Well, the intensity of boot camp in addition to classes has increased significantly, providing an explanation for my lack of blogging the past few days. But a quick update, in bullet form, before sleep.
First: a happy note:
- Having access to the Criminal Law Clinic office is very nice - kind of a safe space to study and bounce around ideas.
Then, a comedy of errors:
- Today was a simulated interview and arraignment. I got the file yesterday afternoon, spent hours trying to make heads or tails of it (a 100+ document titled "how to read a rap sheet" was helpful, but not exactly light reading.) When you're a n00b, even the simple things take forever... so I spent 20 minutes trying to track down a statute based on an unfamiliar acronym (TAR).
- In the mock interview today (recorded on dvd), I caught myself saying "gotcha" to the client several times. Must stop.
- During the arraignment, I made quite the stupid mistake in that I didn't agree to waive the reading of the rights and charges. For whatever reason, I had confused the instruction and stories we had been told about how that's always done and somehow swapped it with having heard ADAs describe, to some extent, the circumstances of the crimes at arraignment. Not the same thing at all. And now, through the power of public humiliation (due completely to my own ignorance), I will never forget to waive the reading of the rights and charges.
But it's always good to get your really stupid mistakes out of the way early. First semester of law school - on the very first day of class in Torts - I spoke up and was completely dead wrong in my reading of a case. Professor Levine corrected me and said something like, "Today is the day to say stuff like that. Go ahead out on that limb - we will bring you back!" I was really embarrassed at the time - but in the end, I pulled a good grade and ended up TA'ing for Prof. Levine.... which I think was due in part to my continuing vigilance to avoid sounding as dumb as I did on the first day.
Finally, some theoretical-perspective observations:
- During the interview, the acting was so good that I actually believed that the client was really lying/trying to manipulate me. My (fake) client was accused of swiping people through the turnstiles of the subway with a forged/bent metrocard. His story was iffy - and at one point he "slipped" and said, "I was standing there waiting for my minutes to expire" - and I almost leapt into cross examination mode: wait? what minutes? did you swipe somebody? did you transfer? And then he got quiet. It's going to be a balancing act that I'm going to have to learn to handle - building the trust with the client so they know I'm on their side, but not seeming like a dupe in the process. At one point he said, "you seem sharp" - and I wondered about the motivation.
I've been told and don't doubt that it's true that our clients, in REAL world situations, are going to have little reason to trust me and strong motives to lie. It's going to be interesting.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Boot Camp Day 2
Those people who were late for class this morning were upbraided fairly harshly. Toward the end of getting in the mode of being prepared and professional for court, we are to have strict enforcement of professionalism in class. For instance, we are not allowed to get up and walk out of the class for a bathroom break - we have to ask for the class to take a break. Note to self: don't drink water during CLC.
Professor H. told us a story. She was interning as a public defender in the South Bronx. This was back in the late 70's and he was a heroin addict with a very long rap sheet. He could have served over a year, but was offered 90 days for whatever his crime had been, which would actually translate to 50 after credit for good time served. A good deal - but he didn't want it. He wanted a treatment program. The judge said, "Fine - you can have the treatment program - but if you fail it or drop out - you're coming back to court and you'll serve at -least- a year." Everyone thought the client was crazy not to take the 90 days of time - there was actually a betting pool among the court staff about what day he would fail out of the program."
Many years later, Professor H was in another court, representing another client asking for a treatment program. The representative from the treatment program walked up to her and handed her a business card. A moment passed and he said, "You don't recognize me, do you?" She didn't. But it was her old client from the Bronx. He hadn't failed out of the program. He told her that she was the one that got him into the program that had turned his life around. That no one else believed in him.
Also, check this out:
Voyeurism a new crime in Queens?:
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/08/22/city-council-takes-up-a-bill-to-ban-voyeurism/?hp
Statistics on NY prisons (pdf)
http://www.correctionalassociation.org/PVP/publications/basic_prison_fact_2006.pdf
Professor H. told us a story. She was interning as a public defender in the South Bronx. This was back in the late 70's and he was a heroin addict with a very long rap sheet. He could have served over a year, but was offered 90 days for whatever his crime had been, which would actually translate to 50 after credit for good time served. A good deal - but he didn't want it. He wanted a treatment program. The judge said, "Fine - you can have the treatment program - but if you fail it or drop out - you're coming back to court and you'll serve at -least- a year." Everyone thought the client was crazy not to take the 90 days of time - there was actually a betting pool among the court staff about what day he would fail out of the program."
Many years later, Professor H was in another court, representing another client asking for a treatment program. The representative from the treatment program walked up to her and handed her a business card. A moment passed and he said, "You don't recognize me, do you?" She didn't. But it was her old client from the Bronx. He hadn't failed out of the program. He told her that she was the one that got him into the program that had turned his life around. That no one else believed in him.
Also, check this out:
Voyeurism a new crime in Queens?:
http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/08/22/city-council-takes-up-a-bill-to-ban-voyeurism/?hp
Statistics on NY prisons (pdf)
http://www.correctionalassociation.org/PVP/publications/basic_prison_fact_2006.pdf
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Great White Hope?
After lunch, we headed to The NY County Supreme Court, Criminal Term at 100 Centre Street. We were given a tour by a court rep and a corrections officer, following the route that a defendant brought over from the precinct would follow.
Immediately inside the gate, there was a big sign reading "Finger Off Trigger," causing many of us to giggle nervously. We were brought through the bowels of the building - a veritable suited horde of fairly freshfaced white kids, listening intently to our smartaleck corrections officer giving the tour. We passed signs warning against spreading tuberculosis, and told by a departing suspect who had just been searched: "Don't commit crimes!"
When we got to the holding pens, we were struck by the smell. It was a rich, earthy, heady, sickly smell. Like shit had been wiped up poorly in a hot room. Or vomit. Or sweat. Or a combination of the three. The whole area seemed only to be ventilated by a single large fan. One guy in the pen kept dialing on a pay phone - others were just lying on the ground, stretched out. I don't think many of us made eye contact. I tried to look. To make sure to look. These are the people I'm going to be working for. These people that will probably have been in this place for 20 hours by the time they meet me.
The corrections officer kept joking around about how Foxy Brown had been through earlier. When the first sheet of the rap sheet he gave me fell to the floor, he teased me, saying something like the officer on duty there was a "good fighter, and if you lose those papers, he'll beat you.. and then will lie about it just like a lawyer would." We all laughed.
As we stood outside the "special pens," where we were told that all the trans, openly homosexual, medicated, ill or violent prisoners are kept (and the main source of the smell) - he told us that to be a public defender is "going down the wrong path... go into corporate law!" That, coupled with the tour of the prosecutor's office, made me wonder: "Is it easier to be on the side of the strong?"
One last bit and then I must finish reviewing the CPL for tomorrow's 9am bootcamp.
When we were led through the final pens, right before going through the door to the arraignment court, there was a pretty big crowd of prisoners. We could see the interview rooms on the other side - the rooms where we will be meeting with clients for the first time, right before arraignment. Many were standing, and agitated.. and they reacted when we walked through. They shouted a lot of things - but I caught: "hey! open tickets, open tickets" "Help me out!" "Only an open container!" But through the din, one comment really stood out, spoken quietly and sarcastically:
"Oh look, it's the Great White Hope."
Immediately inside the gate, there was a big sign reading "Finger Off Trigger," causing many of us to giggle nervously. We were brought through the bowels of the building - a veritable suited horde of fairly freshfaced white kids, listening intently to our smartaleck corrections officer giving the tour. We passed signs warning against spreading tuberculosis, and told by a departing suspect who had just been searched: "Don't commit crimes!"
When we got to the holding pens, we were struck by the smell. It was a rich, earthy, heady, sickly smell. Like shit had been wiped up poorly in a hot room. Or vomit. Or sweat. Or a combination of the three. The whole area seemed only to be ventilated by a single large fan. One guy in the pen kept dialing on a pay phone - others were just lying on the ground, stretched out. I don't think many of us made eye contact. I tried to look. To make sure to look. These are the people I'm going to be working for. These people that will probably have been in this place for 20 hours by the time they meet me.
The corrections officer kept joking around about how Foxy Brown had been through earlier. When the first sheet of the rap sheet he gave me fell to the floor, he teased me, saying something like the officer on duty there was a "good fighter, and if you lose those papers, he'll beat you.. and then will lie about it just like a lawyer would." We all laughed.
As we stood outside the "special pens," where we were told that all the trans, openly homosexual, medicated, ill or violent prisoners are kept (and the main source of the smell) - he told us that to be a public defender is "going down the wrong path... go into corporate law!" That, coupled with the tour of the prosecutor's office, made me wonder: "Is it easier to be on the side of the strong?"
One last bit and then I must finish reviewing the CPL for tomorrow's 9am bootcamp.
When we were led through the final pens, right before going through the door to the arraignment court, there was a pretty big crowd of prisoners. We could see the interview rooms on the other side - the rooms where we will be meeting with clients for the first time, right before arraignment. Many were standing, and agitated.. and they reacted when we walked through. They shouted a lot of things - but I caught: "hey! open tickets, open tickets" "Help me out!" "Only an open container!" But through the din, one comment really stood out, spoken quietly and sarcastically:
"Oh look, it's the Great White Hope."
There are no ordinary moments
Boot camp: day 1, the morning:
The materials for the Criminal Law Clinic (CLC) are actually labeled "Boot Camp." Kid you not.
The eight of us arrived at 9am to begin our 3-week whirlwind preparation to earn our Student Practice Order, which is apparently required before we can be "unleashed" on the unwitting poor and, until we get there, defenseless. Our professors introduced themselves and we reviewed basic materials about criminal process and court structure in NY.
At 12:30, we all headed to Chinatown to lunch at Shanghai Deluxe (coincidentally, one my favorites). The profs went around the table, asking us our greatest fear in the CLC. Several of my classmates are actually pursuing prosecutor jobs, which was a cause of concern for them... and a source of surprise for me. I have always felt like there are those that prosecute, and those that are public defenders. That never the twain shall meet. Kneejerk value judgment aside - it seems to me like it would be difficult to negotiate between those two "mindsets." But of course there must be a variety of viewpoints within each group. Nonetheless - to find out that nearly half of our merry tribe of student public defenders intended to become prosecutors was a smidge surprising.
I expressed my concern about trying to find my own style as a woman in the criminal courts - and how my orientation toward the academic and (likely) more soft-spoken presentation style will fit into this world that (from my few months of observation over the summer) seems to be dominated by fast-talking , brusque "gunslinger" types.
My fortune cookie read: "There are no ordinary moments."
The materials for the Criminal Law Clinic (CLC) are actually labeled "Boot Camp." Kid you not.
The eight of us arrived at 9am to begin our 3-week whirlwind preparation to earn our Student Practice Order, which is apparently required before we can be "unleashed" on the unwitting poor and, until we get there, defenseless. Our professors introduced themselves and we reviewed basic materials about criminal process and court structure in NY.
At 12:30, we all headed to Chinatown to lunch at Shanghai Deluxe (coincidentally, one my favorites). The profs went around the table, asking us our greatest fear in the CLC. Several of my classmates are actually pursuing prosecutor jobs, which was a cause of concern for them... and a source of surprise for me. I have always felt like there are those that prosecute, and those that are public defenders. That never the twain shall meet. Kneejerk value judgment aside - it seems to me like it would be difficult to negotiate between those two "mindsets." But of course there must be a variety of viewpoints within each group. Nonetheless - to find out that nearly half of our merry tribe of student public defenders intended to become prosecutors was a smidge surprising.
I expressed my concern about trying to find my own style as a woman in the criminal courts - and how my orientation toward the academic and (likely) more soft-spoken presentation style will fit into this world that (from my few months of observation over the summer) seems to be dominated by fast-talking , brusque "gunslinger" types.
My fortune cookie read: "There are no ordinary moments."
Introduction
First, an introduction:
I'm Ericka Fowler. I am a third-year law student at New York Law School, participating in the Criminal Law Clinic as of 9am this very morning. This is my last year of law school - and I intend to wring as much learning and experience out of it as I possibly can before returning to the world of employment.
Sooner than is probably advisable, I will be working the Legal Aid Society in Manhattan as a public defender under a student practice order. That means that, although I'm not yet a "real attorney," I will represent clients who can't afford a lawyer in the criminal court. I'm told I will be able to handle my own misdemeanor cases and will be able to "second chair" Legal Aid mentor with their felony cases.
This blog is intended to serve as a touchstone and guidepost; a way to track my experience with the Clinic and serve as a launching pad for discussions on issues related to law and the "System." Confidentiality must be respected, but I intend to be candid about the overall experience.
I'm Ericka Fowler. I am a third-year law student at New York Law School, participating in the Criminal Law Clinic as of 9am this very morning. This is my last year of law school - and I intend to wring as much learning and experience out of it as I possibly can before returning to the world of employment.
Sooner than is probably advisable, I will be working the Legal Aid Society in Manhattan as a public defender under a student practice order. That means that, although I'm not yet a "real attorney," I will represent clients who can't afford a lawyer in the criminal court. I'm told I will be able to handle my own misdemeanor cases and will be able to "second chair" Legal Aid mentor with their felony cases.
This blog is intended to serve as a touchstone and guidepost; a way to track my experience with the Clinic and serve as a launching pad for discussions on issues related to law and the "System." Confidentiality must be respected, but I intend to be candid about the overall experience.
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