I listened to the politicians, arms locked with the parents of Chelsea King, proclaim that they will pass laws so that such a tragedy “never happens again.” But it will.

What happened to Chelsea King is certainly a tragedy. What happens in her name will likely be a tragedy as well. The parents are in pain now, and want to do something to bring meaning to the death of their daughter. But the politicians know better. They know that there is nothing they can ever do to stop tragedies like this from happening.

We’ve been trying since Hammarabi chipped his code in stone to craft laws to stop people from doing bad things. It hasn’t worked yet. It’s not that we don’t have the law, though enforcement of many may be a lot harder than originally thought, but that laws punish people for doing wrong. Laws don’t stop them. They never have, even though we talk about disincentives and deterrence. Has any law eradicated a crime?

Eventually, we’ll have a million laws. And we’ll still have crime. People aren’t changing any time soon, and the very sad truth is some other person will, no doubt, commit this very tragic, very heinous crime again, no matter what laws are passed to make sure it never does.

I got a letter recently from an incarcerated client. He’s waiting for a hearing on a motion to revoke his felony probation; one of the possible reasons for revocation is that he picked up a misdemeanor case while on probation. Before the felony, he had three misdemeanor convictions in less than a decade.

In the letter, he wrote that he “wasn’t a criminal.”

Four separate guilty pleas in six years probably qualifies this guy as a criminal in most people’s books—especially if the people are as politically conservative as he was before he started sitting in jail. But he was making an honest living, supporting his family, and voting for his conservative “tough on crime” candidates, not living as a criminal.

In all my years of practicing law, I don’t know that I’ve ever had a client who considered themself a criminal—not, at least, one who would say it out loud. I’ve represented drug traffickers who considered themselves businessmen, murderers who thought of themselves as good fathers, and rapists who saw themselves as sick people. I’ve represented lots and lots of people who have made mistakes (sometimes the same mistakes again and again and again). But nobody below the “vs.” on the pleadings seems to define himself in terms of the mistakes he has made.

I think that’s probably a good thing. Someone who defines himself in terms of past events is bound to repeat those events. For the businessman, the good father, or the sick person, bad things happen, they move on, they try to do better. But for the criminal, what else is there but crime?

Which brings us to the topic of victims. Mark Bennett wrote recently about victims’ pride in being victims (“I’m not a witness, I’m a victim!”). My concern with that pride is that the person who sees themself as a victim will be victimized over and over again. Not only do predators recognize a victim as the weak part of the herd, but the love and affirmation our sick culture gives victims is addictive.

For the victim, what else is there but victimization?

It wasn’t recent, more like 10+ years ago, and almost certainly, given how often it happens, not actually the first time I walked a factually innocent client in front of a judge for a guilty plea.  But it’s the one I remember best.

Short version of the facts via the police report:  My client went to a car dealership and told them he was the soon-to-be-wealthy nephew of a prominent local.  In a few days, on his twenty first birthday, he was to inherit a few million, and he planned on deciding over the next few days which type of nice new car he should reward himself with.  None of this was true, my client was just as broke as the next guy.

But, the dealership lets him drive off in a new car, to test drive it over the weekend.  And he brought it back exactly when he was supposed to, not quite pristine, due to a minor fender bender while it was in his care, custody and control.  Of course, you can’t spit on a car without doing at least $500 in damage, and it’s about that time the dealer realizes: not only is my client not going to buy this or any other car, he can’t pay for the necessary repairs. Read the full article »