Michael Skakel had it all going for him.  Rich family.  Decades between a murder and a prosecution.  The ability to hire the best and brightest legal counsel available.  Enter Mickey Sherman.

Mickey has a smile that will light up a room.  He is disarming and charming.  He has reached that upper echelon of lawyers who do big time cases.  He was a regular on Larry King, and there was always a seat available for him at Regine’s. 

But Mickey lost Skakel.  For many, that’s enough.

Norm Pattis, formerly of the now-defunct Crime & Federalism, raises a better points at his new blog.

The next meaningful chapter in this saga will be a habeas corpus petition alleging ineffective assistance of counsel against Sherman. It will be a painful chapter in the history of the Connecticut bar. Sherman is a member of the well-heeled and clubby fraternity of high-rollers. Someone will have to attack Mickey to save Mr. Skakel.

Did Skakel lose the trial because his lawyer was too busy playing celebrity?

The lure of the shining lights is powerful.  And Mickey was custom made for celebrity.  He had the look.  He had the mouth.  He was the dream defense lawyer for every cable news show in need of lunch meat to fill the hole in its sandwich.  And Mickey was born to be lunch meat.

So why didn’t Mickey, awash in Kennedy money to use every available resource to defend his client, strategically build a corps of lawyers, investigators, experts to address everything the prosecution could throw at Skakel?  Was it to save the limelight for himself?

Consider what happened to the OJ dream team.  It started with Bob Shapiro, no stranger to celebrity himself, adding some of the most recognizable names in the law to the defense side.  F. Lee Bailey.  Johnny Cochran.  Barry Scheck.  Each a star in his own right.  In fact, much more a star than poor Bob Shapiro, now entrepreneurial  founder of legalzoom.  Though well-known, Shapiro was the least well-regarded lawyer on the team.

Mickey didn’t need a team of hard-working, nose to the grind-stone lawyers.  Mickey would beat back the prosecution with his smile, charm and wit.  And then make it to Larry King in time to bask in the glow of success, after the jury foreperson announced, with a big, broad smile, “Not Guilty!”  What a party it would be then.

Except it didn’t happen.  All except the Larry King appearance.  That happened.   Despite the verdict of guilty, Mickey found the time to go on Larry King.

For most trial lawyers, revisiting our work is what happens when a client is convicted.  In a peculiar way, we hope that we did something during the course of the trial that a post-trial motion will reveal to be ineffective and thus open the door to a new trial.  We don’t need to pretend that we are perfect.  Indeed, there is no such thing as perfection at trial, just a series of non-stop choices, to be made in split-seconds, based upon inadequate information. 

Will Mickey still have that beautiful smile when asked whether he was ineffective at trial?  Stay tuned for more of Larry King!