If he felt strongly about anything, it was keeping his courtroom
moving. Quick from-the-hip decisions during the juggling of a crowded
docket were his forte. Weidemann, therefore, was a terrible judge to
draw if you had a complex legal issue that required sophisticated
analysis. He wasn't bad, though, for what I needed today. A
superficial take on Derringer's case would weigh in my favor on
pretrial issues like release and bail.
When it was time for Derringer's matter, I took a moment to look over
at him while the MCSO deputy accompanied him to the defense table. His
hair was shaved down to a shadow not much darker than the one left on
his face from the night in jail. A tattoo of a vine of thorns hugged
the base of his skull. Everything about him looked chiseled except for
the acne scars cratering his cheekbones. His strong jaw was clenched,
his lips a cold slit. His eyes appeared to register nothing as he
stared straight ahead, seemingly unfazed by his current
circumstances.
Then his head turned slightly as I approached, and I realized he was
watching me out of the corner of his eye. It was unnerving, but I went
ahead and called the case. 'The next matter is State of Oregon v.
Franklin R. Derringer, case number 9902-37654. Samantha Kincaid
appearing for the State. The defendant is in custody on a parole
detainer for having unsupervised contact with a minor. Based on the
same incident underlying the parole violation, the State now charges
him with Attempted Aggravated Murder and other substantive crimes in a
six-count complaint that I have forwarded to the court. The State
requests that the defendant be held without bail.'
An audible snort from Derringer revealed his disdain. He had already
filled out an affidavit of indigency, requesting the court to appoint a
state-paid attorney on his behalf. The court now made a finding that
Derringer qualified for court-appointed counsel. Then a hard case got
even tougher. The judge appointed Lisa Lopez to represent him.
Public defenders generally fall into one of three different camps.
There's no diplomatic way to describe the first bunch. They're bad
attorneys who wind up in the public defenders' office by default.
Whether they're devoted to a specific client or to the larger cause of
criminal defendants' rights is, in practical terms, irrelevant. Even
at the top of their game, the performance of these lawyers is dismal so
pathetic, in fact, that most prosecutors will admit it takes the fun
out of winning.
A second crop of public defenders consists of what I call the straight
shooters. These attorneys have been around long enough to understand
the realities of the system, and axiom number one is that the
overwhelming majority of criminal defendants are guilty. The straight
shooters review discovery materials early on and decide whether the
client even stands a chance. If he doesn't (and most don't) the
defendant will soon get a heart-to-heart from his attorney. The
straight shooter will explain the way things work to his client and
then negotiate the most favorable plea deal possible.
If the client has a serious defense, or if there is a real possibility
of having material evidence suppressed, the straight shooter will take
the issue to court and do a good job trying it. He or she will always
deal honestly with the prosecuting attorney.
The second camp of defense attorneys is my favorite. Lisa Lopez was
not, however, among them. She belonged to the third group, the true
believers. Card-carrying members of this crowd represent the most
naive demographic still in existence. It doesn't matter how long
they've been around trying cases, these attorneys are fundamentally
incapable of distrusting their clients. Don't misunderstand me:
There's plenty of distrust to go around for police, victims, witnesses,
and prosecutors. But they always believe their clients.
Lisa Lopez was the truest of the true believers. Everyone knows that
police sometimes make mistakes, overstep their bounds, and even engage
in grossly unethical and illegal acts of malice. Yet somehow these
relatively rare instances of misconduct happened to transpire in 95
percent of Lisa Lopez's cases. And, of course, all her mistreated
clients were also innocent.
Lopez stepped forward and obtained the court's permission to meet with
Derringer and review the complaint and affidavit before she argued the
release motion.
For the next fifteen minutes, I pretended to review the file while I
looked at Lopez and Derringer huddled together like teammates on a high
school debate team. I determined he was articulate, because Lisa was
scribbling frantically on her legal pad. In a crunch, most attorneys
will cut the client off when it's obvious the time would be better
spent reviewing documents.
Lisa was impressive. When the judge took us back on the record, you
would've thought she'd had the case for a week.
'Your honor, this case is grossly overcharged. Ms. Kincaid's
affidavit lacks any direct evidence that anyone attempted to kill the
alleged victim in this case. Moreover, Mr. Derringer shouldn't even
be here. They've got the wrong guy. My client cooperated with police.
He told them he was at his brother's house at the time of the incident.
His brother has corroborated that information. Finally, Mr. Derringer
is not a flight risk. He was born and raised in southeast Portland,
and his family still lives here. There simply is no basis to hold him
without bail. We ask that he be released on his own recognizance.'
