#lawyerrants

[thatonedood]

the next chapter?

there are things that you are born to do in life.  and then there are things that you are destined for.

yes, there is a distinction between the two.  there are plenty of examples of individuals who have a natural ability and talent to do something.  say, play basketball, compose music, write prose.  and often times, for whatever reason, these same people often end up doing something with their lives that may have little to do with their natural predisposition.

the reason why people end up doing something different?  i don't know.  let's call it life.  life happens.

i believe i was born to be a public defender.

i don't know how i honed this ability or for how long i've had it, but i've always had the natural ability to genuinely connect with people.  to listen intently.  and use these two abilities to tell their story.  these are basic skills that an effective advocate needs to have.

it just so happens i've been given the privilege to practice law.  i've been given the privilege to use the law as a conduit to advocate on behalf of individuals who can't afford representation.

when i was first interned as a public defender, i saw incredible potential in how transformative a public defender can be on the community.  how you can give an individual who has been long tied up in the legal system some faith that someone understands their plight.  or give an individual faith that there's someone in the legal system who gives a fuck.  or give a family faith that someone will deliver justice in a way that means something other than a jail sentence.

that's when i knew what i wanted to become as an attorney.

but life happens.  i didn't pass the bar when i planned to.  and i took a detour.  met some incredible people along the way.  learned some valuable lessons.

and then i was fortunate to be able to once again, serve as a public defender.  no longer an intern, now an attorney.

being a public defender is more than a job to me.  it's not something that i received a grant to do.  it's not something that is a fellowship for me.  it's not something that would be used to make my resume look shiny.

being a public defender is a responsibility.  a privilege.  an honor.

i get to dress up every day and wear my suit and tie, the same way athletes lace their shoes and put on their uniform.  i get the opportunity to inspire confidence in my clients that someone from their neighborhood made it.  and not just made it, but still remembers what it's like to grow up in communities like south seattle.  

i get to use this understanding to earn the trust and confidence from accused individuals so that i can best tell their story.

of course, being a public defender means way more than just storytelling.  but in the last 8 months, i've been able to use what i'm naturally good at to give people hope that there's someone who actually cares.  and is smart enough to figure out how to use the law to their advantage.

but maybe, this isn't what i'm destined to do.

i can't control what political decisions are made that jeopardizes the funding to public defenders in king county.  i can't control the fact that my timing in finally becoming a public defender was such that i couldn't be offered a permanent position.

so now, i've got to find a way to use my talents in a way that doesn't involve being a public defender.

what saddens me about knowing that this chapter may end soon is that i know i am needed.  it's not to inflate my ego and say that i'm in a certain class of attorneys or public defenders.

i just know i can connect with my clients in ways that very few others can.  i've been able to blend being aggressive within the system with showing them that i see them as more than just a case number.  people who cannot afford to hire attorneys deserve to have attorneys who see them as more than just a part of their caseload.

one of the most invaluable pieces of advice i received when i worked as a prosecutor was being told to remember that on the other side of the table sits a human being.  before they are a defendant, before they are a case file, they are first and foremost a person.

i've never forgotten this.  i will never forget this.

i can't control the fact that in 6 weeks, i'll be asked to transition my files and give up my office.  it's been a helluva ride.  and perhaps, my destiny has yet to be written.

we'll just have to see what life gives me next.

[thatonedood]

the impact of impression.

"you always look so serious.  were you in the military or something?  you always walk around fast and with your chest out..."

long before i became a licensed practitioner, i was made aware that professionals of color are evaluated by a different standard.

"we have to work harder to be taken just as seriously.  we have to prove that we're just as capable as anyone else in the room.  this means we don't have any room for error."

a long-time mentor told me this more than a decade ago.  it was she who told me to always walk around with purpose, even when i had none.  to walk as if time was readying to defeat me if i didn't seize the moment.

so when a co-worker told me about my seriousness recently, i simply answered,

"i don't know any other way."

i believe an individual's appearance is important, to the extent that usually, it is the first impression you impart on an individual.  you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

how does this relate to being an attorney of color?

before we even get to the courtroom or office, think to yourself, how many persons of color are in law school?  and where are these persons coming from?  are they from the inner city or otherwise?  what communities and perspectives are these individuals sculpted by?

in my law school class, persons of color stood out among our white counterparts.  i could count the number of fiipinos in our class on one hand (three, to be exact).

now let's go past law school.  how many law school graduates of color pass the bar exam and become licensed.  no, we should not automatically assume that graduating law school means that you have passed the bar and become licensed.

(if i had more time, this would be the point of the blog post where fancy statistics and pie charts regarding graduation statistics, bar exam passage rates, and demographics of lawyers state/nationwide would reside.  for now, you'll have to rely on the combination of trusting me and using your own personal observations.)

the point?  there's not a lot of us.  from a criminal law context, this is significant.

this is why impressions are important.  this is why attorneys of color MUST understand the privilege afforded to them by being allowed to practice law.

not only must we dress well and look sharp.  we have to be able to operate in the real world AND the legal world.  some call this "code switching."  others may use a different term.  essentially, it boils down to having an awareness of self that enables an attorney of color to understand that the legal process, for the accused person, the victim, the injured, and their families, is much bigger than the file they carry.

without this awareness, we simply perpetrate the belief that the system is rigged.  that the system does not work equally for all.  that attorneys of color often aren't the kind that understand the environments that indigent persons come from.

why carry myself seriously?  why dress so sharp?  because i don't know any other way.  because any other way would not inspire the confidence that accused persons (REGARDLESS OF COLOR) should have in our system.

when an individual meets me for the first time, i don't want them to think that i'm a run-of-the-mill attorney.  the way i dress and present myself should inspire confidence in them that i take their matter seriously, no matter how significant the issue.

"you don't think that your belief that attorneys of color have more to prove is a crutch for you?  you don't honestly believe that you have to look good for people to take you seriously, do you?"

yes.  i do.  because i don't get the benefit of the doubt that i am a competent attorney when i walk into the courtroom.  we must carry ourselves with a chip on our shoulders to prove that we belong.  and not just belong, but that we have the potential to be just as skillful and talented as anyone else.

the moment i lose this perspective and the chip falls off my shoulder is the moment that i will no longer earn the respect i need to do my job effectively.  

i'm not asking for agreement or validation of this logic.  after being involved with the legal profession over the past 10 years, i have observed how quickly attorneys of color are judged based on how they speak, present themselves, and interact with people in the courtroom.  their resumes, no matter how impressive they may be, are placed under a different scrutiny, whether the evaluators are conscious of this or not.

so the chip on my shoulder must remain.

if i were not an attorney of color, i'm willing to bet that my co-worker would not have stopped to ask me why i look so serious.

he probably would have just let me pass by.

[thatonedood]

the case theory.

there's always more than one way make your coffee (i prefer using the kalita wave dripper).  there's always more than one way to shave (double edge aka safety razor for me).  there's always more than one way to enjoy your scotch/rye/bourbon (actually, no.  it better be neat or just order you a pint of something).

and there's always more than one way to prepare for trial.

granted, the majority of cases never make it to trial and resolve before the jury pool even enters the room.  but the cases you assume won't go to trial always end up going.

what is case theory anyway?  think of it as your elevator speech for the case you got:  explain your case to someone in 15 seconds or less.  if you can't do that, you don't have a good grasp of what your case is about.  and this speech should summarize what you believe is the heart of what you want your jurors to believe about what actually happened in your case.

why is case theory important?  because when you're in trial, there will be two theories that are going to be advanced.  the plaintiff's theory and the defendant's theory.  invariably, both of these theories are going to be far apart on the spectrum of what actually happened.

so everything you do in trial needs to be consistent with your case theory.

example A:  a DUI trial where the accused is obviously the driver (supported independently by 3 witnesses), but the accused is claiming that it was someone else who drove.

if you're the prosecution, you want the jury to focus on the evidence you have in your favor.  the accused was the driver, no one else saw anyone but him, and he won't be able to produce anyone to support his claim that he was NOT the driver.

how do you place theory into practice?  for me, i start with my closing argument.  if i can write out the first three lines of my closing, then i know my case is solid.  not necessarily strong, but i know i got a chance to convince the jury my case is legit.  i don't believe in waiting until the end to write my closing.  the evidence you have (or don't have) is not going to change.  by the time you're on the eve of trial or in the middle of trial, you got what you got.  and if you choose to write your closing at this point, then you probably shouldn't have taken this case to trial.  just sayin.

then you weave your theory into your witness examinations.  each of your direct and/or cross examinations should have chapters that support your theory.  and remember, less is more.  the jury is hearing so much testimony that you want them to hone in on the valuable stuff, not the fluff that you think might make them sound smarter.  evidentiary foundation is one thing, but focusing on stuff that has nothing to do with anything is bullshit.  and juries tend to have good bullshit meters.

so back to example A, if you know the opposition is putting on a witness that adds nothing to their case and doesn't hurt yours, your cross examination might look something like:

-  you weren't there on the night in question were you?

-  and you never saw or met this person who supposedly was driving the car?

then sit your butt down.  two things you've accomplished with a narrow cross like this.  1)  you've limited the scope of re-direct and the ability of opposing counsel to rehabilitate their witness; and 2)  a short cross shows the jury how unimportant that witness was to the case.  win-win.

next, make sure you set up your opening statement as a preview of what's to come.  some people like to let it all hang out in opening.  if there's a compelling story to tell, then yes, tell that story in opening.  but leave some gaps in the story so that the jurors are paying close attention to the evidence that gets placed in front of them in trial.  i think of opening statements as movie previews.  give the jury a taste of what they can expect, pull them in on the strong pieces of evidence that you know will come out, then tell them why your story is the story they should believe.

finally, and most importantly, your voir dire should be framed around your case theory.  there are two schools of thought, generally, on jury selection.  you can either use this time to indoctrinate the jury on your case theory or you can expose all the jurors for their natural biases and de-select from there.  you can't go wrong either way.  but which ever way you go, make sure that it ties in with your theory of the case.

another note about jury selection:  this is your time to listen to the jurors, not lecture.  if you find yourself talking more than they are, you are wasting valuable time that could be used letting the jurors expose who they really are.

all in all, you want to remember what your case theory is throughout every stage of the trial.  the opposition will want you to come off your theory in order to disprove theirs.  if your theory is strong enough, though, there will be no need for you to engage in disproving their theory.  instead, highlight why their theory is not plausible and get back to focusing on why your case is the stronger case.

and this applies to whether you are a prosecutor/plaintiff attorney or a defense attorney.  

because in the end, it's all in the game.

[thatonedood]

the decision.

the past nine months in my current practice have been eye-opening.  first, i never thought i would be with my current office.  i had my doubts coming in.  i always heard that it was a "conservative" office.  

prior to starting work there, a mentor of mine told me i should "lose the bow tie.  you want people to take you seriously.  remember, you're a person of color there and the first thing they want to do is figure out how to not value you for the work you do."

damn.  lose the bow tie?  but i tie them so well!

but point well taken.

the first three months were miserable.  my closest confidant in the office was an extremely talented and sharp-minded attorney who also happened to be deaf.  not only did he help me learn the ropes, but he pretty much kept me at the office out of my loyalty to him because of his help.

(FN 1:  there's some irony in that last paragraph.  person of color.  new at the office.  closest friend there is the person who can't hear.)

(FN 2:  there's also something to be said about loyalty.  i'm loyal to people that look out for me, and at times, this can be my greatest flaw.  i often fail to be loyal to myself before i show my loyalty to others.  but i'm learning.)

i then got placed in a trial rotation.  i figured, here's my chance now to show what i can do.  but i didn't want to be a gunner.  no.  i'm not THAT guy.

what i didn't expect was to meet three more incredible individuals.  all of whom are just like me, starting to find our footing in our legal careers.  some of us were competing with each other for permanent offers in the office.  we all became friends.  close friends.  the kind that laugh with each other, not over legal nonsense (though there was lots of that), but trusted each other with our guards down in moments where stress could have easily overcome us.

i started learning the power of being myself.  i strived daily to ensure that i was true to myself to help empower others be themselves.

but this wasn't enough.

i watched attorneys of color in my office struggle to gain their footing.  struggle to get noticed.  struggle to get offers to become permanent employees, offers they so richly deserved.  not because they are persons of color.  because they DESERVED them.

i also watched other attorneys stay with the office, either by extension or by having been offered a position via internship.  these attorneys happened to be the least ideal representatives of this office.  and the office continues to hire them.  and perpetuate a cycle of belief that the office does not care about attorneys who are social justice-minded.

(FN 3:  there are also attorneys in my old office who are not persons of color that exemplify the best of what the office can be.  they are just far and few in between, in my opinion)

so i had a decision to make.

do i stay to fight, to help be a voice for those that deserve the respect and recognition in the office to become leaders for a change that is necessary? or do i pack up and choose a different fight?

ultimately, i chose the latter.

you want to be with an office that values you.  not just because of the color of your skin.  but because they see value in your background.  that there is value in your life experiences.  that there is value in having your office say, yes, we support diversity in our office in every sense of that word.

you need leaders, leaders with the ability to influence change, who see these issues and are not afraid to speak their truth.  not people that are comfortable with the status quo.

you see, good attorneys of color are necessary, particularly in the criminal justice system.  where scores of people of color are incarcerated, in numbers much higher than whites, it is important to have attorneys of color, ON BOTH SIDES, who fully understand the value systems of across different cultures.  because what might be a crime to one culture may be the norm in another.  what might be a crime in the eyes of a court might be a crime of poverty to the accused individual.

i don't say this to justify criminal acts.  i say this because criminal acts ALWAYS have more than what the police report says.

i'm looking forward to being with an office that is openly excited about the energy i can bring to them.  

i'm also melancholy about leaving behind a group of people that i have a great connection with, that i feel are representative of what my old office can and should be.

nonetheless, what happens is meant to happen.  there are no mistakes in life.

only responses.

[thatonedood]

the meaning.

in most professions, you are judged by the bottom line:  wins and losses, final metrics, percentages and the like.

as a criminal attorney, you most certainly can be judged by your wins and losses.

well, if you allow yourself to.

until this week, i had never lost a trial.  it's not like i was on some gargantuan streak.  i just so happened to win the first 4 trials i had (i had a hung jury on one that i co-tried, so i guess that's a tie if you're scoring at home).

and when i lost this week, i had this weird feeling i almost never have when i lose at anything.

i didn't care.

i've quickly come to realize that it really does not matter who wins and who loses.  at least from the side i represent.  what matters is that someone got justice.  that the right result prevailed.

if i started keeping track of my wins and losses as if i were a sports team trying to make the playoffs, then who am i really trying to do justice for?  certainly wouldn't be the community.  and sure as hell wouldn't be those who stand accused.

maybe if we just focused more on the bigger picture than how we are perceived by our colleagues, we'd be doing a better service to those we're supposed to serve.

i'm naive, i know.  just let me have this moment haha.

[thatonedood]

the genuine article.

on a daily basis, i see both the best and the worst of the legal profession.

on any given day, i will see an individual overjoyed at the result he just received in a courtroom, a result likely unexpected at the time he walked in.

and that same day, i will see an individual who acts possessed, not by what is the rightful outcome, but by what feeds his ego and enables him to feel superior to others, including those he serves.

so what is lacking?  well, one could say civility is lacking.  and that much is true.  but saying that we need civility is almost like saying we need to be tolerant of others behavior.

you see, tolerance and civility are like band-aids:  they're good for superficial ails, but does little to address what really caused the wound in the first place.

i'm not debunking the notion that civility is needed.  rather, civility is needed more than ever.  however, there is something that is needed a tad bit more than civility:

authenticity.

authenticity breeds trust.  when an individual is their authentic self, people gravitate towards the individual.  there is no pretense.  there is no judgment.  just... the person.  simultaneously at their best and their worst, yet publicly accepting and embracing all of it.

the authentic individual is someone that people can relate to.  no matter what your standing is in life, society, or otherwise.  when someone is simply themselves, that behavior has a subconsciously empowering effect on others.  

authenticity empowers others to be... authentic.

now.... how does this relate to the legal profession?  it's easy, really.

the advocate who is authentic is trusted far often than the advocate who is trying to be a lawyer.

before we all became lawyers, we were people.  people who were applicants.  applicants to law school.  and when we applied to law school, we wrote these esoteric essays called "personal statements," where we attempted to summarize the essence of who we were in the confines of two double-spaced, 1" margin pages.

it would not be a stretch to say that for most lawyers, this personal statement was the last time they were authentic.

because after these personal statements were submitted, many of these applicants became law students, future standard bearers for the legal community.

and many ended up subscribing to the notion that as law students, we had to now adhere to the stereotypes of being a lawyer.  know everyone.  question anything.  answer everything.  succumb to nothing.

i'm willing to bet that those who fell prey to the above are indeed a far cry from the person that they were prior to submitting that personal statement.

i'm not generalizing all lawyers.  i know many good attorneys who are even better people, and that's no knock on their advocacy skills.  it's actually a testament to the kind of person they are.

but back to the lecture at hand.

our profession is not conducive for authenticity.  we are adversaries first and foremost, humble only when it is served to us in the form of pie, with that pie likely smeared in our face.

you might be asking then... what is the solution?  i'm not totally sure i have one.  but here's a starting point:

the next time you're selecting a jury for your all-important trial, take a deep breath before you walk out from behind your counsel table and ask yourself this:

am i ready for these jurors to see me as i really am?

because if you are, then you've reached a point both professionally and personally where you are comfortable in your own skin.  those who are comfortable in their own skin are often self-assured, genuinely confident, and the BEST storytellers.

if you're not ready, then ask yourself why.  why are you choosing to compartmentalize yourself for these jurors (the very people who will decide the fate of the party you represent)?  i'm not saying to act as you would at a cocktail party, but how will you get 12 strangers to trust you when you're not being who you really are?

many have gone their whole careers, successfully, without having to address this.  and unfortunately, i fear it is to the detriment of those they represent.  imagine, the potential of what our profession could accomplish if we set aside all pretense and just enabled each other to be who we are.  imagine the message we would be able to communicate to our judges, the lower bench, the jurors, our clients, and in particular, our fellow advocates, if we just were ourselves.

personally, i am striving to practice this on a daily basis.  like everyone else, i have my moments where i am baited into an ego struggle.  when this happens, i simply remember that i need to treat others the way i want to be treated.  a simple, kindergarten lesson.  yet, it still has significance now.

so i leave you with this.  what do you want out of being an advocate?  what do you want out of your partner, your friends, your family?

answer that... then answer this:

why not demand authenticity?