Wholly unrelated, but there have been a number of posts lately on the subject of crazies.  Norm Pattis complains of the Connecticut Trial Lawyers Association’s attempt to deny defendants the opportunity to assess the craziness of a plaintiff who alleges that defendant made him crazy.  As Norm says, that’s just crazy.

Over at Popehat, Ken complains of the sort or clients sent his way via Martindale-Hubbell.

This afternoon we got a cold call from a man who wanted us to sue the county for implanting a microchip in his head. On contingency, of course.

That was fairly representative of the 3-4 cold calls a day we get recently. Most of which I have to deal with.

Somebody remind me — why did we decide to pay a ridiculous amount for a Martindale Hubbell profile again? If I wanted to meet crazy deadbeats, I could do it with a $20 and a short walk to Pershing Square.

Anyone who has been in this business for a while has received inquiries like this.  These are the tin foil hat folks (used to deflect the gamma rays that the government is shooting at their brains), who want us to deal with the government conspiracies against them, from the implantation of microchips to the CIA watching them in their bathroom. 

There are a surprising number of people who believe in such things, and they want lawyers to make their paranoid delusions go away.  The reason they seem to find lawyers via such online means as M-H and Avvo is that they’ve worn out their welcome locally and need to expand their search for a lawyer who truly appreciates their situation.  Real clients don’t need online sources for lawyers.  Clients no one wants do.  Ken was right, of course, to turn down the case.

But what made this post curious was that only a few days ago, Ken posted a query  about the ethics of accepting another case.

Say a client comes to you and says that they believe they are being watched by various law enforcement agencies, and that they want you to do something about it — say, send letters to the agencies asking what’s up, or file Freedom of Information Act requests with the agencies. Say that based on your interactions with the client, you’re pretty sure that there is no surveillance and no investigation, and that the whole thing is part of a delusional structure. Say that what the client wants you to do — send a letter or a FOIA request — does not impinge upon anyone else’s rights: it’s not like suing somebody or sending a threatening cease-and-desist letter. Say that doing this for the client might even give the client some peace of mind. Say that the client is not a danger to himself or others, and would not be made subject to a conservatorship if somebody tried that.

Is it ethically wrong to do the service for the client?

While it’s arguably different that this client, as opposed to the microchip client, comes with a delusion that’s slightly less absurd, though Ken states he’s “pretty sure” that there’s no basis for the client’s fears.  And there’s one other big difference.  This client is willing to pay for services rendered.

The comments to the query are very interesting.  While some note that, from a practical perspective, crazy clients are almost always the ones who end up being very unhappy clients (likely because of their certainty that the ultimate determination that “no, the government is not surveilling you,” makes the lawyer part of the conspiracy), resulting in grievances, maybe even a lawsuit, lots of wild telephone calls and perhaps a screaming match in the waiting room (assuming you have a waiting room). 

Most of the comments, however, reflect a “situational” ethics approach, or moral relativism based on the fact that the client has the wherewithal to pay.  When the client has cash, they aren’t quite so crazy.  In fact, maybe they are right, as even paranoids have enemies.  There are some interesting gymnastics played to justify taking the money of a potential client when the lawyer is “pretty sure” that there’s nothing to be done.

As lawyers, we have an amazing ability to rationalize ourselves into pretty much any hole we choose.  We know what we believe to be right and wrong, and then argue a way around it so that we can grab the loot.  If we don’t believe that we are providing a meaningful benefit to someone, then we’ve answered the question. 

Could we be wrong?  Of course.  Sometimes crazy things happen, and sometimes the tin foil hat person really has gamma rays being shot at him.  Well, maybe not gamma rays, but something.  And no one should be denied access to counsel if they have a legitimate need or grievance.  But that doesn’t mean that any lawyer they call has a duty to take on a client, no matter how crazy they seem.  Or if they have cash. 

Notice that there was no hesitancy, no effort to rationalize, taking on the microchip case on contingency?  Suddenly, no concern for the crazy case and denial of access to counsel?  Of course not.  It’s only about money.  Contingency means they have none, and that makes them crazy and broke.  Crazy with money makes them eccentric.  Eccentric sounds so much better.

When we ask questions like Ken’s, it means we already know the answer.  If it were otherwise, we wouldn’t ask.  We get retained and get to work.  We need no one’s approval or permission to represent our client.  At the same time, when someone we believe to be crazy calls, we similarly need no one’s permission to say no.  If we can distinguish the crazy seeking representation on contingent fee, we can do it when they have cash in hand.

Times are still hard out there for many lawyers.  Turning away a potential client who can pay a fee is like taking a meal away from your beloved child.  When we need to go through rationalization gymnastics to justify taking on a client, when we believe them to be delusional, we are offered an opportunity to decide whether we are lawyers or mercenaries.  There are plenty of crazies out there, and you will have the opportunity to decide whether to take their money.  This isn’t a test of them, but a test of you.