From Abused Child To Public Defender
The
Chicago Tribune has run a two-part article about an abused child who grew up to become a public defender in Chicago. The story is mostly in the public defender's own words.
Part OnePart Two(Note: If you plan on reading these articles, check them out soon. Like most newspapers, the Tribune only allows free access to its articles for the first seven days after they are published.)
The interesting thing to me is the way Ms. Donald empathizes with and forgives the parents and foster parents who abused her. Indeed, with her law degree, she could have become a public guardian, representing the children in abuse and neglect cases. Instead, she chose to work for the public defender, the office that defends adults (i.e. parents) in abuse and neglect and in criminal cases. No word in the article as to whether she ever worked in their child protection division.
This article holds an important lesson for public guardians. Even though, as a child, she suffered for her parents mistakes, she still considers them her family and wants them in her life. In our county, the public guardians are notorious for being anti-parent and anti-reunification. Most of them will do whatever they can to separate their clients from parents whom they perceive as dangerous or even simply bad influences. I will be showing them this article, especially the part where, as an adult, Ms. Donald seeks out her father to renew their relationship.
EDIT: 12/28/05
I've decided to post the entire articles here since they will soon disappear from the Tribune's website.
PART ONE
Dawn Turner Trice
Public defender's story is one of faith, determination
Published December 26, 2005
This is the season for giving and, as Brunell Donald has come to understand, one especially invaluable gift is the gift of forgiveness.
Donald is a 30-year-old Cook County public defender. When she was a toddler, her father was carted off to the penitentiary for selling drugs. At 10, she watched helplessly as her mother was brutally murdered.
By the time Donald went to college, she'd been a ward of the state for 8 years, living in foster and group homes.
If you follow child welfare statistics, you'd see the unmistakable pattern that suggests wards don't often fair too well. But, as you'll see, Donald is a woman of uncompromising faith and determination. She isn't one to cower in the face of great odds.
I started talking to Donald a couple of months ago. When I finally sat down to write, my words didn't seem to do justice to her remarkable journey. So, I decided to step out of the way and allow her to tell her own story. This is the first of two parts, in Donald's own voice--with minor editing from me.
My mother was a drug addict. My father was involved in the sale of narcotics. He went to college but dropped out and decided to pick up a street trade.
My mother was from a small town outside of Birmingham, Alabama, and my father was from Chicago. They met when she was in her late teens; he was in his late 20s. My parents never married but they lived together.
I can remember being a little girl and everything seeming normal for a while.
But when I was 3 or 4 years old, the feds raided our apartment on the West Side. My father was later convicted for selling drugs and sentenced to 10 years in the penitentiary. My mother and I would visit him there, and I remember eating vending machine hamburgers and playing cards with my dad. That was my joy.
Then, one day, my mother stopped taking me to visit him. She never told me why.
After my father left, we lost our provider and my mother had to fend for herself. She started prostituting and using drugs. I remember her being on welfare. Two years after my father went away, my mother had my sister. I remember all of us standing in the church line for cheese and canned goods.
By then, we were living on the North Side. It was so weird what went on in that house. I didn't realize how dysfunctional it was until I was an adult. I remember the prostitutes coming over. They would stop by to change their wigs, wash the makeup off their faces and wash their bodies, all in the bathroom sink.T
hey would also eat my Frankenberry cereal. I never could keep enough. They were prostituting all night and by morning they'd be so hungry.
My mom would press their hair and cook meals for them. My mother was a caretaker of people.
But bad things sometimes happen to good people. My father was violent and when he lived with us. She would call the police when he hit her. They would come but my mother never pressed charges. When he left, the beatings stopped, but the pain didn't.
The last year my mother was alive was 1985. In July, I threw her a birthday party. I was only 9 years old. I invited all of her friends and family. We had cake, spaghetti and chicken.
I turned 10 years old Aug. 5. By November she was dead.
A drug dealer wanted $250 dollars that she owed him. She couldn't pay him so my mother, sister and I went on the run to relatives' houses for a couple of weeks.
We came back on Nov. 4, 1985. The next day, the dealer knocked on our apartment door. I opened it.
He came in and said, "Hey, Vonne."
My mother sent me to my room. From the hall, I could hear him saying, "Where's my money?" In my room, I turned on the television to watch a cartoon. Then I heard her scream.
I ran out to the living room to see him stabbing her over and over.
I started to scream and he said if I didn't shut up, he'd kill me too. By the time it was over, he'd stabbed her 39 times.
When I was 5 years old, I told my mother that I was going to be a lawyer. I was watching an old "Perry Mason" rerun. My mother said, "Your momma ain't a lawyer; your daddy wasn't a lawyer, so how you gone be a lawyer?"
Over the next few years, all of my interactions with the police and court system during my childhood were pretty rough, but they prepared me for who I am today.
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On Tuesday, more from Brunell Donald and the gift of forgiveness.
mailto:dtrice@tribune.comCopyright © 2005,
Chicago TribunePART TWO
Dawn Turner Trice
Forgiveness a priceless gift
Published December 27, 2005
In Monday's column, I began a story about Brunell Donald, who says the most precious gift during the holiday season is the gift of forgiveness.
Donald is a 30-year-old Cook County public defender who landed in the child welfare system at 10 years old.
With her mother brutally murdered on Nov. 5, 1985, and her father estranged from the family, having served time in the penitentiary, Donald spent eight years of her life being shuffled between group and foster homes in the Chicago area.
This is part two of Donald's story, in her words.
When my mom died, I didn't know death was permanent. I saw her stretched out on the floor that last time and I thought she was going to get up. She had gotten up before after she'd been beaten.
When I saw her in the casket, I kissed her forehead. It was freezing cold, but I still didn't know she wasn't coming back.
Though my father attended my mother's funeral, we lost touch afterward, and my sister and I became wards of the state.
- - -
We wound up in the foster home of a close friend of the family. She believed wholeheartedly in corporal punishment--beating with broomsticks, belts, and pots and pans. I'm not saying we were perfect, but getting beaten was the last thing we needed.
My sister and I were in that house for five years. After that, we went to live in Evanston with my great aunt, who had a doctorate. She had a beautiful home. But by then, I couldn't appreciate it. I was so hurt and angry. I was rebellious.
For years I was an insomniac because I was afraid of being awakened in the middle of the night to be beaten for some transgression that happened earlier in the day.
After a year, my aunt was like, "You have to go." I left but my sister stayed.
I ended up in a group home in Aurora at 16. I was there for a year and a half. I would sneak out at night while there, too.
But, through it all, I never missed a day of school. I had wanted to be a lawyer since I was 5. Even when I was doing wrong, I was still going to school.
- - -
When I was 16, I met my mentor. He was my pediatrician. He told me years later that he'd never met anyone who was so smart and articulate who'd come through the child welfare system.
I've always known about college and I knew that was the path I was on. My mentor said that if I ever needed anything, I could call him for a letter of recommendation, advice or just to talk. He never expected anything in return. He helped me find financial aid. School would let out and I wouldn't have a home to go to, so he helped me find places to stay.
- - -
I went to undergraduate school at Northern Illinois University and then to law school at John Marshall Law School in Chicago. I passed the bar the first time.
He told me that just because people had more money than me, that didn't make me inferior. Before I met him, I rarely felt good enough. I was a fat kid and never had the right clothes. He was a big self-esteem booster for me.
An elementary teacher was another mentor. She was the first person who helped me realize my voice had power. She would enter me into oratory contests and spelling bees. When I told her I was going to be a lawyer, she believed me. She believed in me.
- - -
Still, my life had a big hole in it. I didn't know my father. On the outside, I was working hard and striving, but I was depressed and angry with the world.
My father and I were reunited in 1996. I was about to graduate from college. We started slowly, meeting during holiday get-togethers with other family members I didn't know. We cried together. We're still building, moving forward.
I love my father very dearly. I'm a strong believer in the Bible. It says honor thy mother and father. It doesn't say honor them only if they have led perfect lives.
In his 61 years of life, my father has made mistakes. So have I. So who am I to judge? I knew I had to forgive him for not being there for my mother and me, and for the path he chose.
I had to forgive the woman who beat my sister and me for five long years. I had to forgive the man who murdered my mother. He's now serving a life sentence in prison.
- - -
At the beginning of the year, I'll begin work in the felony trial division in the courthouse at 26th and California. My father had been incarcerated there many times. Now I'll be standing up there as a defense attorney.
Yes, I'll be defending murderers. And those who have wronged people in other ways. But I am there to defend the Constitution. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.
As a Cook County public defender, I tell my clients I can relate to them. I know what murder is like firsthand. I know what misery is like firsthand.
In my office, I give away `U-Turn Permitted' fliers. I tell my clients that I'm a witness they can change their lives.
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mailto:dtrice@tribune.comCopyright © 2005,
Chicago Tribune
It's a tragedy for me to see the dream is over...
Would-Be Cop Charged With Growing Pot In Woods
Monday December 19, 2005 5:40pm
Wheaton, Md. (AP) - In a small wooded area of Wheaton, investigators say something was growing that definitely should not have been. It seems someone set up a marijuana garden in Matthew Henson State Park. Most people never knew it was there, about 100 yards off Georgia and Hewitt avenues. But police spotted it from the air a few months back and set up a surveillance camera. They quickly caught a man pouring a mixture of water and fertilizer on the plants. The Maryland National Capital Park Police wound up harvesting 121 plants, worth 1,000 dollars apiece. Then they showed people in the neighborhood pictures of the suspect. That led them to arrest 22-year-old Alvaro Quinonez - a Montgomery College student studying criminal justice so he can be a cop. Instead, he faces a variety of criminal charges.Great. Now I have a
Milli Vanilli song stuck in my head.
The Horrors of Minnesota's Child Protection Court
Given that I work in child protection court, I'm always on the lookout for articles about this field.
Skelly over at
Arbitrary and Capricious was kind enough to send me a link to this article from
citypages.com:
LITTLE COURT OF HORRORSIn Anoka county juvenile court, meth and red tape are playing hell with the fate of children
By Beth Hawkins
It's pushing 1:00 when Judge Stephen Askew puts off taking a lunch break for the third time. The hall outside Courtroom 10, one of two wood-paneled rooms in the far corner of the Anoka County Courthouse where juvenile cases are heard, is still packed with people. Askew is hearing child protection matters, cases that typically require the presence of upward of a dozen people. There are family members, social workers, prosecutors, court-appointed child guardians, and a sea of attorneys. Each parent gets his or her own lawyer, as do older children; add stepparents, custodial grandparents, foster parents, or any other interested party, and the number of people mushrooms. It's easier to postpone lunch than it is to reassemble everyone.
Today is one of two days a week when the four judges presiding over juvenile cases in Anoka take turns hearing the sundry check-ins and updates that punctuate each family's trek through the system. The tenor of the proceedings is half Grapes of Wrath, half Jerry Springer. And Askew, a short man with wire-rimmed glasses, a neatly trimmed fringe of gray hair, and a perpetual half-scowl, looks wrung out...A word of warning, this is a long article so make sure you have plenty of time. I think the judge quoted in the article sums it up the best:
"We're doing social engineering with limited information and resources," [Judge Stephen Askew] complains to no one in particular. "And we're doing it with parents who aren't functioning very well."It's alarming to see that there is actually a child protection court that is more screwed up than the one in which I practice. The scariest thing I learned from this article is that Minnesota doesn't always pay for the social services (drug addiction treatment, psychological assessments) that the parents need in order to regain custody of their children. It sounds as though parents who have any source of income or insurance are required to pay for these things themselves.
This leads to problems a.) because even though a parent may have a minimum wage income, that doesn't mean she can afford to support herself
and pay for social services and b.) this system leads to confusion about whether the state will or won't pay and therefore delays the implementation of services. The latter is especially important in light of recently passed state laws that are meant to expedite the court's process of either reunifying the family or terminating the parents' legal rights so the child can be adopted. These laws limit the amount of time a parent has to regain custody of their children. If a parent doesn't get his act together quickly, she faces losing her child permanently.
In the system in which I practice, the state pays. Period. There are still often delays in the implementation of services, but they don't sound nearly as bad as in the article. The only circumstance in which the state will not pay is when the parents' have taken too long to get their children back. In those situations, the "goal" changes from reunification to termination of parental rights and the state no longer pays for social services.
It just seems morally abhorrent for a state to make the judgment that a parent is not fit to care for their children, remove the children, and then refuse to provide the parent with the services necessary to become a fit parent and reunite the family. As the article states, poverty is the single largest predictor of child removals. Poor people can't pay for their own social services. That's not child protection, that's state-sanctioned kidnapping directed at the poor.
The Anesthetic Effect of Drug Addiction
In this job, as in any, it is possible to fall into a comfortable routine. Occasionally, a client comes along and shocks me out of that routine. I recently had one of these shocks.
My new client was inconsolable about losing custody of her children temporarily. She was absolutely miserable about the situation she was in and she was hell-bent determined on doing whatever it took to get her children back. I understand her emotional reaction. It is exactly this type of reaction that I would have in her situation and it is the type of reaction I expected to see from every one of my clients when I started this job.
It may surprise you to hear this, but clients like this are the exception.
Most of our clients are addicted to drugs. My new client illustrated for me very well the distinction between our clients who are on drugs and those who are not. The ones who have drug addictions are usually very different from the woman I described above.
Despite the heartbreaking situation they are in, most of them are calm and emotionally neutral. They don't even show the slightest bit of emotion about being separated from their children. They often admit that they, in fact, are not able to care for their children and that it is good that the state took custody. The drugs are at once the source of their troubles and their relief from the stress and adversity. Their calm and acceptance is was eerie to me at first, but over time I've become accustomed to it. I don't mean this as an indictment on them, but rather as an indictment on the destructive nature of the drugs they use.
The emotionally-detached, drug addicted clients suffer less through the process, but also gain less through the process. The same condition that prevents them from suffering more, also prevents them from learning the lessons they need to learn to succeed in the process.
It is different for people who do not have drugs numbing their brains. They understand more and consequently they feel more. There is no buffer between their situation and their emotional being. For them, the things that are happening are tangible and devastating. Their emotions are raw. These are my clients who cry, beg, plead, yell, say inappropriate things to the judge, and sometimes take their frustrations out on their attorneys.
Because they face their circumstances head-on, they suffer more. However, through this suffering and brutally honest confrontation with their demons, they gain wisdom and insight that helps them turn their lives around and get their children back.
I have a lot of hope for my new client. She has what it takes to succeed.
Christmas Socks (or Stupid Courtroom Moments, Vol. 2)
I can't even begin to tell you
all of the stupid things I've said or done in the courtroom. Here's one of them:
Each year our judge hosts a holiday party for the attorneys and personnel who work in our courtroom. Last year, he gave out gag gifts to everyone. My gag gift was a pair of bright red Christmas socks which have a mechanism that, when pressed, not only lights up, but also plays Christmas songs.
My wife and I found them again this year when we were unpacking our Christmas decorations. I thought it would be fun to wear them on the day of this year's Christmas party.
At the beginning of the morning session, when it was just the attorneys and courtroom personnel in the courtroom, I lifted up my suit pant leg to show everyone the socks and play a song or two. Everyone got a good laugh and that should have been the end of the socks.
It wasn't.
Later on, I appeared in a hearing before a magistrate. In our system, each judge has a magistrate who takes evidence in progress hearings and makes recommendations to the judge. We hold these hearings in a small side room barely bigger than a broom closet.
In the middle of the hearing, I absent-mindedly brushed my leg up against a chair leg, thereby activating the sock. As "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" started to play, everyone started looking around, wondering where the music was coming from. Clinging to the last bit of hope that I might somehow escape without everyone knowing it was me, I looked around too. My client was the first to say out loud what everyone was thinking: "What is that?"
The magistrate, who was only slightly more amused than annoyed, turned to my client and said, "It's your attorney's sock."
Needless to say, I was a little bit embarrased. At least I gave everyone a good laugh.
[Post Script: This was indeed, the
same client who had, only moments earlier, made a love connection in lock-up.]
County Lock-Up: The Hip New Place to Meet Other Singles
I've heard of singles meeting other singles in all kinds of places. Work, school, blind dates, speed dating, grocery stores, running clubs, etc. However, until yesterday, I had no idea that love connections are also made at the county lock-up at juvenile court. This is a story of romance that proves that love can flourish in the most unlikely places.
So yesterday, I learned that I had a new client waiting for me in lock-up. I went up there, secured an interview room, and began to talk to him about his case. He was getting out soon so I took down the address and telephone number where I could reach him after his release.
At one point in our interview, I noticed him looking out the door at something I couldn't see from my angle. He was so interested in whatever it was, that he had completely stopped listening to me. Out of curiosity, I asked what he was looking at. He told me that there was a "hot girl" out there in the hall. I assumed he was referring to one of the female sheriff deputies and we continued with our discussion.
Just before the end of the interview, he asked me to write down his name, address and telephone number. I told him that I already had that information. He asked me to do it anyway. Thinking he just wanted to be sure I had the info, I took it down again. Then he asked me to tear off the paper where I had written the info and give it to him. Again, I was confused, but I did so at his urging. After we were done talking, a deputy came to take him back to the holding cell.
On the way back to his cell, I saw the "hot girl" he had been looking at. Turns out, she was an inmate. As he walked by, he flashed her a big smile and said, "Hey Boo, how you doing?" He was surprisingly charming. She smiled and blushed as she told him she was good. At that point, he asked the deputy if he could give her a crumpled up piece of paper he had in his hand. The deputy said yes and my client threw the woman the paper that had his name and phone number on it. He then pantomimed a phone with his handcuffed hand said, "Call me." She smiled and nodded.
I really need to introduce some of my single friends to this guy so they can get some pointers. I mean, to pick up a girl under those circumstances, he's got game! I'm currently working on a screenplay for a romantic comedy based on the incident. I'm hoping to get Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan to play the leads.
Study: Defense of the indigent in question
When I first saw
this headline, I had the crazy thought that this jurisdiction was actually considering not providing indigent defense anymore. That, of course, is not the what is going on. After all these articles about counties
focusing mostly on cost and
trying to provide poor people with the cheapest lawyers possible, this article is refreshing.
It seems that the state of Georgia is actually concerned with the quality of the legal representation being given to their citizens. They have even created an oversight board to monitor the state's public defender offices.
Although the board found many problems with the Atlanta Circuit Public Defenders Office, at least someone is looking at these problems and trying to find solutions. An important thing to note is that this oversight system is fairly new. With more time, hopefully the oversight board and the PD's office can work out these issues.
I Am a Real Lawyer!
In the court in which I practice, we usually interview our new clients before we are officially appointed to represent them. Then we appear before the judge and the judge informs the client of his rights and appoints us to represent him.
On one particular day, I had spent about half an hour talking with a man who had been named as a father to a neglected child. When he appeared before the bench, the judge gave his usual reading of the rights just before the following exchange occurred:
Judge: You have the right to be represented by a lawyer. If you can not afford a lawyer, the court will appoint one for you. Now, sir, I ask whether you wish to be represented by a lawyer?Client: No thanks, Judge. I'm ok with my public defender.Doh!
As much as I appreciated the vote of confidence, I was still a bit annoyed to hear him express the widespread misconception that public defenders are not actually lawyers.
Sometimes it is just semantics, e.g. when "public defenders" are contrasted with "private attorneys." This contrast unintentionally implies that public defenders are not attorneys. Whatever the reason, many people believe that public defenders are not lawyers.
For those of you who don't know this, public defenders
are lawyers. In order to become a public defender, you must have a law degree and you must be admitted to your state's bar. That makes you a lawyer.
This article from Illinois makes for an interesting story by itself (allegations of fraud, a bitter rivalry between defense attorneys), but my particular interest in it was this passage:
She claims Hanken told her that, because she had no criminal record, she would be charged only with a misdemeanor. She asked if she needed an attorney, and Hanken allegedly told her she'd be fine with a public defender.
Almost verbatim what my client said in court. This article suggests 1.) that public defenders are not lawyers, and 2.) that a public defender failed to help her. In truth, she
would have been fine with a public defender. However, it appears that she didn't speak to
any type of attorney before signing the confession.
These incidents are simultaneously a source of great frustration and great amusement for public defenders. Almost every public defender has one of these stories.
Oral Fixation
I can't even begin to tell you all of the stupid things I've said or done in the courtroom. Today was one of them:
I had a hearing on a motion that seemed doomed without my client's testimony. During a pause in the hearing, I quickly asked her if she would testify and told her what to expect. As she stepped up to take the oath, I noticed she was chewing gum. Thinking I would spare her a nasty reaction from the judge, I discretely whispered in her ear for me to give me the gum. She spit it out and put it in my outstretched hand.
It was a cough drop.
She was sick and now she didn't have a cough drop. Had I known, I probably would have let her keep it and just told the judge she was sick. But now I just felt like a jerk for taking away her cough drop. I hope it wasn't her last one.
More on the Cost of Providing Effective Assistance of Counsel
Another
article, this one from the Seattle Times, about the cost of providing representation to indigent defendants. Again, the focus is on providing court-appointed counsel as cheaply as possible.
The short version is that the state of Washington is having trouble finding attorneys to defend people in capital cases. The first problem, is that they don't offer court-appointed attorneys enough money. Counties are offering between $70 per hour and $160 per hour. While this may seem like a lot of money to some people, it is not much money to a well-trained, experienced lawyer who can make $200 to $300 in her private practice. Of course these attorneys also need to pay for overhead, health insurance and malpractice insurance with that money.
(As a point of comparison, in my last post, I referenced the court-appointed attorneys where I work. These attorneys are being paid between $30 and $40 dollars an hour to defend parents in abuse and neglect cases. This rate was set approximately 30 years ago and hasn't changed since then.)
The second problem is that the state recently set some standards for the amount of experience an attorney must have in order to receive these appointments. This leaves a smaller group of attorneys for the county to convince to take a stressful, time-consuming case for a very small amount of money.
These new standards apparently are the result of concerns over the accuracy of capital convictions and a number of these convictions being reversed on the basis of ineffective assistance of counsel.
The solution to all of this nearly alluded the author of this article, right up until the last paragraph:
If prosecutors decide not to seek the death penalty, Chief Deputy [prosecutor] Costello said, it will be less expensive and easier to get lawyers because they don't need to be death-qualified. When death is removed as an option, counties are free to choose virtually any defense lawyer they wish.Bingo! Stop pursuing the death penalty! I'll take it a step further: abolish the death penalty for the entire state. That will save the taxpayers the cost of lengthy appeals and paying for competent lawyers. The other, more expensive solution is to pay these capital defense attorneys an adequate amount of money, say market-rate, but this won't happen. I think it's starting to become clear that saving money is the primary aim of indigent defense systems in this country.
Of course, that leads to the following question: Why do these people care about providing competent lawyers only in capital cases? The way that last paragraph of the article is worded, it is as if quality representation doesn't matter for people charged with anything short of a capital offense. What about the guy facing life in prison? Or 10 years? Or even one day in prison that he doesn't deserve?
Because Cost is Our Main Concern
We here at the public defender's office are primarily concerned with providing the cheapest legal representation possible for the indigent. After all, why should you waste your hard-earned tax dollars providing quality legal representation to poor people? This "right" to the assistance of counsel is just a technicality of the Constitution.
Public Defender cheaper, says Hall Public Defender
By Jerry GunnGAINESVILLE - Hall County Public Defender Brad Morris said Thursday during an open house at his new office across from the courthouse that the Public Defender will prove more cost effective than the former court appointed attorney system.Morris said that actual defense of indigent felony defendants amounts to less than half the amount of money estimated to run his office."I think our figure is more like $900,000; the total figure they're talking about is $2.2-million," Morris said.Morris said the $2.2-million includes still appointed state court cases and lawyer bills from previous cases heard before his office opened last January.County Commissioner Steve Gailey says he wants to return to court appointed indigent defense, which he claims, is more cost effective.This article burns me because, at the genesis of this county's first public defender's office, the reporter focuses only on how this will save money. I'm all for efficient, responsible use of taxpayer money, but couldn't the so-called "liberal press" tout the benefits that a public defender's office holds for the indigent accused?
Court-appointed attorneys often practice in several different areas of law and even different courthouses. This means that it is logistically difficult for them to appear on time to hearings and have adequate time to prepare. Since they are paid on a per client basis, it is to their benefit to have a lot of clients. Maybe even more than they can adequately represent. (In the county in which I practice, this reality is worsened by the fact that the court pays them far too little per client, thereby encouraging overloading and double-billing.) This heavy caseload and frequent travel between courthouses means that these attorneys are often difficult for their clients to reach. These attorneys are often unaffiliated sole practitioners so they answer only to themselves and do not have partners for assistance or supervisors for oversight.
In our county, even though we have a public defender's office, we still use court appointed attorney's when the public defender has a conflict of interest. Most of the time, these attorneys are honest and talented and I count many of them as my friends. However, in my relatively inexperienced opinion, I believe that a public defenders system is far superior to a set of unaffiliated court-appointed attorneys. So it burns me that this article focuses on saving the taxpayers money on their constitutional obligation rather than commenting on the quality with which the county serves the indigent accused.
The Story of a Family in Crisis
Mundanevania has posted a
great article from the Seattle Times about a family going through the child protection court system.
Baby M was a gift.Born a month prematurely, with a tuft of her father's dark hair, she arrived no bigger than a loaf of bread....
On this day, Aug. 19, 2003, their dreams were within reach.But the next day the euphoria began to fade. Traces of methamphetamine were found in Liz's blood. Hospital officials called the state's Child Protective Services.
Baby M was 2 days old when Mary Marrs, a veteran CPS investigator, showed up. Do you know why I am here? she asked Liz and Mike.
The couple rushed to explain themselves. The meth was a stupid mistake, Liz said. In a moment of grief, she'd smoked it a few days earlier, after her mother died...It is a very well written look at how families end up in child protection court and what happens to them once they're there. These are the same struggles that I see my clients face every day: poverty, drug addiction, mental illness, and domestic violence.
Most of the time when I see child abuse covered in the media, the writer's sympathy for the child and outrage at the abuse prevents them from exploring the parents' point of view and the challenges they face. This writer, Johnathan Martin, avoids that knee-jerk reaction and gives readers a more compassionate look at the situation.
Private Contractors As Public Defenders
Here is an interesting article on a county in California that apparently subcontracts its public defense obligations to private companies. The short version is that the private company Lake County had been using was doing a very poor job so they conducted a grand jury investigation, turned the responsibilities over to a new company, and created a oversight committee.
The whole situation seems odd to me since I've only practiced/interviewed in jurisdictions in which the county runs it's own public defender office. I've even seen some part-time public defenders, but they are still run by the county. I would think that Lake County would see the problem with hiring private contractors after the first company failed so badly. Private companies operate for one purpose and one purpose only: to generate profit. They care about making money, not about protecting the civil rights of people who can't afford attorneys. The new company is even headed by one of the same guys who headed the first company. Then again, maybe the county is so small or poor that subcontracting is its only option.
It also seemed odd that the public defenders didn't even have an office. Aside from just the client meetings which are mentioned in the article, where were they supposed to review documents, draft motions and make telephone calls? I wonder whether this was a budget constraint imposed by the county or a cost-saving measure taken by the private company.
Whether the company was to blame for cutting corners or the county is to blame for not providing adequate funding for the public defender system, the result is the same: indigent people accused of crimes do not get quality representation they deserve. If Lake County doesn't learn from their past mistakes and fix this situation, they might soon be facing a federal lawsuit.
I've Been Fired!
Well, not really. Just by one client, not by my office. I recently got a phone call from a public interest law group that is willing to take over her case. I have to say that I have mixed emotions about the whole thing.
On the one hand, I am tempted to to just laugh the whole thing off. I know I have done a good job for her. My trial partners and the other attorneys on the case have told me this. I know that she made this decision out of frustration with the way her case is progressing, not based on anything I've done. I share her frustration.
However, a part of me is disappointed that I have not been able to secure her trust over the past few months. I think this is an important part of my role as a public defender is to secure my client's trust. Without that, I can't effectively represent them. When I eventually move on to a criminal division, I know that I will have only seconds to do this, not months.
This is the first time a client has actually had me replaced so this is all new to me. Usually, our clients don't have any choice in the matter; it's a rare circumstance that one of our clients is able to find other representation. If anyone reading this (like my one site visitor to date) has had the same experience, I'd love to hear your comments.
Public Defense in Child Protection Law
So I thought a good way to start off this blog is to explain what I do. I doubt many people will be interested in this, or for that matter, anything that I will post on this blog. However, with millions of people on the internet, it seems that you could find at least one person who is interested in any given topic. That being said...
I work in the Child Protection Division of my office. We represent parents in abuse or neglect proceedings. These proceedings are civil, not criminal. The goal of these proceedings is not to assign responsibility for a criminal act, but rather to ensure the welfare of the abused or neglected child. The court we practice in decides things such as whether the child was abused or neglected, whether biological parents will retain custody, whether the parents are ready to regain custody, and sometimes, whether the parents should have all of their legal rights as parents permanently terminated.
Most public defenders came to the office hoping to practice criminal law, rather than civil. Since our cases are civil, our clients have fewer rights and protections than they would if they were accused of a criminal act. So defenders who measure success in black-and-white terms such as winning motions and trials are often disappointed here. Because many defenders would prefer to be in other divisions, a lot of new attorneys get assigned here. I have been here since I started working as a defender in July 2004.
Each public defender is assigned to a specific courtroom where all of his cases are heard. Each courtroom has 3-4 total defenders who are each other's trial partners. Our offices are next to each other and we assist each other when needed.
Anyway, that's what I do. Not remarkable, but perhaps it will provide some context for future posts.
