My Big Day

So, my first trial is over.

Goddamn I was nervous. I was almost puking on the bus downtown. I hadn't eaten shit, and I'm talking to S.O. (My significant other). She's telling me all about how her dad got nervous before trials. Telling me about other people she knows getting so nervous that they had to fucking up-chuck before every trial they were in. And that's when my stomach starts to churn.

Cut to me entering the office. I forgot to mention that I look awesome. I'm wearing my olive green suit. Yea, I know. You think olive green, you're thinking shady criminal defense. Whatever. I had my black button down Geoffrey Beene. I have a bold striped, olive green, white, black and silver tie. This is straight out of the movie Casino or something.

My supervising attorney didn't show up until about 8:30 and doesn't talk to me until about 8:45. We go over the fact that I have no basis for the motion to suppress and the fact that I'm going to talk to the cop beforehand. We get to the courthouse.

I have to go through the metal detectors. I've got that fucking routine down pat. So I put the cell-phone and the Altoids in the olive messenger bag…yea, it matches the suit. The Altoids are key incase I have to get close to the jury members in voi dire and closing. He had missed our last minute meeting the previous day. A tip for people out there who are thinking about continuing a life where crime (even small ones like smoking pot, or causing shit when they’re drinking) is a part of their everyday experience: When your lawyer wants to meet with you, just meet with your fucking lawyer. Don’t miss the meeting, don’t be late, don’t pass go. Just sit in your lawyer’s office when you’re supposed to be there, if you don’t feel like being locked up in a jail or penitentiary.

My client is in the hallway of the fifth floor, and I’m thinking, “at least he showed up where he’s supposed to be.” Then I looked down. The dumb meathead is wearing fucking flip flops. Suddenly, in this moron’s mind, it’s spring break in the downtown courthouse. I think that something fried this douchbag’s brain, if he ever had one.

The tale of the tape:

Client: Hood Puncher

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 220

Favorite Quote: “Mr. Jester, I’m 6’2” tall. If I punched that hood, she’d of had a bigger dent.”

The basic facts: It’s Fat Tuesday, in a city that isn’t New Orleans. It’s 3:45 in downtown. The Hood Puncher is in the crosswalk, but he’s not walking. A car pulls up to him and has the green light. He’s blocking their path and the car honks the horn. Hood Puncher decided to challenge the car. He’s looking at it and grimaces at the woman in the car. He bears his teeth, scaring the shit out of her. She puts the car in motion, drives around him and he turns and hits an SUV in the fucking hood. He dents it so bad that the woman sees the dent at night. She pulls out a cell phone and calls the police. She keeps an eye on him until the squad car comes, because that’s what she’s been trained to do. She’s an off-duty detective for the metropolitan police bureau. And she's on her way to work at 3:45 in the morning. And he’s a four-time felon who has convinced himself that he didn't do the crime. He want's to testify, and for those of you who don't know, that's a right that we give to morons. Actually morons are allowed to do many things, like not follow any of their lawyer's advice. And that's what this moron did.

What I'd like to do: Keep him off of the stand, keep the felonies out, and make this an intent issue. Confuse the jury.

What I have to do: 1. Voi Dire by asking the jurors if they could believe a felon over a cop. I had tons of questions in that category. They knew my guy was a felon long before the trial started. 2. Put him on the stand to tell his bullshit story.

Client's Story: It was late that night but there were tons of people still on the streets. (Question to detective and officer #1: Were there any other people out on that street that night? Answer of both: No one) Hood Puncher gives a narrative of what happens. "I was with my buddies, but I lost them. Then we met some guys we didn't know and started walking around. I had a few shots of Yukon Gold (or whatever). I needed a ride home, so one of the guys offered to give me a ride. He said I'd just have to give him gas money. I pulled out my wallet and they stole it. I'm running after them, and I reach into my pocket. So that's when I find a five dollar bill. I lost them, so I decided to get cigarrettes. I'm walking to the store, and a cop pulls up. They stop me and I say 'Is this about my wallet?' " (meanwhile, he hasn't called anyone, so how could it possibly be about his fucking wallet. the wallet is in his back fucking pocket, i'm sure.) The cop says, "So you like to punch people's hoods." I said (and this is in the police report and is the only true fact of the story), "I guess I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time." They take him in.

What happened in trial?

The first cop, the off duty detective, was so sweet and smart. The jury loved her and I wanted to eat from her hand. If I tried to cross her too hard, she'd have been the jury's injured darling. I had to beat up on the next two cops. They "wrongfully" arrested him, according to my closing. I did beat up on them. I poked holes in their cases. I made them use the detective's drawing of the area, and made them say she couldn't see the "suspect" at certain points. I had to refer to two different individuals, the entire time. There's the "suspect." This is the character who actually committed the crime (really my client). Then there's Mr. D, or the defendant. He's distinguishable by the flip-flops, and the guilty verdict.

Then, Mr. D takes the stand and gives his story. Look above and see if you think that will work...it didn't work in court either. I gave my closing, and what do you know? For the first time in the trial, when I spoke, I mixed up the client and the suspect. I said, "then my client," and I'm pointing to the map in a section my client says he was never near, "I mean...the suspect... continued down the block." Whoops...maybe if he didn't make me lie, we'd have had a better case.

So, now I'm getting good on redefining my level of success. I won the trial. The jury came back guilty, but it took fifty minutes. I don't know what they were thinking about, but it should have taken ten minutes.

So I won, but my client, the Hood Punching Moron Felon, went to jail. Que Sera, Sera.

Scamming the Scammers

So, I get these e-mails all the time, as I'm sure that you do, with the Nigerian-family-in-trouble scheme. They sometimes include pictures of the family, like the one above. Yea, that family looks like they've hit real hard times. My buddy forwards these people along to me. Read the following e-mail and you'll understand. I've deleted our names and have included my moniker...the Court Jester (I might be changing that soon). Here we go:
_________________________________________________

dear [insert my buddy's name],
Based on the information and recommendation I got
about quick growth of business, investment and
commerce in your country, I deemed it necessary to
write and inform you about my interest to invest in
any viable venture in joint partnership with you.

I am Mrs ROSE Abed the first wife of Chife George
Abed K.S.M the Traditional Rular of mende tribe in
Sierra-Leone. On the 19th May, 2000 my husband was
murdered by some rebel group on the accusation that he
is a great sponsor and in support to restore the
democratically elected President of Alhadji Tejan
Kabba. Almost half of the palace was burnt.
Fortunately I was not in the place when they raided
the palace my husband married 4 wives with 16 children
two of the wives, with my 3 children where murdered in
cold blood while my second son escape the incident
with bullet wounds on his right leg at the moment
where the remaining families are I don’t know their
way about whether they are alive or not.

Right now I am left alone with only one son since the
sudden assassination of my husband the family has been
displaced and totally disorganized left with noting.
Early that year befor my late husband was murdered he
came back from travel and gave me some document to
keep for him as usual he told me that he deposited
18.5 million USD in a trunk box with private security
company in Abidjan Côte d’Ivoire as a family treasure.
So I decided to go and search for the documents where
I use to keep them I discovered the documents covering
the deposit he made with the company and some other
documents like his will and other documents for his
business. As my town has been a serious war zone, I
made arrangement with two peace keeping force to help
me and my son move out of the country, however we
moved out of Sierra-Leone successfully, to Abidjan
Côte d’Ivoire where we are now.
I have gone and conform the deposit with the company
with all the documents all the documents are with me
here.
Now I wish to transfer these funds abroad and enter
into a business venture as the country (Côte d’Ivoire)
is no longer in peace since they conducted their
Presidential election on the 22nd October 2000 the
country has witness all sort of political unrest
ranging from ethnic clash which resulted to killing of
innocent citizens and strangers people are living in
fears as the country is no longer that peaceful nation
as it was before due to this reason that I have
decided to contact you, to assist me to lift this my
consignment out of this country.
Please I need your assistance.
Waiting for your urgent reply.
Thanks and God bless.
Best regards.
Mrs ROSE Abed.

_________________________________________________
So my friend likes to respond to these things. Here's his response, it's the troll that gets the ball moving on the entire joke:

Rose,

That story ROCKS! Dude, did the rebels rape your daughters? Man I bet that shit was HOT! I cannot wait to help you. Do you need some money? My Jewish attorney will handle all financial transactions.

[My Buddy]

PS Did your husband ever make you dike out with his other wives? That guy RULES (ruled, bless his soul).
__________________________________________________

So that's when the e-mails get sent to me. Here's my response to Rose:

Rose,

I am deeply troubled by your story. I am [buddy's name]'s Jewish Banker/attorney. I run his philanthropic business. We are a semi-religious group called Jesus and Jew's Helping Hands. We donate money to many Judeo-Christians all around the world. We would like to help you. We must clear a few hurdles first.

As you know, we Jews control most of the money in the world. Because of that control, we must exercise the greatest discretion in who we assist with this large amount of money. All donations must be cleared with our evangelical pastor, Joseph Leiberman. Father Leiberman is in charge of the initial clearance of all transactions.

Father Leiberman has left me with the following instructions in relation to you:

1. Ensure the religiosity of the donee: Our group must be ensured that you are sufficiently religious to receive a donation. Heathen religions such as Buddhism and Islam do not count. We only donate to members of Judeo-Christian sects, such as ourselves. This shouldn’t be an issue. If you are not a member of a Judeo-Christian religion, just notify us. We can perform conversions online, with only the help of a webcam and a microphone. If you are already a member of a Judeo-Christian sect, and have been listed in a phone book or have a current phone number, it is likely that we have already baptized/michvad you and your family. Send us a list of your family member, by their legal names, and their addresses, and we will ensure that we have enlisted God in saving their souls.
2. Ensure that the donee has a good soul: You, Rose, must engage in three charitable acts. The first two must be directed at human beings. Any charitable act will do, from feeding the homeless, to aborting babies free of cost. The third charitable act will have to be directed at a stray animal. We at Jesus and Jew’s Helping Hands are concerned about the plight of animals in this temporary world which we inhabit. You will have to care for an animal who lived in the street for at least a week (if you are not sure that it has been in the street for a week, just neglect it for a week, and then assist it). We will need documentation of all good deeds, so please take photographs of your deeds, or write up a narrative and schedule a call from an observer who can confirm your good deeds. Call scheduling can be handled in our next communiqué.

Rose, I hope you follow these steps, so we can forward your case on to Father Leiberman. He will likely give approval for a large disbursement of money from the charity, if you follow the instructions. Father Leiberman will forward you on to the Council of the Seven of Zion. It is the Council who controls most of the world’s money, as they are the strongest Jews in the world. The Council will meet, only after their employees at Citibank, MBNA (Bank of America), Lloyds of London, and Travelers meet for the Rosh Ha-Shana (Jewish New Year) holidays. We ask that you keep the Council’s plans a secret. It is imperative that the world does not know about the economic control that the Jews possess.

Rose, we hope to hear from you soon.

[Court Jester]

_______________________________________________

Obviously I will keep everyone posted on futher communications with Rose.

Nixed on the sex idea

So I passed the idea of writing stories, fantasies, thoughts and complaints about my sex-life on my blog by my girlfriend. She was not excited at all. None of my buddies will be reading this blog, nor will any of my co-workers. So, those of you reading this can post your ideas about that here.

There will be no discussion of my sex life. There will be no discussion of my current lack of a sex life while my significant other is in another city. There will be no dicussion about the possible uses of fruit and animals when placed in various positions around bodies and other cavities.

In fact, I will not be disucussing sex at all. Unless it is the sex life of my roomate, who, for the past few days, has had an interesting one. Yes, I now live vicariously through my roomate's sex life. This is a thought with which I am vaguely uncomfortable. It's not that I wouldn't sleep with the dudes she brings home. Hell, they're cute, as far as guys go. It's just that I'm generally uninterested in the performance of men in bed. That's all people ever talk about is their partner's tricks of the trade and what their partner did, and how good their partner is. The problem is that I'm a guy, and my roomate is a woman. I don't care what her man/men do for her. I want to know what the women in these tales are doing. Yes, I'm a progressive, liberal guy, but something about men having sex is really ghastly to me.

On the same note, but a rather different tone, I've only recently discovered sex-blogs. I like ErosBlog. There's some hot shit there. I intend on living vicariously through my roomate and other bloggers out there, so to those of you fucking right now (you wouldn't be reading this) CONGRATS, and tell me all about it.

Welcome to the Doghouse

So this is my life.

I'm fucking sick today and I decided to begin this blog. My goal, with this blog, is to document the random excitement and boredom that is my life. To start, I must give some details. First, I am a law student in a small town. I'm currently spending my summer as a public defender in a bigger city. I'm not getting paid much, and so far all of my fellow employee students are getting cases that may go to trial, and I'm getting dick.

I'm sitting in bed, the same place I've been all day, and I'm waiting on my girlfriend to call me. She's not in the same city for the summer. We go to the same law school, but she's in D.C. for the summer with all the ivy leaguers (If any of you read this, just know it's my unabashed jealousy that fuels my hatred.)

My brain is very scattered right now. Everything I do seems to be ultra-Huckabee-an. There is larger meaning in everything. I got sick when the real attorneys (those who have graduated from law school and participated in a large number of trials, already) have been handing out case files to us law students. These aren't just any case files. They are those who the attorneys think might go to trial.

They aren't just giving us the losers either. I thought that would be the case, when I started this gig. I figured that they'd give us the cases that the D.A.'s wouldn't make a fucking deal on, so it would just be worth it to try the case...even if it was a fucking dog. That's not what's going on. What is happening is that the other students, the ones that go to lawschool here in the city, are getting all sorts of cases. Good ones and bad ones. They can try what they want. There's more than enough work at the office to go around.

So, I want trial, and I got sick the day after I turned away my first trial. No worries. I hope to be in the office tomorrow.