Even though he retired in 1999, the legacy of Louis Scarcella’s detective work lives on. It lives in the 16 years Jeffrey Deskovic spent in prison for a rape and murder he didn’t commit. It lives in the 23 years David Ranta spent in prison for the murder of a rabbi by someone else.  And  Brooklyn District Attorney Joe Hynes says its Scarcella’s fault.

The mistakes were largely pinned on Mr. Scarcella, who according to an inquiry by Mr. Hynes’s office let informants out of jail to visit prostitutes, often had no notes to back up his interviews and told a witness to pick Mr. Ranta out of a lineup. Mr. Scarcella, who retired in 1999, has denied any wrongdoing. 

 Inmates said he made up confessions, and Mr. Scarcella acknowledged having used the same crack-addicted prostitute as an eyewitness on at least six different occasions.

Legal experts say the office is playing the role of a champion against injustice after spending decades defending weak cases under Mr. Hynes and his predecessor, Elizabeth Holtzman.

“The disturbing thing is the way they are making this look like a rogue detective, when a lot of detectives in the late ’80s and ’90s were operating that way,” said Joel Rudin, a lawyer who sued the city on behalf of Jabbar Collins, a man exonerated after serving 16 years for a Brooklyn murder. Prosecutors “knew what was going on and took advantage of it to get convictions.”

I give David Lat at  Above The Law a lot of credit for trying to do the impossible, challenge U.S. News & World Reports list of the best law schools.  The cynical view of his effort is that he’s trolling for eyeballs by catering to the crowd of disaffected law students and young lawyers, but then it’s a topic that lends itself to cynicism.

Harvard Law School’s goodwill ambassador Elie Mystal explains to Lee Pacchia, who went to the same law school I did in 1979.


Any video that shows Elie in a suit, looking so “natural,” is worth watching.  For those who don’t know much about Elie, he’s smart and a fun guy to hang out with, though he talks about 100 miles per hour so you have to listen closely between slurps of beer.

Whether the approach has any scientific validity, or any more validity than the US News flavor, doesn’t really matter. The difference in approach is that US News looks to inputs, whereas ATL looked to outputs. In other words, the question wasn’t how many tenured lawprofs are on staff, or how many books are in the library, but how many students come out of school and get jobs.  The premise of the former is good inputs will produce good outputs, though there is nothing clear about what constitutes good inputs.

But at a time when law schools churn out 45,000 students for a society that can only offer jobs to about half, ATL questions in quasi-Moneyball fashion, whether the pieces of law school that we traditionally believe reflect their quality are anything more than baloney. 

The basic premise underlying the ATL approach to ranking schools: the economics of the legal job market are so out of balance that it is proper to consider some legal jobs as more equal than others. In other words, a position as an associate with a large firm is a “better” employment outcome than becoming a temp doc reviewer or even an associate with a small local firm. That might seem crassly elitist, but then again only the Biglaw associate has a plausible prospect of paying off his student loans.

In addition to placing a higher premium on “quality” (i.e., lucrative) job outcomes, we also acknowledge that “prestige” plays an out-sized role in the legal profession. We can all agree that Supreme Court clerkships and federal judgeships are among the most “prestigious” gigs to be had. Our methodology rewards schools for producing both.

Although the decision and order are dated April 29th, Justice Shlomo Hagler’s order hit the interwebz after hours on a Friday, a bit of internal irony under the circumstances.  Marco Randazza, counsel for a large group of Rakofsky defendants, post the order at the Legal Satyricon, and all 31 pages are available for your reading pleasure.

The TL;dr version is that the complaint, all 1200+ paragraphs and 300+ pages of it, is dismissed.  Sanctions are denied.

That the court dismissed the complaint should come as no surprise. It was baseless and stunk, but you already knew that.  It was procedurally defective in so many ways that it would have taken a small fortune to expound on the arguments and issues that are normally subject to intense scrutiny in an ordinary case, and most defendants just waved those issues for the sake of expediency and a final determination on the merits.

The decision was judicious, likely crafted for the purpose of covering all the bases on appeal so that it never darkens Justice Hagler’s chambers door again.  Its recitation of the facts was simultaneously damning and limited, addressing only the wrongs that came out of the Deaner trial and ignoring all that was learned afterward, and formed the basis for much of the commentary about Joseph Rakofsky.  In a way, it’s understandable, given the unwieldiness of the case, the facts, the forests of trees that died for the cause and innate desire to limit rather than expand issues.

At the same time, limiting the scope of the inquiry serves to ignore so many of the critical messages that  arose from Rakofsky’s conduct.  While it may make sense from a judicial perspective, there were a host of critical issues for the legal profession that were left on the table. This may reflect the difference between how one views the world as a judge versus those lawyers who waste their days trying to prevent the next generation from dragging the profession into the gutter. It may also explain why we’re bloggers rather than judges.

As for the denial of sanctions, this will give rise to some confusion by lawyers and others from foreign (meaning, not New York) jurisdictions.  In New York, sanctions are so rarely imposed as to be essentially nonexistent.  Was this the one case so outrageous, so frivolous, that sanctions would be imposed?

There are numerous factors that may have influenced the denial of sanctions.  Foremost, the dismissal of the complaint would ordinarily be deemed sufficient “punishment.” That’s how New York rolls.  But additionally, we have the fact that Joseph Rakofsky will live in perpetuity on the internet as the poster boy for what not to do in so many different ways.  More punishment.

Other influences include the sense that Rakofsky’s conduct, from its initiation in the Deaner trial to his websites to his suit against the Internet was, as Justice Hagler termed it during oral argument, a “rookie mistake.”  While others would explain it differently, this mitigates the basis for sanctions. Additionally, the court found some comments harsh and offensive, which generates some off-setting sympathy for Rakofsky. While it may not be a legal justification, sanctions are more about “feeling” than “thinking.”

On a firmer foundation, the imposition of sanctions would have been unlikely to lead to any defendant having received a dime, making them more a gesture than a reality.  At the same time, it would have given Rakofsky greater incentive to appeal, and exposed the decision to a greater likelihood of reversal, given the rarity of sanctions in New York.

Still, the notoriety of this matter, from its inception to the litigation, offered enormous opportunity for a court, a judge, to explain to a new generation of young lawyers, digital natives who see what was once a learned and honorable profession devolve into the gutter of deceit for their own self-interest, and who will use the courts to burden, if not shut down, criticism of their ways, that the law will not tolerate them.

While it is clear to those of us who spend our time on the internet and try our best to push young lawyers toward the path of ethics, hard work, client service and personal integrity, it may not be as clear to lawyers, even those in robes, who are not as aware of the race to the bottom and its impact on the future of the profession.  No one ever said that judges are tech aware or savvy. It’s not a job requirement.

And so the case of Rakofsky v. Internet comes to an end, perhaps with more whimper than bang as hoped, but still with one message that cannot be denied. Joseph Rakofsky’s claims were dismissed. The defendants win. Yes, Rakofsky burdened the defendants with the expense of having to defend against his gazillion allegations, and except for  the handful  of defendants who lacked the fortitude to put integrity ahead of convenience, the rest of us were prepared to suffer the cost and annoyance because integrity matters.  And so the defendants won.

If necessary, it will happen again on appeal.

There is probably no place in the country where the Castle Doctrine, the rule of law that allows a homeowner to take the life of a person who breaks into his home, with numerous local variations on the theme, more seriously than Texas.  Indeed, Texans seem to be of the belief that it applies to any variation on the theme, from someone else’s home to burglars outside the house, running away so they’re shot in the back. 

The motto of the Republic of Texas is “they needed killin’,” which makes what happened to  Jennifer Limon in Harris County all the more inexplicable.

You can hear the deputies asking the women to identify themselves, but the women refuse to comply and demand a search warrant. Then, the video shows the deputies arresting Limon.

She was charged for failing to identify herself to a law enforcement officer and resisting arrest.

Limon was in her own home. The deputies knocked on the door and she answered it. Some might question the wisdom of opening the door to police, but that’s not dispositive. By opening the door, she didn’t “open the door” to being questioned.  The threshold is a magic line in the law, a line that the police cannot cross except in very exceptional circumstances, unless they have a warrant. These deputies had no warrant.

The deputies were there to investigate, which is a perfectly fine thing for deputies to do.

Authorities said deputies came to the apartment as part of a follow-up investigation into the robberies, and added that the suspect’s stolen vehicle had been witnessed parked near Limon’s home earlier in the week.

Nothing there that offers any direct connection between the Limon’s home and the subject of the investigation, but that’s not the issue either. The issue arose when Limon refused to identify herself upon demand (or request, if one prefers police jargon and isn’t a slave to definitions). 

A spokesperson from the constable’s office said deputies didn’t need a search warrant because the women failed to give their names.

“That’s a violation of the law,” said Sgt. J.C. Mosier. “You have to identify yourself to a police officer. At that point, the officers entered.”

While this explanation may strike some as being superficially reasonable, Sgt. Mosier’s statement is sheer, utter legal insanity, enough so that it could go in the Hall of Fame For Stupid Shit Cops Say. No, you do not have to identify yourself to a police officer absent reasonable suspicion that you had, are or are going to commit a crime. Other than that, you have the right to decline and be left alone. Even in Houston.

And she had the forethought to have her cellphone video camera running, which sadly won’t embed and isn’t available on Youtube.  While recording the incident usually serves to give rise to excuses and denials, the Harris County Precinct 1 Constable’s Office doesn’t seem the least bit troubled by this conduct having been videoed, and apparently maintain that this was perfectly lawful conduct.

While watching this video, and in light of past commentary from Texans, the thought that went through my head was what would have happened had this not been Jennifer Limon, who obviously wasn’t particularly militant about the Castle Doctrine, but instead been a fellow with a gun inside his home.  The potential for an explosive situation was huge, and it’s impossible to say how many dead bodies would have littered the threshold of that home.

The police perspective is somewhat self-evident: they get to do whatever they feel entitled to do, and the citizen should comply now and complain later, provided he’s still alive to do so.  So what if they make a mistake of law, such as entering a home because the homeowner, for whom no suspicion exists, refuses to identify themselves upon command?  Want to live? Comply. 

To the police, it’s simple math. Do as they tell you and survive. 

This solution does little to protect the sanctity of the home, the constitutional rights of its occupants or the sense of unfettered entitlement to command the citizens for whom their position purportedly exists to bend to their will.  Compliance may be the safest route, though not necessarily, but it leads directly to the road to perdition. 

Chances are the deputies involved will be told by their supervisors to try their best not to embarrass the office again, and then given a medal for their bravery.  Limon will complain, which will then be investigated for the rest of her natural life until a determination is made that nothing happened here.  Maybe she’ll file suit and have it dismissed pre-answer on immunity grounds, or maybe it will settle for enough money to buy Slurpees for the whole family.

Not until the cops try this nonsense again with a guy with a gun and an attitude, and a few dead bodies litter the threshold, will the wrongfulness be taken seriously.  And one of the dead bodies will almost certainly be the homeowner, who will be absolutely right to protect his Castle. And very dead.

Olegs Kozancenko was a long-haul trucker.  Not a gang-banger or drug dealer. Not a child molester or con man.  A 58-year-old, 165 pound truck driver, finishing a haul and on his way home.  So how does he end up looking like this?



Well, the immediate reason is pretty simple: he was beaten by CHP Officers Andrew P. Murrill and Jim Sherman after they received “a report of a sleepy driver at the brake check station five miles east of the scene.”  Murrill gave Kozacenko a ticket for driving his truck too long, though it was based on his truck log for driving two days earlier.  It turns out that Murrill, by his own testimony, wasn’t a commercial truck “specialist,” which is code for he had no clue how to read the truck log or what the law required.  But that didn’t stop him from being a cop, so he issued the ticket, directed Kozancenko to sign it, and then Kozancenko did the unthinkable:

Kozancenko said he first wanted to read the ticket before signing.

The 220-pound Murrill goes on to write in his report that the 6’ 165 pound Kozacenko was “actively resisting ” and “exhibited extraordinary strength” in refusing to be detained. “It was not a standard arrest,” the officer stated on the witness stand, even with the help of his 190-pound fellow CHP officer Sherman on the scene with Murrill.

“He’s punched, his arm is broken, they’re on top of him face down, his ribs (are) fractured ,” said Katz. “They’re cutting off the oxygen for a significant period of time, they’re trying to use a taser on him.” 

…the truck driver suffered life-threatening injuries including a crushed left orbital eye socket, multiple facial fractures, a broken left arm, a concussion, unconsciousness and possible neurological damage.

Medical records also show that he apparently stopped breathing while lying out on the highway and had to be rushed to Auburn Faith Hospital. But Kozacenko’s injuries were too severe for that  hospital’s emergency room and he had to be transported to UC Davis Medical Center in Sacramento.

In addition to being cited by officer Murrill for driving over hours, Kozacenko was written up for DUI.   However,  that citation was also dropped (along with the driving too many hours charge) when Kozacenko’s  blood alcohol came back clean at 0.00%.

Acting Chief Ken Hill oversees the CHP Valley Division, which includes the CHP Gold Run office where Murrill still works. Hill told NBC Bay Area he could not address the specifics of the case because  of pending litigation, but assured that he reviews every incident where force is used by one of his officers including Kozacenko’s incident.

“It was not something that jumped out at me being ‘oh my gosh,’ we have some serious issues here,” Hill told NBC Bay Area.

But being a helpful sort, Acting Chief Hill offered these concluding words of wisdom.

“The public if they get stopped and simply comply with what they are asked to do, they have nothing to fear, nothing to fear at all. It is when a citizen decides to disregard the direction that they are given, and they decide to do something different, then things escalate, and I’m not talking about this case specifically, but sometimes a citizen will do things that causes us to escalate our actions,” Hill said.

Or to put it another way, do what we tell you or you’ll end up like Olegs Kozancenko. 

H/T FritzMuffKnuckle

While some lawyers who have chosen the more  avant garde 21st century Lawyer route of having a Virtual Law Office care little about such archaic details as the Code of Professional Responsibility, others, most notably Stephanie Kimbro, are deeply concerned.  The rules sometimes make it difficult for change, and for lawyers to do what’s best or easiest for them.

This is why I invariably turn to Steph when ethical issues arise, knowing that she won’t just shrug them off as the yoke of antiquity, to be ignored at her leisure.  While others argue that it’s their right to ignore the disciplinary rules, Steph may not like them any more than any other virtual lawyer, but she acknowledges and confronts them.

And so Steph did :

The NY State Bar Association Committee on Professional Ethics has published a new ethics Opinion 964 on April 4, 2013 that affects virtual law offices. (HT to  Niki Black for bringing it to my attention.)

The opinion is more related to lawyer advertising than virtual law offices, but it affects advertising for virtual, traditional and hybrid delivery models. The opinion was prompted by an inquiry from a lawyer who delivers immigration law services primarily online. Like many lawyers with virtual law offices, the lawyer rarely meets with clients in person and communicates using video conferencing and other digital methods of communication. Working from home, the opinion explains that the lawyer did not want to have clients coming to her home office. Accordingly, she preferred to use a PO Box or other mailbox service than providing her home address.

The issue arises from the fact that the lawyer, who works from home via her VLO, didn’t want clients “coming to her home.”  Steph explains why she doesn’t see the lawyer’s concern as unreasonable:

Being able to work from a home office and provide basic legal services through online delivery provides them with a way to get started in the legal profession. There are obvious security reasons for not wanting to give out your home address. My clients have 21st Century access to me, and frankly, that’s way more prompt and personal than your traditional 9-5pm street address and snailmail.

And, in a curious twist, she argues that it’s not as if the lawyer’s home address can’t be found anyway.

A virtual lawyer’s clients tend to be ones who can Google proficiently and find numerous online legal service options. They are smart enough to figure out that this is how you operate. And even if they aren’t, won’t that information be in your engagement agreement before any relationship is entered into? I can’t imagine a client who searches for me online, finds my website that says “virtual law office,” but then after seeing that really wants to drive to my house to meet me in person. That doesn’t happen. They want a virtual law office because they don’t have to go to an office. They have OTHER WAYS, modern methods, secure methods, of communicating with the lawyer.

After raising questions about this analysis, Steph asked me to explain why this was a problem.  At the most superficial level, it’s a problem because the rules say it’s a problem, and upon accepting our role as an attorney admitted to practice law, we commit ourselves to adhering to the Code of Professional Conduct.  But that’s not an explanation, and I owe Steph a more thoughtful response.

The rules exist for two reasons, the first being to set the parameters within which lawyers work, as a means of guiding our choices so that each individual lawyer doesn’t get to decide for himself what constitutes sufficiently ethical practices.  The second reason, however, is to protect clients from lawyers.

Steph’s analysis views the Virtual Lawyer from the perspective of everything working great. Her model client is knowledgeable, and both seeks and appreciates the alternative mode of practice.  Her model lawyer is competent, responsive and honest. Everybody is happy. Everything works great.  The only thing in the way are these damn rules.

But as many “consumers of legal services” tell us, lawyers aren’t always so wonderful, and neither are clients.  What about the lawyer who takes money and is never heard from again? What about the lawyer who provides inadequate, inaccurate, incompetent legal services, but insists their work is fabulous? What about the lawyer who assumes the responsibility of serving a client, but on the eve of the client’s need, can’t be found?

The rules exist for the bad times, not the good.  And even Virtual Lawyers can make mistakes, screw up, be grossly incompetent and unethical. This isn’t to say they are more or less so inclined, but no different than any other lawyer.  Stercus accidit. That’s where the rules come in.  So if the client can’t find the lawyer on the internet or by telephone, telex, smoke signals, Skype, whatever, and their need is to have something completed by tomorrow, where do they turn?  They may not want to pay the lawyer a visit, but they want to lose even less.

After some twitter discussion, Steph added:

UPDATE: After reading a couple comments about this post on Twitter, it seems to me a valid concern here is enforcement. How does the state bar monitor and enforce these rules. Yes, they have access to licensed lawyer’s contact information and some states do random auditing. Maybe the better discussion we should be having that hangs over all of these different tech-related ethics opinions is “How do we help the states to enforce the rules in an age where it’s easier for unethical lawyers (and those not even licensed to practice) to use the tech to hide and cover up the evidence?”  Part of this may be providing education to the state agencies handling enforcement about how the technology works and how to use it to handle online auditing and to track down folks who aren’t following the rules. This would be a worthwhile conversation.

This is why I like Steph so much, because she doesn’t hide from ethical issues.  But the question isn’t limited to bar enforcement of its rules, but to the actual needs of the maligned client.  The client whose lawyer disappears in the ether (with her money) and needs a document by tomorrow isn’t interested in how the bar can enforce its rules and discipline the lawyer. The client wants the job done, done right and done now.

So my short answer to Steph’s question is that the rules don’t exist to accommodate the wants of lawyers under the best of circumstances, but to protect the needs of clients under the worst of circumstances.

And Steph Kimbro is still my VLO heroine. Happy birthday, Steph.

When I read Norm Pattis’ posts, I mostly chuckle.  Even though he uses his keyboard primarily for self-aggrandizement, his efforts to promote the cause of whoever is paying him at the moment with a one-sided diatribe are more likely to fall flat than persuade. If a lawyer can’t put together a persuasive argument when there is no one arguing the other side, that’s pretty pathetic.

Then again, Norm’s new gig, aside from using his soapbox to let everybody know all the important work he is doing to give the impression that he’s a very important lawyer, is to make outrageous and ridiculous arguments that appeal to the people who eagerly await the new spring fashions in tin foil.  Whatever. Even the crazy and ignorant are entitled to counsel.

But it’s the disconnect, the hypocrisy, from post to post that gives rise to amusement.  Sometimes, he can spin his position from one side to the next so fast it will give a reader whiplash.  Sometimes, the arguments are so insipid that you can add a headache to the pain.  Yes, it can be very painful following Norm.  But when I saw that Norm had  taken up arms on behalf of the families who owned plots at a Hamden, Connecticut cemetery, who were ready to fight to keep the body of Tamerlan Tsarnaev from being buried there. it was more than any rational human being could take.

I’d like to believe that law has evolved beyond the point of thinking we need to punish inanimate objects. What could be more inanimate than the lifeless corpse of the suspected Boston Marathon bomber?

But plenty of Connecticut residents were enraged this week when a Vermont resident, Paul Douglas Keane, offered the use of one of the burial plots he owns in Hamden to the Tsarnaev family. Mr. Keane explained that this was his way of showing support for the forgotten, the despised and the oppressed. Everyone, he reminded us, is entitled to a decent burial.

Normally, I’d side with the likes of Mr. Keane. I earn my living on the dark side of the line separating the popular from the unpopular.

We don’t normally buy plots for perfect strangers. We purchase the right to bury a loved one, usually with the expectation that other loved ones will be buried nearby. Anticipating these expectations, a contract will typically specify the price of the burial plot, the rights to use plot for limited purposes associated with burial, and the obligations incident to ownership of a plot for such things as upkeep and general maintenance of the property. I doubt any contract for purchase of a burial plot anticipates that the owner might decide to use his plot to bury a reviled suspected terrorist.

Our argument was simple: Although the contract was silent on who could be buried in the cemetery, there were certain implied promises made to other plot owners when they purchased their property. Those promises would have been violated by turning the cemetery into a controversial theme park for the despised.

Plot owners in the cemetery had good grounds when they purchased grave sites to believe they were acquiring a resting place for themselves and loved ones. They also had good reason to assume that other members of the association were doing likewise. What would have provided them with notice that an out-of-state co-owner might decide to donate a grave site to the family of a notorious and hated man?

None, I say.

Following the tragic Sandy Hook shooting, one of the pre-eminent recommendations for student safety was the placement of police in every school.  Of course, many schools have had the experience of an officer patrolling hallways for years, offering some insight on what might happen if a police officer is assigned to work a school, spending his days roaming the hallways with no shooter in sight, day after day, with nothing to do. 

After all, the likelihood of an armed marauder entering a school is infinitesimal, while the police officer can get a bit bored and seek out some activity to occupy his trained, armed time.  What could go wrong?



At the Academy for Learning, a Dolton, Illinois school for special needs students, 15-year-old Marshawn Pitts walked down the hallway with his shirt tail untucked.  This was against the rules. Oh boy.

This video from 2009 presents a concern that ought to be considered, that keeping a cop cooped up in a school leaves a lot of pent up manly energy without an appropriate outlet. Enter special needs students, young children, your child, and a police officer in an environment that is replete with rules.  It’s a toxic mix.

Pitts was a learning disabled student in a school that, by definition, existed to provide an educational environment appropriate for him.  LD students occasionally have behavioral issues, having difficulty understanding rules or complying with them.  Whether dress codes, including things like keeping one’s shirt tucked in, are of such a serious nature as to mandate strict enforcement is a matter of personal sensibility, but the school had a rule.  Schools are allowed to have rules. Fair enough.

But is the rule worthy of such harsh enforcement as this?

A video, released to Pitts’ parents by the school several weeks after the incident, showed Pitts talking to the officer and a faculty member grabbing Pitts’ arm. Pitts pulls away and walks down the hall, with the officer and faculty member close behind. But the officer then slams him against the lockers and pins him on the floor — breaking his nose, according to Manzke.

The officer was taken to a hospital and treated for an eye scratch, Manzke said. But, he said, the officer was never charged with anything and an explanation for the incident was never provided.

But, the school said, “Unfortunately, the physical restraint of a student sometimes becomes necessary. In such instances, AFL and its staff are committed to employing techniques that are safe, effective and which conform to best practice standards.

Courts that handle civil matters are expensive. You have to pay for the judges, the staff, the guys in uniform who stand up and yell “all rise,” at least twice a day, plus pensions.  There’s that cool wood paneled room with the odd bench up front so that you know whose jokes to laugh at.  Yes, very expensive.  And still, they take forever to get anything done, because there is always a perfectly reasonable excuse to adhere to formalities that justify taking two years to answer the basic questions that explain why you’re there.

Then someone in LA (yes, I know it happens elsewhere, but this is a post about LA. Get over it.) came up with the really good idea that they could offer a different path. No robe. No big bench. But a free mediator who would help the parties to reach a resolution in short order, saving the litigants a ton of money and time.  No, not for everybody or every case, but for those who didn’t really want to spend the rest of their natural life dicking around a courthouse, alternative dispute resolution offered a viable option.

Via Vickie Pynchon, the folks who hold the purse strings in LA have decided that in this age of severe budgetary constraints, something must go.  So why not the quick, easy, free service?

In response to brutal budget cuts, the Los Angeles Superior Court is going on life-support at the same time as it abolishes programs that would make the delivery of justice faster, cheaper and more efficient.

Most startling of all court service cuts is the total shut down of all court-run ADR programs – including the free mediation services that settle thousands of lawsuits every year.

In an announcement posted on line at the end of November, the Court concluded its list of budget casualties by “encouraging” (read: begging) L.A. County lawyers to make fewer motions and pursue alternative dispute resolution processes (mediation, arbitration) in the private market.

See what they did there?  It’s not that they are against ADR, but just want to get the government out of the business of ADR and put it back where it belongs, in the private sector where the cost will be on the shoulders of litigants.  Even though free services are, well, free, and the cost savings of running free services is well, not much.

But this way, the administration of the court system can proclaim that they’ve cut services to prove their thrift and sensitivity to the fiscal demands of modern society.  What a great bunch of administrators.

As bad as the systemic problems with the criminal justice system may be, it’s got nothing over the civil legal system when it comes to delay, inefficiency and ineffectiveness.  It doesn’t have to be this way, if judges took charge of the conduct of litigation before them, stuck to the rule and imposed sanctions on lawyers who viewed the rules of civil procedure as marginally advisory.  But then, lawyers would whine incessantly about how they have a vacation coming up, their car got a flat and they couldn’t possibly advance their client’s cause without 32 rounds of games in responding to interrogatories.

The elimination of the alternative dispute resolution system is a huge step backward in providing society what the court system refuses, a speedy and inexpensive means of deciding dispute and reaching closure.  While some people refuse to ever admit they were wrong, or that the law doesn’t back up whatever insanity compels them to believe they have no duty to be careful or fulfill their contractual obligations, most rational people can appreciate that there are differing views, not necessarily unreasonable, but someone must ultimately be right and someone must be wrong.

These people don’t want to spend the next decade financing the lawyer’s kid’s college education or getting monthly bills for certified letters on a disputed issue that could have been wrapped up in a single phone call.  They just want their respective rights heard and decided, so they can move on to more important and useful endeavors.  This is what ADR does well.

But the LA legal system said something had to go, so why not make it one of the few things that works well, serves people and doesn’t cost much?  After all, it’s not like they could rid themselves of the guy in the robes who would never tell a lawyer to get his damn papers in within the time frame the law requires.  After all, if they did, who would sit on that cool bench?

H/T Stephanie West Allen

This video is already making its way across the interwebz, but the young man who made it, 12-year-old Jeremy Drew, could teach a master class in how to distinguish right from wrong, and how to properly shame a cop for impropriety.



No, a cop parking his motorcycle unlawfully on the sidewalk is hardly the worst thing ever done by a police officer.  Yes, there are actually legitimate reasons why a police officer needs to keep his vehicle close at hand in case of an emergency call while he’s inside the establishment getting a cold soda.

But then, if that was the officer’s rationale, he similarly could have explained why he engaged in conduct that would have been a certain basis for anyone else to get a summons.  He could have explained that there was no lawful parking spot, had that been the case, and he was constrained to park his police motorcycle illegally so that it was available to him in an emergency.  He could have. Instead, he chose a different path.

Why, he asks?  Because I have the right to.  My tiny heart melted right there.

“Are you a junior lawyer?”  Cool riposte, officer.  But not nearly as cool as “No, I just want to see your badge number.”

Having been outmaneuvered by this kid, the cop then resorts to the last bastion of the scoundrel, the implicit threat of asking for identification.  Without the slightest crack in his voice, the tenor and pitch steady and clear, the kid replies:

I’m a minor. I’m Jeremy Drew.