This is funny stuff.  But representing the “jailhouse lawyer” falls into the category of A Little Knowledge is Dangerous, and learning how to explain things so that the client comes to the realization that a few weeks, even a few years, in the law library does not impart the level of understanding necessary to pretend you’re a lawyer.

But there’s another side of the “jailhouse lawyer” that Malum has yet to meet.  Inside (as people inside call it), being a jailhouse lawyer is a type of currency.  Inmates try to impress on another by their knowledge of the system, and their having “answers” to each others problems that creates a dependency.  I can’t remember how many times an inmate would tell me that some other guy inside told him about some magic way that he could cut his 25 year sentence to 366 days, and would I do it for him? 

This is a problem.  As we, lawyers try to advise our clients honestly and accurately, there’s some guy in a jail library somewhere whispering garbage into his ear.  We don’t know what’s being said, and thus can’t assess how it impacts on our advice and counsel.  We are fighting a battle, and don’t even know it.

There are times when our clients’ decisions seem detached from reality.  Are these just poor judgments, or is this the product of conflicted advice coming from multiple sources?  Sometimes our clients will tell us about what the jailhouse lawyer said.  Other times, it’s a big secret and the client doesn’t want us to know that he has somebody in the jail who is counseling him as to whether our representation is any good.

And why do inmates become jailhouse lawyers?  It gives them prestige with the institution; It provides them with a service to “sell”;  It offers them protection in a very dangerous place.  Truth be told, it’s not all negative, as other inmates who lack the resources to seek the advice of counsel turn to the jailhouse lawyers for lack of any other resource.  I’ve seen some who are actually pretty darn good, better than some real lawyers I’ve known.  Granted, these are very few and far between, but when the inmate has nowhere else to turn, what do you expect.  Nature abhors a vacuum, and there is a huge legal vacuum in prison where there just happens to be a whole lot of people obsessed with their legal rights.  Go figure.

But why would a client compare the advice of a lawyer with that of the jailhouse lawyer?  Because the latter frequently speaks to the client’s real desire.  The jailhouse lawyer offers simple answers to complex questions.  The jailhouse lawyer knows “secrets” that real lawyers conceal from all but their most important clients (and usually for a special fee).  The jailhouse lawyer tells the client what he wants to hear.  Real lawyers often have bad news to give.  Jailhouse lawyers tell others what they want to hear.

The response to most of this is fairly straightforward.  If the jailhouse lawyer really had these secrets, these magical “get out of jail free” cards, then why is he still there?