The Day Does Not Always Follow the Script
SMALL FIRM LIFE
By Jay M. Kurtz, Esquire
Everyone knows what a lawyer does. They’ve seen the heroic, despicable, or bumbling adventures of attorneys their entire lives in the form of television shows and movies. From Perry Mason to Matlock to the second half of every version of Law and Order, everybody knows something about being an attorney. For those of us initiated into what my alma mater marketed as “real world - real law,” Hollywood’s idealized versions of legal practice have very little resemblance to reality. In a lot of ways, Harvey Dent is a lot more believable than Harvey Specter. With that in mind, I was asked to share a bit of what a day in the life is like for a small firm attorney. Today was like many other days in a courtroom. I sat and waited. Court was scheduled to begin at 9 a.m. Aside from a very few select judges, start times are not an indication of when court begins but rather serve as a guideline for when attorneys and their clients should begin the waiting game. In the time that passes between arriving in court to ceremoniously standing in reverence for his honor’s appearance, Jack McCoy and his crew would have put one murderer away for life and would be on the verge of convicting a second. This is an out-of-county case for me, so I was awake, showered, and in a suit before sunrise. I like to review case files in the morning before heading to court. This one feels like a nobrainer. The Assistant District Attorney and I worked out a fair and proper plea agreement with little acrimony or posturing. Our discussions would not have made for great cinema as they were basically two phone calls, several emails, and each of us reviewing a packet of medical records in our respective offices. The events leading to court today seem rather mundane. Driver looks away for a moment and causes a rear-end collision. Thankfully, no one is seriously hurt in the accident. Only problem is my client had a suspended license at the time, further complicating the situation is that the suspension was DUI related (and as many of you already know, that’s a mandatory 60-90 days’ incarceration here in the Commonwealth). But the deal is fair. We’ll have a quick guilty plea, and then my client will be sent to adult probation for admission into that county’s intermediate punishment program. Her infant child will not be without a mother for two months, although she’ll be electronically monitored during house arrest. Everyone has seemingly made the best of an unfortunate situation. Things are going according to the script... Rewind. I should have known this court appearance was not going to go smoothly. I had a tire blow out on the turnpike this morning. I chalked it up to bad luck. Much like Caesar ignoring his soothsayers, I failed to heed the omen. In the misty morning, dressed for court, I changed the tire on my own car while a few feet away cars sped by on the turnpike. This was a hiccup that nearly made me late to begin waiting on time. I should have known better. There is a wailing howl cutting through the corridors of this floor of the courthouse. Could this be a ghost lamenting its long
20 | Berks Barrister
forgotten fate at the hands of a hanging judge? No, it would actually be my client’s reaction to just hearing the judge tell her that he does not cut breaks for people who cause car accidents. The judge makes sure to explain to her how lucky she is that he will be willing to only impose the mandatory minimum of 60 days when she should perhaps be jailed for a longer period of time. This is the role of the small firm or solo practitioner. I will not be driving an exotic sports car to the courthouse by the beach or exonerating someone wrongfully accused of murder with one magical question so that the credits can roll in under an hour. No, the role of the small firm lawyer is the person who rolls their sleeves up and takes off their suitcoat so they can change their own tire on the side of the highway. Arnie Becker would not have been changing a tire (or having a judge throw out a plea deal). Even Joe Pesci’s Vinny Gambini wouldn’t change his own tire (his girlfriend was the car expert). The point here is the role of any real life attorney is unscripted — no matter how hard we try to control things. Had court gone according to script, I would have been out of there by 10 a.m. and my client would have been meeting with probation to begin the process of putting all this behind her. Instead, we did not even know if the judge was in the building until closer to 11 and when he did appear it certainly was not to smoothly move the narrative along. The only thing about court that morning that was reminiscent of some television episodes was you could slap a “To Be Continued” subtitle on the event. Fortunately, I was able to assuage my client’s despair to a degree and schedule the next court appearance. The ADA, my client, and I will reconvene one morning at the courthouse a few weeks later to await the judge’s arrival. At that time, we will try to put this matter to rest once again. Not every unscripted morning in an attorney’s day goes as sideways as this one did. There are times when things go much more smoothly (although seldom are they settled in an hour, minus commercials). I am certain the rest of my day will go much more according to plan. Working at a small firm with a breadth of practice areas there is variety to be enjoyed. Fortunately for me, I have an afternoon case two counties away where we will try to settle disputed marital assets, support concerns, and custody questions. No way that gets interrupted by unexpected drama. Right?
Jay M. Kurtz, Esquire, is with the law firm of RicklLinn, LLC.