As a kid at Christmas, I remember my dad getting scores of cards and presents from his pediatric patients and their parents. They were his “clients,” if you will. The law firm I left in January had a wall full of cards from clients this Christmas. My last Christmas at the U.S. Attorney’s Office I think I got four cards—three from inmates and one from a court reporter.
All attorneys have clients, don’t they? Plaintiffs’ attorneys know who to consult on settlement demands. Criminal defense attorneys know who to ask before accepting plea offers. Real estate attorneys know who to send the bill to. Who do prosecutors work for? Who do we consult before a decision is made?
As a new prosecutor years ago, I made the mistake of referring to the FBI as a “client agency.” David Stephens, the best prosecutor I’ve ever seen, took me aside to scold me, “You’ve got one client, and she’s a blind lady with a scale in her hand.” Lady Justice is actually not blind, she’s blindfolded, but I got his point.
Today I met with two more groups of victims. Are the victims of crime my clients? Half the calls I’ve received since January have been from victims asking me to dismiss charges. My first visitor on my first day was a victim of criminal domestic violence. The pictures were stark. The evidence was clear. Yet she didn’t want her family to be broken apart. Should we follow the victim’s wishes? Should we dismiss because she and the defendant have reconciled? Should we ignore her opinion?
The mother of a defendant called. Her son is charged with murder. She wants to come by to let me know her son “was a good child.” She’s coming Friday. Is she my client? Is she coming as a representative of society or just the defendant’s mother?
At the U.S. Attorney’s Office, a defendant was charged with selling cocaine on videotape. He claimed it wasn’t him. It sure looked like him, and “it’s not me” is hardly a unique defense. I asked if he knew who was on the videotape masquerading as his identical twin. He gave me a name. Law enforcement followed up. Guess what? The “defendant” was right. On that day, I felt like he was my client.
Most of the morning is spent working on my next trial. A defendant is accused of throwing his girlfriend off the balcony. Unfortunately for her it was a two-story fall.
Most assume law enforcement is a prosecutor’s client. Not me. Prosecutors work with law enforcement—not for them. By the nature of our jobs, we spend time together. We interact every day. My experience with law enforcement has been largely, but not exclusively, positive. The police make mistakes. Sometimes a rogue officer is intent on misconduct. I’ve had to prosecute two cops. We don’t work for the police. “Probable cause” and “beyond a reasonable doubt” are worlds apart. Police arrest, prosecutors decide whether to indict and what for, juries vote, and judges sentence. It’s best if everyone sticks to his or her job.
The afternoon is spent in Gaffney, talking with a mother and father who had a son who was killed. We are prosecuting the felony DUI case this May. The mother is a beautiful lady. She can’t quit crying. It’s been over a year since her son’s death, and she still cries when we talk about the case. I tell her about the weaknesses in our proof.
After I get home, a lady from church calls. Her relative has never been in trouble before … until today. Nothing like family ties to change your perspective on crime. All things considered, he’s charged with a relatively insignificant crime. I need to be bathing my kids.
The first chapter of Proverbs, loosely translated, says do what is “fair and just and right.” Every group above is a client in some sense. And on any given day, some or all want to fire their lawyer. Prosecutors should feel the same sense of purpose when someone wrongly accused of drug distribution is freed as we do when a violent criminal is convicted. I wonder if we do. Justice is elusive—it’s in the eye of the beholder, and there are countless beholders.
I think back to David Stephens. He makes this job seem so easy. The lady who holds the scales of justice shouldn’t be able to tell who is standing in front of her. It’s significant to me that she is not blind. She is blindfolded. She can see, she just chooses not to. Lady Justice should be our only client. She’s a difficult client. She doesn’t vote. She doesn’t call. And she never sends Christmas cards.
