Defending People

the tao of criminal-defense trial lawyering

A Time for Heroes in Delhi

I am reminded, when I hear of lawyers shirk­ing their dif­fi­cult duties and stick­ing to the easy work, of the first few lines of Rud­yard Kipling’s Gunga Din:

YOU may talk o’ gin an’ beer
When you’re quar­tered safe out ‘ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Alder­shot it;
But if it comes to slaugh­ter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.

Now in Injia’s sunny clime, where I used to serve my time…going to high school, the eleven lawyers on the exec­u­tive board of the Bar Asso­ci­a­tion in the Delhi dis­trict of Saket have vowed not to rep­re­sent the six men charged with a recent gang-rape and mur­der. The bar asso­ci­a­tion that these indu­bitably illus­tri­ous pen­de­jos run has also appealed to its 7,000 mem­bers (there are six court dis­tricts in Delhi, which has a pop­u­la­tion of almost 17,000,000, so the Saket dis­trict, cov­er­ing south and south­east Delhi, could eas­ily have a pop­u­la­tion greater than that of Hous­ton) to refrain from rep­re­sent­ing the accused.

We are not tak­ing this case on the grounds of human­ity.” (CNN, via Trial The­ory.) “It is a heinous act done against a woman and no mem­ber of the Bar Asso­ci­a­tion will rep­re­sent the accused,” said Raj­pal Kasana, pres­i­dent of the Travis County Saket Court Bar Asso­ci­a­tion. (Times of India.)

“We have decided that no lawyer will stand up to defend the rape accused as it would be immoral to defend the case,” San­jay Kumar, a lawyer and a mem­ber of the Saket Dis­trict Bar Coun­cil, told AFP.

Kumar said the 2,500 advo­cates reg­is­tered at the court have decided to “stay away” to ensure “speedy jus­tice”, mean­ing the gov­ern­ment would have to appoint lawyers for the defendants.

ChannelNewsAsia.com.

The police claim that DNA evidence—the com­plaints’ (the dead woman’s boyfriend was also assaulted) blood on the defen­dants’ clothes (ChannelNewsAsia.com), which is eas­ily enough fab­ri­cated evidence—connects the six men to the rape/murder (these DNA results were returned within three weeks of the crime). 

India shares our com­mon law tra­di­tion, includ­ing the pre­sump­tion of inno­cence. It is uncon­scionable that lawyers should under­cut that pre­sump­tion by pub­licly encour­ag­ing oth­ers not to rep­re­sent peo­ple charged with heinous crimes.

It may be that Kasana are just pan­der­ing to the press, seek­ing their fif­teen min­utes of fame: the cases, which are being fast-tracked, will prob­a­bly be trans­ferred out of the Saket dis­trict courts. So for­get Raj­pal Kasana and San­jay Kumar. They are nobod­ies, nul­li­ties, unclean scraps in the dust­bin of legal his­tory. Let their legacy among lawyers for­ever be a shrug: just a cou­ple more in a long undis­tin­guished line of lawyers who, given the chance to fight for the god­for­saken, took a pass. They take a pass because they are fright­ened for them­selves or reluc­tant to make ene­mies, or for what­ever other rea­son their self-interest over­pow­ers their com­mit­ment to help­ing those less for­tu­nate. You know lawyers like these; let them be forgotten.

But some­one in Delhi will step up to rep­re­sent the six accused.

Criminal-defense work is not dig­ging ditches, but it is often not easy. It requires long hours of close con­cen­tra­tion, and there is much at stake. But many peo­ple have jobs requir­ing long hours of close con­cen­tra­tion with much at stake. What dis­tin­guishes the criminal-defense lawyer from all of the rest is the criminal-defense lawyer’s will­ing­ness to make enemies.

We are by def­i­n­i­tion anti-social: soci­ety has decided that our clients should be pun­ished, and we stand in the way; soci­ety wants it to be eas­ier to pun­ish peo­ple who have done wrong, and we make it harder; soci­ety wants to give free rein to our dark­est instincts of fear and ret­ri­bu­tion, and we want to loose the bet­ter angels of our nature. The emblem of the job is a ques­tion: “how can you defend those peo­ple?” If you share the honor to be asked that ques­tion, you are one of us.

Some­where in Delhi there are five of us who will stand up for five men who have been aban­doned by fam­ily and friends, and whom lit­er­ally a bil­lion peo­ple want to see hang. These lawyers will be threat­ened and harassed, per­haps even attacked. They may have to go into hid­ing, but even from hid­ing they will fight for their clients, throw­ing every obsta­cle ever imag­ined, and some pre­vi­ously undis­cov­ered, between their clients and the gal­lows. They may win; they will prob­a­bly lose, because they stand alone against a coun­try that has decided—from the mean­est untouch­able to the most jumped-up Gurjar—wants to make an exam­ple of them.

But their names…ah, those will be names to remember.

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About The Author

Mark Bennett got his letter of marque from the Supreme Court of Texas in May 1995. He is famous for having no sense of humor when it comes to totalitarianism.

Comments

9 Responses to “A Time for Heroes in Delhi”

  1. Max Kennerly says:

    What dis­tin­guishes the criminal-defense lawyer from all of the rest is the criminal-defense lawyer’s will­ing­ness to make enemies.”

    It’s a nice turn of phrase, but I don’t think it’s quite right. My job requires long hours of close con­cen­tra­tion with a lot at stake, and I make ene­mies, too.

    I think the crim­i­nal defense lawyer is dis­tin­guished by their will­ing­ness to stand up for a prin­ci­ple even where most of soci­ety believes the ben­e­fi­ciary is unworthy.

  2. Mike Trent says:

    At the risk of speak­ing heresy, I’ve never much cared for Ken­neth Branagh’s take on that speech. You can’t just read the words on the page when doing Shake­speare. You’ve got to con­sider the con­text and set­ting. I pic­ture that speech a lot grit­tier, a lot growlier, a lot NASTIER in some ways. It’s all pretty ban­ners and liv­er­ies with KB doing it — as good as he’s been in other of the Bard’s roles.

  3. shg says:

    Your life sto­ries are a never end­ing source of inter­est and inspi­ra­tion to the crim­i­nal defense bar, Max. They don’t reflect nar­cis­sism at all as you relate the expe­ri­ences of your brief time as a lawyer, offer­ing it as the bar by which an entirely dif­fer­ent branch of the pro­fes­sion mea­sures itself. Crim­i­nal defense lawyers are in your debt, Max.

    • Max Kennerly says:

      If I post a com­ment on any of the many blogs you fol­low, you ignore the con­ver­sa­tion entirely and start obsess­ing over me. Why?

      • shg says:

        What a bizarre thing to per­ceive, Max. I believe it’s a grand total of twice that I’ve responded to your com­ments, and you think that’s obsess­ing over you? How sad.

        Now my ques­tion: you barely have any expe­ri­ence as a lawyer, and none as a crim­i­nal defense lawyer, yet you troll the crim­i­nal defense blogs and cor­rect lawyers, like Mark, whose knowl­edge and expe­ri­ence dwarfs you. Why can’t you con­trol your child-like, nar­cis­sis­tic compulsion?

        Max, you only exist to the extent you make peo­ple stu­pider by your com­ments. Aside from that, you don’t exist at all.

        • Max Kennerly says:

          You’ve trolled me on Lawyerist com­ments, you’ve trolled me on My Shin­gle com­ments, you’ve trolled me on Twit­ter, you’ve trolled me on Philly Law Blog, and you’ve even writ­ten whole posts on your site just to troll me.

          I wouldn’t dream to “cor­rect” Mark on crim­i­nal law, and didn’t do so. He wrote his thoughts about an issue and I left mine. I real­ize you believe you are the sole author­ity on all issues, but I don’t see why your odd obses­sion with me should pre­clude me from com­ment­ing on blogs where the nice pro­pri­etors have enabled a spe­cific func­tion — you know, the “com­ment” func­tion — invit­ing peo­ple to “comment.”

          If Mark has a prob­lem with me com­ment­ing (I wouldn’t know why; I’ve com­mented, what, all of a dozen times here, mostly gen­eral thoughts on the law or lawyers), he can tell me so and I’ll tip my hat and walk off. It’s his site, his rules. If you want to ban me from your site, go ahead.

          You, how­ever, have no excuse for stalk­ing me in the com­ments sec­tion of other blogs. What’s the mat­ter with you? We’ve never even met. What does your warped mind imag­ine I’ve done to you?

  4. John Gibson says:

    We would be truly fucked if all lawyers were like this.
    John Gibson

  5. Mark Kernich says:

    This video meme seems to be doing the rounds in blog­land. If only all memes were as good.

    On topic, regard­ing the heroes at bar, don’t for­get the fam­i­lies. We at least get to do the job and to take what plau­dits may attach. Our fam­i­lies usu­ally have most if not all of the neg­a­tives from our work, with few if none of the pos­i­tives. And aye, I will raise one for my sub­con­ti­nen­tal col­leagues who take on the state in this one.

  6. Tanner Andrews says:

    You say that the defen­dants will most likely be con­victed, which is to say, that their lawyers “will prob­a­bly lose”, and this is correct.

    You also fig­ure that this is because much of India is root­ing against them. Well, I can­not dis­pute that: the case is an embar­ras­ment for them and maybe much of India is will­ing to see an advance.

    But there is also the pos­si­bil­ity that they will lose because the clients are guilt, there is ade­quate evi­dence, and the assis­tant state’s attor­ney does a good job. It occa­sion­ally happens.

    Even if it does, I salute the lawyers will­ing and able to take the case. The sys­tem fails if the state is not required to prove its case, espe­cially for the least loved among us.

    How can you defend these peo­ple? Well, how can you _not_ defend these people?

    (dis­claimer: I do essen­tially no crim­i­nal work)

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