My Career as Litigator

So today marked my lackluster beginning to a career in litigation! I did a plea-change agreement myself. Actually, that just consisted of reading aloud a statement of facts to the court. Really neither complicated nor dramatic. But a milestone nonetheless, I guess.

The whole thing was rather anticlimactic. First of all, the proceeding began 40 minutes late. This is not unusual. So far every single proceeding that the interns have attended, except for the very first one, have begun late, and not just a little late, but in general between an hour and an hour and a half late. EG, the attorney who interviewed and hired me, was also my supervising attorney. He was annoyed because he had a brief that was due Friday, and he had spent the whole day on it. But now he had to wait listlessly in a courtroom.

The judge was this white-haired lady that reminded me of Sandra Day O'Connor. Grandmotherly in her appearance, but very forceful in her personality.

The case involved a drug sale. The man was a hispanic male in his 20s, perhpas my age, short, plump, and kind of dazed looking. He was held in jail before the proceeding, and was brought in by marshals wearing an orange jumpsuit. He didn't seem to know exactly what was going on. Didn't even speak English that well and required an interpreter.

The judge did most of the talking, and I found the whole thing oddly poignant. The entire proceeding consisted of making sure the defendant understood the rights he was giving up by pleading guilty, so the judge asked him questions regarding every single right that he was waiving. "Sir, do you understand that you have a right to trial with a jury? Do you understand that by pleading guilty you are giving up that right?" While the judge spoke, the interpreter would translate contemporaniously into the defendant's ears, and the defendant would answer, in a thick accent, "Yes." "Do you understand, sir, that you have a right to confront witnesses who testify against you? Do you understand that by pleading guilty you are waiving that right as well?" And then he would listen to the interpreter again and answer, "yes." So on and so forth.

And I felt sorry for the man, the defendant. He seemed genuinely confused at times, and chastened, defeated by life. He was going away for at least 4 or 5 years, for one single criminal act. He was my age and I felt sorry for him.

Sometimes he would get confused, as when the judge asked the defendant whether the government coerced him into pleading guilty or whether the government made any improper promise. Since the answer to every previous question had been "yes", the defendant began saying "yes," then had to say "I mean 'no.'" The judge was dissatisfied with that answer, and asked the question again, and amazingly the defendant answered incorrectly again, until he finally looked at his lawyer helplessly and his lawyer shook his head no, so the defendant answered "no."

Then it was my turn to recount the facts. I had written out a whole sheet of facts, and read it like a schoolgirl. They were doing me a favor by letting me do this. I was neither horrible nor brilliant. Just mediocre, average. It was the first time I spoke in open court. I was too nervous to really notice anything else, my supervising attorney behind me, the defendant and his attorney next to me. The interpretor somehow falling silent. I remember thinking "why isn't she translating my stuff?"

After that, the judge asked the defendant whether he agreed with the version of events. He said yes. The judge then accepted the guilty plea, set a sentencing date, and then the court was adjourned.