Q: Isn’t it true that you’re a lying liar who lied to your client, you liar?
A: Uh, no.

And so I envision Skelly’s cross-examination, when  subpoenaed to testify before a federal court on a habeas brought by a former client.  Skelly was unhappy about being called as a witness, and really hated receiving a subpoena.  But over time and enough clients, it’s bound to happen. 

A week from now, I’ll be on the witness stand answering questions about what I recall discussing or not discussing with a client of mine 5 1/2 years ago, prior to his entry of a guilty plea, and prior to his being maxed out by a judge known as Hang ‘Em Higher.

And so, with extreme trepidation, Skelly prepared himself for the inevitable.  Clearly, he wanted to get on and off the stand without saying anything to hurt his former client, but he was deeply concerned.

After the testimony was over, Skelly exhaled and let us know how it went.

My former client’s federal petition claimed that back in 2002, prior to his guilty plea, I told him that he did have a particular plea bargain, and that I lied when I told the trial judge that he did not. I testified that I did not tell him that he had a plea bargain. I testified that once he and I rejected the state’s first offer, there was no other plea bargain.

Note the accusation that he “lied”.  This would naturally put Skelly’s back to the wall, making it a Skelly versus defendant proposition.  It’s a tactical fiasco, but that’s why the defendant is in prison and desperate, while Skelly is a lawyer able to blawg about his experience.

Waiting and pacing most of the day before testifying, from the fifth floor I had a great view of my old church and the parochial school where I’d gone to CCD. [Ed. note: I’m not sure what this means either] I already was in a penitent frame of mind. However, I wasn’t willing to take counsel’s invitation to confess to something I hadn’t done.

Was counsel surprised that Skelly would confess to lying?  This presents a curious issue.  If the defendant was represented by counsel, why did counsel not communicate with Skelly, investigate what Skelly would say in advance and frame his questions so that Skelly could do as much as possible to help the defendant, rather than put Skelly into an untenable position.  Did the lawyer think that his forceful manner of interrogation would cause Skelly to breakdown on the stand, in a paroxysm of quivering and weeping convulsions, to admit his lying liar ways?

For those who have never had the pleasure of sitting in the chair next to a federal judge, it’s an experience.

What a curious experience, the hours of waiting simultaneously boring and stressful, then suddenly the courtroom door opens. It starts with swearing-in . . . your lawyer brain tries clearly and accurately to explain the who, what, when, why, and how, while it contains the growing urge of your reptile brain to swear at your cross-examiner. It was quite an education to be on the other end of such a cross examination, answering to the best of my recollection, summoning memories, keeping emotions at bay. I did not want to be there today.

Ultimately, Skelly vindicated himself well, telling the truth and doing his utmost not to harm his former client despite the peculiar approach of his current counsel.  It’s the best that one could do under the circumstances.  Still, he didn’t have any fun on the witness stand, and would likely prefer not to be there ever again.