In the voting on Popehat for Censorious Asshat Of The Year, I am torn between Thedala Magee and her lawyer Vicki Roberts, and Joseph Rakofsky.

In any other year, Marc Stephens would be a contender, but what he did was, basically, pretend to be a lawyer like Vicki Roberts or Joseph Rakofsky. It wouldn’t be fair to Roberts or Rakofsky to give the award to wannabe Stephens when they, Stephens’s models (not to mention lawyers Joel Hirschhorn, Maeghan Maloney, Martin Leaf, and Albin H. Gess) are nominees. Call me an exceptionalist, but I think this award should go to someone who, having graduated law school and passed a bar exam, ought to know better.

Vicki Roberts and Joseph Rakofsky both ought to know better. (Both were, at some point, licensed in New Jersey, as is Rachel Kugel; what is it about New Jersey?)

All Roberts did was send a demand letter—something some lawyers do, with no intention of following up, in hopes of shaking a few dollars loose. (This is a blog post for another day, but in the days before the Internet lawyers could send demand letters to nonlawyers and assume that they wouldn’t be called out, much less punched in the virtual throat by Marc Randazza. Roberts, a woman of a certain age, is still living in those days—or was: Randazza’s pro bono response on behalf of blogger Amy Alkon may have educated her.)

Rakofsky—of a generation that should be familiar with the Streisand Effect, went beyond sending a demand letter; he filed a frivolous lawsuit and then, when the frivolous lawsuit wasn’t widely lauded, tried to sue critics of the lawsuit as well, and tried to add the cockamamie theory of “internet mobbing” to his complaint.

I see Roberts’s age as a mitigating factor, and Rakofsky’s conduct—he actually filed suit; not only that, but he actually filed suit against me—as highly aggravating. Asshat advantage: Rakofsky.

Rakofsky’s court documents read like the pro se pleadings of crazy people and, indeed, Rakofsky claims publicly that he will need psychological treatment for the rest of his life. If Rakofsky is not malingering, his mental illness is a mitigating factor. I don’t think the possibility of mental disease or defect can be entirely ruled out in Roberts’s case, but the asshat advantage in this category is hers.

Roberts picked on a nonlawyer. Rakofsky filed suit against lots of lawyers: lawyers who could reasonably be expected to know the law and to fight back. Again, asshat advantage: Roberts.

Roberts sent her demand letter to try to shut down criticism of the government. Rakofsky filed suit to try to cover up his violation of his Sixth-Amendment duty to  a client who had put his life in Rakofsky’s hands. I call that a draw.

Roberts (presumably) got paid to be an asshat; Rakofsky did it all by himself; mitigation or aggravation? Make of it what you will.

So far, it’s a close call. What am I missing?

From page 26 of Joseph Rakofsky’s sworn Affidavit in Support, between his Notice of Motion and his Amended Complaint (OCRed copy of all 347 pages here, 55.4MB):

MOTION FOR SANCTIONS

131. On or about May 9, 2011, plaintiffs retained Richard Borzouye, Esq. to represent them in this matter.
132. Richard Borzouye has breached various rules of professional conduct, deviated from standards of care, and otherwise acted wrongfully, causing damages and prejudice to plaintiff.
133. First of all, after noticing his appearance for plaintiffs, Borzouye abruptly sought to withdraw his appearance only a couple of weeks into his representation of plaintiffs.
134. Plaintiffs relied to their detriment on Borzouye’s representation and now have been required to spend time and money to retain replacement counsel.
135. Furthermore, Borzouye undertook to make secret communications to an individual with whom he was specifically admonished and specifically instructed by Plaintiff Rakofsky to refrain from communicating, who sought to represent certain defendants, but was not admitted to practice law in New York, and therefore, was not yet admitted to practice in the case at Bar, which were damaging to plaintiffs’ case and clearly should not have been made.
136. The result of the communications was that defendants and/or their attorneys posted various comments on the internet that were damaging to plaintiffs and that certain defendants were exposed to various aspects of Plaintiffs’ strategy.
137. Rule 1.1 of the Rules of Professional Conduct provides that a lawyer shall not intentionally prejudice or damage the client during the course of his representation.
138. Rule 1.6 of the Rules of Professional Conduct provides that a lawyer shall not knowingly reveal confidential information.
139. Borzouye’s secret and extremely improper communications with the aforementioned individual were unnecessary and contained confidential information.
140. Furthermore, Mr. Borzouye failed to disclose material information to plaintiffs before they retained him. Had the material information been revealed to plaintiffs, they would not have retained him, as Mr. Borzouye has demonstrated a long history of abandoning clients in the middle of litigation. In fact, at the hearing on September 15, 2011, even Judge Goodman acknowledged that Mr. Borzouye’s refusal to attend the hearing evidenced his contempt for the rules of this Court and his patent pattern of completely neglecting his clients, who duly retained and compensated him for such representation and to protect their respective interests.
141. Further, Mr. Borzouye failed to serve this Court’s Order dated July 22, 2011 upon Plaintiffs in the manner and/or within the time limits directed by this Court in such Order.
142. In addition, Mr. Borzouye failed to file the Retainer Statement for his representation of plaintiffs in this case.
143. Mr. Borzouye failed both to provide to clients and to file any Letter of Engagement.
144. Simply, Mr. Borzouye engaged in conduct in violation of the Rules of Professional Conduct.
145. The above actions of Richard Borzouye, Esq. are wrongful and/or violations of professional rules, standards and duties, and have damaged plaintiffs.
146. For these reasons, plaintiff respectfully requests that sanctions be imposed upon Borzouye, attorneys fees be awarded to plaintiffs in the amount of $10,000.00, and that this matter continue to be stayed until the stay is dissolved by this Court, as was decided at the hearing before Judge Goodman on September 5, 2011.

First, Rakofsky just waived the lawyer-client privilege to large extent (a layer may reveal confidential information “to defend the lawyer … against an accusation of wrongful conduct”), which may prove interesting.

Second, Rakofsky had, in online marketing, claimed Borzouye  as a member of his firm. He knew exactly what he was getting with Borzouye as his lawyer.

Third, this little tantrum is probably not going to help Rakofsky find another lawyer to take his case. “You asked the judge to sanction your previous lawyer, and now you want me to take the case? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Fourth, “an individual with whom he was specifically admonished and specifically instructed by Plaintiff Rakofsky to refrain from communicating”? Since when can a client instruct a lawyer not to communicate with anyone?

The rules in New York allow disclosure that “is impliedly authorized to advance the best interests of the client and is either reasonable under the circumstances or customary in the professional community”; if your lawyer has improperly revealed confidential information you don’t complain about the lawyer communicating with someone against your instructions. You complain about your lawyer improperly revealing confidential information. (You also file a bar grievance.)

Fifth, I doubt that anyone believes that Borzouye filed suit on behalf of Rakofsky as anything other than a favor to a friend (with hopes of a publicity bonus).

By filing suit for his pal Rakofsky, Borzouye—whether he knew it or not—put his professional reputation and his bank account on the line along with his precious time. It wasn’t much of a favor to Rakofsky—a greater mitzvah would have been to dissuade Rakofsky from filing suit at all (I don’t know if he tried, but see “First,” above)—but it is not entirely out-of-line for a lawyer, when a friend is intent on destroying himself in court, to come along for the ride to try to minimize the damage.

I admit: I have been known to do this. I’ll do my best to stop a friend from picking a bad fight, but if I can’t stop him I’m on his side. For me, “loyalty” is an important moral foundation—there are few sins greater than betrayal. I suspect that most criminal-defense lawyers feel the same way: better to be on the losing side in the company of friends than to be on the winning side and friendless. Which brings us back to Joseph Rakofsky’s request (can you request something in an affidavit in New York?) for sanctions against Richard Borzouye.

Borzouye and Rakofsky had a relationship before Borzouye filed suit. Borzouye tried to help Rakofsky file suit against a bunch of bloggers—bloggers who are not known for their kindness to arrogant fools. The Internet was not kind to Richard Borzouye. Maybe he realized he’d gotten in too deep; maybe he decided that he was ethically obligated not to prosecute a frivolous lawsuit: Richard Borzouye withdrew from the field of battle. When we know more (see “First,” above), we could discuss whether Borzouye should have been more loyal to Rakofsky, or whether Borzouye had an obligation under the rules not to file the suit for Rakofsky in the first place.

Even if Borzouye was wrong in ditching his client, Rakofsky’s request for sanctions against him is beyond the pale. Borzouye tried to help him. None of the conduct Rakofsky complains of seems to have caused him any real harm. (Does anyone know what “certain defendants were exposed to various aspects of Plaintiffs’ strategy” means? Is seeking sanctions against his former lawyer part of that strategy?) Aside from the fact that no judge who is not related to Rakofsky would order sanctions against Borzouye on the grounds Rakofsky has alleged, Rakofsky makes himself look like even more of an incompetent asshat by complaining publicly, while litigation is pending, about the guy who helped him get into that litigation.

Every time Rakofsky sets toner to paper, it becomes more clear that he’s not playing by the rules that govern the rest of us. His written denunciation of Borzouye is nutty enough that I suspect that I’m violating Rule 1 just by writing about it.

It is unlawful, in Maryland, for any person to [w]ilfully intercept, endeavor to intercept, or procure any other person to intercept or endeavor to intercept, any . . .oral . . . communication[.] "Oral communication" means any conversation or words spoken to or by any person in private conversation. "Intercept" means the aural or other acquisition of the contents of any wire, electronic, or oral communication through the use of any electronic, mechanical, or other device.

Maryland courts have subsequently characterized the difference in the wording between the State and federal definitions of “oral communication” as “slight” and have construed the phrase in the Maryland statute to incorporate the “reasonable expectation of privacy” standard applied under the federal law. Fearnow v. C & P Telephone Co., 104 Md. App. 1, 33, 655 A.2d 1 (1995), aff'd in relevant part, 342 Md. 363, 376, 676 A.2d 65 (1996); see also Maloas v. State, 116 Md. App. 69, 83-84, 695 A.2d 588 (1997); Hawes v. Carberry, 103 Md. App. 214, 220, 653 A.2d 479 (1995); Benford v. American Broadcasting Co., 649 F. Supp. 9, 11 (D. Md. 1986).

July 7, 2010 opinion of Maryland Attorney General to Delegate Samuel I. Rosenberg (the "Rosenberg Opinion") at 5 (pdf).

How could anyone possibly think that when someone confronts a total stranger in a public place, pulling a gun on him in the process, that is a "private conversation"? Isn't "revealed to an antagonistic total stranger" pretty much an opposite of "private"?

Our Asshat Lawyer of the Day, Harford County, Maryland prosecutor Joseph Cassilly (Radley Balko, Reason.com), thinks this armed guy accosting a motorcyclist in a public place . . .

. . . was engaged in private conversation, such that the motorcyclist should be prosecuted for a felony for recording his words:

The test is whether police officers can expect some of the conversations they have while on the job to remain private and not be recorded and replayed for the world to hear.

Nooo. The test is not whether officers can expect squadcar confessions to their partners or sweet nothings to their beat wives to remain private. Nor is the test whether "everything a police officer does on the job should be for public consumption." The test is whether this officer had a reasonable expectation of privacy when he told this motorcyclist to get off the motorcycle and identified himself as a state police officer.

Lots of cops don't like to be recorded doing their jobs. I get that. Lots of my clients don't like to be recorded doing their jobs either. But whether you're a cop or a . . . well, not a cop, when your "conversation" with a stranger starts with your drawing a gun on him, you can't reasonably expect that it'll be kept just between you and him.

I often (well, I used to often) gripe here about the want of real-world experience (that is, experience outside the high school–college–law school track) in prosecutors. As a broad generalization, it works great.

I believe that before anyone is put into a job that includes making decisions about what punishment other people deserve for their misdeeds, he ought to spend a year or more being (metaphorically) kicked in the teeth, worrying about where next month’s rent is going to come from, how he’s going to pay for those car repairs, whether he can afford to see a doctor about that pain. More, he should have spent significant time accountable to other people for their health and safety. (Ex-cops, oddly enough, are some of the most reasonable prosecutors.)

But I’m not beating that horse today. Many prosecutors (those who have been there) agree with me, as do most criminal-defense lawyers.

It’s fine if we talk about it amongst ourselves, but don’t go throwing around “lack of real-world experience” as a negotiating position.

A good indicator of a prosecutor who lacks seasoning is retributive language, at least in all but the most heinous cases. A prosecutor who talks about what the defendant in a simple possession case “deserves” doesn’t have the wisdom we’d wish. But “you don’t have the wisdom I would wish” not a persuasive argument—the newbie prosecutor doesn’t suddenly become enlightened when told by some silverback that he needs to grow up.

And, folks, not every prosecutor who disagrees with us is wet behind the ears. The generalization often doesn’t work when applied to the individual case. There are many prosecutors who have the experience we’d like them all to have; they won’t always agree with us about the appropriate resolution of a case, but it’s not for want of compassion. Sometimes a reasonable compassionate human might believe that a little more jail time is the least bad option for a drug addict—some people need to be removed from society for their own good or for society’s. This is not a position held only by gung-ho tyros who think that “J.D.” stands for “wise person.”

If you aren’t intimately familiar with your prosecutor’s CV, how can you be sure that he didn’t spend two years before law school bussing tables to support his dying mom?

If we ask for something (like a second helping of dessert, or prosecutors with more real-world experience) we should show some appreciation when we get it. The prosecutor who’s doing her best to compassionately treat each case needs encouragement, even when she gets it wrong, to keep trying; she doesn’t need to be told that she’s done the wrong thing because she lacks real-world experience that she actually has in spades.

If you make the accusation and you’re right, you’re going to annoy the prosecutor and probably make him bow up, and you’re not going to get your client what he needs. If you make the accusation and you’re wrong, the same will happen, and you’ll be acting like an asshat to boot.

The Pat Lykos DA’s Office has, in the last eight months, shown a marked tendency to act without calm deliberation. See the whale policy, the no-probation-for-illegal immigrants policy, the premature announcement of DIVERT, Pat Lykos calling two of her prosecutors “incompetent”, and just about every story on Murray’s blog.

I wrote here about the Office’s desperate-seeming call for witnesses against Judge Jackson. Now I’ve learned that an investigator from The Office questioned Judge Jackson’s barber about the allegations.

If eventually we learn that the Office jumped precipitously into the indictment of Judge Donald Jackson, who allegedly offered a defendant in his court a benefit in exchange for “a relationship that’s more than a one-night stand”, it should surprise nobody.

In related news, Harris County Republican Party chairman Jared “God’s Gift to the Harris County Democratic Party” Woodfill, past Asshat-Lawyer-of-the-Day honoree and Peter Principle poster child, said he plans to form a committee to investigate the allegations.

Because when you want an investigation done right, you turn to Jared Woodfill and a committee of the Harris County Republican Party.

There ain’t no way to hide your lyin’ eyes. . .

We lawyers are analytical creatures. The LSAT doesn’t include a section of intuition puzzles. So Simple Rule 8 for Better Jury Selection is The Shrink (as in therapist) Rule:

Rule 8: How Do You Feel About That?

Jurors decide cases based on their guts, then look for intellectual reasons to support their emotional decisions. As a result of confirmation bias (h/t Dennis Elias of Litigation Strategies for the link), they might not see, might disregard, or might discount all facts that don’t support their (gut) preconceptions.

If you want a really hard job, try to win your case beginning with the presentation of evidence. It’s not always impossible, but it’s not nearly as easy as using the evidence to confirm what they already believe.

Can you talk with (or to) the jury about ideas and things, and get them to reveal their emotions? Not likely (different parts of the brain). Can you talk with them about ideas and things, and influence their emotions? Sure, but it’s an unnecessarily roundabout approach.

Here are some possible ways of finding out jurors’ views on one of the issues in your case:

• Bad jury selection question: “[Proposition you'd like your jurors to accept.] Who disagrees?” (Followed, for the asshat lawyer coup de grace, by “I take it by your silence that you agree.”)
• Better jury selection question: “What do you think about [issue]?”
• Even better jury selection question: “How do you feel about [issue]?”

If you want to know what people’s guts say, you can’t ask them what their brains say.

How do you feel about that?

Okay, let’s play “one of these things is not like the other things,” Houston criminal-defense lawyer edition.

Ready?

• John Floyd.
• Jack Carroll.
• James A. “Andy” Nolen.
• Don Becker.
• Tyler Flood.
• Wayne Hill.

Which of these things just doesn’t belong?

If you guessed “Andy Nolen”, you’re right.

Because John Floyd, Jack Carroll, Don Becker, Tyler Flood, and Wayne Hill are extremely competent, talented lawyers who have tried criminal cases? It’s a good answer, but not the one I’m looking for.

Because John Floyd, Jack Carroll, Don Becker, Tyler Flood, and Wayne Hill are the kind of criminal-defense lawyers you want on your side when you’re forced into bet-your-freedom litigation? Also a good answer, but again, that’s not it.

Because John Floyd, Jack Carroll, Don Becker, Tyler Flood, and Wayne Hill are honest men who can get hired without playing blatantly deceptive advertising games? Closer, but still not it.

Because Andy Nolen is the only one who has won a Defending People Asshat Lawyer of the Day Award? Getting warmer. . . .

Okay, okay: it’s not really a fair game. What I was looking for is this: Andy Nolen is the only person who got five stars from this guy when he left 13 lawyer reviews on July 19th.

Here’s the guy’s review of John Floyd, whom he gave one star:

Not sure what to say?
Take a look at our Review Guidelines first.
Keep these tips in mind:
Write like you’re telling a friend about your experience. Give specifics and helpful details.
Write fairly about the business or service. Don’t include personal information about the owner or establishment.
Do not use profanity, and do not include your own

Oh, and since he seems to have screwed that one up, he also left this review for John:

Thank God this man isnt defending people on death row, the price of rope would have doubled by now

Here’s his review of Tyler Flood (also one star):

Write fairly about the business or service. Don’t include personal information about the owner or establishment.
Do not use profanity, and do not include your own email, phone number, or other personal details

Here’s his review of Wayne Hill (one star):

I’m not sure I would really recommend this firm. Definately not the cheapest. My wife suggested that I don’t bother to comment, but I feel that’s my right after I paid.

Here’s his review of Jack Carroll (one star):

I just don’t feel that my offense got taken seriously enough by these guys. My future is no laughing matter espescially now adays with the economy tight and these guys being OVERPRICED like that. I worked too hard to keep a roof and car to just loose it all. Get somebody better.

Here’s his review of Jack’s partner Don Becker (one star):

Wanted way too much money, hired someone else. Waited for return calls which i never got, seemed disinterested in me.

And here’s our anonymous friend’s review of Andy Nolen:

…the painful truth is that there are literally hundreds of choices for criminal defense in the Houston and Harris County area, I can simply tell you that when our family was in dire need of fast and affordable legal service, Mr. Nolan responded immediately and got the results we needed. I would recommend him to anyone in trouble period.

Anyone who knows any of these lawyers knows that there is no possible way that these reviews are true. People who have hired Wayne Hill do not then go and hire Andy Nolen (though they might well go in the opposite direction).

Who is responsible for this nonsense? The legal principle of viaticum sequere gives us the most likely answer. That Andy Nolen needs fraudulent reviews (of himself as well as of actual criminal-defense lawyers) as well as the rest of his repertoire of sleazy, deceptive, manipulative advertising speaks volumes not only about his character, but also about his ability.

Or, more precisely, his lack thereof.

[Update: For more on Andy Nolen, see:
Houston criminal-defense lawyer Paul Kennedy: I'm calling you out, Andy Nolen.
Houston criminal-defense lawyer Cynthia Henley: Thinking about hiring Andy Nolen - let's put it this way - you better shop around . . .
Miami criminal-defense lawyer Brian Tannebaum: In Houston, Criminal Defense Lawyer Andy Nolen is the Best. Everyone Else Sucks.
Houston criminal-defense lawyer Murray Newman: When We All Agree
Houston criminal-defense lawyer John Floyd: Houston Attorney Andy Nolen: A Dishonest Lawyer?
Houston DWI Lawyer Dane Johnson: New Lows in Lawyer Marketing - Andy Nolen's style
The Further Adventures of "Lawyer" Andy Nolen
The Continuing Adventures of "Lawyer" Andy Nolen
Andy Nolen: Total Fraud?
Andy Nolen: Today's Last Chapter]

You may not have noticed this, but people don’t like lawyers very much. Or rather, they don’t like people acting like lawyers very much. Once they get to know them, they like the human beings behind the label just fine, but it’s not the jurors’ job to go behind the label, and if you define yourself as “Big Important Attorney Man” they’re not going to. I bet a young lawyer $50 that he would get laid more if his business cards said “Self-Important Asshat, Esq.” instead of “Attorney at Law”. Not the easiest $50 I’ve ever earned, but it was easier than stringing barbed wire.

(Not unrelated: screw up and stay happy.)

So Rule 2 of the Simple Rules for Better Jury Selection was to be The First Date Rule:

Treat jury selection like a first date with everybody on the jury panel.

“Blind date” is a better metaphor, since the parties to a non-blind date have presumably each chosen the other, or at least formed first impressions. In jury selection, neither the lawyer nor the jurors have exercised any selection before arriving in a room together.

So: Treat jury selection like a blind date with everybody on the jury panel.

How is jury selection like a blind date with 60 people?

Someone, thinking they might be a match, has put two parties in a room together. One party—the lawyer—has some desire to be there. The lawyer has some idea of a desired outcome (I know, I know: I’m a hopeless romantic). Neither party knows much about the other. The lawyer wants to learn about each juror (to find out if he or she is a suitable mate) while persuading him or her that the lawyer is likable, and thus a suitable match as well.

It’s not a perfect metaphor (can there be a perfect metaphor for a thing, other than the thing itself?), but it steers us toward what I think is a decidedly unlawyerly way of dealing with those 60 human beings.

Lecturing is clearly out of the question. You can achieve neither of your two immediate goals (learning about your potential mate, and appearing not to be an asshat) by lecturing.

People feel appreciated when they are listened to. Think about how much time in the day you spend with someone hanging on your every word. So you can achieve both of your immediate goals by listening to the jurors’ answers.

Their answers to what? To your questions, sure, but the questions are secondary; it’s the answers that are important. If you can get your jurors talking without asking any questions, and then just listen, you’re winning.

If you have to ask questions, what kind of questions? Yes-or-no questions can feel like an interrogation, so maybe open-ended questions will feel a little more comfortable. Questions about facts, or about feelings? A little bit of both—either can get intrusive—but jurors decide cases on feelings, and then use facts to justify their decisions, so fact questions are most useful when they are introductions or shortcuts to the feeling questions.

One more thing: It’s not 60 blind dates. It’s one blind date with 60 people. Those 60 people have formed a group in the hours that they’ve been processed through the courthouse to sit before you. They know each other’s names, they have a pecking order, they have inside jokes. If you diss one of them, you’ll offend all of them. (If, on the other hand, you show respect for one of them, they’ll all appreciate it.) Before you shut one of them down, you’d better be damn sure that you’re culling an outcast.

If you’re good, you’ll wind up with six or 12 people who like you enough to want to spend a couple of days in trial with you and who you know enough about that you are comfortable returning the feeling. If you’re very lucky, your adversary will have outlawyered you in voir dire, and your jury won’t feel the same way about him.

Previously: The Nike Rule.

Up next: The Shrek Rule.

We lawyers are a pretty messed-up bunch—more emotionally and psychologically messed-up than the mean. We suffer from higher incidences of alcoholism, drug abuse, and depression than the general population.

The lawyer whose career is his whole life, who defines himself in terms of his prowess as a lawyer, is in for disappointment and trouble. Because if you are your successes, then when a case doesn’t end as hoped, you are the failure. A common sequel: the fruitless search for fulfillment in ultimately self-destructive behavior.

The lawyer who can strike a healthy balance between clients and family, between career and avocation, between work and life is going to be happier and more fulfilled than the lawyer whose personal life is in smoking rubble because of his monomaniacal fixation on being Lawyer. In other words, a lawyer is a better lawyer when he is happier and more fulfilled.

That lawyers should seek work-life balance is damn near a no-brainer. So much so that even curmudgeon Scott agrees: there has to be an end of the day, when even lawyers can take their uniform off and pretend that they’re [or be?] human beings. We can accomplish much greater balance in life without sacrificing or shifting our lives onto the backs of our clients if only the business of lawyers comes to grips with a changing attitude toward how we service our clients.

If we had jobs rather than vocations—if, for example, we worked in offices counting widgets or with Thomas DiCicco in a Boca boiler room lying to people—there would be nothing at work competing with our responsibility to take care of  our families. We could arrive at work at 8:00, have an hour to ourselves for lunch, cut out at 5:00 and leave the job behind. Work-life balance would be easy.

But as criminal-defense lawyers, we have people other than our families to take care of and protect, and protecting them is not just an 8-to-5 job. By its terms, “work-life balance” recognizes that each—work, life—has some weight. It doesn’t—can’t—mean sacrificing our clients’ lives for the sake of our own. The work will conflict with life. The criminal-defense contract, at least implicitly, is this: “You’re entrusting your future to me, and maybe paying me a bit. In exchange, I’ll give up some of my life, dedicate my time and my energy to trying to preserve yours.”

How’s that?

Dan is not writing to criminal defense privateers, but to young lawyers seeking jobs:

Someone has done you a disservice if you believe employers exist to serve you–and to make you happy. We exist for customers and clients. We will train you–and work very hard to do that. . . . But “work-life” balance is “your” problem–not our firm’s or mine. Each one of us creates our quality of life as we learn to be lawyers, develop standards, hold hard to those standards every day, and attend to the main event: clients. . . . If you are a job-hunting student or young lawyer expecting our firm to support a regime of work-life harmony, please try another shop. That is always your problem.

Law firms don’t exist to make lawyers feel fulfilled; they exist to serve clients . . . and to make money for partners (n’est-ce pas, Dan?). Firms hire young lawyers, invest in their training and development, and get as much return as they can squeeze from their investment. Every hour an associate can work is worth more money to the firm than to the associate. That’s the way the system works, and it’s part of the greatest wealth-creation engine in history: capitalism.

If you want a system where young lawyers give what they are able and get what they need, look elsewhere, and good luck to you. To a firm, associates aren’t just labor; they are also the means of production, like the mules in the mill, and the firm is entitled to do what it wants with the means of production. If you want to participate in the system (for a little money now and the possibility of controlling your own means of production later), you give up control over your a not-insubstantial chunk of your life to those who are willing to feed and house (“pay”) and train you. That’s the law firm deal.

Don’t like it? Unlike the other mules, you’re always free to leave the mill.

Today’s asshats of the day are Adam Winter and Thomas A. DiCicco, Jr. of “Web Guardian” (I don’t know if it’s this WebGuardian, but it’s probably just a boiler room in Boca Raton).

And if you give them money and they lie to your clients? Well, that’s on you too. I guarantee that Adam and Thomas are not gonna come stand up for you in the grievance proceeding. Because that’s the way asshats roll.

[Update: This post was good in 2007, too, when Turkewitz wrote it.]