouring out as if it had just happened. I have never had a cut bleed like that four hours later, so I decided to go to one of those non-hospital emergency medical care facilities. It turned out to be too late and none of them were open. Again, I overbandaged the wound and wrapped it too tightly.

Sunday around noon I removed the bandages again. I had to fight to get all of the super-tight bandages off. Once exposed, the wound was bleeding quickly again. I figured that was a bad sign, so I went to one of the medical facilities. By the time I arrived there and was treated, the wound had stopped bleeding. They wound up giving me a band-aid. Seriously. I went to get medical treatment for a band-aid.

I am officially the biggest wimp I know.

Naptime

I am in court virtually every non-holiday weekday of the year. Today was no exception. However, Fridays often involve only traffic court. Today was such a Friday. Needless to say, there is not exactly much stress involved in traffic court. I needed that.

I rolled into work, dealt with whatever emergency measures there were (today this involved having two people locked out because one doesn't have a key yet and the other forgot hers). I took care of traffic court and mostly spent my day answering questions from people in the office (I was barely in the office this week because I was in court almost all day everyday).

We also had our Friday office meeting. Today we had it at my favorite sandwich/coffee shop, Barrister's Brew. The food and atmosphere are fantastic. The place is a bit on the small side and can be slightly uncomfortable, but overall I love it. The place has its name because the owner is, in fact, a lawyer. I don't think he ever practiced law, however. He practices food, and the world is a better place for it. My wife would probably strangle a kitten to get to one of their brownies. Okay -- maybe not a kitten. A puppy. I will go with a puppy.

After lunch, I think I felt the stress of the week washing over me. My house happened to be situated between my house and my office. In my house is my bed. I knew what I had to do. An hour and a half later, I returned rather refreshed to my office. It was well worth it. Being able to do things like that sure makes it worthwhile to be working for myself.

I own my office building. It is for sale. We have a decent amount of equity in it, so my wife and I thought it would be a good idea to cash in. Unfortunately, I decided a few weeks ago that I wanted to rip out the drop ceiling in my office. Above that was an even less attractive popcorn ceiling. So I tore that out, too. Now there is no ceiling. I am not sure that the realtor and prospective buyer who looked at it today thought, but I am thinking that they weren't enjoying that exposed electrical wires and heating ducts as I do. Maybe I ought to get around to having a new ceiling put in at some point.

But it was a good day. At least no one went to jail on my watch.

Shortcuts Like a Knife

Piney Stone was walking down the road at about ten thirty in the morning. Because of the hour, Piney was drunk as usual. He decided to cut across the airport on his walk. He encountered a maintenance worker and started arguing with him. He made some threats, and then continued on his way. Airport security was alerted, and they approached Piney as he made his way back to the main road.

Piney was not particularly cooperative with the Airport security. He wound up being charged with being intoxicated in public, resisting arrest, and disorderly conduct. He has a very, very long record which contains numerous offenses which involve alcohol.

So we entered a plea. I told Piney that I was able to negotiate a plea that would keep him from having to do any jail time. He would get a suspended sentence of four months in prison, and be allowed to go on supervised probation. That means that if he violates probation, then he has to serve the four months. Otherwise, he never serves a day. He asked me if that meant he would have to attend alcohol education classes as a condition of his probation. I told him that it would.

Then I negotiated a second plea. Piney had the choice of the first plea with the probation, or an active sentence of thirty days in jail which would not involve any probation or alcohol classes. He chose to do thirty days.

Yes, you read that right. Instead of taking some alcohol classes, Piney wanted to spend thirty days in jail. Exactly what is your life like when you choose to go to jail so that you don't have to do something like take some alcohol classes? Sadly, he is not the first person I have seen make such a choice.

Bart Cresky is a client of mine who has been charged with slitting a guy's throat. The guy lived, but he definitely had a slit throat. The victim's story is that he and Bart were up drinking until five-thirty or so, and they were arguing about the fact that the victim was sleeping with Bart's girlfriend. Bart says something like, "I should kill you." To which the victim responds, "You don't have the balls." Bart -- apparently having the balls -- picks up a knife in the kitchen and cuts the victim's throat from behind. Then Bart leaves.

Bart's version is that he and the victim are at a bar until three. Then they decide to go four wheeling in the victim's Jeep. At three am (Do people really live like that? Do you think either of them would choose to do jail time over probation?). The Jeep gets stuck, and Bart heroically walks off to find help. In the meantime, the victim must have succeeded in freeing the Jeep and driving it home. During or after the drive, either someone slits the victim's throat or the victim slits his own throat. I can't wait until I get to try to sell the jury on theory number two.

Count One: Dracula

I had a trial today that involved a sort of strange domestic situation. I represented a father and son team who were charged with assaulting the same woman. Her name is Beltana, and she was the girlfriend of the father, Delbert. The two of them lived together with his son, Dobby.

Mostly, the case centered around a fight that broke out one night in the house after Delbert and Dobby had returned from the bar. Beltana and Dobby's girlfriend, Annie, got into a fight. Beltana actually ripped Annie's earring right through her ear. Ouch. Delbert and Dobby jumped in to break things up. As a result, Beltana had Dobby and Delbert charged with assaulting her and making threats.

The trial was not particularly exciting, but it did have its highlights.

Me: Now, when you say that you "pulled out" Annie's earring, you really mean that you ripped it right through her ear lobe, don't you?
Beltana: Yes.
Me: So that caused her to bleed quite a bit, didn't it.
Beltana: No. She wasn't bleeding.
Me: Your ripped a hole through her ear and she wasn't bleeding?
Beltana: Nope.
Me. Is she a vampire?
DA: Objection!

Ah, yes. I was able to ask a witness on the stand today if someone was a vampire. That is definitely a good day. Life is full of small victories. Of course, there was a larger victory, too, as Delbert and Dobby were both found not guilty on all counts.

The best part? My wife was in court today to watch. It is probably only the second time she has done that. I was fortunate enough to have her watch me be victorious. So now she might even think that I am a good lawyer. Ah...small victories.

Relapse

Remember the heroin addict who used to be the car saleswoman that I mentioned a couple weeks back? Last time we left her, she had completed a fifteen day program, had been clean for a few weeks, and had put on ten or fifteen pounds. She looked a lot better. Well, I saw her today. She did not look so good. She didn't lose the weight, but she was shaking and not making any sense. She is using again. We may enter a plea on her multiple felonies on Thursday. She will get probation, and they will order whatever drug treatment is available. It will not work. She will get violated over and over for testing positive. Eventually, some judge will just activate her sentence and she will wind up doing about eight or so months in prison. And that is just how it goes.

People say that it is bad that we don't have enough treatment for drug addicts. I agree with that, certainly. But with someone like her? Well, she is just fucked. At least in prison, she won't die. Out on the street, I expect she will be dead within a year or two. I have had multiple clients like her die. I am not sure what I can do. I will do my best to keep her on probation and getting active drug treatment. But I don't know if that is really any better than prison in her case. As I said, at least in prison she will be alive.

Driving While High

There was no court today as it was Veteran's Day. As such, it allowed me to get through a bunch of crap that was sitting on my desk. Of course, there still is more crap, and going through some of the crap just led to the creation of more crap, but overall I have to say that a fair amount of progress was made.

An eighteen year old came in with his parents to discuss his DWI. It was actually a very rare situation. There was no alcohol involved. The impairment is based on marijuana. Someday soon I expect that a test to measure present levels of marijuana will be made available to law enforcement. When that happens, business is going to pick up for me considerably. As it is now, the only test that law enforcement uses is for alcohol. If you are using any other drug, you would have to practically be passed out or have a needle sticking out of your arm while talking to the officer to be arrested for driving while impaired.

I have had one and only one case where I actually entered a guilty plea for a DWI where no alcohol was involved. My client drove through a number of front yards, knocked over some mailboxes, and ultimately was stopped by a pole supporting a basketball hoop. When the police arrived, my client was still in the car. He was foaming at the mouth and some needles and heroin were found on the passenger's seat. Other than that, a case is being tried if there is no alcohol involved. It is simply a difficult task for the prosecutor to prove that a person is impaired from a substance other than alcohol.

In this case, my client admitted to smoking some marijuana an hour or so earlier. Marijuana and a couple of pipes were found in the center console. My client said that he was asked to touch his nose, and to follow the officer's finger as he moved it in a horizontal line. Of course, I have yet to talk to the officer. I would not be surprised to learn that several other tests were given. I would not be surprised to learn my client made a statement like, "I am too high to drive." I just never know what happened based on hearing only my client's version of events. He does have court tomorrow, so I should be able to find out from the officer what really happened.

Top That

Remember how I was explaining how I get excited when people I know are charged with crimes? Imagine my delight to learn that the chef/owner of my favorite seafood restaurant in town needed my help with some driving-related offenses. Can you say trade?

I have traded my legal services for lawn maintenance, the building of a closet, massage (from licensed massage therapist, thank you very much), and pizza, among other things. I am only too happy to make the exchange for some seafood. Ah....lunch will be good for awhile.

The assistant DA I was working with today, Jennifer, is very new. She has been at it for about two months. I told her that before I entered a plea to a DWI, I wanted to make a quick Double Jeopardy argument to the judge.

Panic set in. She quickly called upstairs to the DA's office, and two other assistant DA's came trotting down. Denise was sure that the State would prevail and that I didn't have a leg to stand on. Saul thought that I had something up my sleeve and was concerned. And Jennifer just had no idea. It was the last case of the day, and it was three assistant DA's huddled together versus me. I kind of liked it. It made me feel important.

Ultimately, they decided that they were not ready to deal with this ingenious motion of mine (which I will no doubt lose) so they continued it on to January 10th. Alas, I will have to wait until then to unleash my Double Jeopardy argument on the court.

Speaking of representing people in exchange for pizza, a client of mine showed up with a pizza and some bread sticks for me this afternoon as a surprise. At 2:30. Is that really the best time to bring surprise pizza? Do you think that maybe we have already just had lunch? Would it kill him to bring it before noon or closer to five?

Would it kill me to be a little more grateful?

Como se llama?

This would be Thursday's post...

I had a young man today who was in jail. He is Mexican, and he has been here for four months. He was homeless and arrested for trespassing at a park he was previously told to stay away from. He was also arrested for being publicly intoxicated and for begging for money. Upon being arrested, he gave a fake name and was charged with that, too.

He had been in jail for 44 days. He was listed in the jail under a different name than the one he was arrested under. And he was arrested under a different name than he originally told the officer. So what the hell is his name? I have no idea.

Illegal Hispanic immigrants often will give a fake name upon being arrested. The State tries to do a record check before accepting their plea, but it is difficult to know whether the check you are running is really for the same person. So a guy whose real name is Jose Lima gets arrested. He tells the police his name is Jose Diaz. He is held in jail until his court date. He enters a guilty plea and his record is run. Nothing. He gets credit for time served and is released.

A month after getting out Jose Lima is arrested again. This time he gives his name as Miguel Diaz. He may or may not give the same date of birth. There is no record for a Miguel Diaz, so he goes free. Had the court known of his prior convictions, they might not let him go. But they don't know.

There are really only two ways that the right record will come up for an illegal Hispanic defendant. One is that the guy is honest and gives his real name. This certainly does happen often. Another is that the officer recognizes the guy and knows his name. This happens rarely.

With all the political talk about what to do with illegal immigrants, I am surprised that someone doesn't make an effort to have the ones who are committing crimes deported. I mean, the drunk and begging for money in the park is not really a big deal. But it happens with felonies, too. Illegal immigrants commit felonies, get probation, and are released. How is that even possible? How are we not at least deporting illegal immigrants who are committing felonies? I have no idea.

But Hispanics really get screwed by the law. As bad as black males have it, Hispanic males probably have it worse. I do my best to help them, but it is such a difficult battle. They have no idea what is going on. It's not like the most educated and wealthy Hispanics are sneaking over the border. We are dealing with a group that is largely uneducated and illiterate. When they get let out of jail and placed on probation, they have no idea what to do. They don't know who to report to. If they do know who to report to, the chances are that there is no one at that office who knows how to speak Spanish.

It's a mess. I don't know what the answers are, but we could start by not placing them on probation. Or, if we are going to do that, we need to have personnel in place who know how to speak Spanish.

Mind Your Manners

This would be Wednesday's post...

It was somewhat of a track meet for me today. My office is a mere one block from the courthouse where I primarily practice law, but sometimes there are other places to be. This was one such day.

I had to be in three buildings at once, and two different rooms in two of the buildings and three different rooms in one of the buildings. All in all, I needed to be in seven different courtrooms at the exact same time. I never saw the Michael Keaton flop, "Multiplicity," but I am quite certain that it was days like this that made him feel like he could use a few clones. I could have used some for sure.

The worst part of the whole thing would be that I felt like I accomplished very little. I did get to watch a defendant ask to have the court appoint him a lawyer for his breaking and entering case.

"Where do you live?"
"Rustic Creek."
"Do you know why I asked you that?"
"No, ma'am."
"Because the house that you ALLEGEDLY broke into? It is across the street from me."

Not a lucky day for that sixteen year old young man. Judge Broome conducts herself on the bench like she is auditioning for some sort of court-related program. She is full of exaggerated sighs, changes of tone, and personal remarks. If nothing else, she is entertaining to watch.

Death Wish

Not sure why, but I am more tired today than I normally am. Yet I didn't do too much at work today. That makes no sense. It may have to do with my wife's delicious chocolate chip cookies.

A client was in today talking about doing an adoption. As we were talking, they began to tell me about a close relative who was struck by a vehicle recently and killed. They have not yet retained an attorney for the case.

Exactly how bad is it that I became excited over this news? It is really awful. Someone is severely injured or killed, and I get excited that they might hire me. Sure, you could say that I am excited by the prospect of the helping these people in their time of need and getting them what they need. You could also say that I have dollar signs lighting up in my eyes like a cartoon character.

What if drugs were legalized? The impact it would have on defense attorneys, police, probation, prosecutor's offices, etc. would be enormous. Too many people are making too much money off of how things are being run right now for a change like that to ever take place.

I support the legalization of drugs. Yes, I know it would hurt my pocket book, but I support it nonetheless. You might think that makes me noble in some way. Before reaching that conclusion, you should know that about a month ago I saw a client of mine on the news charged with first degree statutory rape of a child. And dollar signs flashed in my eyes.

In a perfect world, I suppose that people would not make money off the misfortune of others (are you listening to me, mortgage and credit card companies?). I really would be much happier if I was a full-time public defender. The problem is, the job would not pay enough. So until then, I have to root for crime to drop overall, but for my clients to commit serious crimes. And I have to root for accidental deaths to decrease, but accidental deaths of the friends and families of clients to increase.

Can I put that on my Christmas card this year: "The Law Offices of Eddie Schlipple wish you and your loved ones a happy holiday season. We also are there for you if any of you accidentally die or molest a child this season."

Shake It Up

Today was Shaky's day in court. The charges? Three counts of Assault on a Police Officer, one count each of Possession of Drug Paraphernalia, Trespass, and Begging. Two of the Assaults were actually assaults on horses. However, as the horses are police officers, he gets charged with Assault on a Police Officer.

I said to Brent Borgon, the Assistant DA for the case, "You do realize that it is a more serious crime for me to punch a horse than to punch you in the face?" He nodded understanding. "But this is no ordinary horse," he replied.

So we pled to a few of the counts and had the remainder of the charges dismissed. I was able to strategically get all of the cases set for today and in front of Judge Cribble. Judge Cribble actually confused Shaky with Crisco, who is another homeless guy who is always in and out of court.

One time I was out for a walk and I ran into Crisco on the street. He, predictably, asked me for money. I told him I had none. Then he tried a little harder. He told me he had just been stabbed. "You have?" I asked. He raised his shirt. He had been stabbed. Well, that was certainly worth the dollar or two I had. I am quite sure that he purchased some effective sedative with the money.

I have run into Shaky several times on the street. He always asks me for money. One time when I told him I only had plastic, he pointed me to an ATM and told me I could get some money for him there. Another time I was out with my wife and he told us he was hungry and wanted some money for food. So I went into a nearby coffee shop and bought him a muffin. I handed it to him. He studied it in his hand. "What's this?" "It's food, Shaky." He considered the muffin, then looked up at me. "You got any money?"

But the best Shaky story is the time he was charged with robbing a prostitute. She had given the agreed-upon blowjob, but Shaky would not give her the five dollars that he had promised her. This transaction and event took place entirely inside a port-o-potty. Ah....class.

So Judge Cribble had fun joking with Shaky in front of the crowd.
"Still begging?"
"No, I stopped that."
"Shaky, you've asked me for money."
"But I was just kidding."
"No, you weren't."

When all was said and done, Judge Cribble gave him credit for time served. If I wandered just a few blocks from here right now, I would undoubtedly encounter him working his magic on some corner.

What a Dog

Have you ever seen one of those websites that has before and after pictures of people who were taking drugs? I have actually read some online discussions where people argue that those photos are exaggerations or sensationalized. It has been my experience that those photos are spot-on. In fact, sometimes they go easy on the person. They usually are a comparison of two arrest photos. The first one is usually taken at the time of the person's first arrest, and the second one at the time of the person's most recent arrest. The thing is, the person had likely been doing drugs for a while before that first arrest. That person's appearance may have already changed significantly before that person was arrested for the first time. So rather than the photos being an exaggeration, I would argue that sometimes the photos are really only showing part of the change.

About ten years ago I was working at a laundromat/dry cleaners. We were open until ten, so a lot of the car salesmen would come to drop off their dry cleaning because we were the only place open after they got off the lot at night.

One such person was Olivia DeLonte. Olivia sold cars for one of the local dealerships. She was probably about thirty-five at the time. She was a very attractive woman. And she was very attractive in a rather classy way. I remember her being very pleasant and having a very pretty smile. She was way out of my league. I didn't even bother trying to flirt with her. I was studying for the Bar Exam and working in a laundromat. She was beautiful, classy, charming, and successful. She would have laughed at me.

I now represent Olivia for a number of felonies. It seems at some point over the last ten years she got involved in heroin. To say that she no longer looks beautiful would be an understatement. She has gone from someone who would never notice me to someone I would never notice. Her weight was probably about ninety pounds. Her hair lacked luster. Her skin looks discolored and splotchy. Her teeth look like crap. She is so thin that bones are just popping out of her. Her fingernails are bitten off and dirty. Her breath is atrocious. She shakes and cannot hold herself together. The smile is gone. There is literally nothing left that is attractive about her. There is no charm, class, or confidence. It is incredibly sad. It is sort of like the woman I knew is now dead. Whatever happens to Olivia and whatever she is able to make of her life, she is not going to be able to re-claim who she was. Hopefully she can find some kind of life that is productive and satisfying, but she is never going to be that person she used to be.

I saw her today for the first time in a month or so. She went to a 14 day program. She put on fifteen pounds. A lot of the shaking has stopped. She looks a lot better than she did a month ago, but many of the physical and personality changes are here to stay. I do hope that she is able to maintain her sobriety.

Who schedules a meeting at four o'clock on a Friday afternoon? The Town of Speckville, apparently. The town of Speckville is so small that the "town hall" is not even locate in Speckville. I had a hearing there today to discuss a woman's barking dogs.

My client had thirteen hunting dogs that she kept in her back yard. They barked a lot. Neighbors weren't pleased. They complained. So she started finding place for the dogs to board. She is now down to two dogs. They are still barking. They are barking so much, in fact, that a neighbor apparently called some county official eight times in the middle of the night last night to report the barking.

Eight times in the middle of the night? Are you kidding me? A dog would have to literally be in my bed barking at me to cause me to call eight times in the middle of the night to complain. Can't this guy get a fan or something to drown out the noise? That is how I sleep. There could be a gunfight going on in my front yard and I wouldn't even hear it.

We formulated a plan to try to get rid of one of the remaining dogs and do something to get the other one to show up. I am not exactly optimistic that it is going to work. She will probably have to wind up boarding up the remaining dogs, too.

Among the strange things about this situation are that the dogs are hunting dogs. Apparently (I obviously know nothing of the subject) these dogs are not potty-trained and do not go inside at all. Ever. As such, she cannot put them in the house. She also is not a hunter. Her son is. And he doesn't live there. My solution would be, "Hey, son. Take the dogs and find a place for them." As I sat at this meeting for this civil matter, it did give me a newfound realization of the relative importance of the criminal cases I work on.

In the Slammer

I will be sleeping in my own bed tonight. I can't quite say the same thing for George Coney. I gave an impassioned closing argument, but it seemed to only convince myself. It would seem that no matter the quality of the confidential informant, the jury just couldn't get around the fact that my client had the marked bills on his person that the police had given to the confidential informant a mere ten minutes earlier. I can't say that I blame them.

It is interesting how I wind up believing in my own case once a trial starts, no matter how crappy the case is. And make no mistake: this was a crappy case. It went probably as well as it could have gone, too. But in the midst of it, I started thinking that maybe George had a chance. Well, now he will be in prison for the next 13-16 months. But this cloud is not without its silver lining: I will not have to deal with drop-ins and rambling phone calls from him for over a year. That will be a good thing.

Meanwhile, I had a classic assnose client today. I am on a list that allows me to be appointed by the court to represent people sometimes. Today I represented Pud Grogan. I was appointed by the court to do so. When someone gets an attorney appointed for them, they are given the name and number of the attorney. When my office receives the appointment sheet, we also send the person a letter encouraging them to come meet with me before their court date.

So Pud is charged with a felony. He does not make an appointment to come meet with me prior to his court date. He also does not call for any reason at all. Today is his court date for a felony. The first contact I receive from him is this morning. He calls at nine-fifteen. He is rude to my secretary and demands to know where I am and why I am not in his courtroom. He tells her that he can't have his case continued today because he is here from out of town. I am very busy with my jury trial wrapping up and other matters in other courtrooms. Pud tracks me down in one of the courtrooms (not the one his case is in) and starts frantically trying to get my attention. I have no idea who he is. He starts launching into me for not being in his courtroom. Meanwhile, I am trying to take care of the matters in that courtroom at the time.

It was incredible. I mean, here is a guy who couldn't be bothered to contact his attorney for a felony bitching at said attorney for not being ready to jump for him. Wow. Just bugged the crap out of me. I finally got to his case in the afternoon. I spoke to the DA and worked out a deal to have the case dismissed (that would be a felony dismissal for those of you keeping track at home) if Pud will pay 300 dollars in restitution. Reluctantly, Pud agrees to the deal. I can assure you that neither the words "thank" nor "you" escaped his lips at any point, much less consecutive to one another.

Even the Sun Shines...

George Coney showed up on time for court today. And he was as crazy as ever. So we went ahead and tried his case And then something strange happened...

The jury watched a twelve minute video of the drug transaction. The camera was on the informant's chest and pointed over the dash and out the front of the car. So we were able to watch the road in front of the car. For twelve minutes. And that was it. At some point, the car came to a stop and we could hear the driver say, "Eighty." The detective said that was the transaction. My client allegedly came to the driver's side window and gave the informant drugs for eighty dollars. But we never saw my client. We never saw my client's car. We never heard my client. I was able to get the detective to admit that if a transaction had occurred at any other time the vehicle stopped, then we would not be able to tell if it had happened. I was trying to suggest that maybe the informant didn't do what he said he did. After all, the video really showed nothing. The detective admitted that fact.

Interesting. But the informant still had to testify. Surely he would doom my client. He took the stand and mumbled his first few answers. He is serving four years in prison right now for breaking and entering. Then he said that he had bought drugs from my client on numerous occasions, but that he couldn't recall what happened that day. And that was it. That was his testimony. On cross, I had him admit that he has been convicted of obtaining property by false pretenses and larceny, among other things. I left it alone at that, because I didn't want to rile him up and get him to start talking about what happened.

Closing arguments are tomorrow. I am starting to wonder if my idiot client might not get very lucky here. We shall see. I should not get my hopes up too high. After all, nine bags of heroin were found on his seat, and he had the marked money. But still, things are looking better for him than I ever thought that could.

We should have a verdict by lunch tomorrow.

Trial Strategies

Jury selection in the George Coney case begins tomorrow at nine-thirty. I will be looking for jurors who are paranoid and delusional. I wonder how many of those I can get on the jury. Of course, perhaps during selection I will ask, "How many of you are willing to find my client not guilty just to stick it to the Man?"

Among the things I have to convince the jury of tomorrow will be the idea that my client could be sitting on ten bags of heroin in the middle of a sunny day and not know it. I told Gary Doe, the prosecutor, that I was going to try one of the following with the jury:

1. I am going to make my argument to the jury, and then turn around and walk back to my table, exposing the ten bags of heroin I have taped to my ass.

2. During my closing, I will say, "Now, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am aware that some of you may be thinking that it sounds absurd to say that someone could be sitting on top of heroin and not know it. So I ask you now to reach down and feel the bottoms of the chairs you are sitting in. You have all been sitting on heroin for this entire trial."

Gary Doe liked both ideas, and quickly suggested that if I opted for number two, then he would ask the bailiff to arrest the jury.

Diameter: 4

Joe Phillips walked into a mini-mart and demanded that the owner give him some shoes (shoes are sold there behind the counter). The owner would not comply, so Joe walked behind the counter, brandished a knife, and started rummaging through things. He chose some shoes and walked out the door. He changed his mind five or so minutes later, returned to the store, put the shoes up on the counter, and sat on the curb. The police showed up and arrested him for armed robbery. On the day his trial was scheduled several months ago, Joe showed up without any shoes. I sent Joe to the state hospital to be evaluated, and he was deemed incompetent. After being put on the proper medication, Joe is doing much better. Today we were in court and Joe pled to a reduced charge and received two years in prison.

Joe was probably the fourth craziest person I had today.

Coming in third was Buffy. She was back in court today for her pending drug charge. She actually showed up, which was rather impressive. As I stood up to do her plea, I realized that she was not in the courtroom. Her mother informed me that nerves caused her to run to the bathroom and get sick. She was in the bathroom for over an hour. I thought the judge was going to send deputies into the restroom to fetch her. Finally, she emerged. We entered her plea, and she is off to do six months in prison.

Not a good day for my clients, now that I think about it.

The second craziest person I had was George Coney. George is not altogether there. Some days he is incapable of speaking. Other days he is incapable of shutting up. Unfortunately, on those days he has no idea what he is talking about. I imagine that he will be the subject of posts to come as it looks like we are going to try his case sometime this week. The facts of his case are these: cops send informant to buy heroin from George, informant buys and tells police where George is parked, police surround George's car and try to get him to come out of the car, George surges forward and rams one of the police cars, police pull George out of the vehicle and there are ten bags of heroin on the driver's seat, the two marked twenties that the informant gave to George for the heroin are found on George's person.

George wants to try the case and believes that he will be found not guilty. The plea offer calls for him to receive three months in prison and to come out on probation. If convicted, he will probably wind up doing a couple years in prison. When I asked him how I should explain away the marked bills, he responded, "None of those bills had marks on them!" I hope no one is keeping track of my won/loss record.

And that leaves Ghandi McJesus. Ghandi assures me that he is a British secret agent. Ghandi had the good fortune to appear in front of Judge Cribble. Judge Cribble asked him what his rank or something was. Ghandi responds, "I am level 6. Clearance 27. Rated 3A. Latitude 45. Diameter 4...." He went on from there. I still can't get over "diameter: 4." That is one of the greatest things I have ever heard someone utter in court.

Axes with Exes

I thought that I was going to have a custody trial. I don't do a lot of those cases, but I had made an exception in this case for reasons I can't remember. I would call it a strange case, but I guess that all custody cases are strange. I always say that, yes, criminals are crazy. But if you want to talk about people who are truly crazy, then you have to talk about the family law clients.

I represented Mom in this action. Dad filed for custody. A few weeks after filing for custody, Dad moved twelve hours away. That is an interesting strategic move. Not only does he have to prove the kids would be better off with him, he also has to prove that the kids should be taken from the place they have lived their whole lives and their schools. Clearly, my client has an advantage here.

Where my client doesn't have an advantage is the part where she is an alcoholic and has committed several acts that demonstrate her inability to drink responsibly. She also cheated on Dad while they were living together as a married couple. Pretty crappy. She alleges to me that he is abusive to her physically. Upon further examination, she reveals that he is only abusive to her when she is drinking. Not when he is drinking. When she is drinking. Hmmmmm.....you think that maybe Dad's lawyer will spin that as "she gets drunk and starts fights with him?" Just maybe.

Dad's lawyer brings me a printout of texts that my client has sent to Dad over the past year or so. Dad was surprisingly fair in that he included messages that made her look good. Anyway, in her texts she starts calling him by a female name and claiming that she knows about his crossdressing and being a woman in a secret life. I asked Dad's lawyer about that. She says she thinks it is true. Strangely, with all the dirt my client is trying to tell me about him, she never mentioned that. Interesting.

Dad decides that he wants to settle and allow my client to have custody. I am happy because I get to avoid the trial I didn't want to have. My client is okay, but not happy. I think she was looking forward to the fireworks in court. As usual, it was not about the kids for these two. Rather, it was for Dad and Mom to grind some axes.

We had our office meeting today. We have it every Friday over lunch. Sometimes we have it in the conference room, and sometimes we have it at a restaurant. Today we had it at Pizza Hut. Their salad bar was very impressive. Of course, it might have been better if there had been some lettuce. But that is clearly old-school thinking on my part. Pizza Hut has clearly seen the future in salads, and it does not involve lettuce. Or cheese. Or egg.

Details...

Client 1: Burt comes in and is bitching about the ticket he received. He was charged with exceeding the posted speed. He is pissed. I hear a couple of the standbys:
"Must have been a new cop." (He has been on the force for over five years)
"He's trying to fill his quotas."
"He must have been having a bad day or something."
So the guy is fairly outraged at this ticket. The officer tells him he was doing 60 in a 45. Burt tells the officer that he was driving 52. The officer points out that even if that is true, then Burt was still speeding by his own admission. So the officer charges Burt with exceeding the posted speed and not 60 in a 45. He is actually doing Burt a favor as exceeding the posted speed is a less serious offense.

Then Burt tells me that he got another ticket. In this one, he is charged with reckless driving. And what was he doing to get charged with reckless driving? Try 130 miles per hour in a 45. Seriously. So that officer way undercharges him. Is he happy overall? No. All he can focus on is the first unjust ticket.

Client 2: The police report says that the officers are hanging out watching a drug house. They see vehicle park in front of the house. They see a couple of people light up. Then the car rolls away. They get behind the car and run the tag. Expired (PSA -- if you are doing drugs in your car, please be sure to have your lights on and inspection and registration current) registration. They pull the car over. Portis is driving. There are two passengers. They see a crack pipe on th passenger's side floorboard. The passenger gets up and a crack rock falls out of his lap. They question the two passengers and both say that all three of them were enjoying some crack.

My client has no criminal record and he is about fifty years old. He has a full time job. His version of the facts: He is driving along when he sees two people who need a ride. He lets them get in the car. They get in the car and he gives them a ride. Then he gets pulled over by the police. Do people actually think that their lawyers aren't even interested in the truth?

Client 3: Dudley is hanging out at a sports bar. He is out in the parking lot talking to some girls out front standing in the "To Go Parking" spots. A car pulls up and wants to park there because the guy has placed an order to go. Dudley decides to show off for the girls and not move out of the spot. He stands there, refuses to move, mocks the guy, and gives him the finger. After the guy goes to park elsewhere, Dudley goes into the sports bar.

Dudley is sitting at the bar having his drink. He turns around and sees the angry guy from the car quickly approaching him. So Dudley -- realizing that he treated the guy poorly outside and was in the wrong -- hauls off and punches the guy in the face. Dudley is astonished when the "asshole" then goes and has a warrant taken out for Dudley's arrest for assault. Dudley simply can't believe the nerve of the guy.

Dudley: "So Eddie, that's self-defense, isn't it?"
Me: "No."
Dudley: "Why not?"
Me: "Well, he would have to have hit you first. Did he hit your first?"
Dudley: "No. But he was coming at me fast and he looked crazy."

So Dudley thinks that if you do something outrageous and offensive to someone and that person then acts outraged or offended, then you should be able to punch that outraged and offended person in the face. Perhaps Dudley should consider a job that involves making foreign policy decisions for the United States.

Thomas Dennis has a very bad record. He also is a licensed electrician. He brings home the money from his job to support his wife and his kids. Thomas decides that the wife isn't giving him enough back after his allowance, and he feels that he is deserving of a bit more financial freedom. So he does the American thing and gets a second job. Selling drugs.

Well, Thomas gets busted selling drugs. He is offered a split sentence where he has to do four months active time in prison, and then come out on probation. Being an electrician, Thomas is not a stupid guy. So he takes the deal. He shows up for court like a man and goes off to serve his four months.

One week prior to going off to jail, Thomas and his wife have a fight. Nobody gets hurt, but a concerned neighbor calls the police. Thomas gets arrested and charged with assaulting his wife. Thomas is afraid that if everyone knows about this new charge, then his four month deal will be withdrawn. So he doesn't tell me -- his attorney -- that he has been charged with assaulting his wife. I assume he thinks he was being shrewd.

But he was not. In fact, he was being stupid after all. For if I had known about the assault charge when we entered that plea a couple of weeks ago, then I could have bundled in the assault with the deal and not added to his time. Instead, I found out about it today. Thomas is in prison right now. He is not getting any credit on his assault case. It was continued to the officer's next court date -- which happens to be in December. By then, Thomas will only have about thirty days left on his sentence. So if he gets an active sentence to run concurrently with the sentence he is serving now, then any time he gets in excess of thirty days will add to his time in prison.

Dumbass.

Domestic Silence

I had a 71 year old man today who was charged with stalking a 28 year old woman. It was an awful case. The man is very hard of hearing, but he doesn't look like he is 71 years old at all. He looks like he is 171 years old. He and the "victim" in this case entered into a friendship. I have no idea what sort of bodily fluids may or may not have been exchanged at any point during this time, but suffice it to say that at some point my client believed he was engaged to this woman. Within a month of him believing to be engaged, she apparently married someone else. That is just something that can't be particularly common.

Anyway, this is a sort of variation on the old-rich-guy hot-young-girl situation. The difference here is that the old rich guy is not very rich. And the hot young girl is not very hot. So Oldie gets her a cell phone. I think he lets her use his car, too. I am sure he buys her a couple of dinners. Oldie is living a couple hours away. When he comes down to visit her, she does what any girl who just lied to a guy by telling him she will marry him so that he will give her some stuff would do: she calls the cops and has him arrested.

I was really looking forward to trying this case. He had cell phone records showing that she called him dozens of times after he allegedly stalked her. He also brought a witness who was going to testify that she had told the witness (she often communicated through this witness because Oldie couldn't hear a damn thing) that she was willing to drop the charges in exchange for some money. Unfortunately, the "victim" did not show up for court, and the case was dismissed. I can't say I was too surprised.

I subscribe to Pavlov's theory when it comes to people making jokes. I don't laugh at them unless they are funny. Why? Because if I laugh at a person who is not funny, then that person is going to believe that he is funny and continue making jokes. I hope that by not laughing, it might deter the person from making jokes.

My standing exception to this is really old people. Oldie is one of those old people who runs around making jokes all the time. Of course, the fact that he can't hear the jokes he is telling makes me wonder if he would still tell them if he knew what they sounded like. So when a guy who looks 171 years old cracks a joke, I do my fake laugh (I have a terrible fake laugh). I figure it may literally be the last time the guy ever gets to tell a joke, and I would hate for his last joke to have been met with silence.

Shaky

I received another five resumes today. I have narrowed my choices down to two people. I will choose between them tomorrow. Of the five I received today, I don't remember two of them. One of the others was an attorney who has yet to take the Bar Exam. Another has an MBA. The third has worked at a very prestigious strip club for the past two years. All very suitable candidates. Such a shame to have already made up my mind.

I used to think that being overqualified was a ridiculous reason not to hire someone. Now? I understand. The lawyer and the MBA would stay with me for exactly as much time as it took them to find a better job (actually, isn't that the exact amount of time anyone stays at any job?). More specifically, it will be fairly easy for these people to find better jobs. It is a rough market here. This job pays eight dollars an hour. I have received resumes from probably ten or more college grads. Of my two finalists, one is a college grad with a 3.7 GPA. Hell, that is better than I did.

Today I had court with Shaky. Sometimes I get cases appointed by the court. Every time Shaky goes to court, I get appointed to represent him. I had Zelda (my current secretary -- she will be joined by the new one in a day or two) check last week to see how many different times I have represented Shaky through the years. The answer, it would seem, is 22 times. Wow. That's a lot of representin'. He is a homeless guy who hangs out and panhandles. When he gets particularly drunk, he yells at the people who don't give him money. Then the police come and ask him to stop panhandling. Sometimes he yells at them, too. When he does, he gets arrested. It is always for one or more of the following: panhandling, resisting arrest, possession of drugs or drug paraphernalia. My job as his lawyer is to get his case heard in front of Judge Cribble. Judge Cribble likes him for some reason.

And that is a big part of what being an effective criminal defense attorney is about: know your judges. Judge Cribble may hate Hispanics, but he loves veterans. And he loves Shaky. So for misdemeanor cases, I evaluate the case and determine which judge would be the most appropriate to hear it.

So Shaky got continued today. Hopefully, the spinner will come up on Judge Cribble for his next court date. Judge Cribble will accept his plea give him an active sentence for the amount of time he has sat in jail. That means Shaky walks out the door that day. Other judges will look at Shaky's record and give him the maximum sentence.

Can't Touch This

Calling a random number in the phone book and asking someone if his refrigerator is running might be a funny prank. Calling 911 and telling them that you are in a sinking boat which causes them to send out helicopters and ships to find you is not quite as funny a prank. In fact, it can lead to being charged with some substantially criminal offenses.

I started my day by assisting my new client with some pre-arrest issues that relate to his case. On my drive to this meeting, I was listening to the radio. Well, I was trying to listen to my Spanish cds (I am on a thirty year plan to learn Spanish), but I have trouble staying focused for too long. So in between lessons, I will listen to the radio a bit to break things up.

You know how sometimes you hear an old song that brings back some memories or that you can't believe you used to like? Usually, you think you haven't heard the song in years, but the reality is that the song has probably popped up on occasion every year or two. Not this one. Today I heard a song that I believe has not been played since it's popularity in 1990(?). I think that it might actually have been banned from being played for the past seventeen years. And I am not just talking about radio play. I think that it may have become illegal to play this song within the privacy of your own home. Being the free speech advocate that I am, I am outraged that this song was banned for seventeen years. Seventy might have been more appropriate. If I am not dead by then, at least my hearing should be sufficiently shot to be able to make out the lyrics and beat to...

Too Legit to Quit. Yes, that was the lead single off the album of the same name for MC Hammer to follow up his wildly successful, "Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'Em" album. MC Hammer scored three hits off that album, and they were all just raps over the instrumental of hit songs (Super Freak, When Doves Cry, and Have You Seen Her?). 2 Legit 2 Quit was Hammer's attempt to write his own hit in its entirety. It effectively ended his career.

Do you remember the hand signals? A Ghostbusters-like sequence of celebrities now in the Witness Protection Program begin doing the hand signals for the song. The hand signals are great, and the song sounds like a cross between C+C Music Factory and diarrhea (my apologies to diarrhea).

So the interview process continued today. I actually had a few good candidates today. Among them was a woman who just moved here from Florida and is living at the Salvation Army. She was very nice, and was even well-dressed. One of the hardest parts about interviewing people is finding out things about them that make me really feel for them and want to give them the job based on their need. Last time I interviewed people, I spoke to one woman who had her home destroyed in Katrina and had recently moved here. She was living in a cupboard or something with her family of five. It was heartbreaking. Anyway, I won't be hiring the Salvation Army person, but I sure as heck want to.

From Enemy to Friend?

The search for a secretary continued today. I met with three new candidates, and two of them are certainly worthy of consideration. I have a few more to interview tomorrow. I should have the situation resolved by Monday.

One of the three today was actually the victim in a domestic violence case I had several months ago. I recognized her upon seeing her. The case was a typically stupid domestic violence case (domestic violence is not stupid, but the cases sure can be). A married couple got into an argument. It turned physical. When I say "physical," I don't mean hitting people over the head with a frying pan. I don't even mean punching people. I mean pushing and grabbing. Not healthy behavior, certainly -- but also not exactly criminal in my opinion. She leaves the house because they both realize that they need to be apart. She winds up at a mini-mart not far from where she lives. An officer comes upon her there. He takes her home. When the husband opens the door to greet them, the officer observes a scratch on the husband. Then the officer notices that there are red marks on the wife's arms. So he arrests them both and puts them in jail.

Unfortunately for both of them, it is two days before Christmas. The husband and wife wind up spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day behind bars. The cases wound up being resolved in such a way that neither wound up with a criminal conviction. Ah, the law working its subtle magic on the institution of marriage...

So the wife is in my office today to interview for the secretary position. She was afraid I would hold the incident against her. Not only would I not hold the incident against her, I told her, but I also was counting it as relevant experience for the job.

We'll see. She is nice, college-educated, and intelligent. Of the two potential candidates, she would work for the least money. Sadly in this capitalistic society, that is a factor I will take into consideration.

Wanted: Secretary

The search began today for a new secretary. I interviewed one person. I learned that she has a blog that she has seven hundred-something entries in. I learned that she dresses like she walked past an exploding goodwill store on her way to the interview. I know that she was playing Beethoven on her electronic keyboard this morning. I know that she came to the interview armed with zero questions about my business and zero questions about the job. And I know that her employment status will be the same tomorrow as it is today.

I shook hands with someone with my left hand today. I have never done that. My client broke his shoulder or something on his motorcycle and his arm was in a sling. So, upon greeting him, I reached out and shook his left hand with my own left hand. It felt very strange. It also felt strangely good. I am not sure if there is a fetish for opposite-hand-shaking, but I am certainly going to start one if there is not one already.

On the office front, my secretary of just over a year, Olive, called in sick. It was the tenth time Olive has called in sick in the past ten weeks. As such, I was not particularly pleased. In fact, I was so not pleased that I fired her.

Now, Olive is a person who prefers texting over all other forms of communication. She greatly prefers it to speaking. I provide cell phones and pay for the plans of my employees. I have seen her bill. She texts more than double the other three of us combined. She texts way more than she calls. She never calls me. She always texts me.

Bearing this in mind, I decided to break the news of her newfound employment status via text. Impersonal? Sure. But it is her preferred method of communication, and it doesn't put her on the spot like speech does. I think people tend to say things they regret when confronted with unpleasant news, so I thought that texting her might be effective on a couple of levels.

I sent her a fairly lengthy text. The most important part of it said, "I'm letting you go." Unfortunately, my phone has predictive text as a feature. Generally speaking, I like it very much. She responded to my text with, "You are letting me in? In where?" Not good. 46 apparently defaults to "in" and not "go" with my predictive text. I never bothered to look. So that made things even more awkward than they already were.

Jose's case still was not reached. Again, there were interpreter issues. So it will be handled on a date to be named later.

Meanwhile, I had a couple of probation violations to deal with. One was with Buffy. Buffy was on probation for possessing some meth. She violated her probation by not reporting to her officer, failing numerous drug screens, not reporting to the outpatient drug treatment, not paying her costs and fines, and lastly by being caught again with a substantial amount of meth. She was initially violated about six months ago. Her probation officer was recommending revocation, which means that her probation is revoked and she has to serve the previously suspended prison sentence. Buffy shows up in my office sometime around April and tells me that she is not going to go to court the next day.

"It's about to be summer, " she tells me in her meth-induced rapid speech. "It's my time to shine." Ah, yes, her time to shine.

Well, shine she did. She blew off court, got her mother and sister to lie to probation about her whereabouts, and was on the lam until last month when she got arrested. Incredibly, her mother bonded her out again even though she knew Buffy would be going to prison once her case was heard. Her mother seems to have plenty of money to bond out her daughter, but has very little money to pay for her daughter's attorney. But that is another matter.

So Buffy shows up in court last month. She is definitely headed to prison now. Not only does she have all those violations I mentioned previously, but she also blew off court and went into hiding for the summer. So she shows up last month and announces that she is pregnant. I assume that she is going to tell me that she can't go to prison because she is pregnant (amazing how many young women get pregnant right before it's time for prison). But she doesn't. Instead, she tells me that she does not want to be pregnant in jail so she is going to have an abortion. So, for the first time ever, I ask the Judge to continue her case because a client wants to get an abortion. He continues the case to today.

So we are back today. And when I say "we," I mean me, the Judge, and the probation officer. Buffy is not there. Buffy's mother comes to court and announces that Buffy did not have that abortion, but amazingly had a miscarriage today and is in the hospital. The Judge said he would hold the case open until I have proof that she is in the hospital. Needless to say, my fax machine was not exactly spurting out any medical information by the end of the day. I expect that tomorrow the Judge will issue and order for her arrest for missing court, and her mother will show up Thursday or Friday with some sort of "proof" of her daughter's condition.