“When we sit with our clients, this is another person on the other side <strong>of</strong> the table that we’re working with,” says Adam Us JD’11, an appellate defender in Massachusetts. “I’m lucky. I’m sitting on this side <strong>of</strong> the table. A different day, a different set <strong>of</strong> parents, whatever it is—it’s only by the grace <strong>of</strong> God I’m on this side <strong>of</strong> the table.” Beth Stang JD’04 agrees. “I try to tell myself, ‘I’m not so different than a lot <strong>of</strong> these folks,’” says Stang, a public defense lawyer in western North Carolina. “I took some different roads, and had some different opportunities, but that’s about it.” Thick Skin It’s not a very popular position to be in, defending people who are <strong>of</strong>tentimes charged with very serious crimes,” says Dearborn. “You don’t win a lot <strong>of</strong> elections, you don’t win a lot <strong>of</strong> popularity contests, and it’s a very thankless job.” But Dearborn says public defenders’ thick skin must be matched by sympathy for their clients. His first outing with students in his criminal defense clinic is to a local jail. “I want them to graduate with a sense <strong>of</strong> humanity,” says Dearborn. “I want them to know what’s at stake.” “What’s at stake” weighs heavily on many public defenders. Matthew Perrone JD’09 is a defense attorney in Westchester, N.Y.; about two-thirds <strong>of</strong> his caseload is public defense work assigned by a local panel. He left a job in corporate law about three years ago to establish his defense practice, and early on heard an adage from other defense lawyers: When a client is sentenced, you <strong>of</strong>ten “do the time with them.” Perrone recalls a trial that he thinks should have gone his way, but didn’t. For a week afterward, he had trouble eating and sleeping. He finds it all but impossible to leave work at work—but then again, maybe it should be that way. “I have an ethical obligation that I take very seriously to treat every case the same, and give it my full attention,” says Perrone. "To have someone's future and rights in your hands is really a high honor." And that’s perhaps what drives a problem that even the most tireless <strong>of</strong> defenders can encounter: burnout. “It’s very hard for people to be able to turn this into a career if they want to raise a family,” says Dearborn. Ten years into his own run as a public defender, he was still working long nights and weekends for relatively little pay. “That’s just not sustainable over a lifetime,” says Dearborn, and the result is that many good lawyers move on to different jobs or private practice. Even on the private side, it can be hard to make money as a defense attorney. Dearborn pointed to the “<strong>justice</strong> gap”—that growing number <strong>of</strong> individuals who do not qualify for a public defender, and yet can’t truly afford to hire a private lawyer. “People end up representing themselves, and they don’t get very good representation,” says Dearborn. Staying the Course What does keep public defenders going, then, in the face <strong>of</strong> low pay, long hours, and burnout? Campbell, now at Brooklyn Defender Services, says he remains grounded by remembering, and focusing on, his role. It’s noble to try to lift people out <strong>of</strong> dire circumstances, and to devote oneself to fixing a cycle <strong>of</strong> incarceration and poverty that propels many <strong>of</strong> his clients into a public defender’s <strong>of</strong>fice. And yet, several years into his career, he says he’s also made peace with a realization that “I can’t change as much as I’d like.” “People, especially the indigent population, are so at the mercy <strong>of</strong> this system, and the consequences can just be so devastating,” says Campbell. He tells himself, “It’s not my case. It’s this person’s case. I’m just merely their mouthpiece and their advocate.” And that, he says, “frees you a little bit” from the emotional burden <strong>of</strong> the work. The work can be much more than a burden, notes Perrone. “To have someone’s future and rights in your hands is really a high honor,” he says. “You have to take it seriously.” <strong>In</strong> Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom, Weight takes pride in his job, and his duty to hold law enforcement and prosecutors to their constitutional burden. “I believe if the government’s going to make an accusation, then they’re going to have to prove it,” says Weight. “They should be held to account.” “My thing is, you know what, at the darkest moment in my life, I want somebody standing in my corner, whether it’s my friend coming at me or the government coming at me,” he says. “It’s not my place to judge people, but to make sure their rights are being respected.” Freelance writer Kathryn Flagg is a former Middlebury Fellow. She writes from Shoreham, Vt. LOQUITUR 20
Black Lives Matter Adobe Stock & the Law By Cirri Nottage IAISING AWARENESS, challenging norms, galvanizing voters, Black Lives Matter (BLM) has permeated the national consciousness. From city hall to the NFL, BLM is changing the narrative and effectively disrupting the status quo. Much more than a slogan, BLM is part <strong>of</strong> The Movement for Black Lives, a political force demanding transformative change as outlined in their comprehensive policy platform “A Vision for Black Lives: Policy Demands for Black Power, Freedom & Justice.” (see inset, next page)
Change language