The day I shook a murder's hand

I can remember being in third grade and having the kids at school ask me "how can your dad defend murderers, rapists and child molesters," you see, my dad was a criminal defense attorney.  I would come home upset because I just didn't know what to say. I told my mom about this and she would tell me "you tell them that everyone deserves a fair trial," so I did.  You see when you are a kid, justice, fair trials and guilt or innocence are obscure ideas, not definable by black and white answers.

When I got to be a teen I remember people saying, "how does your dad do it, defending murderers and all?" and by then I had my answer down, "my dad took an oath to defend everyone to the best of his ability because everyone deserves a fair trial." By this age, people know laws and punishment and at  this point we were all still innocent and everyone in handcuffs was guilty.

When I was in my late teens I remember people saying, "I don't know how your dad deals with murders and rapists, I could never do it." and by then I didn't care anymore and said "yeah, until YOU are the one in trouble!"

Then when I was in my 20's people would say, "what's your dad's number, I got a D.U.I"....exactly!

I have always been very proud that my dad was an attorney. He always had a nice car, nice suits, nice shoes, he carried a briefcase and used those amazing legal pads, that only lawyers use.  I remember when I was little I would stamp every piece of paper I had with his Notary stamp and would trace my finger over the indentations it would make.  I would think how powerful a person must be to have a stamp like this.  I would sit in his large leather chair behind his big wood desk and look around at all of the old legal books and be amazed by the regal feel of it all.

The first huge trial that really catapulted his career was the Timothy Papp case.  An artist did the most amazing painting of the judge, my dad, the prosecutor and Papp's large face looming over the three of them.  It was a constant reminder to me that people's lives, their futures were placed in my dad's hands, and that whether or not he did a good job, would determine their fate.  How could anyone deal with that kind of pressure? 

There are many things that come with being the child of a criminal defense attorney, and how those things manifest can differ in each child. I feared ever embarrassing my dad and thus feared ever having any negative contact with the police.  It could have been different though because the fact is, when your dad defends some of the worst criminals on earth, anything you do is peanuts in comparison. The problem for someone like me is that anything that anyone did to me, he considered a great "learning experience."

Attorneys see it all, my dad did divorce cases early in his career. He use to tell me, "Meredyth, when someone breaks up with you, they are doing you a favor because at least they are being honest and not keeping you around when they don't really want you there." Advice like that you never forget, even if you don't want to believe it is true.  

I loved watching my dad in action, it is an art to know the law the way he does, he is a true scholar of the law, he loves it, he loves knowing it and he loves using it.  He memorizes cases, law, everything, he knows it, he breaths it.

Now my dad serves as a judge, his career has truly been amazing, but being his daughter has been a ride. How many people do you know that went to murder trials and shook the murder's handcuffed hand?  I am not saying this is good or great, it is just the way it was.  I wanted to be a lawyer ever since I was in third grade. I told everyone I was going to be a lawyer but it just didn't work out that way. I just didn't have "it" in me, or maybe I was afraid that there was no way I could ever be as good as my dad?  You would have had to see him in court to understand.  

(See Article re: Burge) That man's hand that I shook, he was put to death, he was only a few years older than I was. I will never forget shaking his hand and looking into his eyes. By the time I met him he was thin from being in jail for a while, his clothes were baggy and his hands boney, frail and shook.  He was accused of gunning down the mother of his two children as she begged for her life and I was about to smile and say "nice to meet you."  I remember at that moment knowing that I could never be a defense attorney, I could never sit across from someone that was capable of doing that sort of damage to another person, but that is me.

The good thing is, my dad could, and did. Because as I learned in third grade, everyone deserves a fair trial, and hopefully a great attorney.  My dad took an oath to defend everyone to the best of his ability.  If you don't think it is important, tell me how you feel when YOU get in trouble, because trust me, just when you think lawyers are scum, you will be calling me for his phone number because you screwed up and got yourself a D.U.I.