Posts
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
DADT update
There's some movement in the effort to repeal "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." The Senate Armed Services Committee will hold hearings in the fall. With supporters in Congress, I hope it won't take the president too much longer to find his way towards ending this discriminatory policy. You did promise, Sir.
Doing a big thing badly
Remember those juvenile defendants who were railroaded by the two corrupt judges? I previously wrote about it here and here.
Now, many of the affected juveniles may lose the ability to seek redress before they're even able to establish if they were affected. According to this story in the New York Times, the state Supreme Court ruled in May that the juvenile records of the kids who appeared before these judges should be destroyed. It's certainly not unusual to seal or expunge juvenile records, so this is just the most extreme way of making sure those records don't resurface.
But if the records are destroyed, there won't be any transcripts to show that defendants weren't informed of their rights to counsel. There won't be any documents to show they went unrepresented. Basically, all of the evidence these potential plaintiffs would need pursue lawsuits for the violation of their constitutional rights. Expunging the records won't undo the time they wrongly spent in juvenile detention. I'm sure a lot of these juveniles came out of their court experiences feeling like they had been screwed, but got very little sympathy for those views. Having proof could be invaluable for their own peace of mind as they grow into adulthood. The benefits to keeping these records around a little longer until the affected defendants can decide if they want to do something far outweigh the benefits to destroying the records and putting these matters to rest permanently.
Last week, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court amended its order to protect the records of the roughly 400 former juvenile defendants who are now represented by counsel, but there are as many as 6,100 others whose records are set to be destroyed. It's not clear if those other 6000 defendants are even yet aware that their rights may have been violated.
The cynical part of me can't help but wonder if maybe the Pennsylvania court isn't a little too eager to destroy these files and the evidence so that they won't have to see the scope of the corruption that went on in their state. I understand the desire to protect those juveniles by making sure no one will ever see the records of their cases, but I hope the Court will amend its order again to give all the other potential plaintiffs a little more time to decide if they want to pursue a civil rights case. It's hardly protecting those kids by destroying the evidence that they were wronged.
I'm sure there are many in Pennsylvania who just want to come up with some final solution to this scandal so they can say it's all done. But I think it's really important that they take the time to lift off the covers and really look at what went on. Those who don't study and learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. So, come on, PA. Take the time to do this thing right.
Now, many of the affected juveniles may lose the ability to seek redress before they're even able to establish if they were affected. According to this story in the New York Times, the state Supreme Court ruled in May that the juvenile records of the kids who appeared before these judges should be destroyed. It's certainly not unusual to seal or expunge juvenile records, so this is just the most extreme way of making sure those records don't resurface.
But if the records are destroyed, there won't be any transcripts to show that defendants weren't informed of their rights to counsel. There won't be any documents to show they went unrepresented. Basically, all of the evidence these potential plaintiffs would need pursue lawsuits for the violation of their constitutional rights. Expunging the records won't undo the time they wrongly spent in juvenile detention. I'm sure a lot of these juveniles came out of their court experiences feeling like they had been screwed, but got very little sympathy for those views. Having proof could be invaluable for their own peace of mind as they grow into adulthood. The benefits to keeping these records around a little longer until the affected defendants can decide if they want to do something far outweigh the benefits to destroying the records and putting these matters to rest permanently.
Last week, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court amended its order to protect the records of the roughly 400 former juvenile defendants who are now represented by counsel, but there are as many as 6,100 others whose records are set to be destroyed. It's not clear if those other 6000 defendants are even yet aware that their rights may have been violated.
The cynical part of me can't help but wonder if maybe the Pennsylvania court isn't a little too eager to destroy these files and the evidence so that they won't have to see the scope of the corruption that went on in their state. I understand the desire to protect those juveniles by making sure no one will ever see the records of their cases, but I hope the Court will amend its order again to give all the other potential plaintiffs a little more time to decide if they want to pursue a civil rights case. It's hardly protecting those kids by destroying the evidence that they were wronged.
I'm sure there are many in Pennsylvania who just want to come up with some final solution to this scandal so they can say it's all done. But I think it's really important that they take the time to lift off the covers and really look at what went on. Those who don't study and learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. So, come on, PA. Take the time to do this thing right.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Crossing the Bar
The bar exam is the final culmination of three years of intense study. It's the final pressure-cooker. The bar exam graders don't care what kind of grades you made in law school. They don't care if you ever made high grade in a class or graduated with honors. If you don't do well on those two days, you don't get to practice law for at least 6 months. It's kind of a big deal.
(Unless you went to Wisconsin or Marquette and intend to practice in that great state. Then, you don't have to take the test at all. Unless you are an idiot like me and waste that glorious diploma privilege by accepting a job in one of the other 49 states.)
Just getting to take the test is a trek in and of itself. You have to provide character references, which for the fine state of Kansas meant 3 people to sign affidavits and 10 people to respond to inquiries if asked. Those 10 people had to have known you for at least 4 years and could not be relatives. It's harder than you might think, especially at the conclusion of law school. I had moved to Madison for law school, so most of the people I knew in my daily life, I had known for considerably less than 4 years. (Thank you to all my annex friends for helping out on that!) You have to track down every address you lived at for the last 10 years, including the address of that one apartment you lived in that summer after freshman year of college. You have to report every job you've had and every traffic ticket you got.
I still remember the day I put my bar application in the mail, certified and overnight. The paranoia of a 3L applying for the bar knows no bounds. From that day in March until the day you check in on the first day of the test, I think most of us secretly worry that something will go wrong and we won't be allowed to sit. In my case, the sticking point was my law school transcripts. I had a perfectly good letter from the Dean, verifying that I had graduated. I also had the certified transcripts for my first 5 semesters. But Kansas was threatening not to let me sit for the exam if I couldn't provide a final, certified transcript before the exam and Wisconsin Law School said they'd produce a transcript when they damn well wanted to. It was stressful for me, but, as you might have guessed from the fact that I'm a licensed attorney, it all worked out ok.
But I sure would have liked to have the support of a governor.
This poor woman paid her application fee with a check. It evidently didn't bounce. And she spoke to someone at the bar board who said it was ok. But now they say they only take credit cards so she can't take the exam. I hope the Governator's words do the trick and she's allowed to take the exam. Otherwise, hers might becomes the story that fuels the paranoia of bar applicants for years to come.
UPDATE: They're letting her take the exam and will decide later if the technical glitch in her application should prevent her from being licensed should she pass the exam. That may be even worse. It would be rough not to get to take the exam, but taking the exam, passing, and then finding out it doesn't count would be so much worse than failing.
(Unless you went to Wisconsin or Marquette and intend to practice in that great state. Then, you don't have to take the test at all. Unless you are an idiot like me and waste that glorious diploma privilege by accepting a job in one of the other 49 states.)
Just getting to take the test is a trek in and of itself. You have to provide character references, which for the fine state of Kansas meant 3 people to sign affidavits and 10 people to respond to inquiries if asked. Those 10 people had to have known you for at least 4 years and could not be relatives. It's harder than you might think, especially at the conclusion of law school. I had moved to Madison for law school, so most of the people I knew in my daily life, I had known for considerably less than 4 years. (Thank you to all my annex friends for helping out on that!) You have to track down every address you lived at for the last 10 years, including the address of that one apartment you lived in that summer after freshman year of college. You have to report every job you've had and every traffic ticket you got.
I still remember the day I put my bar application in the mail, certified and overnight. The paranoia of a 3L applying for the bar knows no bounds. From that day in March until the day you check in on the first day of the test, I think most of us secretly worry that something will go wrong and we won't be allowed to sit. In my case, the sticking point was my law school transcripts. I had a perfectly good letter from the Dean, verifying that I had graduated. I also had the certified transcripts for my first 5 semesters. But Kansas was threatening not to let me sit for the exam if I couldn't provide a final, certified transcript before the exam and Wisconsin Law School said they'd produce a transcript when they damn well wanted to. It was stressful for me, but, as you might have guessed from the fact that I'm a licensed attorney, it all worked out ok.
But I sure would have liked to have the support of a governor.
This poor woman paid her application fee with a check. It evidently didn't bounce. And she spoke to someone at the bar board who said it was ok. But now they say they only take credit cards so she can't take the exam. I hope the Governator's words do the trick and she's allowed to take the exam. Otherwise, hers might becomes the story that fuels the paranoia of bar applicants for years to come.
UPDATE: They're letting her take the exam and will decide later if the technical glitch in her application should prevent her from being licensed should she pass the exam. That may be even worse. It would be rough not to get to take the exam, but taking the exam, passing, and then finding out it doesn't count would be so much worse than failing.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Jury Dis-service
People don't want to serve on juries. That much is clear. We always hear about how the only people who serve on juries are the ones who are too stupid to get out of jury duty. A friend of mine once asked me what she should say to get out of jury duty. (I will not name names, but I know she reads this blog on occasion.) Heck, even I would find serving on some juries to be a pretty major inconvenience. No one wants to spend weeks (or months...) away from their regular lives.
But even knowing all of this, I still can't help but shake my head in amusement at how obvious some prospective jurors are in their determination not to spend a second longer than necessary in that courthouse. A panel of 12 is brought to the jury box to begin the voir dire process. To begin, the judge asks them each to introduce themselves, name, occupation, family type stuff. Some stick to the script, but an awful lot take that very first opportunity to worm their way out of service.
"Hi, I'm Joan. I'm 35 and a stay-at-home mom to two beautiful little girls. And I just can't imagine how, as a mother, I could listen to the details of this case."
So Joan doesn't have much of an excuse, but she really doesn't want to sit on this jury and wants us all to know it right off the bat.
"I'm Steve. 45. I run my own landscaping business and I'm booked solid for the next two months, but if I'm not there, there won't be a supervisor to run those job sites so I'll lose all that money."
Steve doesn't care much about the greater justice system or this particular defendant. He may not even be opposed to serving on a jury some day, as long as it's on his terms. And, really, it's kind of hard to argue with him if it's May or June.
"I've read all about this case and I think he's guilty. (Long, expectant pause) Oh, yeah, and my name is Beth."
Beth probably doesn't know squat about the case but has heard that these are the magic words for getting to go home early. Sadly for her, Beth will learn that the lawyers and judge running voir dire can tell what she's up to.
Then there's always the kitchen sink juror. The one who throws in every possible excuse.
"I'm Mike. I'm 45. I work at the university. All of my friends are cops. I have a [daughter or son] the same age as the victim in this case. Oh, and my child went to the 3rd grade with the victim. And this is the busiest time of the month at my work and no one else is trained to do what I do so no one can cover for me. And I have sciatica. And my dog went to obedience school with the defense lawyer's neighbor's dog."
Mike, you are not fooling anyone. None of you are fooling anyone. And not one of you said the magic words that got you sent on your merry way. And, no, I'm not going to tell you what they are. Sorry. But I did get a nice chuckle out of watching you all try.
But even knowing all of this, I still can't help but shake my head in amusement at how obvious some prospective jurors are in their determination not to spend a second longer than necessary in that courthouse. A panel of 12 is brought to the jury box to begin the voir dire process. To begin, the judge asks them each to introduce themselves, name, occupation, family type stuff. Some stick to the script, but an awful lot take that very first opportunity to worm their way out of service.
"Hi, I'm Joan. I'm 35 and a stay-at-home mom to two beautiful little girls. And I just can't imagine how, as a mother, I could listen to the details of this case."
So Joan doesn't have much of an excuse, but she really doesn't want to sit on this jury and wants us all to know it right off the bat.
"I'm Steve. 45. I run my own landscaping business and I'm booked solid for the next two months, but if I'm not there, there won't be a supervisor to run those job sites so I'll lose all that money."
Steve doesn't care much about the greater justice system or this particular defendant. He may not even be opposed to serving on a jury some day, as long as it's on his terms. And, really, it's kind of hard to argue with him if it's May or June.
"I've read all about this case and I think he's guilty. (Long, expectant pause) Oh, yeah, and my name is Beth."
Beth probably doesn't know squat about the case but has heard that these are the magic words for getting to go home early. Sadly for her, Beth will learn that the lawyers and judge running voir dire can tell what she's up to.
Then there's always the kitchen sink juror. The one who throws in every possible excuse.
"I'm Mike. I'm 45. I work at the university. All of my friends are cops. I have a [daughter or son] the same age as the victim in this case. Oh, and my child went to the 3rd grade with the victim. And this is the busiest time of the month at my work and no one else is trained to do what I do so no one can cover for me. And I have sciatica. And my dog went to obedience school with the defense lawyer's neighbor's dog."
Mike, you are not fooling anyone. None of you are fooling anyone. And not one of you said the magic words that got you sent on your merry way. And, no, I'm not going to tell you what they are. Sorry. But I did get a nice chuckle out of watching you all try.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Nuggets
1) Actual line in a transcript I read today:
HOLY CRAP!! I'm missing something here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was not spoken by the judge or any of the lawyers. No, that was the editorial comment of the court reporter, who evidently had a brain cramp and forgot to start taking notes as soon as the court came back from recess. While I appreciate the court reporter acknowledging her mistake, I do think she might have found a more professional way to state it. I don't think she could have found a funnier way, though.
2) I have a weird body for fitting jeans. Banana Republic jeans don't work on me. I can only wear one cut of Old Navy Jeans. I spent the afternoon of July 11th trying on every pair of jeans I could find in this town and came away empty-handed (and feeling wretched about myself). But, Gap jeans have always worked for me. Every style. Trouser jeans. Essential fit. Long and lean. (Especially long and lean.) You are my go-to jean store. So I am very troubled by reports that the company is on the verge of collapse, reports that seem quite reliable after my recent experiences. The local Gap has almost no jeans and the website does not have a single pair of jeans in my size. Please, Gap, get your act together. I won't have anywhere to get jeans if you fail.
3) Yesterday's celebration of my wirelessness was premature. It worked just fine all evening. I took my laptop to bed and played around while watching Sex and the City, which is my dream last hour before bed. But this morning when the computer and I woke up, the wireless was gone and would not come back. I tried some new things. I then cracked and called the tech support line. After an incredibly frustrating 50 minutes, in which nothing came close to being solved and my internet connection seemed permanently lost via that router, I finally told the guy I was just going to return the router to the store and buy a different brand. (Thank you, Best Buy, for your generous return/exchange policy.) I swear, the tech support guy knows less about computers than I do and had nothing at all useful to suggest. What a waste of my time. So I uninstalled the router's software and went to Best Buy. When I came home with the new router, there was a brief period of frustration as the stupid installation cd wouldn't work on my computer because it only operates on 32-bit Vista but my computer has 64-bit Vista. Grr. So I had to do the slightly more laborious manual setup. But once I did all the setup, my computer connected to my new, secured network right away. I am now wireless with no sign of trouble. I guess tomorrow morning will be the real test.
HOLY CRAP!! I'm missing something here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was not spoken by the judge or any of the lawyers. No, that was the editorial comment of the court reporter, who evidently had a brain cramp and forgot to start taking notes as soon as the court came back from recess. While I appreciate the court reporter acknowledging her mistake, I do think she might have found a more professional way to state it. I don't think she could have found a funnier way, though.
2) I have a weird body for fitting jeans. Banana Republic jeans don't work on me. I can only wear one cut of Old Navy Jeans. I spent the afternoon of July 11th trying on every pair of jeans I could find in this town and came away empty-handed (and feeling wretched about myself). But, Gap jeans have always worked for me. Every style. Trouser jeans. Essential fit. Long and lean. (Especially long and lean.) You are my go-to jean store. So I am very troubled by reports that the company is on the verge of collapse, reports that seem quite reliable after my recent experiences. The local Gap has almost no jeans and the website does not have a single pair of jeans in my size. Please, Gap, get your act together. I won't have anywhere to get jeans if you fail.
3) Yesterday's celebration of my wirelessness was premature. It worked just fine all evening. I took my laptop to bed and played around while watching Sex and the City, which is my dream last hour before bed. But this morning when the computer and I woke up, the wireless was gone and would not come back. I tried some new things. I then cracked and called the tech support line. After an incredibly frustrating 50 minutes, in which nothing came close to being solved and my internet connection seemed permanently lost via that router, I finally told the guy I was just going to return the router to the store and buy a different brand. (Thank you, Best Buy, for your generous return/exchange policy.) I swear, the tech support guy knows less about computers than I do and had nothing at all useful to suggest. What a waste of my time. So I uninstalled the router's software and went to Best Buy. When I came home with the new router, there was a brief period of frustration as the stupid installation cd wouldn't work on my computer because it only operates on 32-bit Vista but my computer has 64-bit Vista. Grr. So I had to do the slightly more laborious manual setup. But once I did all the setup, my computer connected to my new, secured network right away. I am now wireless with no sign of trouble. I guess tomorrow morning will be the real test.
Look Ma, no wires!
Computers are such strange little beasts. Last Thursday, I brought home my shiny new laptop and my spanking new wireless router, eager to disconnect from all the cables and cords overpowering my living room. As you might recall from the blue screen of death phase last fall, my old laptop had a corrupt wireless device, so I just stuck with dsl on that one. It's never been that big a deal as I'm usually sitting on my couch and my laptop was set up to hover in that area. But every once in a while, I wanted to be able to take my computer up to the bedroom, which was kind of a hassle if I had to take not just the laptop, but the modem and all the cords. That and the ethernet cable had an annoying tendency to pop out, so I was constantly having to reconnect.
Nothing went as smoothly as I'd hoped, though, once I got all my new toys home. I couldn't get the wireless to communicate with the computer, even though my computer recognized my network and its excellent signal strength. I bought a new modem to see if that was the problem. (It wasn't.) I tinkered and futzed a lot over the weekend, to no avail. I got offers of help from multiple people, including the IT guy at work. This evening, while waiting for IT guy, I decided to go ahead with some software updates. The connection manager program that installed with the wireless router wanted me to get an update that would improve my wireless home audio stability. So I started the download. While that was downloading, IT guy e-mailed to say tomorrow would work better for him.
Once the download was complete, I installed the new version of the connection manager. Then I thought, what the hell, I'll just try to go wireless one more time. And it worked. No waiting, no error message, no failure to communicate. It just worked. I guess my wireless home audio really was unstable.
So now I'm wireless. I'm free, liberated, and, as soon as I get around to it, I can get all those darn phone lines and power cords out of my living room. The next time I post, I just may be blogging from the comfort of my double pillow-top bed!
Nothing went as smoothly as I'd hoped, though, once I got all my new toys home. I couldn't get the wireless to communicate with the computer, even though my computer recognized my network and its excellent signal strength. I bought a new modem to see if that was the problem. (It wasn't.) I tinkered and futzed a lot over the weekend, to no avail. I got offers of help from multiple people, including the IT guy at work. This evening, while waiting for IT guy, I decided to go ahead with some software updates. The connection manager program that installed with the wireless router wanted me to get an update that would improve my wireless home audio stability. So I started the download. While that was downloading, IT guy e-mailed to say tomorrow would work better for him.
Once the download was complete, I installed the new version of the connection manager. Then I thought, what the hell, I'll just try to go wireless one more time. And it worked. No waiting, no error message, no failure to communicate. It just worked. I guess my wireless home audio really was unstable.
So now I'm wireless. I'm free, liberated, and, as soon as I get around to it, I can get all those darn phone lines and power cords out of my living room. The next time I post, I just may be blogging from the comfort of my double pillow-top bed!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Technically speaking...
Technicality: something technical; especially, a detail meaningful only to a specialist.
Technical: 1a: having special and usually practical knowledge especially of a mechanical or scientific subject technical consultant b: marked by or characteristic of specialization (technical language) 2 a: of or relating to a particular subject
We hear people complain about criminal defendants getting off on "technicalities", so let's at least think about what that really means. First, let's keep in mind that in most cases, when you hear about a defendant having a conviction overturned on appeal (on a "technicality"), that just means that the defendant will get a new trial at which all those pesky "technical" rules will be followed.
Now, if a "technicality" is a detail meaningful only to a specialist, I guess that means that things like due process, search warrants, the right against self-incrimination, the right to effective assistance of counsel, the right to a speedy trial by a jury, and the right against cruel and unusual punishment are details that are not meaningful to the majority of the public. Instead, those technical details must only be meaningful to lawyers. Ok, so maybe the general public really isn't interested in the technical requirements of the 4th, 5th, and 6th Amendments. I sincerely hope that's not the case, but maybe I just have to accept that's so. And maybe the general public doesn't care about the ins and outs of how we instruct juries, what evidence is and is not admitted at trial, etc.
But even then, even if all those constitutional and statutory requirements can properly be labeled "technicalities", why does that mean there's somehow something invalid about a defendant receiving some form of relief when one of those "technicalities" is violated in his case? When I hire an electrician to do work at my house, she has to pay attention to a whole lot of technical details that mean nothing to me because I don't understand them. But when the city inspector comes and finds a problem with one of those "technicalities", I sure as hell expect the electrician to redo the work. Otherwise, I might worry about my house burning down.
So, maybe the reasons why some criminal defendants get new trials or even get off completely don't seem meaningful to the general public, but maybe the general public should consider that the lawyers and judges involved in the case do care about those technical details and do understand why they matter so much. And that, like with the electrical wiring in houses, it's important when we do make a mistake with one of those technical details that we go back and redo the work. A house won't burn down if we don't, but the wrong person may get convicted or the government may violate more and more of our rights.
I'm still not willing to concede that the rights guaranteed in the Bill of Rights are "technicalities" instead of matters of tremendous meaning and importance to all of us. But even if they are just technical details that aren't meaningful to most people, that doesn't mean the detailed rules we lawyers insist on following in criminal trials aren't significant. Nowhere in the definition of "technical" or "technicality" will you find the words "trivial" or "unimportant."
Technical: 1a: having special and usually practical knowledge especially of a mechanical or scientific subject technical consultant b: marked by or characteristic of specialization (technical language) 2 a: of or relating to a particular subject
We hear people complain about criminal defendants getting off on "technicalities", so let's at least think about what that really means. First, let's keep in mind that in most cases, when you hear about a defendant having a conviction overturned on appeal (on a "technicality"), that just means that the defendant will get a new trial at which all those pesky "technical" rules will be followed.
Now, if a "technicality" is a detail meaningful only to a specialist, I guess that means that things like due process, search warrants, the right against self-incrimination, the right to effective assistance of counsel, the right to a speedy trial by a jury, and the right against cruel and unusual punishment are details that are not meaningful to the majority of the public. Instead, those technical details must only be meaningful to lawyers. Ok, so maybe the general public really isn't interested in the technical requirements of the 4th, 5th, and 6th Amendments. I sincerely hope that's not the case, but maybe I just have to accept that's so. And maybe the general public doesn't care about the ins and outs of how we instruct juries, what evidence is and is not admitted at trial, etc.
But even then, even if all those constitutional and statutory requirements can properly be labeled "technicalities", why does that mean there's somehow something invalid about a defendant receiving some form of relief when one of those "technicalities" is violated in his case? When I hire an electrician to do work at my house, she has to pay attention to a whole lot of technical details that mean nothing to me because I don't understand them. But when the city inspector comes and finds a problem with one of those "technicalities", I sure as hell expect the electrician to redo the work. Otherwise, I might worry about my house burning down.
So, maybe the reasons why some criminal defendants get new trials or even get off completely don't seem meaningful to the general public, but maybe the general public should consider that the lawyers and judges involved in the case do care about those technical details and do understand why they matter so much. And that, like with the electrical wiring in houses, it's important when we do make a mistake with one of those technical details that we go back and redo the work. A house won't burn down if we don't, but the wrong person may get convicted or the government may violate more and more of our rights.
I'm still not willing to concede that the rights guaranteed in the Bill of Rights are "technicalities" instead of matters of tremendous meaning and importance to all of us. But even if they are just technical details that aren't meaningful to most people, that doesn't mean the detailed rules we lawyers insist on following in criminal trials aren't significant. Nowhere in the definition of "technical" or "technicality" will you find the words "trivial" or "unimportant."
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