A client came to see me on Thursday.  He was desperate to see me as soon as possible.  It was urgent, he told me.  A matter of life or death. 

Long story short, he believed that his demise was imminent if he didn’t pay off a former partner of his, and he couldn’t make the payment.  You can’t get blood from a rock.  He was a rock.  What should he do?

There were three sets of options, none good.  One was to go underground and wait it out.  He wasn’t well equipped to do this.  Second was to stand up to his former partner, announce his circumstances and dare the former partner to do as he must.  My client was unprepared to live with the potential negative consequences of this choice.  And third, go to law enforcement, tell the truth, and implore them to save his sorry, unworthy butt.  This was my advice, with the caveat that if he was to go along with this choice, he had to appreciate that he was making a commitment to be honest with them or he would suffer grievous consequences.  He affirmatively stated that he understood.

And so I acted on his instructions.  I made the necessary connections and persuaded a particular law enforcement agency that this was something that would interest them.  And the journey began. 

On Friday, I get a curious telephone call.  “Didja know that your client went to (competing law enforcement agency) a month ago with another attorney?”  Nooooo, he never mentioned that.  “Didja know that they declined?”  Nooooo, he never mentioned that.  “Wanna ask your client about it?”  Yeessssss.  Yes I do.

And so I spoke with my client.  Yes, he informed me, it was all true.  So why did you omit these details when we spoke?  Well, nothing came of it and so I thought it didn’t matter.  No, no, no, I said.  I’m not buying.  You knew exactly what you were doing when you lied to me, I told him.  How, I inquired, did you think I was going to properly help you when you decided to lie to me?  Why would you want your attorney to be the only guy in the room who did not know the truth?

Let’s jump to the point.  Information is the ammunition in the defense attorney’s gun.  We devise strategy based on information.  We use information surgically (please excuse the mixed metaphor), knowing how far to push in one direction and when to shift to another.  Without information, we are shooting blanks.  With bad information, we have the gun pointed at our own client’s head.  And we, the lawyers, are going to get splattered with blood when the gun goes off.

I don’t like to look stupid, and a lying client makes me look stupid.  I don’t like my strategy to fail, and lies cause failure.  I don’t like to disappoint my clients, and a lying client is a losing client.  And clients don’t like losing either.  They can be a bit funny about that.  Yet, they sometimes fail to see the connection between providing their lawyers with the ammunition needed to properly defend and protect them and their ultimately achieving their goal. 

Most lawyers, when confronted with the lying client, absolve themselves of responsibility since there is little they can do to help a person who brings failure upon himself.  I agree with this rationale, but still have difficulty letting it end there.  My expectations of clients are that they do not always make good decisions, which is why they end up needing my services.  Lying to me is just another bad decision, so I try to overcome it and still serve them.  It can be quite frustrating, and is almost always unappreciated by the client.  In a certain way, I become an enabler of deceit by prevailing despite having been lied to.  But I’m not their conscience, just their lawyer.

Despite my best efforts, the likelihood of achieving my client’s goal is significantly diminished as a result of lies.  I read them the riot act, but find that unsatisfying.  And ineffective.  So the answer is plain.  If your situation is bad enough to require the services of a lawyer, then do yourself a favor and give your lawyer the ammunition he needs to serve you.  It’s still your life.  At least for the moment.