On My Discomfort After the Ferguson Grand Jury Decision

Often times in the defense closing argument of a trial, I hear my opponent ask a jury, when defining reasonable doubt: "is this the kind of information (coming from the State's witnesses) you would rely on in your most important affairs?"

Today I read a commentary in the Washington Post titled: “Inconsistency is the Only Constant in the Ferguson Case.” That commentary comes closest to how I feel about the decision by the Ferguson Grand Jury not to indict Officer Wilson. As a prosecutor who has worked closely with some young, inexperienced cops, as well as eyewitnesses who change their stories, this case has caused me much personal discomfort.

I agree the standard for indicting a police officer is not the same as for the average citizen, because police are authorized to use deadly force in certain situations. Just as the State bears the burden of proving a defendant did NOT act in self defense, the State would also have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Officer Wilson was NOT justified in his use of deadly force. As all of my defense attorney friends would agree, a tie should go to the defendant.

My admitted cursory review of the evidence presented reveals a very muddled picture. I have routinely declined to charge cases where the picture is muddled, knowing that I face an even steeper burden at trial and that in the end, muddled pictures generally lead to acquittals.

My discomfort in expressing my thoughts supporting the decision not to indict comes from the fear that I will be deemed a racist for thinking this way. Or that I am sympathizing with prosecutors who “manipulated” evidence to get the result they wanted. Yes there are bad prosecutors and there are bad cops. But by far, the majority of us are in public service because we believe in a concept of law and order. Admittedly, the primary influence on my perspective of this case is my shock at the notion of Michael Brown reaching into Officer Wilson’s squad car and fighting with him for his service weapon.

I also cannot fathom how burglarizing, vandalizing and assaulting one’s neighbors and their property in response to the Grand Jury decision can, in any possible way, be justified. The sad truth is that it further emphasizes the appearance of lawlessness in a community already suffering. I do not pretend to know the answer. I can only hope that cooler heads will prevail. And I can continue to do my job as best as I can without prejudice or bias toward anyone.

I have posted this here because, truth be told, I am afraid to post it on Facebook. The extreme outrage expressed by many of my close friends makes me very uneasy. I have reached out to one in hopes to have a discussion. Her lack of response worries me.

On Not Sleeping Alone

As long as I can remember, I never liked sleeping with another person. Inevitably that other person would fall asleep first, leaving me to listen to breathing....or snoring.....and wait for sleep to come to me.

Now that the weather has cooled down, I sleep with two dogs instead of just one. And every night the bed time ritual is exactly the same.

I open the bed about a half hour before bedtime, which allows them time to take their respective positions: Casey Mae, right in my spot, head on my pillow, and Jet, the giant flat coated retriever, sprawled out over the rest of the space.

As I get into bed, I gently remind Casey Mae that it STILL is my spot. She begrudgingly moves over to the other pillow. As I slide underneath the covers, Jet stands up and waits for me to get situated.

Then, they both press firmly into me and we all become one solid pile.

I am happy, safe and secure. And sleep comes easy for me.

On Feeling Boxed In

I am, as some would put it, a “career prosecutor.” I have held the same job since 2001 and have been in the same office over 20 years. I prosecute serious, violent felonies: rapes, robberies; burglaries; homicides. I made the local headlines a couple years ago because I prosecuted the wife of a popular sports figure. It was a somewhat surreal experience.

I have noticed, of late, that my peers are seeking higher positions, if not within the office, in other capacities, most frequently, as judges. I myself aspired to become a judge a few years back, coinciding with my short-lived fame. I applied twice and ran for election once. In that year, I rearranged my priorities to be a more appealing candidate. I marched in parades, I shook a lot of hands and participated in fundraisers. I used creative writing to make an application worthy of consideration by a higher commission. And got absolutely nowhere.

I hated it all. And I quickly got over any ambition I had to be a judge.

Fast forward to the present. In my particular division, experienced attorneys are leaving in droves; for private practice, for judicial appointments, for management positions. The reasons I hear about for this migration are fairly consistent: higher salary or to avoid the crushing caseload and ensuing heart attack/nervous breakdown. Trial work is not for the faint of heart. Most of us in this division are adrenaline junkies and thrive on the adversarial system we work within. But after 5, 10, 20 years, the constant conflict can wear a person down. Also, I think as we approach middle age, there is a need to manage and get out of being managed by others. With longevity comes credibility and respect, right?

So, as a result of the mass exodus from violent crimes prosecution, we now have brand new lawyers, eager, enthusiastic, and unfortunately, completely inexperienced. The direct result of this is more difficult cases piled on my already overflowing plate. I struggle to fight off the increasing feelings of bitterness and resentment.

The question then, is directed at me: why don’t you apply for a management position? Why don’t you apply again to be a judge? Why don’t you go do something else? The answer is pretty simple. I have no desire to manage or supervise anyone besides myself. And I have become so disillusioned with the recent batch of appointees to our local bench that I would rather not count many of those individuals as my colleagues. Plus, I still love trying cases. I’ve developed a good reputation as a strong, passionate advocate who plays by the rules. I am respected. I know how to do my job. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I feel somewhat uncomfortable in the notion of trying to learn something else at this stage of my career.

I went to dinner with a friend who has now been retired from my office for two years. I am extremely envious of her, but I also realize she put in close to 30 years at our office, some of them rather miserable at that. I whined a bit about my situation and then our conversation shifted to a co-worker who had recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And my friend said to me, in that direct way I most appreciate about her, “at least you don’t have cancer.”

It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? So when I return to work Monday it will be with a full heart and immense gratitude for what I have. There simply cannot be room for anything else.