Fascination with Crime and Criminals

The second question a criminal defense lawyers is asked at a cocktail party is, “Do you have any big cases?”  They want to know whether we represent somebody who made headlines, some criminal they’ve heard about.  The question is really a two-part inquiry, as they are asking us whether we are sufficiently high profile that they would “know” us, and whether we touch notoriety through our clients.

While we live in a celebrity culture, a significant oddity is that criminals have joined the ranks of the famous.  Unlike Paris Hilton, whose celebrity comes from nowhere, criminals hold a fascination for people who seem not to recognize that they may not be fascinating at all. 

This piece in the ABA Journal Magazine announces the National Museum of Crime and Punish­ment in Washington, D.C.  It seems a natural step down the road of glorifying criminal culture.  Not glorifying crime as much as our fascination with crime.  While I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go to it, I’m sure that there will be plenty of visitors.

While there are some criminals whose allure has held firm over the years, like John Dillinger or Bonnie & Clyde, and certainly Al Capone,  there is little about them that would drive me to see artifacts of their crimes.  Similarly, I can’t imagine standing in line to view an exhibit about “constitutional rights and notable U.S. Supreme Court rul­ings, including Miranda v. Ari­zona, 384 U.S. 436 (1966).”  Sounds awfully sexy, doesn’t it?

This culture of celebrity has resulted in some peculiar problems for criminal defense lawyers, particularly the younger ones who have their first opportunity to take on a high-profile case.  The legal issues are usually nothing out of the ordinary.  When a crime lands on the front page of the New York Post, the criminal suddenly has leverage.  Family members will try to use that leverage to get a lawyer to take on the case at a greatly reduced fee, or possibly for free, in order to get the publicity that comes along with the profile.

On a few occasions, this pofile has served to take a run-of-the-mill lawyer and turn him into a star of sorts.  I vividly remember the Bernie Goetz case, making Barry Slotnick into a household name.  At least for a while, long enough to get paying clients into his office so that he could cover the cost of the Goetz trial. 

But rarely does the high profile case serve to help the budding lawyer.  First, there is a never ending stream of them, and today’s front page case is tomorrow’s yawner.  The neophyte lawyer is still stuck on the free case, but his image has already been forgotten.  To the media, the lawyers aren’t the main event.  As I read coverage of high profile cases, I immediately look to see who the lawyer is.  Most of the time, the story doesn’t even include the lawyer’s name.  He’s an afterthought at best.

Having had the pleasure of representing some high-profile defendants, I can unequivocally tell you that they are no more fascinating than anyone else.  They are, however, far more time-consuming and demanding.  They buy into their publicity, believing that they are indeed quite important.  In fact, to some extent, our fascination with crime drives some of it, with people who are particularly uninteresting finding their moment in the limelight, their 15 minutes of fame, through crime.  Sick but true.

Some defendants actually court the attention.  They love it.  They want to talk to the media, to be courted by reporters.  When the offers roll in to be on some newsmagazine, they drool at the opportunity.  When I explain that this is not in their best interest, that they will not come off as a star, but rather as a creep at best, they get angry.  Who is this lawyer to steal their moment of fame?  They believe that they can convince the world of their importance, it not their innocence, not realizing that this is all about editing for entertainment. 

Some lawyers are right on board with their clients, thrilled at the prospect of sitting next to their very own famous criminal.  Who cares if the defendant is eviscerated on camera, as long as they look good.  That chance to be the hit of the cocktail party is hard to pass up.

But don’t let the glare of the camera lights blind you from reality.  Very few cases are museum worthy.  Very few defendants are interesting.  Most are painfully pedestrian.  They are real people with very real problems, exacerbated by the attention, but hardly the types of people who will ever walk down a red carpet. 

So when I’m asked the cocktail party question, I answer the same.  Yes, I have big cases.  Every person I represent is a big case to me.  But not one of them is someone who deserves celebrity.  They just aren’t very fascinating.  And they certainly have no place in a museum.