I’m deluged with lawyers, marketers, the ABA, and pretty much anybody with email or internet access, telling me how the internet is going to save us.  By “us,” I mean lawyers and those who use lawyers. String together as many vague, fuzzy words as necessary, which proves that it’s where lawyers will find the path to wealth and prestige.

Which compels me to wonder how to account for reality.  Over at Popehat, Ken talks about the latest internet crazy. As anyone who has either spent some time online, or taken a stand on anything remotely resembling principle, has learned, the internet is filled to the brim with crazy.  Ask Marc Randazza. Ask me too.

Or then there are the lawyers who believe their next legal fee is coming via the internet, only to learn that they’re the latest targets in the Nigerian scam that’s been around for at least 30 years, but has gained incredible new life online. An email comes in from a “new client” and a lawyer is thrilled. After all, isn’t this how clients will be finding counsel in the future?  Isn’t this what lawyers are counting on?

Or maybe it’s just the tire kickers, the clients without money or who read the “how to hire a lawyer” advice on co-op advertising sites that scam lawyer and client alike in order to sell advertising at a penny a click.  These are the one who believe you need to interview a few hundred lawyers and ask insightful questions like “how many cases like this have you handled” before they demand pro bono representation.

Years ago, the sound of a ringing telephone brought a smile to my face. If it was a new client, they would come by way of a former client or a lawyer who knew me, and who knew the nature of cases I took, the quality of work I did, and the fees I charged.  It was rarely someone who was considering retaining me, but someone who sought my representation.  The first meeting was not an interview, but getting started.

Today I cringe when the phone rings.  What will it be now, a shop-lifting case in Phoenix?  A post-appeal request for pro bono?  Maybe some incomprehensible harangue about the evils of the system and why I (you da lawyer, you supposed to fix it) am obliged to end it?

A while back, I noted that the blogosphere is the great equalizer.  We don’t always know who we’re dealing with, whether male or female, black or white, young or old. The problem is it extends far beyond the positive, the elimination of irrelevant bias, and deep into the realm of more troubling humanity.

Twitter sends me emails about new followers, and sometimes I look to see who they are, pondering the essential question of why anyone would want to follow me.  Most of the time, the bio is a flagrant advertisement, whether it’s for their legal, marketing or SEO services.  The child-like come-ons, once slightly novel, have become utterly predictable in begging that I follow their journey to whatever they want me to buy.

Buy?  I don’t know who you are. Are you a nutjob, a tire-kicker, a Nigerian prince?  Some of you might be great lawyers, or great people, and if I ever had a chance to know you, I would want to go to dinner with you and send you business.  But I will never know because there’s nothing about the internet that allows me to generically distinguish you from the liar, the moron, the incompetent and the dishonest.  It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, but the internet, the great equalizer, makes everyone look the same.

I’ve learned this the hard way.  There are people with whom I’ve interacted online for years, only to learn later that I was very wrong about them.  Whether I was naive or just stupid is hard to say, but as my mistake smacked me upside the head, I learned.  Just because you retweet something I wrote doesn’t make us best friends, or make you my new go-to guy for personal injury.

My purpose in writing this isn’t to thwart the myriad businesses and well-intended scams of hungry entrepreneurs who are certain that their future wealth will be found on the internet, but rather because it’s painful to watch others endure the suffering that comes at the hands of the internet.  It struck close to home when I read Ken’s post about his internet psycho, or Marco’s story about how websites in the name of his wife and daughter had been purchased by an internet nutjob.  And for those who haven’t figured this out yet, some of the crazies playing lawyer online are, in fact, lawyers. And crazy. And dangerous. 

Every day, new lawyers come aboard the speeding internet train, praying it hasn’t already left them behind.  They use all the tool marketers tell them they must, writing happy posts and retweeting anything they think will get them a new friend. They phrase their bios and websites and toss in a video to prove their sincere. Some leave out the unpleasant details and show only a perpetual smile.

What they don’t realize is their friends are at best others hoping for the same as them, to get someone to throw them a bone. At worst, they’re following a crazy person or a Nigerian lottery winner.  And when their phone rings, and the caller says they found them on the internet, they will come to the painful realization that they’ve put in this effort, spent their money, for nothing.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy and appreciate the internet. I do, even with all the problems it has. But then, I realize the problems exist and have become generally savvy enough to avoid many of them.  I’ve been around here for a while.  Many others are new and hear only about the joys and wonders of the internet.

It’s unlikely that any lawyer seeking their fortune on the internet is going to heed my words.  It’s been a while since any bar association asked me to participate in a CLE about social media, as they much prefer those who have happy and positive things to say rather than warnings about scams, liars and nutjobs.  Nobody wants to hear the downside. It’s unpleasant.

But once a lawyer has made the mistake of buying into “the future,” they may find their way here.  Maybe some lawyer’s family won’t have to endure a psycho stalker putting up websites about how they’re pedophiles.  The internet may not save you, but it can do you a lot of harm. Maybe I can help somebody avoid that harm.