9-27-85 . . . Wow. I mentioned in passing the other day, to Lilia Espinosa, that raising and eating animals is wrong. She pestered me for reasons, and I explained some of the farming practices that are used to raise livestock. She told me a couple of days later that she had been unable to eat meat since. Yesterday, I brought Peter Singer’s book Animal Liberation [1975] to work with me, and today Lilia returned it with a note saying that she had read and was deeply moved by it. Who knows, she could become a raving vegetarian, like me—or, better yet, an animal-rights advocate. [I was not a vegetarian, since I still ate chicken and fish. I was a demi-vegetarian.] Lilia said that she had never thought seriously about meat-eating, and that that’s why she never abandoned it. This, I suspect, is true of most people. If only people would examine their lives and their actions, there would be a good deal less suffering in the world. But it takes very little to keep people doing what gives them pleasure, and meat-eating, for many, is a pleasurable activity. I wonder if [sic; should be “whether”] Lilia will go “whole hog,” as I have, and cease eating red meat.
Who says that lawyers can’t empathize with their clients? Today there was a happy ending in one of my cases. Donn M., you’ll recall, was arrested near a post office for stealing stamps. His intention was to be placed in a federal detention facility so that he could get help with his alcohol problem. But it didn’t work out that way, and Judge [Ann] Bowen ordered him released on his own recognizance. Today, Donn came to my office to find out what was happening on his case, and when we went to the court to find out (our office file was misplaced), we learned that the theft charge had been dismissed. According to the dismissal form, Donn lacks sufficient “mental competence” to assist in his defense. This is baloney. Donn is one of my brighter clients. He’s also witty and personable. But we were happy with the dismissal. Donn is now free to continue with his life, and he appears to be on the right track. He works for a scrap-metal dealer, has a place to stay, and is fighting his alcohol problem. When the tourist season gets into full swing, he hopes to find a job as a cook in a restaurant.
Having done all that I could for Donn as his attorney, it was time to say goodbye. We stood outside the Transamerica Building in drizzling rain, talking. Donn told me that he had “done everything” in his life, which prompted me to ask “Have you been to Australia?” “Well, no,” he responded. “But I’ve been in and out of jobs, in and out of lots of towns, on and off alcohol, and in and out of love. It’s the same thing, all over again.” “But that’s true for almost everyone,” I interjected. “We all have our troubles; that’s what makes life interesting.” “I suppose so,” he said. At that, I asked Donn if [sic; should be “whether”] I could give him some money. He shrugged his shoulders as if to express indifference, so I gave him a five-dollar bill. “That’s nice of you,” he said. “One of these days I’ll stop by the office with a box of Kentucky-fried chicken to thank you.” “OK,” I said, “but first make sure that your own needs are taken care of.” We shook hands and parted. I’ll always remember Donn, even if he never drops by with the chicken.
I left the office at 3:30 P.M. to visit some clients in [Pima County] jail. I wondered, as I sat waiting for the clients to be brought down, which of the following is most depressing: a jail, a courthouse, or a hospital. In all three, people have serious problems, whether legal or medical. I have, unfortunately, spent time in all three facilities. In my opinion, a jail is the most depressing, with a hospital second and a courthouse third. Why? Because jails reek of authority. Uniformed guards patrol every corridor; thick doors keep people, even visitors, from where they want to be; and the inmate population must feel as though there is no hope. In contrast, courthouses contain at least a glimmer of hope—that charges will be dismissed or that a verdict of “not guilty” will be rendered. Hospitals, too, are less depressing than jails. In a hospital, people share a common goal: to improve the health and well-being of the patients. There is not an atmosphere of authority and oppression as there is in a jail. So there you have it: reflections on jail life vis-à-vis courthouse life and hospital life.
One of my clients, an Apache Indian woman, is incarcerated for drinking in public and trespassing on private property. At first, she would not utter a sound. I asked question after question, but she just stared at a wall and ignored me. This prompted me to circle the word “yes” on my in-custody form where it says “S.I.U. evaluation ordered?” (An S.I.U. evaluation is a mental-health evaluation, to determine the competence of individuals to stand trial.) No sooner had I done this than the woman asked me, “What does ‘S.I.U.’ stand for?” Aha! I had finally broken through to her. She could talk, after all. I explained that an S.I.U. evaluation is a mental-health evaluation. “You weren’t speaking to me,” I said, “so I concluded that you either didn’t understand me or didn’t speak English.” The remainder of our conversation went smoothly, although at times she would lapse into silence. In my opinion, this woman knows exactly what is going on, but uses feigned mental illness to get what she wants from the authorities. Still, I’m going to request an S.I.U. evaluation.
Another client, a young black woman, is charged with loitering for [purposes of] prostitution. She cried when I told her that she may have to spend ten days in jail, and later I saw her sucking her thumb as she waited for me to finish my interview with the Apache woman. I’m serious: She was sucking her thumb, like a baby. She could not have been more than seventeen years old, and she looked more like thirteen. (I later learned that she was twenty-one.) When I got home, I made a telephone call to the motel where she lives, explaining that she needs help in posting bond. I really empathize with these people. It’s easy to say that they had a choice as to whether or not to break the law, but this ignores at least two things: first, whether or not the law itself is justified (most people simply assume without argument that it is); and second, the extent to which people are molded by their environment. Free will is largely a myth when you’re raised in the ghetto, and if it is, to whatever extent, then to that extent a person can’t be responsible for his or her actions. This is a controversial view, but it’s what I believe.
