"i covered a lot of important news stuff," eli said. they would take the man's apparent obliviousness to what journalists did in good faith. after all, the united states was a fairly confusing place. many people acted like great britain technically being both one country and three countries at the same time was confusing, and yet, the u.s. was composed of 50+ or so whole states with their own quirks and governments. maybe journalist in this guy's state meant someone who literally wrote journals.
"i wrote about the people, for the people. that's why they said i was a hero. but a lawyer sounds heroic too." they were honestly skeptical towards his claims, but surely the good place wouldn't make mistakes. if this man claimed to be a lawyer, he had to be... somehow. clapping their hands, they added, "no, no, i would love to hear about what you did as a lawyer. in fact, i insist you tell me about it!"
cw: mention of police and american judicial system (ooc; dm me if these topics trigger you, and i can change the reply so you don't have to read it )
"wow, sounds," he couldn't find the word. boring. dull. like hell. (technically 2 words but still.)
"so were you the type of person on the scene?" dallas imagined newscasters in war zones, or weathermen in storms. if they had that type of career, dallas supposed they were pretty cool. he loved danger, after all. when he was alive, all he did was break into places he didn't belong, climb things he shouldn't, break into places he really shouldn't have gone into. ( it was a shock dead air didn't kill him before a fall did. )
and dallas tried to think about who 'the people' were to the stranger. he appreciated that they weren't just some shallow husk in the shape of a person. ( if dallas hated one thing, it was superficiality. socialites. ) he was far from a 'good' person, but he at least knew who the real enemy was: any form of authority. and imagining the stranger as some version of lois lane, calling out politicians or people in power, not letting people stop them, made them likeable to him.
"or was it more behind the scenes?" maybe dallas was interested them, and really did want to hear about what they did in life. "did you interview anyone important ever? someone awful? ever tell a governor to fork off -- wait, sorry, british. ever tell a princess to fork off?"
but the stranger - and maybe this was because it was the good place after all - seemed far too... polite. because dallas would really rather of had them talking than squirming for a lie.
"well, you know," dallas said. "what really is there to being a lawyer? it's a lot of nothing, you know? you spend four years in school, then years training-" wait, fuck, no. that's doctors. "-i mean, it feels like years training with all the studying, you know?"
he was really hoping they'd cut him off, but dallas' luck was just that. he had a captive audience in the form of person.
he thought about his own run-in with lawyers. public defenders. the type that you have the right to before questioning. the type the state appoints to you, if you can't afford one. he thought back to his last experience with one and then thought about the old saying: every lie has a hint of truth...
"public defender," he continued. "that's what i did, mostly. really wanted to help-" he thought about an officer who told him that he didn't deserve help. "-the people who deserved it the most. a lot of-" he thought of the lists of crimes he was charged with. "-civil theft, armed robberies -- alleged armed robberies -- street fights." what were lawyer always pushing him with, when he told them his case.
"and fourth amendment violations!" he shouted.
he lowered his voice to a normal volume, continuing, "i don't know if you're familiar. it's an american thing. basically how people have a reasonable expectation of privacy in their home. it's why the cops can't bust down your door and need a warrant to come in." dallas thought about all the nights he spent sleeping in his car, or in abandoned buildings. times he couldn't afford to pay for a hotel. "but it's forked because it doesn't apply to cars -- only houses. but it does apply to purses. america's pretty weird.
"so if you're sleeping in your car -- i had a lot of clients who did. the overlap of people who need a public defender and people who sleep in their car is pretty high, who would've thought? -- the cops can come with a drug-sniffing dog, smell weed, and arrest you. but you have more protection in a home. the dogs can come sniffing, but there's a lot more distance from illegal substances in - say - the kitchen of a house from the outside, then the car door to the middle seat.
"and the cops really aren't supposed to 'seize' you without reasonable suspicion. if they stop you for being suspicious, you're allowed to say, 'hey i want to go' and if they don't let you leave, and they find something, then they can't pull it as evidence in court." (something dallas had learnt many times and used to his advantage many times.) "but a lot of times, it doesn't work the way it should on paper. the police come and they fork you over -- your clients over, i mean. and then that's it. that's life. that's the US, i guess.
"and if you're homeless, you're even more forked. because even though the fourth amendment protects people not places, the actual writing - the constitution - mentions houses. and when you're homeless, you don't have a house. so a lot of times, homeless people's things are just taken. or searched. because they have nowhere to put it.
"so even if they have something they shouldn't. or even if they stole. it doesn't really matter, you know? because they lost that right when they lost their home. or maybe they never even had a home to begin with. so it's easier to find evidence against them. and use it in court. and then they get thrown in jail. so they can't get a job when they get out. so they have to steal."
dallas wondered if wes wheeler -- the person michael believed he was -- would be in the good place if he had been homeless. if he had stole. or would whatever divinity that existed here have understood the complexities? ( or understood whatever the american judicial system didn't. )
"but it all worked out, though, right? because i made it, here," he forced a smile. he thought about jail cells, and the differences between prisons and jails, and corners of abandoned buildings that were easy to sleep in even when it got cold. "wes, by the way. what's your name?"
