oops.

cuffs., a photo by Luna Soledad on Flickr.

So recently, we had a client, a sweet older fellow likable in that good ole mutt kind of way, though clearly with some issues, who arrived at our office seeking representation for a misdemeanor possession of marijuana charge. Not uncommon.

However, the events leading up to his arrest is an entirely different matter... Hell, Cheech and Chong would have been proud because you just can’t make this stuff up!

It seems that Mr. Client had the misfortune of being robbed and severely traumatized by a home burglary a year or so ago to the point that Mr. Client felt it necessary to begin carrying an emergency 911 key fob with him on his keyring (similar to the “help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” medical alert buttons).

Well, on that fateful day, Mr. Client was so stoned out of his gourd that he fell down his steps, landing on the 911 fob and placing a call to the police... who arrived promptly and arrested him.

As I said, you just can’t make this stuff up...

“When I was in England I experimented with marijuana a time or two -- and didn't like it -- and didn't inhale and never tried inhaling again.”

...William Jefferson Clinton

life is an autobahn.

This weekend was supposed to be my desperately needed Girl's Weekend, though not only is 'Law a jealous mistress,' she's also a trifling bitch who stacked this week's calendar for The Husband, Esq. with, among other festivities, a 2-day trial and 2-day mediation which meant either I gave up my Girl's Weekend or find myself a new job and a new place to live (read = hide) 'cause when The Husband, Esq. shifts into Trial Mode, well -- remember the Incredible Hulk Series when, in just about every episode, somebody would start some shit and David Banner would say, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." -- he doesn't turn green or anything, but my usually easy-going, joke-cracking, wise-guy hubby turns into a hyper-focused, ultra-competitive Pitt bull who is anything but fun to be around... SO, I packed up the offspring and headed to Virginia to play single-mom with my sister and left the hubs at the mercy of his Mistress...

His famous last words to me: "Don't get in trouble and if you do, make sure it's in North Carolina so it won't cost me as much." Doh, JINX!

Fast forward to Sunday's return trip back to Raleighwood...

On the NC border, Virginia State Route 85 is a nice easy stretch of divided highway cutting through miles of beautiful woods and farmland; not a bad drive at all really. Except for the numerous "Official Use Only" cut-thru / turn-arounds spaced every mile or two or three that just kind-of sneak up on you when you're barreling ass down the road. Sometimes with a car parked up in there. Sometimes the car parked up in there has little lights up on top, blue ones... like the one that pulled me over in Dinwiddie.

Once upon a time as a Criminal Justice student at WTCC, I incidentally discovered that having a stash of Criminal Law books in the front seat was a helpful gimmick for avoiding traffic tickets. Especially since, back then, most any badge carrying law enforcement professional in the greater North Carolina triangle area had studied under the much beloved Bob Decatsye and Mickey Williamson at one time or another. One peek in my window would strike a conversation about school on to, "How's ole Deke?" and end with a quick lecture on slowing it down and wishing me luck. Hell, it worked so well that long after I had left my studies to provide for myself, I kept a text book or two in the car for just such occasions... ahhh, those were the days...

As soon as I saw the Virginia State Police Officer sitting there in that little turn as I whizzed right on by in the bright red Jeep, I knew he had me so I went ahead and eased into the right lane and waited for him to catch up. Dammit! I thought. Great, I'm never gonna hear the end of it. I thought. Oh shit! What's the gun law in Virginia? I thought.

I dug my .38 out and placed it in plain view on the front passenger's seat in between my purse, camera, scratched CD's, miscellaneous junk, and kiddie provisions and prepared for the worst.

Hands on the steering wheel squarely at 10 and 2, I announced as the officer reached the driver's window, "I have a loaded pistol in the car."

"Is it registered to you?" he inquired without batting an eye.

"Yes sir."

"Not a problem," he said, "but ma'am, you were going 85 mph, and that's a problem."

He peeked in the car at the kids in the back seat at Isabel who smiled and waved and Liam, completely passed out, drooling on his seat belt. Too bad, he would have been much more excited about the encounter than I was.

The officer returned handing me my driver's license and the traffic citation for 85 in a 70 zone and proceeded to give me the court spiel and share with me tales of his last stop of two guys doing 90 mph who wanted to argue with him on the side of the highway, "I told him, 'Man I am not the person you need to be arguing with because you're gonna lose.'" --Yeah, I could tell that about him.

"Well," I said, "I know better, my husband is an attorney. Unfortunately, not licensed to practice in the state of Virginia though."

"I bet he's got some friends up here who can help you out," he offered.

"If he doesn't, he's about to be making one."

"A successful lawsuit is the one worn by a policeman."

...Robert Frost

(un)professionalism.

attack., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

pro·fes·sion·al·ism
–noun
1. professional character, spirit, or methods.
2. the standing, practice, or methods of a professional, as distinguished from an amateur.

So recently, The Husband, Esq., had a Equitable Distribution mediation in yet another tedious, though not exceptionally complex, domestic matter... or at least it shouldn't have been all that complicated as The Husband, Esq. had figured on settling the remaining issues in around 3 hours considering that a threesome of experienced, heavy-hitter legal professionals were allegedly working toward a common goal: getting the parties to agree on stuff within the confines of the law.

A mediation, for those who don't know, is a costly process whereby the two parties involved in the matter come together with their attorneys in a common location (though in separate rooms) and a neutral third party attorney 'mediates' (between the parties' rooms) through their respective counsels in attempts to reach an agreement in what is basically a last ditch effort to avoid an even more costly court trial.

The specifics of the matter are mute in this story even if I could tell it; what is important to know is that there's a certain amount of ethics that go into how attorney's behave themselves and rules of conduct and such, like not directly speaking to nor contacting the Opposing Party who you know to be represented by counsel absent of the courtroom and only while they are on the stand. (For Pro Se parties, that is another matter entirely because then you are your own counsel... and we've all heard the phrase, "...fool for a client.") And of course, it goes without saying that as a professional, one is expected to conduct oneself as a professional, play nice, use good manners, and all the other life lessons learned in preschool.

The anticipated 3 hour mediation began around 9-ish... and ended approximately NINE hours later. Hardly a record, but, well, you can imagine the frustration and irritation after spending an entire day arguing with no real break to speak of, not to mention, the heightened emotional state of the parties.

It was near this time of day that the Opposing Counsel was inexplicably compelled to stick her head into The Husband, Esq.'s conference room to fuel the fire and verbally slight The Husband, Esq.'s client. WTF? (Anyone who knows The Husband, Esq. should know that challenge and confrontation doesn't end well.) After a brief exchange, The Husband, Esq. tells her to GET OUT.

Not one to be told what to do, the Opposing Counsel appears yet again in the conference room of The Husband, Esq. with more copies of more last minute changes and revisions that had not been on the table for discussion and commences to pass them out between The Husband, Esq. and his client. Words are exchanged loudly and she is told again to GET OUT.

(Here's the good part...)

At this point, having nothing left in her professional arsenal of assault, this 50-ish Doctor of Jurisprudence / Opposing Counsel resorts to hunching over and waiving her arms and hands wildly about in a creepy spell-casting fashion, not dissimilar to a 12 year old bully mimicking the legendary boogie-man, and in a juvenile taunt exclaims, "Oooooh, Keviiin's getttinnng maaaad!" while backing out of the room like a lunatic... leaving The Husband, Esq. sitting there with his mouth hanging open, utterly dumbfounded and speechless. --A rarity indeed.

Again, W.T.F.? Really???

The good news is that in spite of the antics, the parties somehow managed to settle and The Husband, Esq. had a jolly good time reenacting the episode for his darling wife that evening and his staff the next day.

Of course, my personal fun in all this was coming up with a list of appropriate come-backs:

1. "I know I am but what are you?" (submitted by Alvin)
2. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me."
3. In a Jack Nicholson impression from the classic movie, 'A Few Good Men,' "You can't handle the truth!"
4. "I'm tellin'." (again, Alvin) ...and when all else fails there's always,
5. Placing one's thumbs in each ear while waving fingers and sticking out one's tongue.

Just another fun-filled adventure from your friendly neighborhood law office! ;-)

"No letters after your name are ever going to be a total guarantee of competence any more than they are a guarantee against fraud. Improving competence involves continuing professional development ... That is the really crucial thing, not just passing an examination."

...Colette Bowe

legal curiosities.

Kevin's home away from home.
Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

This past week, I had a fellow phone up to inquire as to the classification of the crime "Common Law Robbery" because it popped up on his employment background check many years after the fact as a now responsible adult.

It seems that many years ago as a foolish teenager, the guy was hangin' with his peeps when they happened upon a pizza guy and thought it would be funny to rough-up the pizza man and steal his pizza.

The much older and wiser man wanted to know if it was a felony or a misdemeanor? Well, as the boys were both out of the office and I am not an attorney, I had not a clue.

As it turns out, Common Law Robbery is a felony... and cannot be expunged from one's criminal record. So essentially, this poor guy has forever screwed himself due to the fact that he once kicked some pizza guy's ass and made off with a pie. --Not that I am condoning nor defending violence nor thievery but let's face it, just because our country says we're old enough to vote and go to war does not necessarily mean we possess the common sense to make intelligent decisions nor fully understand the consequences of our actions. We're not talking about rape or murder, it was a tussle and a pizza.

But here's the kicker... Had it been merely an assault - say, he kicked the pizza man's keister and did not take the pizza - he would have been charged with Simple Assault, which in North Carolina is a Class 2 Misdemeanor. The difference is the pizza.

For comparison, possession of one and a half ounces of marijuana or less is a Class 3 Misdemeanor, however, possession of the same marijuana and paraphernalia in which to consume/smoke it (i.e. bong, rolling papers, pipe, etc. - though I'm not clear if Brownie mix and baking supplies fall under the legal definition...) would win you a Class 1 Misdemeanor in the great state of NC. (For the record, speeding is a Class 2 Misdemeanor.)

A charge of Driving Under the Influence (DUI) kinda falls into it's own black hole of crime and punishment but I am told by The Husband, Esq that one fairs far better in the courts (and on one's criminal record) to be charged with possession of small amounts of illegal drugs and paraphernalia than driving after having consumed several legal alcoholic beverages. Go figure.

So I suppose the lesson we can derive from this little lecture is this:

1. If you must partake of the herb, leave your pipe at home, and
   
2. if you're gonna kick somebody's ass, don't take anything from them.
3. And above all else, don't drink and drive.
   

Seriously, just don't. While driving drunk it may be good business for your local law firm, it's a really dumb thing to do. --Personally, I could care less if you have pot in your car, but the rest of us driving around out there appreciate your sobriety while you're on the road.

A public service message from yours truly. =)

"I've heard that while the show was on there were no reported crimes, or very few. When The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan, even the criminals had a rest for ten minutes."

...George Harrison

good service.

Hallo?
Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

Working with the public in any capacity creates a unique opportunity to enrich one's life with interesting, often bizarre, often crazy, and sometimes frightening experiences designed to make one question the stability of the world around them and pepper any optimism toward ideas of peace, love, and happiness with doubt and a general sense of "what the hell?"

I'm of the opinion that everyone should have to wait tables at some point in their life, if for no other reason than it is a truly humbling means of existence and an exercise in patience, tolerance, good manners, and the value of a hard-earned dollar. Not to mention, working as a server prepares us for good-tipping habits later in life... I assure you, few things in the working world will make one appreciate good service like receiving a two dollar tip after running your ass off for a six-top table of cheap church ladies.

I've had my share of other humbling public service/customer service jobs as well, from elementary school bus driver and Glamour Shots photographer to nurse aide and dental assistant, just to hit the highlights -- and lemme tell ya, I have seen and heard some crazy shit, but absolutely nothing compares to working in a law firm that serves both domestic and criminal clients!

While it goes without saying that there are lots of people in the world, in this country, and even within the state of North Carolina who desperately need help of various sorts, and many who could greatly benefit from the aid of an attorney, there are some folks out there who are just beyond help. (e.g. Ms. X.)

For instance, neither a lawyer nor the court can make your wife get back together with you nor stay in a marriage of which she wants out... I am still dumbfounded and disturbed that anyone would make such an inquiry, but they did.

Also, just because you are married to a lying, cheating scumbag, this does not qualify you to receive an annulment in the state of North Carolina unless the scumbag happens to be your first cousin... Remember folks, this is the Bible Belt we're talking about not the Catholic Church.

And chances are, if you're wanting to sue someone for slander and liable for defamation of character who has been spreading rumors that you're a drug dealer, you're not going to have very much success with that in court if you were with the blabber-mouth when you both were arrested for felony drug possession, intent to sell, and trafficking.

Also, if you want to sue your dad for bothering you, paying your neighbors to wake you up and disturb you, and putting drugs in the ventilation shafts of your apartment (not to mention your hotel room), you'd probably be best served by calling somewhere other than a law firm. Just a hunch.

Oh and by the way, since I'm setting records straight... Good service is kind of a two-way street. If you call a place of business with a desperate plea for help and are a rude, belligerent asshole to the person answering the phone, there's a snowball's chance in you-know-where of getting through to the person you want to speak to or gaining any sympathy for your problems. So no matter how ridiculous your dilemma, remember: Be nice. We did not do this to you!

You really do get more flies with honey. And that's a good tip.

"Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use."

...Emily Post

some days...

5:366 | Some days..., Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

You know it's gonna be a great day at the office when you have to call the "Po-Po" before you've even finished your morning java!

Yessiree Bob. It was that kind of day.

It all started in 2008 when a PhD-clad native foreigner comes in for a consultation regarding a complex domestic/business matter involving such nonsensical details as murder, terrorism, and a lot of money. The Husband, Esq informs her that it's not something that he can help her with and wishes her luck. Though apparently, "No" is not in her vocabulary.

So she calls and calls and calls. Sometimes once a week, sometimes every two weeks, sometimes months pass before she comes out of remission and begins her crusade again.

When I first began working at the law firm last year, I unknowingly made Ms. X an appointment and asked her to send over copies of the documents pertaining to her matter for review. The Husband, Esq immediately recognizes the paperwork and meets the woman in the front office on the day of the appointment to politely inform her once more that he is not interested in perusing her matter and that he cannot help her. That's when all hell broke lose. Ms. X became highly irate and began yelling about justice and us protecting murderers and other such outlandish insults while being repeatedly asked to leave.

Yet she continues to call, asking for The Husband, Esq, and leaving lengthy unintelligible rambling messages in very poor English.

It's as if shortly after each conversation, she simply "resets" herself retaining no information what-so-ever other than a fixation on The Husband, Esq and an obsession with this matter of hers. And the scene plays out over and over and over again like some bizarre broken record. --I mean really, what sane person would continue to stalk a lawyer who has many times made it clear that he will not take your case and who you have continually accused of being in cahoots with murders, terrorists, and the opposing camp? Why on earth would you want someone like that representing you in the first place? --Somewhere along the way, this lady clearly fell off the turnip truck.

A few weeks ago, The Husband, Esq made the unfortunate mistake of answering the phone himself (which, like, never happens) and who should he find at the other end of the line but Ms. X wanting to talk again about her case. More persistent this time, he tells her again that he is not her attorney, is not going to be her attorney, and cannot help her. In between insults and insane accusations, she asks "How much are they paying you to do this to me?"

This morning, yet another call... The Associate, Esq answers and the same ole song and dance begins. She is told to stop calling our office. You can't make me she says and why is The Husband, Esq plotting against her?

Not 15 minutes later, guess who shows up? That's right, Ms. X.

The Husband, Esq tells her to leave and the high-pitched murder of the English language commences as she begins her conspiracy tirade about us protecting murderers, working for the other side, and not upholding justice and so on. Meanwhile, I'm on the phone with a client who I promptly interrupt and hang up on to phone 911.

The Husband, Esq states once more that we will not pursue her matter, cannot help her, and that if she continues to contact us in any manner then we will be forced to file a Harassment suit and seek a Protective Order against her. Further, if she comes to our office again, she will be arrested for Trespassing. Hysterically pissed, she finally departs.

Next comes a real estate attorney who shows up for a 10 o'clock closing. We don't do real estate law; never have. I finally determine that he is looking for an attorney who used to occupy our current office space 4-5 years ago so I kindly look up the address, write it down, and call the other office for him. Then he says to me, "This is why I have a full time person in my office to make sure things like this don't happen and waste my time. I don't know why she couldn't look up the correct address but I'm not happy about this." Oh pu-lease, you're a real estate attorney, get over yourself!

There is a reason that lawyers have such a bad reputation.

Anyway... A police officer arrives moments later responding to our call. The Husband, Esq and I explain the circumstances and events, describe Ms. X and provide her name. Interestingly, though not surprisingly, the officer knows Ms. X as he just arrested her two months ago for pulling a similar stunt showing up at an IRS building alleging that the government owes her hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The police officer leaves and would you freakin' believe it? Ms. X calls again (Thank God for caller ID)... three times. I let it roll to voice mail where she screams out yet another crazy-ass message that I cannot fully make out... Something about assisting hiding murderers, China, Korea, and we better not call the police on her telling lies.

All this before 11:00 am.

Okay, really, I have nothing against crazy people in general (hey, most of my best friends are crazy people!) and I do greatly sympathize with those struggling with mental illness and emotional crisis. I've (half-jokingly) suggested on more than one occasion that perhaps we should consider an on-staff shrink or at the very least subletting some office space to a mental health professional... But give me a break; I am human and my sympathy only stretches so far. STOP INVOLVING US IN YOUR PERSONAL PSYCHOTIC HELL AND GET SOME FREAKIN' HELP.

...Just another day in your friendly neighborhood law office!

"I doubt if a single individual could be found from the whole of mankind free from some form of insanity. The only difference is one of degree. A man who sees a gourd and takes it for his wife is called insane because this happens to very few people."

...Desiderius Erasmus

booty-head.

bluh.
Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

So today, I arrive at the preschool to pick up my son just in time to overhear a cute little girl telling the teacher that Liam called her a booty-head. I explain to the teacher that between my mouth and the TV, it's a wonder he hasn't said worse and well, like any good parent would, I made him apologize to his young friend, which he did.

To which the little sweetie responded, "That's okay, I forgive you," and they hug. Awww.

If only life were that easy. That simple.

Working in a law office which serves primarily domestic clients, we see a whole lot of booty-heads and other descriptives as well. If only I could blog about the stuff I see and hear on a daily basis! Wow. I mean really, WOW.

(That's not even counting the criminal clients who bring in pot-reeking evidence documents to aid their defense against drug possession charges.)

And I thought my divorce was bad.

"What guides us is children's response, their joy in learning to dance, to sing, to live together. It should be a guide to the whole world."

...Yehudi Menuhin