ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SMALL TOWN LAWYER

ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SMALL TOWN LAWYER

In my line of work talking, writing and a lot of thinking are the major tools. I am a litigator in a small town of  roughly a hundred country lawyers, slugging it out day in and day out in the two town courts presided by two bored tyrannical Judges. My office is just across the town hall where the Judges hold court. In this town almost every body knows every body.

This lazy Friday  morning I’m waiting for my case to be called. There are five in the calendar and my case is the last on the list. I represent a snotty farmer who complains that a good part of his land was invaded by a neighboring farmer. A simple case really, a question of making a technical survey of the land. I drop my files on the counsel’s table, wink at the familiar court clerk who looks bored to death, greet the attorneys anxiously waiting for the Judge and squeeze my but for a seat.

The court room is old with  musty odor. The wide ceiling fans whirring overhead blow the stale humid air.

On cue the Bailiff stands and intones, “ All rise, the Honorable Judge Ricardo Espinosa, presiding, court is now in session, silence is enjoined!”

We all rise to our feet, as his Honor stalks out of his chamber, moves his fat ass to the Bench, pauses, looks at the crowd,  bangs his gavel, and slumps down on his high chair.

We all  ceremoniously take our seats.   

“Call the cases!,”  the Judge barks to the Clerk.

The Clerk calls the first case. It’s a homicide. The defendant, a young man in hand cuffs between two guards shuffles  as he is led in front of the Judge.

The Prosecutor rises slowly, “Your Honor we are ready,” he says.

The judge looks at the defendant, who meekly bows his head.  “Do you have a lawyer?” the Judge asks.

The defendant lifts his face and replies, “I have no lawyer, your Honor, can’t afford to have one.”

“Do you wish to have one at no cost?” says the Judge.

“Yes your Honor,” the prisoner replies meekly.

His Honor’s gaze scans the counsel’s table and his bleary eyes settled on me. He winks and for the first time he smiles. He knows the discomfort I’m in for he is about to appoint me to defend this man, pro bono.

“Attorney Delmoro, how long have you been in this lousy business?” the Judge addresses me.

I rose to my feet, “I’ve been in this lousy business of lawyering for the past twenty five years your Honor,” I reply.

“Well then very good. This young man here deserves the best defense there is and you are the most seasoned attorney in this part of town who can ably assist him. This court hereby appoints you as his counsel, is it fine with you?” the judge declares.

The defendant turns a glance at me. His sad eyes plead for a ray of hope.

I speak to the Judge, “Your Honor it is always a privilege to be so appointed, and thank you for the kind estimation of my abilities, which humbles me no end. I accept the appointment and I am now formally entering my appearance as defense counsel. Your Honor, I need time to get acquainted with my new client so I can assist him, well.”

”You have thirty minutes counsel,” the judge says.

“Thank you your Honor” I say.

I whisper to the guards to take off the cuffs,  I lead my client out on to the corridor where we can have a little privacy, the guards trailing at a distance.

My new client’s name is Carlos, a young sturdy muscular man with skin darkened by the sun. He comes from the remote valley surrounding  the town. He’s married to a girl his age.

I ask him to tell his story.

He says he was planting rice when he heard his wife screaming. He hurried to their hut and saw his wife stripped of her clothes being sexually attacked by two men. He yelled at them to stop. One of the men was on top of his wife. The other man was holding her. The man holding down his wife ran away. The man on top of his wife did not stop. He grabbed the man pulled him away. The man attacked him with a knife. They grappled, he overpowered the man and stabbed the man dead with his own weapon. No use denying it he says. He killed the man. I ask him if he has witnesses. He says only his wife.

I tell him straight he has a good defense assuming all he says is true. I pat him on the back lead him back to court.

“Are you ready Atty. Delmoro?” the Judge asks me as I approach the Bench.

“Ready your Honor. The defendant will plead innocence, and we are ready as well for trial”, I respond.

“Prosecutor ready with your witnesses?” the Judge directs his attention to the Prosecutor who is nervously shuffling papers in his seat.

“Your honor, I am not ready to present my witness” the Prosecutor rises as he speaks.

“Didn’t I hear you say you are ready?” the Judge asks, apparently irritated.

“Your honor I meant I’m ready for the arraignment only, I did not expect we will go into trial ” the Prosecutor responds weakly.

“Do not take any of your expectations in my court. Do you have your witnesses?” asks the Judge.

“Your honor, I am sorry,” the Prosecutor croaks, “I have only one witness, and he is nowhere to be found.” 

“ And how in heaven’s name did you lose your witness?” the Judge exclaims.

 “Your honor, may I request for a sidebar?” the Prosecutor weakly speaks.

“Both counsels approach,” intones the Judge.

The Prosecutor and I, approach the Bench. I listen to the Prosecutor as he explains to the Judge in low tones. The Judge listens patiently, without speaking. After breaking the sidebar we return to our places.

Addressing the Prosecutor the Judge declares, “I understand your predicament. So you have no witness and it follows you have no evidence?”

“Yes your Honor”, the Prosecutor replies.

The Judge shifts his gaze in my direction, winks a single eye, and says, “ Well Mr. Pro Bono defense counsel you have been very quiet, all this time, what can you say?”

I know the drill, the judge knows the drill, and definitely he knows what I will say next. I clear my throat, with a tone of piety I say, “I respectfully move  for dismissal of the charges.”

“You bet I will, this case is dismissed, the jail warden is ordered to release the defendant” exclaims the Judge. He looks at me and says,  “Nice work counselor, let me talk to this young man before I permit you to go.”

I lead my client as we approach the bench.

The Judge sternly looks at the defendant in the eyes. 

“ You are free to go because the Prosecutor has no evidence”, the Judge declares, “the fact is the victim in this case is dead. I cannot speculate if you are guilty or not. So listen very well, what happens today is between you and your Maker, He knows and sees everything. One day you and this dead man will appear before the Court of Heaven, so you better prepare to have the best and finest advocate, to defend you,  because Attorney Delmoro, here,  will  be disqualified to represent you again. His bag of tricks will not work, and  he will be in the same predicament as you are. You are free to go.”  

I lead my client out, a free man.

With  puzzled looks he asks me what happened to the witness.

I tell him the witness is dead, found dead in his sleep last night, he is one lucky son of a bitch. He shakes my hand, offers his thanks, as we part ways.

Boy, oh, boy what a day. I stride across the familiar street now littered with dog shit. As they say life sucks, but as his honor says, my bag of tricks isn’t empty yet.