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On the shoulders of giants
Sir Isaac Newton is credited with saying, “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” I credit a great deal of the attorney I am now to those I have come across, whether as colleagues, mentors, supervisors or opposing counsel. As a result, I try to pay it forward with the law clerks I supervise or other attorneys I work with or against.
Generation J.D., as well as the other articles I write, also help me to achieve this goal. While I promise to share stories of those great and positive motivations in the future, I also know the image I never want to have. Avoidance of that image is just as much of a motivator.
The summer before my 3L year, I was a Rule 38 Student Attorney, which is Arizona’s equivalent of Maryland’s Rule 16. I worked at the Scottsdale City Prosecutor’s Office through the Criminal Practice Clinic. I had many great, career-molding experiences, both from my supervisors and from opposing counsel.
But one particular seasoned opposing attorney stood out.
One of my first trials was against that attorney, and it also happened to be my first against a defendant represented by counsel. Her client was charged with driving on a suspended license. During that summer, Arizona’s Motor Vehicles Division had a substantial paperwork backlog as well as an employee shortage. As a result, the necessary proof for a suspended license case – a certified record that the license was suspended and that a notice of the suspension was sent – was often not produced by trial date. Fortunately, this case was the exception.
From our very first interaction, when we discussed the case in the pretrial conference room, the opposing attorney was forceful. She made me for a student attorney immediately, and without missing a beat asked if I was going to dismiss. Given that I did not have that discretion even if I wanted to, I responded in the negative. She then told me that I would be unable to prove the case, because her client’s father would testify that he checks the mail daily and never saw the notice of suspension. When I expressed candidly that I was not particularly bothered at the prospect of losing because I was just thankful to be getting the experience, she accusingly inquired as to whether I thought my getting experience was more important than justice. I told her I thought I could do both, and our pretrial discussion ended with her again saying I would not be able to prove my case.
We tried the case. It was not particularly complicated. There were just two witnesses: my civilian witness who saw the defendant driving and the defendant’s father. There was just one piece of evidence: the certified MVD record. I do not recall whether there were openings, but I am sure there were closings, though I do not remember them specifically.
What remains crystal clear to me was the verdict: guilty.
As we stepped back after the case, the attorney took a parting shot.
“It takes a good attorney to convict an innocent man,” she said as we shook hands.
She then approached the clerk to note her appeal. I asked her when the appeal would take place; she said they usually took about three-to-six months.
“Too bad,” I said, “I’m only here this summer. I won’t get to beat you again.”
I strive to make certain that, someday, a younger attorney is not telling a similar story about me.
