I’m in court, today. Or rather, I am in the court room. Specifically, I am in the back, near the door.
I don’t work in a place that puts me in court very often, if at all. But when I was in law school, still, I did some work for a defense attorney who advertised as needing legal research in some constitutional issues. I did the research, drafted a memo, and then graduated, took the bar, etc. Finally, the case has come up for oral arguments, and I took it as a good excuse to get out of work, to watch some court.
I caught up with the lawyer just before the arguments, while other cases were being argued. It was the first time we had met.
Let me take a moment to describe this defense attorney. In contrast to the prosecutor’s dark coat, he wears a khaki color jacket of thick, soft cotton material over a blue v-neck sweater. His slacks are cordroy, his hair wavey and down to his coller. He would be played by Dustin Hoffman if this were a Grisham, and he’s told me, at least twice in passing, that he evaluates and reviews his memos while smoking weed. (Ironically, it turns out that the case has to do with suppression of evidence of drug trafficking during a traffic stop)
So that’s who I am watching in court today. I definitely don’t fit the mold of a defense attorney, but since I really haven’t figured out what mold I fit into, I don’t think it matters. Besides, I’m so fresh, I think there is very little experience that can’t but help me and increase my experience.