Inside the mind

I have a nasty trial coming up. I've done lots of trials down in district court, but this is my first jury trial, and true to my pattern of jumping right the hell into anything I do, the guy is facing decades in prison, the prosecutor is known for being underhanded, slimy and sneaky and the judge is notorious for being completely unfair and biased toward the prosecution, which he gets away with because people never have the money to appeal. I understand that my feelings and thoughts right now are pretty normal. So, I thought I'd share with you what's going through your lawyer's head the week before a big jury trial.

"Oh, crap! Well, I guess that bitch is showing up. Maybe she'll smoke too much crack and not make it. No, I won't get that lucky. Hell, my guy won't get that lucky; if he were lucky he wouldn't be here. Ok, Ok, I got this. No I don't. What the hell? We should have taken that plea. No, dammit, he didn't do this. And he wants a trial. What if we lose? I can't think that way. So, what kind of underhanded shit is Asshole D.A. going to pull? I just need to be ready for it. Surely the jury will see he's just being a dick. What if the jury is full of dicks? You never know about people and it's such a crap shoot. That's OK. I got this. I got this. What have I gotten myself into? Too late, got to get my game on here. Shit shit suddenly I can't remember a single rule of evidence. OK, I'm going to list all the hearsay exceptions. . . .this is a waste of time. I got to get ready. Hey, look! One of their cops got fired and moved to Florida! Oh, hell, wait - this is the one who shows that chick was telling conflicting stories. Wow, my paralegal's brother had some good ideas. Shit, he came up with things I missed and he's not even a lawyer! I am so going to tank this. No, I'm going to win it because I'm talking to people and getting ideas. It's going to be OK. Yeah. Fuck them. We got this. That cracked out 'ho isn't beleivable and the jury will certainly see that. She ain't shit. Fuck them. The cops didn't even know her stories conficted. Well, my guy's story isn't that believable, either. Just focus on her, just focus on her . . . "


and that's a day in the life. Why did I go to law school again?

L-A-W yer!

Sigh. The hot D.A. hasn't been flirting with me lately, and has been having lunch with cops, and dating some meathead state trooper, ( a guy, too; what a waste) and won't even cut deals when her case sucks anymore. This goes to show you that hanging out with cops is just bad for everyone.

I have a few theories on why. My favorite is that the stench of kevlar and misused power is toxic. I suspect it creates an invisible, soul-killing poison, all the more insidious because it is deceptively sexy. Stay away, hot D.A.! Stay away! It's gonna get you! They're out to get us all!

I still managed to get the proper legal argument through on one of the several guy D.A.'s, who I don't find hot, but are far more sensible. I crack on guys a lot, but if you break out a book and show them in black and white you are right, they will generally go along with you unless they are total idiot pricks who aren't going to listen to anyone anyway. The trick is to manage to break out a book, because it is you who will have to do this. I was in the front of the courtroom where the lawyers sit, reading the statute book, and this old guy lawyer makes fun of me, saying "Reading the statute book again?" "Uh, yeah." I said. "Huh", he says, followed by something mumbled and pointless."Well, I just got my client's DWI dismissed because I read the statutes, so I think he considers it worth my while." I told him. He seemed impressed and suprised. Dude, we're fucking lawyers. L-A-W yers. That means we 'yer' the law, which I think is an old english book for "read the fucking". Seriously? Cracking on a lawyer for reading the law? Where do I work? Of course, later I turned to a woman lawyer and asked if she knew the statute number for something, as I couldn't remember it. "Me? Know statute numbers?" she said. "Uh, yeah." I said. "Oh, I don't know any statute numbers." Dude. We're fucking lawyers. L-A-W yers. Whoa.

I work in backwards land where the hot D.A. is corrupted by jackbooted trooper stink, and the guy D.A.s will listen and the guy attorneys don't want to read the law and the women attorneys don't want to remember it. I am a lesbian in a strange land. But it's a land where I can kick some serious ass simply because I'm willing to read the damn statute book - unless I'm talking to the hot D.A., who is quickly becoming a lost cause. Just call me L-A-W yer, dammit. And bring me in some money when you do.