This week, an interesting publication called Exhibit A appeared around Boston and on the interweb. It is based upon the premise that the greater non-lawyer population devours legal pop culture (Law and Order, John Grisham, etc), so perhaps they will like an easily-digestible mix of legal news and fun. And so far, I kinda like it, though I may be biased due to the prominent feature about Stephanie Page, Massachusetts’s finest public defender:
While you might not recognize her name, you’ll likely recall some of the more salacious cases in which she’s been involved. Remember the dominatrix accused of cutting up her client’s body and tossing him in a dumpster in Maine? Page won the woman her acquittal. But it wasn’t without first immersing herself in the mysterious world of S&M.
“As anyone knows who has gone into a toy shop, an erotic shop, it’s another world,” says the pint-sized, 58-year-old lawyer. “The chains, the ties, the leather — all that stuff.”
More important than defending her client’s S&M lifestyle in that case, Page says, was proving how difficult it would have been for the 56-year-old dominatrix to cut up the body of her 260-pound client without leaving a trace.
(By the way, this trial took a particularly bizarre turn when the prosecutor, during closing arguments, donned an S&M mask and collar and pretended to tie himself to a chalkboard).
There is also quite a funny (and painfully true) column written by a bar advocate (the Massachusetts term for private attorneys doing court-appointed defense work). He outlines every party conversation that he (we?) have ever had:
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an attorney.”
“Really. What type of law do you practice?”
“Criminal defense.”
(It’s always at that point that I wished I had employed that quintessential lawyering skill — lying. All I have to say is “bankruptcy law” and the topic changes.)
“Huh. So do you try to put people in jail or keep them out?”
“I try to keep them out.”
“Have you ever represented someone who you thought might be guilty?”
“I honestly can’t remember the last time I represented someone who I thought was innocent.”
“What?”
(Here we go.)
“You represent people even though you know they are guilty?”
“Every day.”
[…]
“…Your clients do horrible things. Don’t you think representing them is immoral?”
“No, I don’t find it immoral. In fact, I think representing indigent criminal defendants is paradoxically the most moral thing an attorney can do.”
“Wait a minute. You’re trying to say that representing these scumballs is moral?”
“Unquestionably. There are a number of sociological reasons and there’s the need to keep power in check. But the reason that I represent these ‘scumballs,’ as you call them, is simply because everyone’s a scumball — some people just have nicer clothes.”
“Huh?”
(Wait for it … )
“Hey! I have nice clothes.”
“Exactly.”
