McKinleyville Law

The Way It Should Be

2009-10-29T18:29:00.000-07:00

When he first came to my office, it had been years since he'd seen his daughter. After an ugly divorce, the mother took the child and lived a nomadic existence. The only time he heard from the child was an occasional telephone call.

He missed his daughter and he loved her, that was clear. So we filed a motion to try to get him reasonable visitation.

The mother responded with vitriol and made a hundred accusations against him. He was an awful father, he didn't want to see his daughter, he did terrible things--all untrue, but you know how the family court goes. It's not a rodeo unless someone makes an accusation.

The attorney for mother proposed supervised visits. Although reluctant at first, the father agreed if this was the quickest way to see his daughter.

And then the miracle: Father and daughter reconnected. She hadn't forgotten him, had missed him as much as he missed her.

And then the second miracle: Mother saw how much happier her daughter was with Daddy back in her life, and she relented.

Last week they were back in court. This time there was no acrimony, no heated looks, no shouting. In fact, father and mother talked amicably together, laughed and smiled. "It was fear that made me act like that," the mother said in the hallway. "Now I'm not afriad."

I have said it a thousand times in the hallways of the courthouse: When both of you are shouting, neither of you are listening.

In this case, the miracle was that mother and father stopped worrying about old hurts and slights and insults and looked at their daughter and realized that she needed both parents.

Now there's an agreement that the visits will continue without a supervisor, and that in a few months father and daughter can have weekends together.

I walked out of court that day with a strange feeling. No one was angry anymore. No one was miserable. No one hurting. Everyone was happy with the arrangement and, most important, a 10 year old girl now had an early Christmas gift: Both parents are now in her life.

So many times attorneys are the bringers of misery and dissention. For once in my Family Law career, I had helped--along with the other lawyer--to create harmony.

A strange feeling. One I wouldn't mind having more often.

2009-09-15T17:10:00.001-07:00

Passion?

The Daily Journal, the newspaper of record for California's legal community, ran an obituary of a woman attorney who handled appeals for a large medical malpractice firm. "She had a passion for the law," it said.

I felt sorry for her. A passion for the law? We hear that, as lawyers, about people whose real lives are so colorless and devoid of imagination that the only thing that fires the synapses of their brains are a good case on point. It is usually used as a compliment, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for this woman.

A passion for the law? My friends, the law is a drab and mean-spirited bird whose squak is discordant and whose manners are rude and arrogant. The law is a dun-colored beast who tends to drop bodily wastes on those it dislikes, and it dislikes everyone except those in power.

To say you have a passion for the law is akin to saying that you find concrete interesting, especially after it's just been poured. It's to say that you enjoy the sound of wailing and moaning with no words. It's to say that you feel excitement by being stuck at a railroad crossing when the freight train with 200 cars of closed boxcars rumbles by.

A passion for the law? How can you love something that, by its nature, is not allowed to love you back?

I have a passion for my clients. I have a passion for making sure they find justice in the courts, no matter how hard that might be. I have a passion for trying to get a judge to see the right way to rule, to try to get the opposing attorney to sit down at the table and work out what's best for our clients. I have a passion for helping people in their desperate hour--when did anyone ever call a lawyer when they were anything else but desperate?

But I have no passion for the law. And I'm sad for those whose work as a lawyer is so soul-killing that they have a passion for little else.

Gaming the System

2009-08-09T21:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes working in the Family Law court can be frustrating. Sometimes? Maybe I'm getting old and mellow. I suppose when Family Law isn't frustrating, it's irksome and crazed.

Some of the participants have learned to game the system. They know how things work--how slowly the world turns--and they use that to their advantage.

The woman who files the Order to Show Cause (OSC) when the father is out of state, asking for sole custody of the kids and no visitation for him, when he can't respond; the father who makes unfounded allegations of violence against his ex-wife's new husband, seeking to take a little girl from her mother out of vindictiveness; the mother who sends her child to live with grandma out of state while she stalls and delays and shows up intermittantly so that the father can't see the young child at all for months.

I like to believe that eventually it all gets straightened out. As a lawyer, I fight hard and long and complain bitterly when my clients are deprived of their parental rights for months at a time due to the slow process of the courts. I can clearly see what the other side is doing: Trying to sever the bonds between child and parent so that they can terminate the rights. I think it's monstrous--the child needs to know both of his or her parents, not merely the one who knows how to play the stalling game in the courts.

I counsel patience to my clients because sometimes patience is the only weapon we can weild. Eventually, the court discovers that the drug addict mother who promised she wouldn't take the kids out of town has absconded to another state, and a warrant is issued. Eventually, a hearing is held and a court hears that a father's struggle with alcohol means that he probably shouldn't have much more than supervised visitation. Eventually, a judge hears the slanders and lies of a father trying to elminate a loving mother from the equation, and appoints a lawyer to represent the child.

I like to think that, though the system can be gamed, it can also be turned toward justice. I like to believe that once you put the facts in front of a judge, he or she can see their way to the truth and make a decent, just, and honest decision which benefits the child.

More often than not, I'm right and the judge can see the truth. But waiting for that day can be excruciating. For the lawyer as much as for the client.

I guess I care too deeply about my family law clients. A therapist would likely tell me I have my own issues in that regard--nothing to talk about here on the blog, but something I try to keep in mind.

I don't know which is worse, however. Caring too deeply or not caring enough. I guess that I'll keep charging in, making noise, and doing my best to expedite the day of justice for child and parent alike.

2009-05-04T19:57:00.000-07:00

Fighting the Good Fight

One of the constant strains of family law is the need for catharsis. So many clients come to me hoping that I'll be the hot-shot attorney who gets their ex on the stand and exposes the evil ex's life of drugging, drinking, and chasing wild women. Or men. Or both.

I do my best to discourage the killer instinct in my family law clients. Usually the issue rages over the children--who gets them, who visits them, who has to pay for them. Both sides give a nod to the "needs of the kids," and often I hear from an in-pro-per on the other side (meaning, a person representing his or her self) that "I don't want to deprive the children of their father/mother, but..."

Yes, it's the "but" that sticks in the knife, isn't it? Usually if I probe a little deeper what usually comes out of the in-pro-per parent's mouth is some nasty allegation toward my client. "He hit me." "she's a drug addict." "He never cared about the kids." "She would leave them alone all night while she went out with other men." On and on and on.

I've done a number of family law hearings. It's rare for one side to score a total or even mostly total victory. Usually what happens is that one side or the other gets a little something, but the judge usually ends up giving what I call a "plague on both your houses" speech. The best judge in Humboldt for giving his speech is Judge Wilson, who is a canny and intelligent jurist, one whose acumen for divining human nature never ceases to impress me. After a long hearing he will usually say to the parties, "you both need to work this out because in the middle is a child who needs both of their parents."

I've tried to take a page from Judge Wilson's book whenever I am hired to help with a custody dispute. Oh, I prepare for trial, get loaded for bear and all that; but I'm also usually looking for the way that will preserve both parents' rights to their kids, while trying to fashion a resolution which will make the children as happy as they can be in a bad situation.

Is this bad publicity for me? I suppose there are those out there that would tell me that I should post on this blog nothing but tales of how I smashed the opposition and won the day for my clients. But, as Judge Wilson says, at the end of the day there's a child in between the parties, a child that doesn't understand why mommy and daddy are fighting like dogs over a rubber bone. The child wants to love both parents. Why is that such a terrible thing?

My Brush with Fame

2009-01-16T12:10:00.000-08:00

I see that Robert Shapiro is in the news again, intimating that O.J. was not an angel after all. Pardon the shocked expression on my face, but some news just hits you from left field.

Hearing Ol' Bob talk about his client and his assessment of the case reminds me of my one brush with the famous Mr. Shapiro long, long ago in Southern California, when I was a solo practitioner making my way on the mean streets of Canoga Park. A potential client came to talk to me about an assault and "hate crime" case he wanted to go to jury trial on. He resented the implication that he had racial animus, just because he and a woman (who was the same race as he but who married interracially) were at odds with one another. After looking at the case, I agreed that it bore some investigation.

"I have Robert Shapiro as an attorney," he said. "My dad hired him for me." I was so green behind the ears that I didn't know who Robert Shapiro was. This was in 1993, while we still thought of O.J. as the guy in the Hertz commercials and "Naked Gun" movies.

I went to court for the client and met Mr. Shapiro to pick up the discovery. He looked at me sideways, my $100 suit and my slightly polished shoes. He, of course, was immaculately dressed and smelled of a French millenry shop.

"I've worked out a good deal for this kid," he said. "He can plead to disturbing the peace and a fine." That was a good deal. Even though the charges the kid presently faced were only misdemeanors, Shapiro had convinced the DA to reduce them further to infractions. I learned later that Shapiro's legendary strength in court was negotiating a brilliant deal that no one else could.

"I know," I said of the deal, "the client told me. But he says he wants a trial."

Shapiro shook his head ruefully, whether at my client or myself I'll never know.

"Here," he said, handing me the file. "Go ahead. But he really should take the deal. He's going to lose this case, and badly."

You can imagine that I, barely six years out of law school, had some misgivings when an experienced attorney says such a thing. Nonetheless, I had been hired to try the case, and try the case we did.

After a two week extravaganza in the San Fernando Valley Superior Court...we won. In fact, the jury came back within an hour. The evidence, they said, was way too flimsy and the complaining witness was highly unreliable.

After Shaprio was hired by O.J., I sent him a little letter reminding him of our brief encounter and offering my services. Instead, he hired that hack Johnny Cochran. Who ever heard of that guy?

2008-08-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

Watching the News

My friend Russell Clanton finds himself on the front pages of the newspapers these days while he defends former Blue Lake police chief Gunderson against an array of charges. I'm not going to express opinions on the likely outcome of the trial, other than to note that Russ has so far done as good a job as a lawyer can do in defending Mr. Gunderson, including the dismissal of some charges. It's not out of the question for a complete acquittal, mostly due to Russell's excellent work.

But I admit I feel just a twinge of awe and jealousy in watching how Russell has handled the media. He has been able to counteract the District Attorney's considerable advantage in the press (the media loves prosecutors and eats up every lurid detail of a case that the prosecutor releases) by bringing the disgruntled girlfriend to the fore. This poor woman has told the press that the prosecutors have been badgering her and pressuring her to say things she's not comfortable with.

Who knows what the truth is? I can tell you, in my 20 years practicing law, that often the police get over-enthusiastic in their pursuit of a conviction. Sometimes the pursuit of truth takes a back seat. Sometimes, as in this case, no tactic is too dirty, no trick too low, in their zeal to bring down a well known defendant. Usually they believe that they're doing the work of the Angels--they have this idea that, to catch a bad guy, sometimes you gotta "walk on the dark side," as our beloved vice-president puts it.

Problem is, of course, walking on the dark side begins to have its allure even when you're going after some nobody. It becomes a habit.

So Russell Clanton, in defending Gunderson, has been able to shine a light on that dark side, and in doing so is at least battling the DA to a draw in the media. Good for him.

In a perfect world, of course, we would try our cases in the courtroom, not the media. But we haven't had a perfect world since Eden. And I have it on good authority that they didn't need courtrooms or newspapers in that locale.

2008-08-07T10:20:00.000-07:00

The Bully

Helped out a lady recently who was in court with a bully. This lawyer kept trying to force her to reveal personal information on the witness stand. Medical stuff, where her children went to school, that kind of thing. And what was she there on? A debtor's exam!

Some lawyers think their profession gives them the right to be bullies. To make life as difficult and tedious and frustrating and aggrivating for the other side as they can. These lawyers do have success, to a point. Often, however, they miss the point.

These kind of lawyers especially love beating up on poor people who can't afford their own lawyers, like my friend in the debtor's exam. The law is used as a bludgeon to beat them into submission, damn the consequences for real life.

Usually a good judge will step in and whack a lawyer on the head when he gets too belligerant. But some judges won't, saying that it's the in pro per person's fault for not hiring a lawyer.

I don't believe in the bully approach. I think that what we deal with in the law is too important for the playing of schoolyard games. I have three times now been up against an in pro per in court since launching my solo practice last year, and each time I've tried to treat the person on the other side with respect and courtesy.

The problem, of course, is that the reputation of lawyers precedes me. So when I say in a quiet voice, "we should try to talk about this before we have the hearing," the person on the other side hears me scream "you'll never win because I'm a lawyer and you're not."

Getting back to my friend...I gave her some objections to use when the lawyer got off track. She did and the judge sustained them--and cut off the exam. As they were leaving court the frustrated lawyer called her the "b" word. She gleefully said back, "hey, you got beat by a girl!"

Getting it Right

2008-07-01T10:37:00.000-07:00

The U.S. Supreme Court recently turned the neat trick of making conservatives and liberals angry with their rulings in a one-week period. Strange to say, on both of these cases, the court got the law exactly right.

First was the court's 5-4 ruling that prisoners at Guantanimo Bay could file a Writ of Habeus Corpus to have a neutral judge determine if their detention was legal. Despite the fact that Habeus Corpus has been enshrined in Anglo-American law since the Magna Carta of 1215, conservatives howled that this ruling would open the floodgates to terrorists walking the streets of your town after being released by a soft-hearted judge.

But it meant no such thing. The court merely followed 800 years of precedent in allowing any prisoner to challenge the terms of his or her confinement. Judges will still have to be convinced that the prisoner is being held for no good legal reason before the prisoner is released. Thousands of such Habeus writs are filed on behalf of domestic prisoners every day--yet you don't see them getting released willy nilly.

The court then proceeded to irk liberals with their ruling that the Second Amendment gives each person the right to bear arms even if they're not enrolled in a local militia. The liberals screamed that this would mean more guns on the street and more people killed by guns every year.

Again, it meant no such thing. The Court clarified what most Americans already believe: That the right to bear arms cannot be taken away by a local government. Mind you, the amendment does not limit regulation of the armed populace. The registration and background checks required for ownership are still in place. But the Court did, finally, tell the world that Americans are so secure in our government that we don't mind the citizenry owning their own firearms.

Both decisions were 5-4, meaning that in each case the margin of error was a lone justice. I think, however, that the court got both of these cases exactly right. When the court is asked to examine a case involving a fundamental right guaranteed in the constitution, they would do well to remember the admonition which doctors have to promise before being licensed: First, do no harm. The Supreme Court is the last chance for many of our rights, and it's good to see that they understand that a right guaranteed is a right which cannot be eliminated by some lawless governmental body, be it a local city ordinance or the President of the United States.

The Love Contract

2008-06-09T12:09:00.000-07:00

Yes, that was me you saw in the Azalea parade on Saturday, playing my electric guitar in the bed of a pick up truck. I've never been in a parade before, so this was big fun. Thanks for those of you who came up to me later and told me that it was fun to see me out there. And yes, that was my bratty 15-year-old throwing--some would say, "pelting"--candy out the window. Sigh.

I recently read an article in the Daily Journal (the lawyer's newspaper) about something called "the Love Contract." No, this isn't something that's only legal in certain places in Nevada; it's a way for employers to try to shield themselves when an office romance blossoms.

Usually when two people who work together begin dating, one of them is in a higher position in the company than the other. When the romance goes sour--and, let's face it, many of these romances tend to go south--the party who's subordinate will often file a sex discrimination suit, alleging that the relationship was started because the person in the superior position forced them to. That the aggrieved employee feared retaliation etc. if they didn't play along.

The Love Contract is designed to forestall this. It says, among other things, that each person who is involved in such an office romance is doing so of their own accord; that they have been informed, by Human Resources, of their rights to be free from sexual harassment and of the procedures for reporting such; and that they understand that the romance should not, in any way, affect their work life.

The contract also asks that the couple keep their relationship outside the office; that they not engage in displays of affection in the workplace; that they keep arguments or discussions about the relationship outside the office.

No one has challenged the viability of such Love Contracts in the courts yet. It sounds like a good idea on the surface, but I can foresee some problems when the romance goes sour, such as the aggrieved party stating that they were forced to sign the contract otherwise they'd be fired. Nothing lawyers do is ironclad, despite what you might think.

Still, it's an interesting concept. A contract for love. Of course, some old-fashioned people would point out that we've had Love Contracts for thousands of years: It's called Marriage.

Working the TV

2008-05-26T09:08:00.001-07:00

Some of you might have noticed my pizzogg on TV lately. Yeah, that's me. If you really want to see how old and fat you are, do a television commercial.

Why, some ask me, does an attorney turn to television to get clients? After looking at how amazingly ugly I look on TV, the answer clearly is NOT vanity.

Well, there are a few good reasons to try TV.

First, when you go to find a lawyer, what do you do? (Of course, I hope that if you're reading this blog, you'd think of calling me first). Unless you know someone--or know someone who knows someone--you have no clue. You go to the telephone book and start calling the guys with the biggest ads. Or the guy who's closest to you.

As some of you know, I had "issues" with the telephone books. For instance, ATT left my yellow pages ad "on a table" and I didn't get included in last year's book. So those people who look for a lawyer in the phone book will never know I exist.

But there's another, less mercenary reason. I want people to know I'm here. I want people to think they know a little about me before they call. Really, I'm not like your typical lawyer who's just here to make money and buy real estate. I like to believe that I am here to provide comfort and counsel to people going through the most difficult time of their lives. Whether it's a criminal charge or a divorce, I talk to my clients, I try to see things from their side.

And I work hard for them. I care about what happens to the client. When we win, I feel elated. When we lose, I'm devastated. This is more than a job to me. It's a life. And I never forget that, from the smallest to the greatest case I have, this work I do will impact your life forever.

So I go on TV to let everyone see my amazingly homely mug. I figure they'll know I'm no pretty boy rookie. I hope the people who see it will, eventually, understand that I'm here for them. This is what I do because I enjoy helping people. I hope that comes through on the commercial.

Vindication, sort of...

2008-05-08T15:42:00.001-07:00

Last time I told you about a prosecutor who in his voir dire (talking to the jury) and final argument (the argument at the end of the case) told the jury that reaching a decision "beyond a reasonable doubt" was similar to the "life and death" decision we make every day to drive our car on the highway. I had objected strenuously because I felt that it lowered the standard of proof. "Beyond a reasonable doubt" is the highest standard in the law, and it's only used when life or liberty are at stake.

Well, in researching the issue, I found that I was right, and the appellate courts agree with me. In two cases, People v. Johnson and People v. Nguyen, the courts said that arguing that making a "beyond a reasonable doubt" decision is like one's everyday decisions is misleading and just plain wrong. In Johnson it was the judge who used the exact example of driving a car that I had objected to. The appellate court reversed that case because, it said, the jury was mislead into believing the standard was a simple ordinary decision instead of the solemn, difficult process which a criminal jury should engage in. (In fact, they cited a case from 1878 which said the same thing!).

In the Nguyen case. the prosecutor argued the driving example as a "life and death" decision. The court did not reverse that one because the defense did not object, thus depriving the trial court of its chance to give a corrective instruction. However, it did chastize the prosecutor for purposely lowering the standard of proof in a criminal case.

So, see? My instincts were right. Finding these cases are vindication, of sorts. The judge had told me at trial that he didn 't think there was "anything wrong" with the argument the prosecutor was making. Evidently, it was an argument that prosecutors have been making in this county for years. Am I the first one in Humboldt to realize this was wrong? Evidently.

Like Driving a Car?

2008-03-08T11:58:00.000-08:00

I'm in trial right now with a veteran prosecutor, highly respected, very well known. And, I might add, a good lawyer.

During our discussion with the jury on voir dire (that's when we get to talk to them to see if we want to keep them as jurors), this prosecutor suggested to the jurors that they make decisions "beyond a reasonable doubt" every day.

"When you get into your car, you don't know if you're going to have an accident or not. You don't know if you'll make it to your destination alive. But y0u decide to drive anyway because you know the chances of that happening are not great. So you make this life or death decision, don't you? And you decide that, despite your doubts, you're going to drive. So you drive your car, having decided beyond a reasonable doubt that you're going to arrive."

The jurors nodded their heads. But I had to disagree, which I did with the next juror we talked to:

"Before you drive your car, does anyone tell you that you have to be sure beyond a reasonable doubt that you won't get into an accident?"

No, the juror said.

"Have you ever been in an accident?"

Yes, the juror said.

"So you might be deciding to drive despite your reasonable doubts?"

Of course, the juror responded.

As I drove home that night, the full unfairness of the driving analogy hit me. By telling the jurors that they make "beyond a reasonable doubt" decisions each day, the prosecutor is trying to minimize the burden he has to carry. If jurors think that finding a man guilty of murder is as easy as deciding to drive their car, they won't realize how hard it's supposed to be!

It's supposed to be hard for a reason. Our society made a choice long ago that we don't want to find people guilty of crimes unless we're as humanly sure as we can be. That means that, even if we think someone might be guilty, or likely is guilty, or clearly is guilty...even then, if there's something about the case that doesn't quite fit, he is entitled to a "not guilty verdict." Missing evidence that's important? Not Guilty. A piece of evidence pointing to innocence even if the same evidence points to guilt? Not guilty.

We do this because it's the best we can do. If there's something about the case that bugs our sense of well being, it very well might be because the person is actually innocent.

Sadly, even with the very high burden of "beyond a reasonable doubt" innocent people have been convicted. No doubt because a juror decided that finding guilt was as easy as driving his car.

Too Aggressive?

2008-02-08T09:37:00.000-08:00

There's an old expression from Southern California that goes, "you can't be too thin, too rich, or too good looking." Sometimes, when another lawyer accuses me of being "too aggressive," I wonder if this should be added to the mix.

Recently, for instance, I was representing someone in a divoce case. (I'm not going to get into any privacy stuff here, so don't worry.) The other side wanted us to agree that one spouse should get the house, the family business, and dominion over all possessions. In addition, they asked for spousal support (alimony) and for my client to pay his soon-to-be-ex-spouse's attorney's fees.

As my son would say, "And one other thing, give me your pants."

So quite rightly, I did my duty by my client and tried for a more equitable arrangement. Like, maybe, splitting the property in half and reducing the spousal support. The other attorney looked at me like I was a madman. "I don't see why you don't just let my client have the house and the business." I wondered who he was used to dealing with.

So when the time came for us to argue attorney's fees with the judge (we'd finally settled on a more equitable outcome on the other issues), he said that the court needed to order my client to pay his attorney's fees because "counsel has already indicated that he's going to aggressively litigate the case."

Who? Me? Aggressive?

In truth, this is not a new phenomena for me in Humboldt County. When I worked for the Alternate Conflicts Counsel, one of the "complaints" about me was that I was "too aggressive for Humboldt County." What, exactly does that mean? Well, to give you a clue, I was going to trial more than my collegues. I was filing more motions and going to court on hearings. I would ask for sentencing hearings when I was told that my clients were looking at the maximum sentence.

In other words, I was being a lawyer. I don't think it's aggressive to say, "This deal is awful. We'll go to trial instead." But then, everyone sees me as a big city lawyer.

Really, down in Orange County, I sometimes felt like I was a cream puff. Like I could have been stronger and more vocal. Like I should have objected more. Now I come up to my dream county (I went to school here in the 80s) and suddenly, I'm this fire breathing ogre who will ruin the court system...by making it hold hearings and trials.

Sigh.

Well, I guess, as a lawyer, there are worse things I could be called. I'm not going to give you any ideas here. Let's just say that I'm not worried when people call me "aggressive," because it usually comes from the other side of the table. As long as I'm making the opposition sweat, I'm helping my client. And really, isn't that what it's all about?

A Good Call on Cell Phones?

2008-01-02T10:49:00.001-08:00

A Good Call?

With all the serious problems California faces, it’s good to see that in 2007 the Governor and the Legislature faced down one of the most pressing concerns of the day: Teenagers using cell phones.
In particular, teenagers using cell phones while they drive. Evidently the nattering of high school cheerleaders was so annoying to the Legislature that they banned all teenaged drivers from operating cell phones while in the driver’s seat as of January 1, 2008. Mind you, they’ve also banned text messaging while driving, which a sensible driver wouldn’t attempt anyway, but when has a teenager been sensible?
The machinery of government, in fact, spent most of last year going after cell phone users of every stripe. As of this summer, even adults won’t be allowed to use the hand-held cells while driving due to a spate of accidents, as well as voters’ complaints about long annoying telephone cell calls from bosses who were driving. No, if you’re going to conduct business in your car by phone, you’ll have to buy a Bluetooth headset or other “hands free” device. Good news for the sellers of Bluetooth, I suppose.
The exception is “emergencies.” What constitutes an “emergency” is somewhat vague. One would think that if you’re going through an emergency, you would pull over to the side of the road rather than make a call, but priorities have shifted in this age of wonders. (“Honey, I’m about to crash so I thought I’d call to tell you not to wait dinner for me.”)
It didn’t take a lot of political courage to pass these bans, as cell-phone using drivers engender the same level of anger with the voting public as convicted felons and used car salesman.
Years ago, when I conducted a solo law practice in Southern California, one client traded me legal services for her mobile phone. In that age, “mobile phones” were contained in large suitcases and resembled a WWII walkie talkie. The phone had 20 minutes of talk time on the battery and if I made three calls a month from my car, the bill could have paid for a luxury car.
While tooling down the freeways I sometimes had to juggle the steering wheel and this monster, which operated on radio waves, not satellite. If you saw me weaving on the road, it was because I was trying to find a good spot for reception.
Which brings us full circle to the new laws on cell phones and driving. The ostensible reason for the restrictions is that too many people were distracted by their phones and got into accidents. By that same logic, one could also ban driving with children and spouses in the car.
What’s next? Banning reading the newspaper while driving? No more DVD movies on long solo drives? What am I going to do when I’m bored and tired of the radio? When will I ever call my mother? And what should I do if my hand-held cell rings while I’m on my way to Eureka? Should I wait till I park to see what the message is or should I pull over to the side of the road just in case it’s something important—like my son asking me to bring a pizza home?
Arnold, you and the Legislature need to go back and tinker with the law a bit. In the meantime, I gotta take this call.

Stamp of Disapproval?

2007-11-19T16:33:00.000-08:00

The email from my old Catholic school classmate surprised me.

“Look at what they’re doing now! After all the attacks on us by Moslems all over the world, the U.S. Government is issuing a stamp to celebrate Eid, the Moslem holiday! We need to boycott and protest loudly our own government supporting terrorists…”

Why she thought that I, a former public defender and solo practitioner would subscribe to this American Jihad, is a puzzle to me. Here’s what I emailed her back:

It is true that there are extremists in this world who hate us and have attacked us. In this day and age, most of those who hate America subscribe to an extremist version of Islam which mainstream Moslems do not agree with.

But some of those who have attacked us on our own soil called themselves Christians--remember the Oklahoma bombings? Those fools thought they were doing God's work every bit as much as the cowards who planned 9/11.

I have known and represented many Americans who are Moslem. I've served with them in the military; questioned them as an attorney when they showed to do their civic duty in jury venire panels; worked with them as businessmen and women in the community.

I also was stationed in Turkey in my youth, a country which is predominantly Moslem but which has remained a reliable ally of the United States in the Middle East. As are the Moslem countries of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Jordan.

Our country was founded on religious tolerance, though we’ve followed that ideal with varying degrees of success. Those of us who are Catholics remember that it wasn't too long ago that our own faith was seen as suspect by other "patriotic" Americans--and that the Klu Klux Klan went after Catholics as much as they did African Americans or Jewish families. Remember the outcry over whether Jack Kennedy could be a loyal American president if he was "taking orders from the Pope?"

I, for one, welcome the diversity represented by the Eid stamp. The more we show the Moslem world that we respect their religion, the more that true believers in Islam will see our country as one of tolerance and freedom, one which should be emulated, not feared.

But hey, Merry Christmas, my friend.

Mack Town Law

2007-09-18T11:54:00.000-07:00

I love Mack Town. I love the fact that when I walk into Blake's Books, the woman behind the counter knows who I am and what I read. I love the fact that when I go to Niveen's or the Chalet--or even Denny's--the servers recognize me. And hide. I like to go into the Rite Aide and buy some batteries and have a long discussion with the woman running the register because she recognizes me from Church, where my 14 year old son and I play every Sunday morning.

I was going to leave. I had resigned from the County as the supervising attorney for the Alternate Defender (indigent defense) because I was being told I was "too aggressive" for that office. A lawyer too aggressive? Isn't that like telling a running back he shouldn't run so fast?

Anyway, I interviewed all over California, from Riverside and Fresno to Shasta county right over the mountain. Some of those folks were interested in me. Very much so. I talked to a lot of District Attorneys and Public Defenders--the people who actually were in charge of the office.
But my heart kept coming back to Mack Town.

Why? Can't tell you exactly. I know that when I lived here in the 80s and went to Humboldt State as a journalism major, McKinleyville was a wide spot in the road. Horses really did have the right of way, in that there weren't many cars. "Kentucky by the sea," they called it. I was never so unkind; in fact, I don't think I ever set foot in town while I was a student and KRED DJ, though I did have some fans up here from my radio work.

When I moved back up here in 2006, I fell in love with this town. After living an eternity in Orange County, I found that the clear air and friendly people were to my liking. I love my little yellow house with the creek running out back. I love playing at Christ the King on McKinleyville Ave on Sunday morning because the people are so darned appreciative. I really like just hanging at Ramone's on a weekday morning before going to the office and having my cornmeal scone and watching the people come in and out.

What surprised me was that there were no lawyers in town who did family law or criminal law. There's a guy named Garlick who does probate and trusts, and more power to the man. But no one who did what is euphemistically called, "family practice."

Now, my classmates from Boalt Hall (UC Berkeley) would likely look down their noses at me for running my own office. They went to work for big corporations or big government offices etc. Some of them are judges now.

Me, I did too. Worked for a mid-sized law firm in LA, a firm which is now extinct. I worked for a very good Public Defender's Office in Orange County, one of the best in the country. I learned a lot from them. They're a great crew.

But my heart is now in Mack Town. My son wants to live in Humboldt because he's having a great time as a musician. I, too, love this county, for all its faults, for all its remoteness. I can't leave.

But I gotta make a living, friends and neighbors. So I'm here near the airport in my nice lawyer's office and I'm hoping that if you have a legal problem, you'll give me a call. Even if you don't, if you see me on the street, give me a wave and a hello and maybe some unsolicited advice about the specials at Niveen's.