Chapter 7 - Colleagues and Supervisors
Defenders talk about their colleagues and supervisors.
What is the racial composition of the attorneys in your office? What about your supervisors?
There are several public defender offices throughout the five boroughs. Nonetheless, Defenders are in agreement that none of the offices are well diversified racially. One Defender notes that the office s/he works for “was definitely one of the whiter organizations in the city.” Another states that the defender offices s/he worked in were “always majority white.” Another responds: “Uh, mostly white.” Adds another: “I think it's mostly white in my office. We do have Hispanic and Black people; but still, I think the majority is white.” Another opines: “Well, in all the offices that I've worked in, the racial composition has been, I would say, 80% white, 15% other, and 5% Black.” A few Defenders particularly note how there are more white females in public defender offices than anybody else. One Defender notes: “I think the most common demographic—and I haven't counted and I haven't looked at any empirical data—but my sense is that usually, most of the public defenders are white women, followed then by white men. Then there's everyone else.” Another Defender answers: “Mostly white women, for the attorneys and the same when it comes to supervisors; that's the bulk of it.”
Defenders report particular problems with representation of Latino/Latina and Black male attorneys. One Defender states: “There’s never enough Latinos. They haven’t gotten enough Latinos. Nor are there enough Black male attorneys.” Another Defender states: “I would say out of an office of what, a hundred and something lawyers, maybe you would have five or six Blacks. Maybe you would have about three Latinos. That's when I was a staff attorney.” Answers another Defender: “I have to think about this…. As far as Black males in my office, there are not that many. Let’s break this down…one, two, three, four, five… six. There are six Black male attorneys in our office. There’s one hundred attorneys in total…. I think in our office, there are nine Black female attorneys.” Another Defender observes that “Black men are probably the smallest demographic.” One Defender’s office “could certainly use some more African Americans, and a Hispanic attorney. In fact, I don't think we have one male Hispanic staff attorney in the office. Now the head of our office is Hispanic; and we have a director, and he's Hispanic. But we don’t have an actual practicing attorney that is Hispanic. That's not good. We gotta do better about that.” One Defender answers this way: “Lots of white people, not enough Black men. Definitely not enough Black men.”
Black supervisors are also a rarity. A senior Defender notes that there “were no Black supervisors until my second or third year. Maybe one person in the office got elevated. By the time I left, there were maybe two, possibly three Black supervisors in my office.” Another senior Defender concurs: “When I started there, there were no supervisors of color. All the supervisors were white at every level. In fact, one of the things we advocated for was the promotion of a Black supervisor or supervisor of color. And that finally happened a few years into my being there; they promoted one, a Black person.” One Defender notes that the number of Black supervisors “has been one of the most disappointing things here. There was one point where we had a fair amount of diversity among supervisors in this borough, because we had four or five Black supervisors at one point out of maybe 12 or 13 supervisors in total. In comparison with most places, that's actually pretty good; you don't see that happen that frequently. But now the numbers have gone down. This has been something that I really think our office could do a much better job in terms of recruitment of people of color in supervisory positions.”
Finally, Defenders touch on attrition. One Defender states: “There weren’t a whole lot of people of color, but there were more than I expected. But a lot of them left….” Another Defender notices a similar trend: “We've had Black men in our office; and unfortunately they leave. We don't stay. There was a mass exodus from our office of Black people and people of color since I had been there. It was palpable.” One Defender gives this answer: “A third of the office were people of color. There were a number of Black people and Brown people and Asian people…. So that was the colleagues; and then the supervisors there were white men and one Black woman …. Although it started with a lot of nonwhite people, the nonwhite people just left. I mean, I don't know what it's like today; but when I left my office, the racial composition was not like when I started. The people of color left the office as soon as they could.”
A few more responses:
Defender Approximately 120 attorneys in the office, maybe 15 of color. About 16-18 supervisors, maybe 2 of color.
Defender Mostly white. I would say, maybe like 30 to 40% people of color. I would say probably less than a handful of Black attorneys; may have a handful or less.
Defender I’d say on the whole 30% minority, 70% white. Black men ranged from 2-15%.
Defender They're starting to have more Black supervisors; but for the most part, the makeup of the office is very white-woman focused, which probably has a lot to do with who was running the hiring process before the current head, who is a Black woman. But there's a lot of white women.
Defender There were like ten Black lawyers in the whole office of 120 lawyers. It was like ten of us…. I mean, it's interesting because, given the demographic of clientele that we serve, you would expect that there would be more attorneys of color. We had two Hispanic attorneys, and one left in 2018. There is another Hispanic attorney who joined the office recently…. There were not a lot of Black supervisors. We had only two.
Defender I have two white supervisors and one Black supervisor. I have a lot of racist white women on my floor. My floor is full of all the racists. I want to say there are between six and eight attorneys on our floor that are of color…. The whole office, in terms of attorneys of color, I don't think there's more than 30 attorneys of color in the entire office; and 30 might be a generous number. So it's mostly white.
Do you deal with racism in the office? If so, does it come at the hands of colleagues, supervisors, or both?
The great majority of Defenders report experiencing and witnessing racism at the hands of both colleagues and supervisors. Of the very few attorneys who deny dealing with racism, it is more of a personal denial than a denial of racism's existence in their respective offices. One Defender denies dealing with racism because “I'm over at this particular practice, and it's literally me and the Black female supervisor. We're the only two attorneys there; and the rest of the staff, the social worker is Black, as is the legal assistant, and a coworker awaiting admission is Brown.” Another Defender states: “I haven't had any racism in the office like that. I mean, it's also because I'm very careful with who I interact with. I know that there are racists in the office. I know who they are, and my interactions with them are purposefully short. So I can now say that no, I have not experienced any racism towards me personally in the office.” Another Defender notes: “No, because I don't talk to people…. I know it exists. I do tend to keep to myself, but if I am made aware of it, I will try to be available to the attorney that it is directed towards.” Adds another Defender: “I don't think so. I think I’m seasoned enough where my work speaks for itself, so I would say no.” One Defender gives this answer:
No, I haven’t personally. I can think of an incident, but it had nothing to do with work and it was actually between me and another [nonwhite] attorney. It had absolutely nothing to do with work. It actually was about my family. This attorney was viewing pictures in my office. This is an attorney who is outwardly the same color as me, just a shade lighter or whatever…. My youngest daughter is actually much, much darker than the rest of us; she’s actually of similar complexion to her father. The attorney made a comment that implied that my youngest daughter was less attractive because she was dark-skinned. That is the way I took it. That was the one time I had to kind of check somebody; but again, it was not related to work.
The Defenders that experience racism give a myriad of general and specific examples. One general example is how some white public defenders act as if they cannot be racist because they choose to do public defense. One Defender explains: “There’s this feeling [that] if you are a public defender, you get a pass on racial issues and on class issues.” Another Defender concurs: “When I was a public defender, there was always a sense that because people were public defenders and they had chosen this line of work, that they were immune from being racist or doing any racist overtures in court or to their colleagues. And I think that made it really challenging at times to address issues of race, because people often started from this place of thinking that there was no way that they could ever be racist or do anything racist.” Adds another Defender: “A lot of public defenders feel that because they're public defenders, and because they're in the fight and in the trenches, that they're insulated. They think, I'm not racist; I am a public defender and I fight. And they have no idea.” Relatedly, Defenders note how white public defenders take certain liberties because of how they envision themselves. One Defender provides this example:
I saw a Black attorney second seat a white lawyer at [the office I worked at]; and this particular gentleman, this white lawyer, was a star at the office. He had been working there as an attorney for 20-plus years or whatever; he was known for his role there as the homicide attorney. Everybody wanted to second seat him. He was that guy. But I saw a Black attorney second seating him, and the white attorney was using the n-word. He's using the n-word in context, meaning that's what the client said or that's what's in the transcript, or that's a particular name of a group or a crew of guys, or a “gang,” as the police would call them…. As a Black lawyer, I wouldn’t say that. But as a white lawyer, he would; and there was no sort of fear of backlash for using that word because the attitude was, I'm on the right side. I'm here with you guys. I'm helping you guys out. I'm working to free you guys and people that look like you. So once we've got that understood, then I can say and do and behave however I want ….
A number of Defenders recall being deprived of professional support and training that their white colleagues receive. One Defender notes how “the Black attorneys in the newer class have expressed feeling like they’re not getting training. They’re not getting the supervision or the opportunity that some of the newer white attorneys are getting.” Another Defender recalls: “I have a specific set of incidents in my mind of what transpired my first year in the trial office in comparison to my other two [white] colleagues who also started with me. When those two colleagues were about to go to trial, people lined up constantly, knocking on the door, offering help and guidance, offering to review their cross examination, their opening, their closing: ‘Do you need help with this? Run this by me, come see me if you need this, that, or the other….’ I never, not once, was offered anything like that.” Another Defender explains: “When it comes to Black attorneys, there's less supervision. There's not a real investment in your professional development. I had to take that on myself…. As far as professional development, [supervisors] are not quick to felony-certify a Black attorney that is very ambitious, that has really demonstrated his or her ability to try cases and has that enthusiasm; but with a white colleague that is less committed and less prepared, they would coddle them and hold their hands. And even though they have not demonstrated the ability to try cases, they would certify those white attorneys before they did Black attorneys.” One Defender recalls the following:
New attorneys are required to be second-sat by a supervisor for their first trial. My first trial was set to start on a Monday; and I arrived in the office to find out that my supervisor that was supposed to second-seat me completely forgot and was in Florida. The second supervisor claimed they were too busy in Supreme Court. Then I was told to walk around the office to see if there were any supervisors available to second seat me. Mind you, I'm already in a trial part, and it is Monday morning. (Author reacts) So my first trial, I think I had three different supervisors assisting in total….
Other Defenders also speak about being denied opportunities that white colleagues are granted. One Defender states: “White attorneys are assumed to belong. Black attorneys are assumed to be a diversity hire. White attorneys are given opportunities to advance their career. Black attorneys are not given the opportunity to advance their career; and it becomes difficult because when you don't have those career advancement opportunities, it makes it difficult for you then to put yourself into a position to advance your career….” Another Defender offers this example:
I remember when I first started, a supervisor I had wouldn't let me second-seat a Black attorney on a bench trial. He said I wasn't prepared to do it, and I basically had to tell him off. One, he didn’t know me well enough to know whether I could do it or not; and two, I had already done a trial. I had done a trial in law school; I was already fully barred and had clerked for a year under a judge. So when he was trying to tell me I was ill prepared to do that, I ended up having to tell him off, and eventually he let me second-seat my colleague. But the fact is that he just assumed that I would be ill prepared. Further, he was letting my white colleague—my officemate who had started the same year as me—second-seat a felony case. Yet he was trying to deny me the ability to second-seat a misdemeanor trial.
Another Defender offers a few examples specific to a public defender office in Staten Island:
When Mr. Eric Garner was killed—there were a number of us in the office who had relationships with Mr. Garner, because a number of us had represented him on cases—as we were having discussions in the office about what to do and how to respond to the situation, the white head of the office took over and had one attorney who was a white male attorney selected as a spokesperson for the office on all issues related to Mr. Garner. The head of the office sent this person to a conference to talk about racism and policing, without any involvement of any of the Black lawyers in the office. One of my Black colleagues was working with a lawyer at LDF who wanted to come in and do some kind of investigation on the ground. The head of the office completely shut that down….
In issues related to racial justice, Black people were kept out of that. The people who were on committees, the people that got to go to the things where you meet the judges, like all of that stuff, Black people and I guess really the people of color in the office were systematically kept out of all of that.
We started doing Know-Your-Rights trainings; a Black colleague and I had started this KYR thing through our office. We would go to a local college and various other places. At one of them, my colleague wanted to talk about the 13th amendment and draw the connection between the 13th amendment and where we are today. The head of the office told us that she absolutely could not talk about this. There were just a lot of ways in which we were told that racial justice had no place in a conversation about the criminal justice system and that we were stupid and that we were not as good as our white counterparts….
Several Defenders speak about issues with felony certification, the process of elevating public defenders from solely handling misdemeanor matters to handling certain felony cases, and then from that to handling all felony matters. One Defender states: “There are issues with felony certification. At the time when I was up for felony certification, my white male supervisor didn't think I was ready. Mind you, he's never even seen me in court, much less at a hearing or a trial or anything like that.” Another Defender concurs: “I'll say that when it comes to felony certification, Black men, Black women, I'll say minorities and I'm going to even include some white women, there are some supervisors who just seem to never want to felony certify attorneys. Like, I've met women in the office who were there for a few years longer than me, and then I find out that they're not felony certified or fully certified. It just tracks everything else where you see that minorities, Black men, Brown men and women, Black women are just not being fully certified at the same rate as white men…. They look at us as inferior and incapable.” One Defender tells this story about the attorney-in-charge in a particular office:
The head of the office certified all of the white attorneys in the office so that they could handle felony cases. He refused to certify the nonwhite attorneys in the same year. I remember going to his office afterwards and I named each attorney and asked him if he had certified them to pick up felony cases. After he indicated which attorneys were certified (all of the white ones) and which attorneys weren’t (all of the attorneys of color), I then said to him: “Do you know what this sounds like? A Batson challenge.”1 He looked at me and we deadlocked eyes. I then got up, turned around and went to my office. In twenty minutes, he was at my office with everybody’s certifications.
Many Defenders speak about thinly veiled racist attitudes that their white colleagues have. One Defender remarks: “Over the years I've heard a lot of racist comments. One of the comments that drives me absolutely nuts is ‘these people’ comments. What do you even mean by saying ‘these people’? Do you know anybody outside of this context? How many people of color or Black or Brown people do you really know? I found that to be one of the most disturbing things….” Another Defender concurs: “You'd have older white attorneys who are like, ‘I'm tired of these people,’ when you know they just arraigned a Black person.” One Defender shares this story:
We had a case presentation in our office, where attorneys who are going to trial can present their case to the office for us to strategize. The client was an African national, from an African country, and he had horrific domestic violence allegations pending against him. This white male colleague says, “Well, you know how they are.” And I was like, what?! It was very clear what he meant when he said it; he was hinting that the jury would know that people from this country are like barbarians…. From then on, I just stayed away from the dude. And then some of my colleagues were like, “Oh, he can’t be racist; his wife is Black.” I don’t give a fuck if his wife is Black; that doesn’t mean he can’t be racist.
Another Defender recalls:
I remember there was a colleague who one time said, “Well, the way this community reacts to everything is they respond with violence.” And I’m like, “What the hell does that mean? What does that mean, ‘this community responds with violence’?!” So I start questioning her, and then she tried to backtrack from it, saying, “I didn't mean like everybody in this community. I just meant like with younger kids and people who are in gangs and things like that.” It just got to be a ridiculous conversation; it was a really silly thing. So I think while people are certainly savvy and sophisticated enough to avoid saying things that would be deemed directly racist, there are a lot of attitudes some attorneys have towards clients that certainly would need closer examination and are racist.
The attitudes white public defenders have about Black people very much impact how they view clients, most of whom are Black and Brown. One Defender notes how “there have been insensitive comments made about Black clients in my presence that had to be addressed by other colleagues and/or supervisors. One example [was] a bunch of attorneys standing around after a day at court and making jokes about their client's names, which were names you typically find Black clients with. [They said things like,] ‘What kind of name is that?’ So a lot of microaggression and light racism.” Another Defender states: “The worst part that I don't hear as much anymore, but still hear, is when colleagues just talk about their clients as if they are animals and not human. I'm sure you've heard what I'm talking about, the way they talk about our clients. It always disgusts me to hear the jokes, when they’re joking about cases or things that happened to somebody….”
Those attitudes also impact how white public defenders view their Black colleagues. A number of Defenders note how they were mistaken as defendants by their own colleagues, especially when they first joined their respective offices. One Defender answers: “When I first started as [a public defender], I was there late at night and a white colleague rushed up to me and was like, ‘What are you doing in here?’ I said, ‘I work here; what else would I be doing in here?’ He's like, ‘I don't think you belong here. Can I see your ID?’” Another Defender shares this story: “When we were in new attorney training, one of the things we had to do was shadow an investigator. I showed up to the office the day I was set to go and introduced myself and said, ‘I’m here for the investigation exercise.’ A supervisor comes down and I explain the same to him, and he asks, ‘Who’s your attorney?’ I explained myself a third time, and I can see from his face that the idea that I was a lawyer was incomprehensible to him.” Recalls another Defender: “I was a new attorney in the office; I don’t think I made three months yet. Our regular receptionist was out. I was coming in one day, and I was in a full suit. I waved and smiled; and the receptionist, who was Caucasian, told me that I needed to wait for my attorney. I said, ‘I am the attorney,’ and she turned beet-red and was like, ‘Oh, oh, oh, I’m sorry; what is your name’ and blah, blah, blah….”
Other Defenders also note how their non-Black colleagues tend to think less of them and doubt their skills. One Defender notes how, “when it comes to Black attorneys, I think a lot of times the white colleagues don't believe that we know what we're talking about. So they're not really expending the energy to listen until you somehow prove that what you're saying is valid and something that they should listen to. So it's like you're starting off with the presumption of no knowledge or no information that is helpful; and you have to sort of earn your place in their minds in terms of credibility.” Another Defender concurs: “I’ve definitely had issues where colleagues and supervisors were questioning my work and my legal research and were also butting in on my cases in a way that they don't do for other people. I feel like I've gotten criticism for things in ways that others haven't. I’m criticized more and my opinions aren’t valued in the same regard, and I’m not given the same kind of professional courtesy that white people are.” Adds another Defender: “I didn't believe that I or other Black attorneys would ever be seen as having the same amount of potential and worthy of the same kind of investments as my white colleagues, even the ones with demonstrably fewer skills….” One Defender recalls:
I had this one supervisor that doubted my skills and ability; she didn’t think I was that smart. She thought I was too invested in the clients; she would say that to me. I would say, “I need to do X, Y and Z for this case,” and she’ll say, “Oh, you shouldn't do all that; it's a losing battle.” That felt racist to me because I'm like, I'm doing what my job is for this client, and she’s acting like I should just give up. Then I applied for a supervisor position and I told her about it; and she said, “You're not ready.” And this was an Indian woman, actually. So that to me was like the culmination of the racism from her. And I was like, okay, I'm gonna show you, bitch, and I got the position. I thought she was racist and not supportive.
Another Defender shares the following: “I stopped dealing with as much racism and questions from colleagues about what I was doing and whether or not I was worthy after I was ‘anointed’ by a white male senior attorney. I had to have the fairy dust sprinkled on me by a white male senior attorney to have people stop questioning whether or not I deserved to be some place that I earned the hard way. So now I really don’t feel like I deal with racism at all; but at the beginning, it was rough.” Adds another Defender: “They constantly would build up white attorneys as being great. When they talk about a ‘wonderful and brilliant lawyer,’ they rarely are saying that in reference to a Black attorney.” One Defender shares this story:
I think something I've noticed in my current place is colleagues snitching on colleagues. I have found that the white colleagues tend to have issues with the way the Black people perform…. I had a situation where a case was indicted. As you know, the Supreme Court arraignment date was set, and it's of course not the date that we originally adjourned the case for. So the arraignment was set for a date that I was out of the office, so I needed coverage. And I had a coverage note on the file. I guess this white colleague thought that I had not put enough information for her to make a bail argument. She said that a bail application was required and that she didn't have enough information to do a bail application, so she decided to go directly to my supervisor and complain about how sloppily I handled the coverage.
Now one thing about me: I'm going to give you some fucking notes. I care about my clients, and I was prepping him to know that I wasn't going to be there and every single fucking thing that was going to happen that court date. And my notes were extensive. Usually, coverage notes are a couple of sentences. I believe my notes were five paragraphs long. And there was in my notes a whole section that was the bail application. So that colleague didn't even need to create a bail application; she didn’t even need to read my information and process it and then make an argument. She could actually just read what I wrote. What I wrote was the bail app.
So my supervisor pulled me aside and brought this to my attention and wanted to talk to me about it. He’s being accusatory, and I’m like, “Did you look at my note? Did you actually look at my coverage note? Before you come in to tell me that I need to do better, did you check your facts first?” He said, “No.” I said, “Okay, so you're just assuming that I did a sloppy job without verifying anything. You just accepted what she said.” He then said, “Well, let me see it.” I showed it to him, and he looked through it and said, “Uh-huh.” I said, “Is there anything else that I should include?” He said, “No, this is more than anyone includes in coverage notes.” I said, “Exactly. What’s the problem?” …
She also felt that I didn't prepare my client…. She said that he was really agitated at the Supreme Court arraignment. She said he was mad. She described him in all of these negative terms. My client is a tall Black man. Now people can act differently around different people, right? I had met with him multiple times in person and spoken with him on the phone multiple times, met with him alone in the office, met with him and with his wife in the office. He never, ever behaved in that way with me, ever.
So I think part of her issue is that she was flustered on the record because my client was frustrated. When they see our clients get frustrated, in their minds, our clients are being aggressive. And it's like, no, he’s being charged with attempted murder. And he works for the Department of Transportation. He has a wife and a kid, and he's being charged with attempted murder for defending himself. He's angry and he’s frustrated, and that's okay. But in their minds—in her mind, and I think in a lot of other colleagues' minds—when they see our clients vocalize their frustration in any way, they get so upset and they're so offended and they don't know what to do. They fall back on these very racist ideas that they have about Black people, about Black men and about aggression. So I think her issue is that he was frustrated, she didn't know how to handle it, and she fucking fumbled the bag.
Defenders also tell of instances where white public defenders try to undermine and attack them. A Defender explains: “When someone Black emails a question to the office, the answer my boss will give is like, in sum and substance, ‘Your stupid ass should know the answer to this.’ It's not what he expressly says, but the tone of the email is so dismissive that it makes people not want to ask questions. And if someone else had asked a question, if a white person asks, there would be a dissertation: ‘Well, you do this and this, and look at this case and blah, blah, blah.’ It's very, very, very different.” One Defender shares this story:
I remember one Black lawyer tried and won a case. One of his white colleagues went to my supervisor complaining about the things he thought the Black lawyer did wrong in the trial; and this is an experienced lawyer. The supervisor said, “Well, if you don't think that he did things properly, why don't you go talk to him and say, ‘You know, you won the case; great job. These are things you got away with in front of this judge, but it won't work in another judge’?” … But no, instead of being a helpful colleague and a mentor, you go tell on them. So now that Black lawyer is suspect in my boss' mind…. And I may have agreed with the white lawyer about how to do something, but that's not how you handle that. When you critique someone, you just say, “You know, next time do this.” “This is how you enter this into evidence.” “This is how you ask that question.” But at the end of the day, the client walked out and went home….
Another Defender shares this experience:
I’ve had attorneys try to undermine me. I remember having to sit in a DWI trial, and the ADA didn't have the proper certification to try to get a business record in. [The business record exception is a legal requirement that an attorney must satisfy in order to get a certain type of document into evidence. The prosecutors were struggling to get that evidence in;] and the colleagues I was watching conceded to the record being entered into evidence, and so the judge let it in. (Author reacts) I don't know what ended up happening with that trial; they were not attorneys I supervised. But I remember emailing the attorney I know of the two trying the case and saying, “I'm sure you guys had a strategic reason to make that concession; I'm just curious as to why you guys did that.”
So the other attorney—both of them were white females—tried to attack me. She said, “I heard that you had an issue with what we were doing.” I said, “I didn't have an issue with what you were doing; as a matter of fact, I said that I thought you guys maybe had made a strategic decision.” She said, “Well, that wasn't a business record; it was a certification.” I replied, “Well, okay, but it's a business record.” She’s like, “No, it’s a certification.” So I was going to let it slide; but then I was talking to a Black female colleague of mine, and she said, “Don't let that shit slide.”
So I thought, okay, so now I'm going to have to take her to school. So then I went and pulled up the law regarding the business records exception, then pulled up the law regarding certifications. I sent it all to the attorney I first emailed, and I cc’d the attorney that was the pot stirrer. I said, “It is a business record. Here is the law on it. What you were saying is this subdivision of the law regarding certifications; but the prosecution still needed to meet the business records exception requirements for the evidence to which you conceded to have been admitted. Here you go.”
I was very professional about it, but I just couldn't let it slide; and I'm pretty sure if I was a white attorney or white supervisor, she wouldn't have done that. So, sometimes you get questioned in terms of your competence, and you're trying to be helpful….
Several Defenders recall dealing with outrageous behavior from white colleagues. One Defender recalls how “one of the attorneys in our office, a white woman, sent an officewide email in which the n-word was used about 13 times.” Several Defenders from that particular office confirm that incident. Another Defender in the same office elaborates: “There was one colleague who sent an email about “red n-----s”. She thinks she's Native American. She's about as Native American as Elizabeth Warren. (Author laughs) And what can I say? She’s full-on Rachel Dolezal-ed2 into a tribe; she has a whole certificate. She’s on some board. In one of [our diversity director’s] diversity talks, the director had this colleague discussing race and Native Americans. It was embarrassing.” Another Defender shares this story:
Our initial head of the office moved on, and a Black person became the head of the office. There was a lot of toxicity in the office. People were jumping all over him for various things; it was just horrific. One day, we had an all-staff meeting at Pace University; they rented out a room. And it was all-hands-on-deck to try to figure out what's going on here. And what I saw, and what other nonwhite attorneys saw, was all these white people taking shots at a person of color who was now their boss. They were accusing him of things that the previous head of the office did. The other guy did this. But nobody said anything….
There was a white attorney who's no longer with the office. He’s an old school guy; he’s been around a long time. He was a good lawyer. He was sitting right in front of me. And he raises his hand, and he starts to talk. He's digging in, saying, “No, [Name of Current Head], you don't do this, you don't do that.” He's just going off. And then he closes with, “And frankly, you're just incompetent.” It took everything I had not to jump up and put that guy in a headlock. “Incompetent”?! First of all, the blatant disrespect for the guy that's your boss. That's one thing. Second, if you don't recognize as a white male property owner that you don't look at a Black or Brown man, especially a guy who's your boss, and say he's incompetent…. You can say, “I don't like the job you're doing. I have a concern about this or that.” But to say, “you're incompetent” tells me you're trying to convey something else there.
I was livid; I was livid. I don't know if I was next to speak or not, but I raised my hand and I said, “I don't understand what's going on here.” I said, “This person's complaining about that. This person's complaining about this. This person's complaining about that.” I said, “I don't understand because these were the same complaints levelled against the previous head, but nobody was calling for that person's head. You're calling for this guy to be fired, but not the other guy. I wonder why that is.” Now, everybody knew what I was saying when I said, “I wonder why that is.” I'm looking at everybody in that room. I was so pissed. I'm looking at everybody in that room…. I said what was on my mind.
Do you know that for the next four to five months, nobody in that office spoke to me? When I called them out like that, they stopped talking to me. I had gotten along well with everybody before then. That was the closest I came to thinking, maybe I need to look for another job…. Eventually, one by one, people started coming into my office wanting to talk, wanting to have a sit down. We started to work things out. They said what was on their mind. I said what I felt. I doubled down on what I said. I didn't back off it. Many others said that that's not what motivated them, but “I could see how you could feel that way.” That's as far as they were going to go. It got to a point where we got past that….
That was probably the darkest time in the history of this organization. It is not a mystery that that coincided with a Black man taking over the office.
One Defender in a different office shares this story: “There were a lot of liberties taken by white colleagues and a lot of inappropriate questions being asked. Example: do Black men have bigger penises? (Author reacts) And for a moment, you're sitting there and you're like, this is a dumb question to ask; this is just a dumb fucking question to ask. But then you also realize they've had this racist thought in their head for so long. So it’s like, are they asking it genuinely? Are they thinking, I'm finally close to a Black person so I can ask this question?” Another Defender states: “I remember my two white supervisors making some Asian joke about my Asian colleague; and that was awkward. I remember them making a comment about a Black female colleague who was pregnant; they said, ‘She’s pregnant again? Why is she having more children?’ And everybody was like, ‘You don't ask [this white staff attorney] that question, and she was pregnant like five times. So what is the problem?’ So everybody kind of just knows not to deal with them….”
Women in particular amongst the Defenders experience and witness a lot of despicable behavior. One Defender notes how “there was a lot of touching of Black female attorneys’ hair, a lot of commenting on Black female attorneys’ clothing, saying things like, ‘She knows her body type isn't right for that shirt; no one's gonna take her seriously wearing that.’ Meanwhile, white attorneys were coming in with pink blazers, wearing UGGs to court. That was never the topic of a lunchroom conversation.” Another Defender recalls: “I've had very well-intended white people touch my hair and fondle it. That used to happen. I think people are more aware now; it's been several years.” Another Defender has had colleagues make inappropriate comments about her hair. Shares another Defender: “I remember when I was in my first year. I was a brand new lawyer, just trying to do my job. It was one of my early court appearances. I’m sitting in court, still trying to figure out what I'm doing. My supervisor sat next to me for a few minutes and questioned me about my hair and whether it was professional…. I was just very surprised and shocked.” One Defender shares this experience:
There was one instance in which I'm standing in the hallway waiting to get into a courtroom, myself and a few newer attorneys. I believe I was in my third year at the time, the third or second year at the time. I have a new attorney shadowing me, so I'm trying to show them the ropes. I'm waiting in line, very serious, attorney folders in hand; and one of my white colleagues walked up to me and patted me on the head like a dog and said, ‘Isn't her hair so cute?’ Now I'm a natural-haired woman. My hair's either in twists or in an afro or something; on that particular day, my hair was in an afro. She patted me on the head like a dog and referred to my hair as being ‘so cute.’
When I confronted her about how inappropriate it was for her to invade my personal space and for her to have touched me, she asked me if it was ‘a Black woman thing.’ I replied, ‘No, [name of white colleague], it’s not a Black woman thing. It's a personal space thing. But while we're at it, isn't that something you and your white people talk about in your secret white meetings, that it's inappropriate to reach out and touch a Black woman's hair? Slavery is over, woman; long gone are the days that my personal space should be invaded subject to your whimsical white curiosity.’ This of course resulted in—after I was aggrieved and insulted and assaulted—her walking away and crying and making me out to be a devil, vilifying me with her white tears….
One Defender states: “I’ve seen white attorneys fetishize some of the women of color in the unit I worked in. There was one attorney in particular, an older white attorney who was married, who decided that he was in love with a woman of color and decided that he was somehow entitled to profess that in our workspace, proceeding to make her experience a nightmare. He wasn't held accountable…. There was no real accounting for this white man deciding that he could make this young woman's experience at work terrifying.” White public defenders fetishizing nonwhite women extends to clients as well. One Defender shares this about a white colleague: “There is one older white male attorney who has a thing for young Latinas. Somebody pointed it out to me, asking, ‘How come all of [such-and-such]'s clients are young Latinas?’ I started looking, and I realized the person was right. At arraignments, the older white male attorney would either get their files, or he would patrol the audience and look for a young Latina chick and ask her who she's there for; and then he would get that person’s file. So the client can be a male Latino, but there's always some young Latina chick around him.”
Women amongst the Defenders describe how white male colleagues and supervisors disrespect them in the workplace. One Defender describes a dynamic that other Defenders in the same office also observe: “There was a Black supervisor in the office, and the head of the office was constantly rude to her and dismissive of her. Others in the office would follow his lead and be rude to her as well.” Adds another Defender: “That Black supervisor was supervising a white attorney on a trial, and he refused to go to that Black supervisor with any of his questions. He refused to show her his closing argument. He would instead would go to the head of the office and show him everything—and this was as the trial was proceeding—because the message was sent loud and clear: this Black supervisor is an idiot, and Black people in this office are not so smart. And it was really top-down; it was really modeled by the head.” One Defender in a different office shares this experience:
I was sitting on a desk talking to one of our investigators, and a white supervisor tried to say that I was sitting inappropriately, like with the investigator between my legs or something. I just don't think that I would have gotten that assumption if I was a white woman. So while it wasn't directly stated that, oh, this Black person did this thing, it felt targeted…. A Black supervisor gave me a heads up about what the white supervisor was claiming, so I went to [the other supervisor] directly and said, “Hey, I heard you wanted to talk to me,” and addressed the incident. She was so concerned with who told me that for days she wouldn't even address the underlying issue, which was this whole “sitting on a desk” thing, because she needed to know who told me. Of course, I refused to disclose who told me. So the supervisor threatened my job; she threatened to tell the executive director, to which I responded, “I'm happy to call her myself.” If I was a white woman, I don't think I would have experienced that….
Defenders point out how some of the worst moments from white public defenders come after highly polarized incidents occurred in the U.S. One Defender states: “I think with colleagues, it mostly happens over email or the internet. Like, we just have a lot of emails that are incendiary. There was a whole email war about the Trayvon Martin killing where people were defending the verdict …. I can't even keep up with the amount of emails that we received sparking civil unrest on our email system and just showcasing the blatant levels of racism that occur with these people that work with people of color every day….” Another Defender shares the following: “There have been at least two white male attorneys, senior attorneys, that I feel like have said or done some racist shit. Like one attorney at the height of the Eric Garner protests, when all that was going on, had a printed-out picture on his wall with two cops in gas masks with t-shirts that said, ‘I Can Breathe.’ (Author reacts) Yeah, just above his computer, like just there in his office.”
Some white public defenders have reputations of being consistently abusive to their Black colleagues. One Defender notes how one particular white public defender “has had a run-in with almost every Black woman in our office. And it's always on some trying-to-check-us-on-how-we-are stuff. That same woman has had so many issues. She said some really fucked up shit about a Black supervisor. She either called another colleague a bitch or compared that colleague to a female dog. This same colleague came to our office because she used to be in a different public defender office and had called a Black female judge a cunt in open court….” Another Defender describes her experience with a white public defender with a similarly abysmal reputation: “I overheard a white colleague make a derogatory comment about one of her clients and his family, and when I brought it to her attention that it bothered me, she got very offended. She then proceeded to harass me for the remainder of my time in the office. She would insult me; she would go out of her way to try to make me uncomfortable. She was just awful. But she has a tendency to say very out-of-pocket stuff about clients and colleagues in general.”
While Defenders are certainly not fond of white conservative colleagues, several Defenders sound off on white liberal colleagues. One Defender talks about how white liberal colleagues “don’t see the racism in themselves. They represent Black people on a daily basis. They're the epitome of liberalism, and they are the most racist people you can ever come across. They're condescending and dismissive. They think we’re stupid. You have the same education, and they don't think we know what we're doing.” Another Defender states: “I certainly have seen that a lot in my career, where people who claim to commit their lives to anti-racism are far better at dealing with Black and Brown people where there's a power relationship, where they can sort of act in some way where they are set up to be appreciated, adored, valorized, etc.; and then these same folks struggle to maintain appropriate or even constructive relationships with Black or Brown attorneys who have the potential to be both equal to and critical of them in more thoughtful ways.” Another Defender expresses how “they hog the mic; they talk a lot; everything is like an outcry for them. And they don't have the same walk as us and they don't listen to us and they dominate the conversation, and it's all to show how non-racist they are. Meanwhile, they're sort of marginalizing us and pushing us out to the fringes….” Another Defender gives this answer and anecdote:
White liberals are a scary bunch. I've often said this while I was in law school, and it has not failed me: conservatives or Republicans or white supremacists or straight-up racists will let you know that from the door; they let you know who they are. I think that all white supremacy is rooted in fear; [the fear of non-liberals] is that you may be able to take their spot, whatever that spot looks like. You may be able to be just as good or better than them; and so they’re afraid of that, and they have to stop you from doing that. That’s the larger issue in this whole country: if Black excellence is actually a thing, which they know it is, then they feel like they have to root it out and cut it at the root.
White liberals don't believe that. They believe that you can't be anything. They’re like, you can't touch my excellence but for my helping you or holding your hand. I can get you to as close to that as possible. It never registers to them that you even have the ability to take their spot or to stand shoulder to shoulder with them. So the fear is less there; and because the fear is less there, you see the inner workings…. And that’s how it plays out at a place like [the public defender office I work for] ….
I bought a nice car years ago while working this job. A colleague of mine at the same time was looking to buy a car. My car was much more expensive than the one he was looking at or the one he bought. And he said to me—we had been looking online at cars and having car talk and shooting the shit in the office as colleagues, good colleagues and friends, defense attorneys, all of us—he turned and said to me, “I want to know where the red tops are.” Now there were some Black attorneys who were younger who didn't get that, because they're younger. I grew up in New York City in the crack era; I know that what would happen is when crack was sold, a lot of times it would be packaged with color tops. This bastard was saying to me that he wants to know where the crack is because I couldn't have gotten myself a nice car on my public defender salary unless I was selling crack.
That kind of chummy, chummy racism, micro/macroaggression, is day to day at [the public defender office I work at], and I believe at a lot of public interest lawyer organizations and offices. And it's the kind of thing that makes you feel minimized. It can alter your work product and your ability to do your best.
A few Defenders report being displeased with their respective offices’ response to the George Floyd murder and ensuing protests. On the one hand was no response: one Defender explains: “Also bothersome was a lack of action during the recent events surrounding the death of George Floyd. I had been struggling with it, and they didn’t even acknowledge it. The supervisors made no effort to check in to see how folks were feeling. Yet when something else happened very shortly after, it was like, ‘Hope everybody’s doing well with the storm, or with the light going out’ or whatever.” On the other hand was the performative response; another Defender explains: “After George Floyd, we had these ‘Black Lives Matter’ meetings; we had these zoom meetings where people could get on and express themselves about the racial injustice in the country and in the office and in the system and everywhere else…. When I see a bunch of white attorneys moaning about racism, all I can think of is, you've been the beneficiary of this racism for years and years and years, and you haven't done anything to try to change that. Yet you're going to sit here in front of the zoom session and talk and cry and moan about how horrible it is, what happened to George Floyd, and how horrible it is, what happens to our African American and clients of color. And I think it's crap; but it makes them feel good. That's half the battle….”
Finally, Defenders speak about dealing with microaggressions. One Defender provides a classic example: “I was just the angry Black lady. I had someone tell me I was scary, an older white woman. At [the place I worked at], I mean, there's people that yell, that have gotten into physical altercations, the kind of objectively bad behavior that we've seen amongst colleagues, between colleagues, between whatever. I've never yelled at anyone. I've never cursed at anyone. I've never threatened a soul. So to be told that I was scary, that someone was scared of me, because I speak firmly or am just not entertaining to their position, was interesting ….” Sometimes, white colleagues confuse Defenders for other Black colleagues. One Defender tells this story: “Sometimes my white colleagues won't even see what the issue is. Two Black women in my office were talking about how ridiculous it is that they get confused for each other all the time, and a white woman from our office interjected and said, ‘Oh, I don't get what you all are so upset about. I can kind of see it; you all do kind of look alike.’”
FN 1: A “Batson challenge” is a challenge attorneys make during jury selection when they have reason to believe that the opposing attorney kicked a person off the jury panel because of that person’s race. This mechanism got its name from a Supreme Court case called Batson v. Kentucky, 476 U.S. 79 (1986).
FN 2: This a reference to Rachel Dolezal, a white woman who was exposed for pretending to be Black. See, e.g., Chris McGreal, Rachel Dolezal: ‘I wasn't identifying as black to upset people. I was being me’, Guardian (Dec. 13, 2015, 1:00 PM), https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/dec/13/rachel-dolezal-i-wasnt-identifying-as-black-to-upset-people-i-was-being-me.
Are all of your colleagues dedicated to the work?
Almost all the Defenders that directly answer “yes” or “no” to the question answer “no.” The Defenders that do not answer “yes” or “no” tend to speak to varying motivations public defenders have for doing the work. One Defender offers this response: “I don't really know what that question means; I feel like it can mean different things to different people. I think my colleagues generally care about doing excellent work and being great public defenders. I think people have different motivations for why they became public defenders….” Another Defender gives this answer:
I think people had different motivations for doing the work…. Some people were there I think out of a real sense of the injustice of the system and the racism of the system, and they wanted to play a part in challenging that or fighting that and standing up to that. Some people were there because they just liked a good fight and ideologically were not aligned. They would never think that a conversation about race had a place in the work, or even a conversation about poverty or class or anything like that. They just liked the fight. They wanted to fight with the government; they liked a good fight. And then I think there were also a handful of people there who just hated the government in a very… I don't know; it’s like an anti-government thing.
Defenders’ answers to this question yield more than one conception of “dedication.” At the most basic level, dedication refers to fulfilling a public defender’s minimum obligations, such as filing motions, appearing on their clients’ cases in court, investigating matters, and trying cases when trials were necessary. In this vein, Defenders generally find that at least most of their colleagues are in fact dedicated. However, in the words of one Defender, there “are some colleagues that don’t care.” Another Defender notes: “Unfortunately, some folks are asleep at the switch. Some people are just waiting to retire…. I'm talking about people who consistently are inept; the work just does not phase them and nothing can get them riled up. Nothing can kick them into gear. They're always looking to not pick up cases. They're just really, really shameful…. There are a number of attorneys who are just there collecting a check and couldn't care less about the plight of our clients and the state of the criminal justice system.” Adds another Defender: “I had one colleague that I guess came from a wealthy family, and I remember him saying that this job was basically so that he could have some pocket change. And that always stood out in my mind.”
Some Defenders describe how some colleagues fall short of exhibiting any level of dedication. One Defender states: “They don’t show up to work, they don't show up on their cases. Their clients are looking for them all over the place. When they ask for coverage, they actually have done nothing on the case. They would force people to take pleas.” Another Defender lists the kinds of behaviors that attorneys lacking in dedication fail to do: “Not return phone calls to clients; not go see their clients in jail; not show up to court; not prepare their case; not give clients discovery; not meet with clients. How about hardly ever or not ever going to trial?” Another Defender notes how some public defenders are “off the grid. You don’t even know where they are. You can do this job and never try a case. A lot of people have gone years and years and they never try a case.” Adds another Defender: “Going into arraignments and doing some kind of half-ass conversation with the client and walking out knowing the client didn't understand what you said, not because they're not capable of understanding, but because you didn't take the time to explain. Not appearing for your clients in court, not being prepared, not knowing the law, sometimes not even remembering clients' names; just like really crazy stuff.” One Defender gives this anecdote:
I remember a case I covered once; it was a rape case for a guy who had appeared in court at least five times. Rape of course is very serious, as we know, in terms of the law and sentencing and the repercussions of that. And this guy couldn't tell me who his lawyer was. He just didn't know who his lawyer was. Now because we're a large organization, people come in and they leave. People take time off, they [go on] maternity leave. They go into different spaces and different positions. But with this particular case, the attorney on the case had always been this guy's attorney, and the client had made five appearances on this rape case. The attorney would never come to court….
The second “level” of dedication goes beyond crossing I’s and dotting T’s; it deals with how client-centered public defenders were. One Defender defines “dedication” this way: “‘Dedication’ means something. Words get thrown around a lot, but ‘dedication’ is a strong word. It is the push and the grind and the constant effort to better yourself and elevate yourself so that you can be a better advocate for your client. Sometimes it is putting in that extra phone call; when you tell a client that you're going to go call their sister or their mother, that you go out in the hall and you do it. You said you were going to do something; do it. [As a supervisor,] I'll put a sticky note on a file after arraignments saying, ‘Go do an investigation’; and then I follow up two days later [with my supervisee], and [that attorney says], ‘Yeah, I'm gonna get to it.’ That to me is worrisome, and I see it.” Another Defender states: “I think there are some very competent attorneys that are very biased against our clients.” Another Defender offers this anecdote:
I remember in particular I had one case that had been reassigned to me from a more senior attorney, but I guess he didn't realize it. So I went in [the courtroom] to conference the case and he had already been in to conference the case. The agreed upon disposition was like a misdemeanor with 10 days of community service, but I went in asking for a disorderly conduct violation or a conditional misdemeanor where my client wouldn't be left with a criminal record. It took me two minutes to get them to change that offer from a misdemeanor to a violation. And I was just like, well damn, what did he come in here and do if he already conferenced the case? Why couldn't he take the extra two minutes to get a better disposition? I've always been taught that you try to get the better disposition; even if it takes a little more work out of your client, you still try to get the better disposition. And I don't think everybody's looking at it that way. Maybe they're cutting corners; maybe they didn’t feel like it that day. But I don't know that everybody fights as hard as they can for every client.
Defenders also sound off on colleagues that lack empathy for their clients and the communities they serve. One Defender finds it frustrating to see colleagues “not listening to the clients and not giving them the time of day when you can. I know that the rhetoric is that we have a lot of cases and we don't have time and that kind of stuff, but you can make time.” Another Defender states: “I've heard people say, ‘No, not what your client says. What do the cops say?’ They don't even consider the client's facts. (Author reacts) They don’t ask, ‘What happened to you, sir or ma'am, that caused you to be here?’ The client's version of the facts aren’t even part of the scenario. Can you imagine that? It's not everybody, but there are people who are like that. They don't consider your client’s factual account of what happened.” One Defender provides a couple of examples of colleagues lacking empathy:
I'll give you two examples of what I found, in my opinion, to be kind of egregious. In the first example, it wasn't my client; it was a colleague's client. The client was there to return on a bench warrant. The judge was going to put them in. He was there with his girlfriend and his child who was young and in a stroller, like not an infant, but I would say, like, one to two years old, something like that. He had cash on his person, and the court said, “No, we're setting new bail.” He turned to his lawyer and said, “I have all the money and my girlfriend's right there. She doesn't have anything. Can I just give her the money?” The court officers are hustling him to the back, and he's saying to the lawyer, “Can you just give them this money?” And the colleague said, “I don't touch money. I'm not touching no money for nobody.”
I'm just thinking like, how can you see this family, a poor family or an indigent family, and you are not going to take the money from this person and walk it out to this lady? Because what? “Oh, you don't touch money”? The excuse is, “I'm worried they're gonna accuse me of something or whatever.” I don't know how you do that. It wasn't even my case, but I marched right up. I told his girlfriend, “Wait here.” I walked in the back in front of my colleague, went back and said, “Sir, this is my name. I'll take your money to your girlfriend.” And he said, “Thank you so much. Thank you so much, Miss.” And I just took it. I had it in my hand and I walked out of the well, walked back into the courtroom, took her outside and gave her the money. And my thought was, if I get accused of something, then I just get accused of it. But I'm not going to sit quietly. I have power in this position. I don't know how you can watch that and leave this woman and child with no money, so I was going to do it. So I did it.
In the second example, there was a client—it was the same attorney, by the way—who was like 16 or 17 or something. He was in jail, and the father came to court on the court date. The court appearance was over. The father came and sat one row behind me and the colleague. He asked the colleague, “Can you write a letter for my job, saying I was here and that I came for my son’s court date?” And the colleague said, “No. You're not my client. I can't write a letter for you. I only write letters for my clients.” I said, “What?” Then right in front of her, I turned to him and said, “Sir, I'll write you a letter.” The attorney didn't even say anything to me. And I sure enough went to the office later and wrote him a letter ….
Public defenders that lack this level of dedication generally have other motivations for doing the work. Some public defenders see the job as an opportunity to become great trial lawyers. One Defender answers: “They're dedicated to learning skills that they can take outside. A lot of people become public defenders here because they want to get trial skills.” Another Defender states: “What I've learned of late—and this is from experience—is that I think everyone that goes to the office I work for does so because they want to be litigators. We don't want to be sitting behind a desk, generally…. The difference that I've noticed of late is that it's more about competition, and they like the competition. And I feel like with some of my white colleagues, it's not really about helping people or improving their lives. It's about winning, beating the ADAs. That's what it boils down to more than helping our clients. If they get helped in the process, that's fine; but I think the number one priority for them is winning.” Adds another Defender: “There are a couple attorneys who have been doing this for too long and probably should retire, because they're not fully dedicated anymore. That's not to say that they're bad attorneys; I actually do think that they're good attorneys. But the way that they are unless they have a trial case is problematic.”
Other public defenders seek to center themselves as saviors. One Defender explains: “I think they promote themselves…. They like the accolades. It's a self-esteem boost for them or whatever. You're not doing this for the clients; you're doing it to promote yourself. And that bothers me a lot. I mean, you have to have a level of confidence, I think, to be a litigator anyway; but the humility in our work is very important as well, because we are representing others and affecting people's lives and livelihoods. So that's a big problem, the self-promotion.” Another Defender agrees: “It's been the performance of being liberal attorneys. It's the performative aspect of the cause. It's the centering—and I hate using that word, because I feel like a word like this becomes popular and get overused and it loses some of its power because it's been so overused—but there is a certain level of performance that happens within the movement in two aspects. They’re putting on a show at times; and if you call in those same group of people, they get so offended. And I'm like, ‘Well, if you were genuinely concerned about the movement here, I am from a certain perspective, and I’m telling you that you are engaging in behavior that is harmful. And instead of looking at your actions, you then become defensive or retaliatory.’”
Some Defenders note how some public defenders lose interest—and therefore slack off—when they realize that the work is harder and less exciting than how they initially envisioned it to be. One Defender observes: “I think that there are some newish attorneys who, for whatever reason, don't feel the need to push themselves and put in extra work that I believe should be put in. And the only explanation I can give to that is a lack of dedication. Maybe the job didn't turn out to be what they thought it was going to be. Maybe they thought it was going to be more exciting. So the sort of day-in, day-out grind work—is it that they don't like it, or does it not motivate them? I don't know; I'm not sure what it is—they are not doing.” Another Defender gives this answer:
Then there are some people that aren't dedicated to the work, and they came here because they thought it was going to be easy breezy, lemon squeezy. They're the 25% that thought that they were going to come to an organization where they weren't going to have to put in a level or quality of work that is now starting to be required by our organization simply because it's not a firm. The other 25% that I don't feel are dedicated to work—and that might be more than 25% as the numbers continue to skew younger—believe that this is a job like the Innocence Project, or something that's a little bit more policy-based, or something that's not as in-the-trenches and gritty, as I believe a public defender needs to be.
The third level of dedication refers to public defenders that are not only client-centered but are also committed to practicing in a manner that reflects an understanding of racism, classism, and other systems of oppression. The Defenders who speak about this level of dedication almost uniformly find their colleagues lacking. One Defender states: “I think some people are dedicated to the identity, dedicated to being able to be the ones in their families who are the leftists; or if their whole family is very conservative, they're dedicated to knowing more about the atrocities that are happening to the ‘darkies’ in the country. They're dedicated to that, but they aren't actually dedicated to the liberation of Black folks.” Another Defender concurs: “I will say the vast majority were dedicated to the idea of being a lawyer, not necessarily dedicated to the work because of some understanding of the structural and societal issues that impact why their clients were being arrested and charged.” One Defender gives this take:
I used to always say when I was in the trial office that if I or one of my siblings or a family member or a loved one came through arraignments, there are very few attorneys that I would trust to take the case. Despite how dedicated someone might appear to be to do the work, there's no true dedication to understanding the clients, the people that they work for…. Every time there's a verdict pertaining to something relating to the killing of a Black person [by police or vigilantes], white attorneys will send emails saying, “We're public defenders; we're defense attorneys. We shouldn't be advocating for a guilty verdict because we're public defenders first.” As though somehow that makes sense in the context of deep historical racism within America and the community that you represent, people who have been victims for generations of that deep racism and violence within America. As though those aren't the people that you represent. As though it's not a system that perpetuates that violence on your clients and the communities that you represent. No acknowledgement. There's no connection in their minds to it.
So while they may have legal acumen when it comes to making very technical legal arguments, when it comes to giving a shit about who your client is as a person, many of my colleagues are lacking. It's good to be a good technical lawyer, but it is also important to know what it means to be a decent human in this space and understand the plight and the circumstances of the community that you represent. And I do not feel that there are substantial numbers of attorneys within the public defender office I work for that have a true understanding of that.
Still, a number of Defenders think that a majority of their colleagues are adequately dedicated to the work. One Defender states: “I think the vast majority of my colleagues are dedicated to this work and are incredible attorneys that work hard and are brilliant. I also think there are some attorneys that show that this isn't for them, and I think there are some attorneys that have been burnt out.” Another observes: “I would say about 90% are dedicated, and the other people are there just to get a check.” Adds another Defender: “Many are. Especially during COVID; I've just been very impressed with how and to what lengths people have gone to try to get clients out, and to try to practice law under these awful conditions. They do the best they can under these really horrendous conditions. Some people are very hard workers and others are very dedicated to clients and really go the extra mile to help clients, not just legally, but personally.”
A few more answers:
Defender I don't know if they would tell me if they weren't. Do you know what I mean? Like, I feel like that's not something that people share. The people that I am close to? Definitely. The people that I work with now, I do have to say are very dedicated to the point where I'm like, Okay, do not text me at midnight just because your client called you and has an issue. I'm not going to answer that text; it can wait until the morning.
Defender My answer to that is I think it would be difficult for me to answer that with 100% certainty. What I will say is that I think there are some colleagues who are just here so they don't get fined,3 even though they believe they're committed. (Author laughs) And I do think there are some of our colleagues that do the work from a very paternalistic and maybe even patriarchal place; but I don’t think they recognize it. Then there are some of us, no matter race or age or how long they have been doing this work, who are super committed from a truly social justice, this-whole-shit-is-fucked-up point of view. So I would say overall, it's a mixed bag….
Defender No, absolutely not. I would say there are some that are dedicated to the work. There are some that are truly diligent and dedicated to the work. And I would say that's probably more than 50%. But there are a lot of people who aren't dedicated to the work and thought that the job was going to be something that I personally don't think it is…. A public defender needs to be able to get their hands dirty and they need to be able to get down in the mud. They need to be scrappy. They need to be able to take a punch figuratively. They need to be able to take a punch, and they have to have a certain level of backbone and bite and feistiness and fire…. If you're not getting yelled at and cussed at once a week, are you really doing your job correctly? You've been here five years, and this is the first time a judge has yelled at you. What is going on? What are you doing?
Then there are some lawyers that are not dedicated to the work and are more dedicated to what I call their passion projects, trying to portray themselves as being civil rights attorneys instead of public defenders. And I think that there is intersectionality between public defenders and civil rights attorneys; but I think that there are also very separate lanes on what a civil rights attorney does and what their responsibilities and roles are, and what a public defender does and what their roles and responsibilities are.
Defender I don't think anybody's ever dedicated to the work 100% of the time. I think that that's difficult. But I think that there are some people who understand the need to do something about it. For example, me as a Black woman attorney … working with, in the majority, men—90% of the charging instruments I deal with right now look like a man has done something to a woman. A lot of it wasn't even actual physical violence; sometimes it would be something as small as a phone call with yelling and screaming. I’m not denying that that could be mental or emotional violence; but a lot of it, or more of it, was disagreements that got out of control…. Being dedicated to the work all the time, when you look like the person who's making the complaint, can sometimes be difficult. That's just being candid and 100% honest. But there were moments where I had to recognize that and then do something about it. So there are those kinds of people….
FN 3: Reference to Marshawn Lynch’s (in)famous press conference on Super Bowl Media Day in 2015, in which he answered every question with, “I’m just here so I won’t get fined.”
Does it frustrate or burden you to work with colleagues who don’t care?
For public defenders that don’t care about the work or their clients, it both frustrates and burdens Defenders.
Frustration Defenders are frustrated by colleagues who don’t care. One Defender speaks to the underlying reason for Defenders’ frustration: “Yes, because these are my people. I tell people all the time: the only thing that separates me from my client is the fact that I went to law school. Nothing else. There is no separation. We're the same race. A lot of our clients are the same age…. It's so crazy, because if I were to get arrested, 99% of the people in the office could not represent me. That's number one. Number two, when you see a system that's already unfair, a system that you're already trying to battle, it makes it that much worse for you because we take on our clients' trauma….” Another Defender notes: “Here's the thing: I think it is frustrating to work with colleagues who don't care because the work we're doing is very important. It’s especially annoying when you have to do work for other people. That's annoying too, and it's frustrating.” One Defender can speak to the “do work for other people” point: “Yes, it frustrated me. I mean, you see it in arraignment with people begging you to take over their case, because they knew that their attorney wasn't shit.”
Some Defenders express frustration with how some colleagues don’t fight for their clients. One Defender elaborates:
I think about my colleagues who don't care, I think about my white colleagues, and the reason why I think about them is because what they do does not have any effect on their community. So when my white colleagues just plead somebody out on the 180.80 day to a sentence that will send them upstate, where the client has never gone upstate before and should be at least given an opportunity to get a program or something, and they just send the child upstate without a thought, it's disgusting….
I understand that some colleagues have been here forever, but things have changed. Things have evolved. In times past, people were receiving 60 days, 90 days, six months in jail easily for a crack vile; but things have progressed. What was not possible then is possible now. But I don't necessarily think people have evolved to that. And I think some folks just churn cases out. So someone gets arrested, we get to the 180.80, and the offer is one-and-a-third to four years in prison, and some attorneys are taking it then. I don’t understand it. The attorney is going to get that offer back. Stop, get the kid a PPI,4 get him a program, whatever. The one-and-a-third to four [years in prison] should be the jail alternative if he messes up the program; but my God, don't plead him out on the 180.80 day. Give the child a fighting chance. And I feel like, because this is not going to affect some white attorneys, their concern is negative 100. Everybody needs a chance. Everybody needs second, third chances.
Other Defenders express frustration with how paternalistic public defenders can be with their clients. One Defender explains: “It can be frustrating, and it boils down to when I see how they interact with their clients sometimes; and it's very [much like], ‘I'm telling you what's best. You need to do what I tell you to do.’ And it's like, no; you give advice, but ultimately it's the client's choice. It's the client's case. It's the client's life. So they get to make their decision; and if they don't necessarily agree with what the attorney says, that doesn't mean they're stupid, they're being disrespectful, or whatever. They have a choice. And sometimes I do see and hear colleagues talking to clients, and it is frustrating to have to say, ‘They don't have to do what you say just because you're a lawyer.’”
One supervisory Defender expresses a different but very relevant frustration:
Yes, and one of the most frustrating things I have found is that it is virtually impossible to get rid of attorneys that don't care from this organization. And I found that to be incredibly frustrating. There are less and less of them because some of them have retired. But there are people on staff who really have no business representing people. And while those numbers are fewer and fewer as time has gone on, I have found that to be one of the most frustrating things I've dealt with….
There was one attorney here for a period of time who talked the talk, but then when you actually looked at her files, she did nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I wound up covering one of her cases one day, and there was a very obvious speedy trial motion that could be made, where the prosecution had answered not ready five, six, seven, eight times, enough times where a diligent lawyer would have said. “OK by this point, I must have enough accumulated speedy trial time to think about a motion.” So when I covered the case, I told her: “Listen, you've got a really good speedy trial motion. The judge even mentioned it. So, you should file this motion.” Well, she did nothing for weeks at a time. And I remember the client. I don't know his name, but I remember him; he was about six-foot-eight, he was a giant guy who was super nice. I just felt bad for him because he's like, “every time I come to court, I'm here until three, four o'clock. I'm getting calls from the daycare where my child is wondering where I am and why I am not there to pick my child up. All I ask is that I don't have to go through this every single time.” So I felt really bad for the guy.
Fast forward like six or eight weeks later, and no motion had been filed by the defense. She wasn't there that day, and I went back and covered the case once again. I thought it was outrageous. I went to the courtroom and the judge was pissed and stated, “No, I’m not accepting a motion now.” And I responded, “Well, it’s a speedy trial motion, so you really are not in position to say no, if you think it's a valid motion.” And luckily, a supervisor in the prosecutor’s office was in the courtroom that day, and actually listened as I made an oral argument in court and said to me, “Let's have a conversation in the hallway.” We talk, and he wound up consenting to a dismissal. And the judge said, “I wasn’t trying to give you a hard time, but it's pretty outrageous that your colleague would not even file a motion.” So this client’s life was put on hold for many months because this attorney did not have the level of dedication needed to represent somebody. And this person still works for our organization.
A few more answers:
Defender Yes, because I feel like it drags down the overall morale in the office.
Defender Yes. But then sometimes it frustrates me to work with colleagues who care too much. Let's face it: there are some people who feel that there should be no repercussions to your actions or that our clients never do anything wrong. And it's like, come on man. Like, there might be a case where a client slashes somebody’s face open. Do they need to be locked up and the key thrown away? No. But if someone asked him to do anger management and be on probation for a year, I don’t think that’s unreasonable. But some of my colleagues will act like it’s completely unreasonable.
And then there are some colleagues who are like, “Yeah I don't care. Yeah, I'm not calling that person back. Yeah, it really doesn't matter.” And for me, I think to myself, why are you even here?
Defender Yes, absolutely. But I have come to understand that for a lot of people, it's a job, and they are just doing their jobs. But it is very, very frustrating, especially because a lot of the clients that we represent come from circumstances exactly or very similar to my upbringing. So it's very frustrating that people can't understand, don't care and don't want to care…. It's hard because sometimes somebody will stop me in court and be like, “Oh, I've been waiting for my attorney all day.” Or even if I see someone I know speaking to a client and I know what kind of attorney that person is—and obviously I don't know everything about this person's particular case, but just having a general understanding of who this person is and how this person is—it can be frustrating to know that they may not be getting the advice from someone that has their best interests at heart.
Defender Yes. In fact, it’s one of the things that drove me to leave.
Burdened Defenders also find themselves burdened by colleagues who don’t care. Many Defenders find themselves taking cases from uncaring colleagues to ensure that their clients receive proper representation. One Defender admits: “I would find myself taking on other people's cases when I knew they weren't doing right by their clients. In Brooklyn, we have traffic,5 which is like a misdemeanor coverage shift. Attorneys would have that role like once or twice a month, and I would end up picking up cases from traffic because I would see my colleagues were doing so poorly for their clients. So I would just take over the case and wouldn't give the file back, or I would tell the attorney that I am taking over the case because I've resolved it.” Another Defender experiences the same, noting how “there were times when I felt so sorry for clients who had certain attorneys, like (names names), that I would just take their cases from them. If the client had a case that was a big mess and really needed an attorney, I would take it. So now I’m stuck with cases that I wouldn’t have otherwise had. And a lot of my other colleagues that are hardworking do the same thing and encounter the same sort of problem.”
Sometimes, Defenders take cases from terrible colleagues in arraignments. One Defender explains: “A lot of lazier attorneys in arraignments don’t pick shit up. There are some people who are notorious for picking up files and walking in circles, and not touching the heavier cases. Sometimes when I work in a shift with bad lawyers, and there are heavy cases coming through, my empathy kicks in—and of course this is on me—and a lot of times I would just take them all because I’m like, I can’t have this person doing these cases. So all of a sudden I’ve left an arraignment shift with like 3 gun cases and 2 robbery cases; and of course they sit back and are totally fine with it. So I’m picking up more cases, having a higher caseload, having to clean up people’s messes.” Another Defender shares this story: “I do know one attorney yelled at me for not picking up a particular case or letting somebody else take it; he was just like, ‘You know that person's not going to do the trial.’ I was just like, ‘Okay, but I can't take everything because I have to do my work.’ Like, my God….”
A few more responses:
Defender When I was a staff attorney, I was most definitely burdened. There were some attorneys that just didn’t show up on their cases. They don’t come to court. They have cases on, they don’t come, and sometimes you’d be in court and you’re stuck standing on their cases because you’ve got a client that’s like, “I have this place to go to, I have this place to be,” or “I’ve been sitting here all day.” Then all of a sudden, you’re standing up on their cases. Some of them prove to be hot messes, and you’re standing there without a file trying to defend someone. That shit can end up ruining your whole fucking day. You can end up coming back after lunch to deal with their cases when you had no other cases because you feel sorry for this client who’s there with no lawyer. I’m there cleaning up somebody else’s mess. That happens over and over and over again.
Defender For example, unless I’m half-dead, I’m not going to not show up on a 180.80 on an attempted murder.6 I’m not going to call out. I’m going to go to court, be sick, do my 180.80 and then leave. I’m not going to put that on someone else….
I think the biggest problem that gives public defenders a bad rap is the one thing I said to you at the beginning of this conversation, which is that people don't fucking care. They don't care about their clients. They don't care that there's somebody sitting in a box for the last two years waiting for a trial date. They don't care that that someone hasn't seen their family. They don't care that, even though the person got released at arraignments, there's a fucking order of protection that said that they can’t go home, and it's Christmas. They've been rendered homeless, or they've lost their jobs, or whatever it is that is plaguing them based on their case; and the lawyer just doesn't give a fuck. And they push it off.
I can remember a particular case where this attorney has seen his client once. And it was a felony, an indicted felony, a second degree robbery case. And this young lady saw her lawyer once. And the reason why I got the case wasn't because the lawyer was sick; it wasn't case relief. No: it was literally because the supervisor came to me and said, “I need somebody to really work on this case. Please help me.” No work had been done. No motion had been filed. Now I gotta get yelled at because this goddamn lawyer didn't write the motion. So I gotta do it and pray I don't get precluded. Now that's the problem, and it’s because you don't care. You're just showing up….
It was terrible. Like, literally terrible. This young lady, she had lost her job. She done lost that fucking job for allegedly stealing from a cab driver, like holding the cab driver up. She had literally had this great job, and she was now taking undesirable jobs because she couldn't work. (Author reacts) Oh, yes. Yes. It was bad. It was so bad. I didn't know what she was indicted on, because there was no indictment in the file. It was bad….
Then there are people who only care about themselves. They only care about trial cases. “Oh, I only go to trial. I only do trial cases.” So everybody else that's in their caseload is [irrelevant to them because they only care about trials. So the burden of their other cases falls on their colleagues ….
Defender Heck yeah, because the court knows they don't care either. So then the court officers are bugging you; the clients are bugging you; and then if you help, they know that you're a helping person, and they'll abuse you because they know that you're going to come help. And then the clients will be like, “Ma'am, please be my attorney. My attorney doesn't care. He don't ever come until four o'clock. Please help me, please.” And you could help every single time, but then you'd probably want to cry because you wouldn't be able to do your own cases; and you'd be in court all day if you helped every single time you had some trash colleague that was treating their clients bad. And it always does fall back on good attorneys because it just makes your work life more difficult.
You have colleagues who call out for months at a time. They are never on trial. They don't want to come to court. They don't want to do anything. They don't want to be there. Then you end up covering their cases, and the clients suffer as a result. And then you end up apologizing for the work of other people; and that's the worst part about being a part of an organization where you have a few colleagues who don't work hard and where there's not a standard of service being given to every single client. That makes you look bad…. It is painful in a lot of ways, because you're fighting against the system. You're fighting against the reputation of your organization. And then you're also fighting against this trash reputation that your colleagues have built up in the minds of clients and the overall community. It's just wack; it calls your entire practice and your license and your ability to be a competent and great attorney into question every single time….
FN 4: A “PPI” is a plea bargaining tool that attorneys and social workers prepare on behalf of a client for mitigation purposes. It is a memorandum submitted to the prosecutor on the case with the hopes of getting a better offer than the offer on the table. The goal of the memorandum is to humanize the client and move the ADA to make a better offer.
FN 5: The “traffic shift”—also called an “anchor shift” by other offices—is an institutional assignment public defenders have in certain All Purpose (AP) parts, particularly in Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. The attorney remains in the part all day; and the idea is that the attorney would cover misdemeanor cases for colleagues that are on trial, in arraignments, or out sick. The attorney would also represent clients who have returned on bench warrants issued on prior court dates. Public defense offices in the Bronx don’t have traffic shifts; attorneys and supervisors are responsible for arranging case coverage. However, they have “warrant shifts,” in which attorneys cover cases (generally in the afternoon) of clients that return on bench warrants.
FN 6: If a person arraigned on an unindicted felony charge has bail set at arraignment, the judge is required to adjourn the case on the date where 144 hours have elapsed from the time of arrest. For example, let’s say that a person is arrested on a Thursday at 11:30 a.m., and that person is arraigned in criminal court on felony charges the following day. If the judge sets bail on that person, the judge must adjourn the case to an AP part on the following Wednesday, because 144 hours will have elapsed on the following Wednesday at 11:30 a.m. The applicable section is Criminal Procedure Law § 180.80, which is why the date is called the 180.80 day.
Unlike the 170.70 day, there’s a lot more involved with the 180.80 day. With a 170.70 day, the prosecution has either produced a first-party complaint (which means the client remains in jail until the case is resolved), or they have not (which means the client gets released). With the 180.80 day, the prosecution generally must present the case to a grand jury and obtain an indictment. Where the prosecution fails to do so, the client is released. However, where the prosecution has presented the case to the grand jury, the defense attorney has important decisions to make, including: a) whether the client should testify in the grand jury; b) whether the defense should waive time before the grand jury votes to indict the case, with the hopes that the prosecution can offer a deal worth taking; and c) seeing whether or not family has enough money to possibly bail out the client. Thus, it is generally inadvisable for a defense attorney to be absent when they have cases scheduled for 180.80.
Do you feel that there is disconnect in terms of how white attorneys and Black clients interact/relate/communicate/deal with each other?
Almost every Defender to tackle this question answers in the affirmative. One Defender states: “Yes. It's difficult for white attorneys to understand certain situations about their Black clients; and although they may learn about it in training, it's very, very different than my experience of actually living it.” Another Defender answers: “Yeah, because there would be a disconnect between me and a white client. More than likely I'm not going to have the life experiences that he had; even if he’s poor, he’s still white.” The disconnect can sometimes lead white attorneys to misunderstand Black clients or, as one Defender tells it, “to think that the client is lying when that's just how it is; some people just can't fathom that something could be the way the client says it is….”
Two Defenders give similar examples. One Defender states:
Here’s an example: a white colleague asked me one day, “You know your cousin's last name, right?” and I’m like, “What”? So they say again, “Like, you should know your cousin’s last name, right?” So I am wondering what the point of the question is, but I say, “Yes, I know my cousin’s last name. But what kind of cousin are we talking about? Is this like your blood cousin, like my parents, siblings, or child? Or is this a we-grew-up-together-in-the-neighborhood cousin where you know their first name, but you don't necessarily know their last name? Or is this your God sibling?” And clearly, the way that he was asking it to me, it was like he didn't believe his client when the client said he didn't know his cousin’s last name. And I’m like, “No, that's legit, if that is only somebody he just grew up with; it is very possible that he doesn't know his last name.”
The second example:
Early in my career, I received a transfer case that was a petit larceny for a teenage girl. I remember this one very distinctly. I get this transfer case involving a teenage girl from an older white male attorney. All he wrote inside the file was, “I don't understand what she's saying. She doesn't make sense.” So I speak to her, and what she's saying to me makes perfect sense to me; where he got lost was on the relationships between her and the other people that she was with. It's the concept of a play cousin, or the concept of, “These aren't really my friends; these are my homegirls’ friends” and blah, blah, blah. When you say those things to me, you don't have to explain what that means; I understand exactly what you mean. And that was lost on the attorney, [and there was no] getting past that to get to what happened during the incident.
Numerous Defenders comment on how white public defenders would talk down to Black and Brown clients. One Defender observes: “I think that a lot of times white lawyers just don't get it, especially when dealing with Black clients. They don't have a lot of patience. I’ve seen colleagues really snapping at clients, as if they’re offended by the client simply asking them a question.” Another Defender notes: “By and large, when I’ve either inherited a client’s case that previously had a white attorney, or covered a case for a white colleague, the clients have expressed that they didn’t like how their attorney talked to them. They said the attorneys were condescending and/or very dismissive.” Another Defender states: “I especially see this in the way that older white attorneys talk to and interact with their clients. They tend to speak down to them; they’re not interested in explaining the process to Black clients. Older white colleagues tend to be very rude and disrespectful. They will be demeaning—I can't even say paternalistic, because I don't think that’s what it is—to clients of color…. I’ve observed supervisors and older attorneys screaming at their clients in the hallway in front of everybody. I can't recall the exact words that were used, but they're very rude and condescending, screaming at their clients in the hallways.” One Defender provides this example:
I observed one attorney, when trying to convince her client not to testify before the grand jury, talk to him like he was an idiot. She spoke very loudly and slowly like this (drawing out her words and enunciating her syllables to demonstrate). I was there observing, as I was new at the time. I went over to him and just talked to him regularly and said, “Look, I think what she’s basically trying to get at is that you have a lot to lose.” I spoke to him in layman terms, and then he said, “OK.” She thought to herself—she was from the Upper West Side—that he can relate to me because I’m talking his “lingo.” But I think it was because I was talking to him like a regular person….
Many Defenders also comment on the paternalism of white public defenders. One Defender notes: “I would sit in on people's client meetings. Clients would come in, and I could see that the attorney just wanted to stuff whatever idea down the person’ throat and have them do whatever the attorney wanted them to do, whether it be to take the plea, go to trial, or whatever. They weren't really paying attention to the person.” Another Defender shares similar sentiments: “I think there's mistrust on the part of the clients for their white attorneys sometimes. I think that the savior complex that some attorneys have when dealing with their clients can lead to breakdowns in communications and them not representing their clients well, not being able to work with their clients well, because there has to be a level of trust between attorney and client.” Adds another Defender: “I think that some attorneys are too paternalistic with some of their Black clients and think that they know better than the client. I mean, it's so hard to separate, right? We're talking about race and our client, but our client is more than their Blackness, right? The traumas that they've suffered in life, the generational traumas that their families have suffered, the economic hardships that they're going through, the educational deficiencies, the mental health issues that our clients have; all of these things make up who they are. And so many of those things are different than the attorney representing them. And on top of that, they are different races.” One Defender offers this answer:
I've seen colleagues tell their clients that they have to move out the projects. Like, no one's in the projects thinking, yeah, this is my forever home. Why do you feel that now is the time for you to be pushing this agenda? They would say, “You know, you need to get out of the projects. That's why you keep picking up these cases.” It's not helpful. If you're going to give someone unsolicited advice, could you at least make sure it's advice that person can actually take?
Defenders caution that clients can tell when white public defenders care and when they don’t. One Defender explains: “I can see sometimes the way white attorneys talk to clients, it’s clear the attorneys don’t believe them. Yes, Black people are very perceptive. They can tell when you think they’re lying, or that you don’t want to touch them. It’s clear; people feel those vibes. But a lot of white attorneys don’t get it, or don’t care.” Another Defender notes how “clients can see through the bullshit….” Another Defender remarks: “I mean, some Black clients can see through what's really happening and they can play on that and get the things that they want out of that type of professional relationship. It's more difficult if I'm talking to another Black person who's a client, because I may not fall for certain things….”
The last part of the previous answer speaks to the other side of disconnect: when white attorneys try to meaningfully connect with Black clients, sometimes Black clients would get over on them in ways they could not with Black attorneys. One Defender explains:
I look at it like we have a more realistic perspective on situations that sometimes our white counterparts don't. I sometimes feel like the clients can come in, and they'll tell the white attorney or social worker something; and the white attorney or social worker will be like, “Oh, I'm so sorry. This is sad.” They'll coddle them and they'll, like, pet them and stuff. Then the client will come to me and I’ll be like, “Okay, stop it.” (Author laughs) “Look, we know that’s not the real deal. You're not getting over on me with that.”
They don’t do that in every case, but sometimes our clients do try to, like, pull one over on us; and like with anybody else, you size people up. I just feel that sometimes with our white counterparts, they don't want to say that inappropriate thing; they don't want the client to think that they're racist; they want the client to think that they’re on their side. So they’ll kind of go above and beyond where we’re just going to be who we are with our clients….
One Defender elaborates further:
Oh, yeah; it was extreme. I’ll give an example that always used to drive me nuts…. Because of the white liberal guilt, they just wouldn't call a spade a spade; and they would come up with some ridiculous explanation for why their clients aren't doing something, or aren't telling them something. Like a lot colleagues will say, “Well, you have to understand that our clients have never had a job before. So they don't know about showing up someplace on time.” And I look at them and go, “That's bullshit. If I told some of our clients to meet me in the corner of my block at 10 o'clock in the morning so we can smoke this blunt, they’re going to be there at 9:45. It's not that they can't tell time, you idiots; it's that they don't respect the system.” That drove me nuts; oh my God….
You have to be realistic about the fact that the average person that becomes a public defender, white or Black, has just never dealt with crime or dealt with bad dudes or even talked to those bad dudes when they were growing up. So to think that you can live your entire life until you are 25—let's say the average person is 25 when that person graduates from law school—and then in your late twenties you just start talking to people that you’ve avoided all your life, it's tough. It's not easy. I could tell a lot about the Black female attorneys in terms of where they were from, just by how they dealt with their clients. The ones from the hood were good; the ones that weren't clearly struggled ….
For these reasons, Defenders generally think that nonwhite public defenders do a better job forming relationships with Black and Brown clients than white public defenders. One Defender states: “I will say that Black clients will open up to me faster and be more real…. You get a client to trust you and to tell you really what's going on, and then you tell that to your supervisor or to a colleague who's been working longer than you and has seen more than you, and they think that you're being taken for a ride. Yet the truth is a lot of times closer to what the client told you than anything else that they were suggesting.” Another Defender remarks: “I'll go as far as saying that, in a general sense, I think that our [nonwhite] clients have better relationships with [nonwhite] attorneys. There's just a better connection between the attorney and the client. But that's just me on the outside looking in and viewing how other people deal with their clients.”
A few more responses:
Defender I really think it just depends on the white person, because I have seen some of my colleagues who are white having real meaningful relationships with their clients as well. But I also saw a lot of them either being in, like, this weird white savior position which was just bizarre, or being completely detached and not giving a shit. They would literally be treating our clients like n-----s; and if they could use the word, they would.
Defender At all levels. There’s a total disconnect. In regard to our recruitment, you are having a lot of colleagues that are not from New York City or New York State, or they are not from urban areas. So they come in with a bias already. That's number one.
Number two, because of that disconnect, they do not know their client base. I think our office has done a bad job with their hiring class and the new attorneys. They need to implement a training requirement where new attorneys have to do community engagement and immersion. A part of their training should be going to the South Bronx, going to Hunts Point, going to East New York, Brownsville, going to Queensbridge and the Hamels, going to these projects and really learning more about the population that they serve. They should not be waiting until you are assigned a case at arraignment and saying, “Let me do my investigation.” No, that cultural immersion, training and community engagement training should start at the time you are hired; that should be a part of your training.
Defender One of the things that I always found really interesting about the public defender office I worked for—and I speak about my office, but my office works hand in hand with all the other public defenders—is that there’s always an acquittal party when a client is acquitted after trial. My colleagues love to have an acquittal party down at the old Brazen Head in Brooklyn and wherever the bar of choice is in the Bronx in Manhattan. Everybody's there slapping everybody's back and congratulating the attorney that won the trial: “That was a good cross examination. Oh, you killed that cross.” “Oh that opening was amazing.” “Did you poll the jury? Did you hear what they said?”
I've never been to an acquittal party—and I don't think you have either—where the client is there. The client is never at the party, because it's not about the client. And that's the disconnect, right? That's the disconnect. Now some lawyers have had dinners with clients that have gotten out; but the party does not include the client, because there's this understanding that we as lawyers own a particular space that other people are not allowed to be a part of. And I get that we went through the schooling, the bar exam, the character and fitness interview; it’s like when you're in a fraternity or a sorority, and they haze you. We went through all of that to get this; and it was not a small feat, particularly if you're a Black person. So I understand that it is a protected space.
However, when you're a public defender, that space is usually one that you have acquired off the backs of poor Black folks. So, if you occupy that space and it is a protected space, it's a space that should be respected both ways. Often we find that our clients don't tend to give public defenders that sort of respect; but public defenders—and in a lot of my experiences, particularly white ones, but sometimes Black ones too—don't give that to our clients. And I think the real rub in all of it is that we're all humans navigating the same situation. The client of course is in the hot seat, but the lawyer is navigating whatever his role is in the same situation that came from the same allegations of the same specific circumstance that happened where the client “allegedly” was involved. We're all operating from that. That's how we all got here. That's how we met. We met because the cops stopped you and said this; and then it’s “inserted lawyer” and now we're here.
The acquittal party is the perfect opportunity for us both to see each other outside of that space. That's done now. So whatever it is that we've built up can be seen as authentic or inauthentic at the acquittal party. And I think that's why the client isn't invited to the acquittal party, especially when it comes to white lawyers who are representing Black clients: because whatever this relationship is, it's clear that this relationship is a result of what happened to you; and that the thing that got us together is the only way we relate. If he's a Black man, or if she's a Black woman, and I'm a Black woman representing him, we didn't just get here because of what you did. We got here because we both had to experience some of the same things. So the party for us, as Black attorney and Black client, is a celebration of both of our larger freedoms; and that's not something that I think that white attorneys can understand or wrap their heads around. And that's just one example.
I personally don't have acquittal parties because I go to clients' houses. I sit down at grandma's table. If she has something to eat and the house is clean, I'll eat it. I don't like pets, so I don't tend to go pet the dog or cat. (Author laughs) I meet on the street. I do a lot of investigations on my own. I meet the cousins and the aunties. I've been asked to be the godmother of one of my client’s children. I've been to their kids' graduations. And I'm not saying our white attorney colleagues haven't done all that; but what I am saying is there's something different that has happened to me every time I've been introduced by my Black client to family or friends in the neighborhood and in the community: “This is my lawyer.” There's an understanding of our struggle as Black people that our white colleagues don't have; and that's not their fault. But then that just means that they have to do something to create a space of mutual respect. And a lot of times they think that they do, but they're not because the experience is always under the guise of, we were only brought together because you had a bad situation….
Defender Oh yes, of course…. There was a judge named Bruce Wright—I actually had the pleasure of meeting the guy. He was an incredible personality, an incredible person—and he was talking to a group of us. He said that when he was sitting on the bench, he had much more in common with the defendants who were coming before him than the prosecutors or the attorneys who were defending them. And it’s the truth. We have a lot in common with our clients, no matter where we came from. I'm a kid born [outside of New York City]; and I have way more in common with my Lower East Side or Washington Heights client than a white person who was born and raised in Manhattan. It's just the way it is….
I think there's a huge disconnect between the white attorneys and the clients of color. All too often with white attorneys, unfortunately, is this need to be Tarzan in the jungle, this need to be the great white hunter who paternalistically can look out for these little jigaboos and help them make the decisions that are right for them. And they hate it when we get into these meetings and I blast them about the fact that they work for the freaking client. I tell them, “You may think you know what's best for them. You don't; you only know what's best legally. You don't know this person's life.”
I can't tell you how many times I've advised a client to do something and the client is not going with what I said. Maybe we've gone to trial, and I told the client, “Look, if we go to trial, we're probably going to lose this trial. We really need to consider a plea on this”; and the client says, “No, no. I want my day in court.” So you have the trial. You try the living daylights out of it. You make the ADA bleed, because that's what you do. But you lose; they convict him. And the client will turn around and look you in the face and say, “Thank you so much. I had my day in court. I got what I wanted.”
So I can't say what he needs. I can only tell him legally what's going on. But what that client really wants is within that client; and I think white attorneys have a difficult time with that. They will make decisions contrary to what their clients want because “it's good for the client.” But it isn't good for the client. The client knows what the client wants. Now of course, I don't mean that with clients who have mental health issues and things like that; certainly you have to take a much more active role in the decision-making process with clients who have mental health issues. But otherwise, you are working for the client; you do what the client wants you to do.
I tell clients all the time, “You shouldn't testify in front of the grand jury.” The client’s like, “I want to testify in front of the grand jury.” Alright. What's my job? To try to prep that client as well as I can for his grand jury presentation and hope that he does well. And I gotta say, sometimes they went after I've told them not go in front of the grand jury and get a no-true bill.7 I don't know everything. It's their life; let them make their decisions and respect their decisions. But white attorneys have a difficult time doing that. It's that whole paternalistic thing of I know what's best for you; do it the way I tell you to do it.
FN 7: “No true bill” means that the prosecutor has presented a felony case to a grand jury seeking an indictment, and the majority of the grand jury voted not to indict the case. When the grand jury returns a “true bill,” it means that they have voted to indict the case, or have voted to indict the client on some of the charges in the felony complaint.
Are there white attorneys that you respect? If so, what do you respect about them?
Almost all the Defenders to tackle this question answer in the affirmative. One Defender states: “Yes. There are amazing attorneys that I still go to for advice. I respect those that keep fighting, that are willing to fight, that inspire me to fight.” Another Defender states: “Yes, absolutely. I'm impressed with a white person who is empathetic enough and open enough and caring enough to do this work properly and correctly.” Adds another Defender: “Certainly. A handful come to mind that are super thoughtful and very cognizant, perhaps, of their position vis-à-vis their clients. They are not trying to either treat them like a ‘homeboy’ or treat them like a child. Their approach is, your situation is really unfortunate, and regardless of the facts of this case, whether you did or didn’t do it, you deserve to be treated with some sort of integrity. And I’ve seen them be really—I mean, I can count on one hand, so it’s not too many of them—committed and tenacious.”
Defenders generally respect white attorneys—attorneys of all races—that practiced with competence and empathy while truly centering the client. One Defender states: “Absolutely. Absolutely. Some of them are really exceptional lawyers. They know the law very well. They are very passionate. They took this job because they believe in helping the poor, helping those who have a difficult time fighting for themselves. There are some really dedicated white attorneys that I've been privileged to work with, that I have tried cases with, and that I think really highly of in terms of the work.” Another Defender concurs: “I would say that I respect them for the same reasons that I would respect any attorney. If I'm respecting them, if I'm giving them some sort of—I'm not saying additional respect—credit because they're white, then it would be because, aside from the fact that they're good attorneys who know the law and care about their clients, they go the extra mile and they don't behave in racist ways. It would also be because they seem to be able to be authentic with me and with our clients in a way that isn't condescending and is just real.” Adds another Defender: “I know many who have committed their lives and their careers to this work; and those are not the ones who make it on the TV shows and the newspaper articles and things like that. These are people that have developed professional and personal relationships with their clients. They've put the time in. You can see their commitment to the work, to improving people's lives.” One Defender gives this answer:
Yes, there are. There's actually a lot. There’s this one white attorney that is in our homicide unit. He treats everyone as an equal. The only difference is he has a specialty in this interaction. He is very good, and it's something that I try to model my interactions with my clients on. You've gotta be authentic. If you only know how to be a lawyer by using the Latin phrases, you gotta go back and figure out how to explain that to someone who is just as smart as you, but in a different field. It’s something that I think all attorneys should try to do, and I have rarely seen it done better than this white guy who has a huge number of Black and Hispanic clients and never once condescends to them, never once demeans them, and has them leaving understanding [New York speedy trial law] better than some of our colleagues, because he really takes that time to explain it.
I mean, if every white attorney treated their clients like this attorney, there wouldn't be a need for this book that you're writing. He had one client that was an aspiring basketball player, and he was able to equate New York speedy trial law to timeouts in basketball; and the client left understanding the law. They had a wonderful relationship throughout that trial; and even when, unfortunately, they lost, that client never once felt that the white attorney wasn't fighting for him, because he was aware of every single step and had a real say in every decision that was made. That's something that I aspire to from every DAT right on up to the most serious cases I've handled. If you can't explain it to your client, then what are you doing here?
Some Defenders answer “yes” to the question, but are less charitable than others, naming one or two persons. One Defender answers: “My officemate. My officemate I do. She's white and she's very, very dedicated. She's smart; and although it's very hard for her to ‘get it,’ she does try very hard. She approaches her cases with empathy. She does go above and beyond and tries her best. Also, she doesn't think that she's better than people. She doesn't think she's better than our clients; she doesn't think she's better than her colleagues. Like she will help.” Another Defender states: “Yeah, there’s a couple. I mean, there's a few who really don't come in and act like they're saving peoples’ lives. They understand that the system is designed to be harmful. They don't try to demonize the people that they work for. They actually work; they actually do their jobs as attorneys. They don't try to come in a savior role. They literally are doing what they would do if they were working for a Fortune 500 company, like they're putting in the work. They're learning the law. They're making the right arguments.” One Defender answers the question this way:
When you say respect, what do you mean?
So I would say the small number that I do respect—. Let me say, I'm not trying to be shady and say that you’re shitty if you not Black. But I find that with a lot of our colleagues, a lot of our white colleagues, it's not that they don't do good lawyering when it's time to get the ball going; I find that for a lot of them, it's from a place of feeding their own ego and shit. And I think that may be at least somewhat true for all of us; I don't think you become a lawyer without having some ego going on, right? But I don’t necessarily respect those colleagues. So my phrasing isn't necessarily to be shady….
The few white colleagues that I actually respect, whose practice I respect, it is because I feel there is a genuine want to help our clients. Their practice is client-centered first and not coming from a point of, is this another trial I can do? Is this another trial I can win? I can hand this ADA their ass and sort of put the wellbeing of our clients second. For those that I would say I respect, they always have our clients' wellbeing first.
And I think I respect that because at the end of the day, that's why we're all here, right? Because our clients have these cases going on in their lives and I think they and their well-being should be put first. I have seen colleagues—and the times I've seen it, it has been a white colleague. I'm not going to say no Black colleague has ever done it or whatever; but the times I've seen it done, it has been a white colleague—I have seen situations where the client is being offered something, and the client wants to take the plea. It's probably best for the client to take a plea. Yet, I have seen multiple white colleagues be like, “Well, there's a chance that we can get this thrown out. I really want to do this type of hearing, so let's just do the hearing.” To me, I think that's harmful in multiple ways. One, because ADAs can be quite vengeful: “Oh you wanna do this hearing? Now I’m gonna take away that plea.” That's number one. Number two, if you have explained things, explained the consequences, risk, etc., and your client says they want to take this plea, it's their case, you know what I'm saying? Unless we're dealing with something where your client has some mental health problem or whatever going on. Other than that, if it’s a knowing decision the client is making, it’s for us to put aside our desire to do something different and do what’s best for our clients as they’ve decided it to be.
So that’s the thing I would respect about some of our white colleagues. They actually do put their clients first. They try to relate to their clients without getting too familiar, because that could also be problematic. They try to relate without getting too familiar, and they treat our clients with respect as a full person, not just as poor, sad facts that lawyers are here to say.
Another Defender speaks about a supervisor:
Yes. I respect my old supervisor. A lot of people think that he's weird and kind of callous or whatever. But one thing I do respect about him is that he does understand, or at least seems to understand, the struggles of minorities and how they move through the world…. He is interested in supporting and propping up nonwhite attorneys and giving them opportunities and using his influence for good. He was always warm, and he made a point of going above and beyond to make sure that, as a Black female attorney, I felt comfortable. He actually said to me, “I know that there are struggles with being a nonwhite attorney in this office. They’ve had issues, and I want to make sure that you have a good experience.” Him being able to say that put me in a totally different mindset in terms of how I practiced.
So when I had clients, and I needed him to talk to them, I would ask him. I remember saying this as a joke—I always thought it was funny; but now that I think about it, it was very bold to say what I said to him and have him understand it and receive it and not be offended by it and just do it—I said to him, “I have this client who, like, really needs to take this plea. I feel like I need some white man magic so this man will take this wonderful plea, because he thinks that I'm trying to do some fuck shit to him. I'm trying to make sure that he gets the best plea, and this is the best plea. Can you please come and use your white man magic to talk this man into this plea?” And it just shows how comfortable I was talking to this white male supervisor…. He laughed and did it. There was no need for a conversation, like, “What are you talking about? What do you mean?” He was just like, “Oh, okay. Let me come and assist this client….”
One Defender name-drops an attorney for the book:
I respect Laura Waters in Manhattan; and I'm dropping names. I respect Laura Waters, public defender in Manhattan, because Laura Waters is one who understands that she's not gonna get it right all the time. And she's not trying to; what she's trying to do is be a better person every day…. I think she understands the importance of not coming across as inauthentic. I think she gets that. And I think that she works to fix that when she sees it in herself. She self-assesses and works to fix that or eliminate that in herself on a day-by-day, case-by-case basis….
There are conservatives, white supremacists, racists, non-liberals, middle-of-the-road, milk-toast white folks who I respect; and I respect because they do the job effectively regardless of their personal views …. Now there are very few on both sides. As you can imagine, there are more white lawyers that I don't respect than I do respect. And then there are some that don't have all of the qualities that deserve respect, but they have enough that I can sort of say the good outweighs the bad. And I think that that would probably be more of the percentage of white lawyers that I've met at the office I worked at. And then there were some Black lawyers that I didn't respect.
There are a few Defenders who do not answer the question with a clear yes. One Defender laughs: “Are you trying to put me on the record like that? ‘[My Name] respects white attorneys.’ … I mean, I just have a lot of issues with white attorneys. I mean, there are white attorneys who I see work hard, and they care about their clients. I have white friends, right? I have colleagues who I would consider positively, who I would like go out of my way and go to lunch with. But I mean, I don't know. (Author laughs) It's a broader issue, I think.” One Defender answers the question this way:
(Sigh and laughter) When you say ‘respect’…I always think about it in terms of, who would I want to defend me? And it's mostly Black attorneys…. [I worked at this one organization where] they did good work, but there’s a certain piece of it that’s exploitive of Black folks that doesn’t sit well with me. I wound up losing respect for them because they accumulated all of this social capital and were not paying it forward to the community….
White attorneys get to step up and people in the community get to just see that attorney as one of them. They’ll complain about every fucking thing, or they center themselves or they martyr themselves. So I just reserve my respect for Black people most often, because I think that white public defenders want to get a lot of credit just for being a public defender. Respect as human beings is one thing; but beyond that, I think about who might be a white attorney that I hold in high regard. I can't really think of one at this moment who I would give that to. It’s what you're supposed to be doing, really exposing the shit that your people are doing in the system. You don't get any extra points from me for it.
Do you think there is a correlation between a white attorney’s racial awareness and their ability to adequately represent Black and Hispanic clients? Why or why not?
Most Defenders answer this question in the affirmative. One Defender states: “Yes, I think that they have to understand their level of privilege to be able to adequately represent their clients.” Another Defender concurs: “Yeah, I definitely do. I definitely do. I think you have to understand what this Black person is going through in order to defend them properly, absolutely.” Another Defender agrees: “Oh, yes. They can’t have the other without the one. If you don’t have racial awareness, to me there is no way you could properly represent your client.” Adds another Defender: “Yes. People who are able to acknowledge their privilege, I think, fare better at building relationships with their clients. People who are able to see Black clients as people and not as property or steppingstones to a better career opportunity or something like that fare better. It all makes a difference. So there are plenty of white people who can humble themselves, see humanity in our clients, and represent their best interests.” Explains another Defender:
I do. I think that there's a correlation between those two things. I think that a white attorney has to have an appreciation for the fact that their clients are operating within a system that's set against them, because that informs everything about the situation. It informs why they're being charged, why they’re in a situation where they may or may not have committed a crime, what their circumstances were, their economic circumstances. It is intrinsically tied to racial economic policies and structures that exist in our society.
So all of those things factor, and they matter. Lawyers who have an appreciation of that have a different approach to cases than lawyers who just think, I'm just showing up and representing someone charged with a crime and who may secretly believe that the people that they represent are being arrested or being accused of committing crimes because they have a propensity for criminal behavior, not because of any other external factors. A lot of people believe that. There are a lot of jaded lawyers out there, and there are a lot of attorneys that are attorneys at public defense organizations because they couldn't get a better gig.
When you juxtapose that against the lawyers that are stellar—and there are so many of those in public defense places—it really does a disservice to the practice as a whole, because there are a lot of very serious lawyers out here, dedicated lawyers that put their heart and soul into the work. Some lawyers are just there because they couldn't get a job in a different legal space. Unfortunately, that speaks to the hiring and vetting of attorneys that takes place, which is a whole other set of issues. But there are a lot of cavalier lawyers out here who don't really care.
One Defender speaks to the dangers of white attorneys not having proper racial awareness:
I've seen attorneys, in particular older attorneys, that are very quick to classify a client as slow or mentally challenged, you know? I know one attorney in particular who frequently will say about his clients, “Oh, this person is low functioning” or “They have a low IQ.” He tends to say that about people of color. I think that's just because he doesn't make an effort to really understand Black and Brown clients. He looks at the work, but he really doesn't try to see the person for who they are.
So all that to say, if you're not aware of the population you work with, or how those people are, what their culture is like, how they speak, how they act, how they dress, how they interact with each other, how they fight, how they love, etc., I don't think you could really do a good job of representing them. I do think it's possible for someone to understand that and learn that stuff; but unless you make that effort, I don't think you could ever really adequately represent someone unless you have a deep sense of cultural awareness about that person.
A few Defenders have a slightly different view; while they welcome white public defenders having a sufficient racial analysis, they do not think it is always required for them to adequately represent their clients. One Defender answers the question this way:
I think it's weird because as an attorney, it's better to have a racial analysis doing this work, but it's not mandatory. There are some people who are law nerds and really are good attorneys. They probably can't have more than a ten-second conversation with any living creature because they're so awkward and nerdy; but they can get their job done. They can make legal arguments; they can do legal stuff really well. That doesn't mean they're building deep relationships with their clients, but they will write the hell out of a motion; they will argue the hell out of the case, even if they're like the most socially awkward individual who's ever been put on this planet. So it's weird because law is like a weird profession where you actually don't have to believe in what you're fighting for, as long as you are really good at making arguments. You see it even now with people who work in government: like you don't believe in what you're doing, but you know how to make the arguments that you're trying to make, and you know what result you're fighting for.
So that is like a weird strain of attorneys that you can see who have no racial analysis but actually are decent attorneys. And they're probably really unpleasant to work with, but they get the job done.
A second Defender gives this answer:
Not as much as one would like to think. It's interesting that there were some people in the office that were conservative; and a lot of times I find that conservative whites make more sense about stuff than liberal whites…. I can think of one white guy in particular that said to me, “Look, [My Name]. I look like the jurors. They relate to me, and I use that to my advantage. Trust me, the jury is going to look at you differently than how they look at me.” And that's why you have to figure out what works for you. I think some of the liberals would come in with a raggedy suit on and not realize that the worst thing you could do is stand in front of a Black person and not look right. We don't get at your head first; we look at your shoes, we look at what you got on and who you claim to be. And if you don't look the part, it takes a long time to convince us with the mouth….
Defenders also speak to the potential danger of white public defenders having a racial analysis: they suffer from the white savior’s complex. One Defender states: “I think it's better to have a racial analysis, but I feel like with some people who think they have a racial analysis, they become this weird white savior and they’re not actually focused on their job. They start trying to do all this other stuff, trying to be revolutionaries through their job; and it's honestly not helpful to people who are right now facing a system trying to crush them.” Another Defender agrees: “Yes, but sometimes I feel like it triggers the white savior complex. For me, racial awareness also can be cultural competency. Having a knowledge that certain groups of people were oppressed, I think, is different than understanding the culture and dynamic inside that group. So I think that it would be better if people understood the culture and dynamic inside each of these particular groups—Black people are not a monolith, Latino people are not a monolith, and frankly white people aren't a monolith. Asian people are not a monolith—and you have to understand that there are certain things that go on inside these groups and how these groups interact amongst themselves, as well as how they interact with the community at large….”
A few more answers:
Defender I would say yes. I would say it's not an all-exclusive answer, so for example, if you are not aware then you're automatically a shitty attorney. I don't think that's the case. But I think it provides tensions and certain things within the dynamic that probably would not be there were our colleagues more aware. And the vice versa is true: just because you are racially aware doesn't make you automatically a great lawyer to Black and Brown clients. So I would say yes, I think it is important to be racially aware in this type of job, but it's not a guarantee that it makes you a better lawyer…. It's not automatic, I would say; but I think it's a big thing. It is an important thing to be racially aware, and even class aware.
Defender Totally…. If you don't know about Black people or [nonwhite] people, you’re at a disadvantage. Like we see all these crazy emails where white attorneys are like, “What does this statement mean?” Or it’s like, “The client said this, and I don't believe it.” And I’m like, that totally happened. This is what Black people do. There are a lot of cultural things white people know nothing about, like what a susu is….
You have to become somewhat culturally aware. You don't have to immerse yourself in all Blackness; you don’t have to Rachel Dolezal this joint. (Author laughs) But you do have to understand something about the people that you're working for and keep up with things that are happening in the community, like if you know that gangs are popping up or weird things are happening or how Black people respond to stressors. I think that's a major thing that many of my colleagues fail to understand. And like I said, if you don't care about the person's experience and you’re just like, “Well, I got the case dismissed” or “This happened, that happened; but it doesn't matter. I fixed the case part,” to me, that's not effective representation. If I was miserable the whole time that you represented me, I don’t give a fuck that my case was dismissed. You had me miserable for six months because you were treating me like trash….
I think that a lot of the attorneys love the work—searches and seizures are interesting, guns and rapes and weird things going on is interesting—but they don't think of the other part as their job. Some people call it social-workey, holding-hand stuff; but it's like, bro, I don't understand the legal system. I've never been here before. Can you help me navigate this and be nice to me and treat me like you would treat me if I was giving you $200 every court appearance?
Defender I want to say the answer should be yes, that there is a correlation. You have to know how to deal with people of different races and you pretty much have to know how to meet people where they are and not where you expect them to be. Black or white, not everyone has the ability to do that; but I think that the longer you've interacted with people outside of what would be your norm on a personal level, you've learned some things about the culture and the people in general to know how to proceed with them.
Here’s a funny story: a colleague of mine had a client who was from Jamaica. He had a thick accent. A white attorney was talking to him; and I know damn well that the attorney had no idea what the client is saying. And I'm cracking up in my head because I'm like, he's speaking patois with a thick accent; but it's still a broken English. If you listen, you can hear what it is he has to say; but the attorney just couldn't get it together. So I said, “Listen, this is what he said,” and then I would tell them. Then the client looked at me and said, “You know!” I said, “Yeah, I do.” And then we went from there.
What would you say your reputation is in the office?
This is one question Defenders across the board struggle with. One Defender laughs before stating, “I guess it depends on who you ask. I don't know, because I have my own perception, my own thoughts of how I think people perceive me.” Another Defender states: “I don't really know, because it's not my business.” Answers another Defender: “You have to ask someone else what my reputation was in the office. I don't know. I mean, people who like me talk to me and they tell me I have a good reputation. You know what I mean? So I don't know.” Another Defender notes: “That's such a good question. I wonder if anyone would say their reputation wasn't that great.” Another Defender remarks: “I don't even know….” Another Defender states: “Hmm…. I don't know. I don't know if I've ever really thought that much about it.” One Defender is quite blunt: “I have no idea. I have no idea at all; and at the end of the day, I really could care less.”
Alas though, it was a question; and most Defenders do endeavor to describe their reputations. Some Defenders rely on what others told them. One Defender notes how “one of my older colleagues that I'm very friendly with told me one day, ‘[My Name], just so you know, people have a level of respect for you.’ So I think that my reputation is also that I'm only about my business. I come, I do my work, and I leave. I try my best not to get caught up in all the office politics and the nonsense.” Another Defender states: “I have had people call me a badass….” One Defender offers this answer: “A while back, I saw a senior attorney who's been practicing for years in the hallway and asked him advice about a case. I asked, ‘Do you think this is a case I should take to trial?’ He said to me—and I thought this was such a high compliment—he said, ‘Well, if anybody can take a case and take it to trial, that's you.’ I was so humbled. It was so nice to hear, especially because I think he's so smart and he works so hard and is such a good guy.”
Several attorneys credibly have reputations of being excellent trial attorneys. One Defender remarks: “I think I had a good reputation. I think I had a reputation as a trial attorney, as somebody who would take a very difficult case to trial and would find a way to get a very good result.” Another Defender similarly states: “I think that I have a reputation as a really good trial attorney.” Another Defender states: “Stellar. I was very driven and ambitious. I was always on trial, and I was winning. When you're always winning, that's when your white colleagues want to connect with you more.” Adds another Defender: “I have a reputation of being trial hungry. I have a reputation of being a zealous advocate. I have a reputation of being no nonsense. I have a reputation of being someone that's trustworthy and reliable. I think that I overall have a good reputation.”
Other Defenders think they have reputations for being committed attorneys. One Defender states: “I think people would say that I'm a good attorney, that I do my work and that clients relate well to me.” Another Defender states: “I don’t know. I think if I had to guess, I know it’s that I care a lot, you know? I care a lot. Sometimes I take it on more than I probably should—and I won’t say should—but I care a lot and I take work home, and I don’t just mean in the physical sense; I mean in the emotional sense. I get really invested. So I think the fact that I really care about my clients is probably obvious…. I don’t have a ton of trial experience, where they could be like, ‘Oh, [My Name] is a kickass trial attorney.’ I don’t make a lot of the news or the headlines within the organization, but I go above and beyond for my clients, and I think that’s obvious.” Another Defender remarks: “I mean, I get the sense that I think people know that I'm committed in that I work hard and that I really care about my clients. I am sort of a tenacious person. I would believe that I have a good reputation in the office and that I'm known as a hard worker.” Answers another Defender: “Hmm…. That's a good question. I mean, no one's going to come to me for trial advice. I think people think that I'm competent. I think I'm a good worker, a hard worker.”
A number of Defenders struggle with this question because they tend to be more lowkey. One Defender states: “I would think that it's either just very calm, cool and collected; or maybe because people don't see me out here talking big, doing big stuff and publicizing all my stuff, that I'm lazy and not really working. So it could be anywhere in between.” Another Defender answers: “Friendly. That's it, friendly. I don't know if anybody would talk about my skills as an attorney, because I assume that they don't pay attention to what I do or don't do.” One Defender states, after a pause: “Umm… I think most people are going to say that I'm quiet. And that I try cases.” Another Defender offers this response:
Actually, I think many people don't really know what I do or what I am about as a person or attorney. I tend to stick to people who I feel genuinely about and I feel are genuine with me. So the people who do know me, they have good things to say, although they also say I can be very direct, which isn't always received the best, I guess. But other than that, I really keep it [cordial]; other than people that I really interact with, I keep it cordial, and I keep it moving…. My friends make fun of me all the time. I'll be in the elevator and someone else will be like, “Oh, how are you? Blah blah blah.” And I'll say something like, “Oh yes, we're one step closer to Friday! Thank goodness!” I’m not having any real conversations with these folks.
So yeah, I think my reputation is fine enough. Unless people really know me, they don't know much. Because I'm also not one of those people that publicizes every time I have a hearing or a trial. Even my last trial that I did, I won on some counts and lost on other counts, which is what I thought was going to happen. And even then, I was like, “Y’all better not send no email!” My attitude is, leave me alone. I don't want anyone coming to watch me. (Laughter) I think a lot of people are like, “Oh, she works?” And I’m like, yeah, I do. I just don't need the whole audience and fanfare like you do. People find out I'm doing stuff by accident….
Another Defender has this to say:
Umm…. I don't know. I mean, older attorneys told me that I was a good attorney, that I was very nice.
But I'll say this: as a Black attorney, you have to care about your reputation in the office if you're interested in upward mobility. See me, I was not interested in upward mobility. I didn't do any of the things that I saw other attorneys doing to establish their reputation. There were Black attorneys that had stellar reputations because of the little things…. People sent out emails on their behalf whenever they won a hearing or a trial. I wasn't going to go ask anybody to send out an email for me. I didn't do this thing where you hang around in the office and you talk about your cases to older white attorneys. That's a big way that a lot of Black attorneys built up their reputation. I didn't do that….
But I would tell new attorneys that if you're interested in furthering your career and stuff, that's a good thing to do if you feel that that resonates with you. I didn't do it, and I don't regret doing it. I wouldn't do it if I was given a second chance. I didn't care about my reputation around the office because I felt like I knew my reputation with my clients. I felt that I was doing a great job with my clients, and I don't have to advertise that I got a case dismissed or I won a hearing or something like that…. My public defender office had “stars.” I wasn't a star. My name wasn't in everybody's mouth. I was just doing my thing, which is A-OK for me. I wouldn't change that. But I would advise new attorneys to be aware and decide what they want to do in terms of their reputation around the office.
Now my reputation with judges was a different matter. I had an excellent reputation with the judges, and that really served me well as I developed into a senior attorney. It just comes out, because you're in front of them and you're making arguments in front of them and they see what kind of lawyer you are. So with the judges I had an excellent reputation. In the office, I don't really know….
Some Defenders have less than stellar reputations for reasons that shouldn’t matter. One Defender states: “My reputation was that I was intimidating to some people. Some people would say I was intimidating. Some people would say I was mean; I've been told that as well. And then when I asked them why, [the reason would be] because I was too quiet…. The fact that ‘quiet’ is translated to equal ‘mean’ only exists for a Black woman. A white girl who is quiet is considered ‘shy.’” Another Defender observes that, “as far as personality, I don't think people would say I'm friendly. I think people would probably describe me as… I don't know. Not mean; perhaps blunt—not blunt—but something like that…. I'm not a bubbly, happy-go-lucky Black girl in the office. I'm going to speak up. Usually they see me in these meetings that I'm leading, and I’m having confrontations with people about things. So I don't know how to sum that up.” Another Defender notes:
I don't get involved in a lot of the drama. I don't go out drinking with my coworkers, honestly. So it may look like I'm not one to hang out or I'm not a team player. When I'm asked to help my coworkers or they need help with something, I’ll help. I just am not around like that with the fraternizing. My boss had an issue with that, because often I literally had to go to church on Thursday nights and sometimes I had rehearsal on other nights. So if everybody was going out drinking on Thursday night, I wasn't going. I wasn't drinking. I wasn't really there for that. But sometimes it was said, “You don't hang out with the attorneys.” And I said, “No, I don't.” Sometimes I literally have someplace else to be….
A few more responses:
Defender I think that I was respected in [the borough where I practiced]. I think that I was known as someone that was dedicated to my clients and did my work with seriousness. I think I was known as someone that did trials. As a Black male attorney, I was patently aware early on that if I were to have a decent experience, that that would have to be my reputation; that's separate and apart from any sort of seriousness of which I approached my clients’ cases and my clients and so forth. I understood that my intelligence was always a question, even by my clients…. So I was very particular about maintaining a good reputation and being highly respected. Not only was it important to my work experience, but it was important to my work and my clients. Judges needed to see me and understand that I was serious about my clients. Prosecutors needed to see me and know that it was going to be a fight…. I worked to build that reputation, and I think that I did.
Defender (Laughter) um… my reputation? Hardworking, staunch advocate. Hopefully good stuff.
Defender I don't even know…. I feel like I have a reputation for being aggressive, which is, I hope, accurate, because I do think I'm aggressive. I have a reputation for hating emails. I just hate when I'm copied on emails that I don't need to be copied on. It’s like, you need to speak to one person in my section; I don’t understand why you’re also cc’ing the entire section.
I do think I have a reputation for the most part of being aggressive.
Defender That kind of thing changes also. When I was younger, it was one thing; now, I guess I'm looked at as an older attorney. Yeah, I gotta be honest with you. I don't really know what my reputation is in the office. I really don't.
I'm African American. So most of these younger white attorneys don't think I know the law. They'll go to a white attorney or supervisor and ask them legal questions. They won't ask me about the law, as if I don't know the law. Somehow I've done this for [over three decades], and I haven't picked up anything on the law…. They'll come in and ask me about fashion or something; but they won't come in and ask me, “What's the sentencing range on a first time B violent felony?” Maybe about trial technique every now and then, you get a few that'll come in for that. But as far as young white attorneys, they just won't come in. Now every now and then, an attorney of color may come in and ask a question. But what can I tell you? It's the way it is. It’s very disheartening; I'm a supervisor there. And I would like them to come and try to take advantage of some of my knowledge of the law or [experience]…. It seems like they could take better advantage of it.
Defender I’m always late, but I get my work done. (Author laughs)
Defender
I think my reputation is that of an OG that's been in the game for a while, that knows the landscape of public defense work, that will go out of his way to help you as best he can, that will have your back in a time of need, that will tell you, “I don't know the answer to that. Let me get back to you.” I think that's my reputation…. I also have a reputation as someone who will speak his mind. I will tell you how I feel about something. I think that that's my reputation amongst people who have taken the time to get to know me. There are people in this office that walk around—I don't think they know I'm a supervisor—and they will walk past me in the hallway and not say anything. And I've come to a point in my career where I'm not breaking my neck to speak to you. I am not giving you that kind of control over me…. That’s not bothering me. But when I see you walk down the hall and you realize I’m a supervisor, I know it bothers you because you've now gotten to a place you can't get yourself out of, right? Because eventually you're going to know who I am, and you're going to realize that you don't have a good relationship with that person who you now know is a supervisor in this office.
What is the racial composition of the non-attorney staff in your office? How do attorneys treat them?
Any given public defender office in New York City employs non-attorney staff such as paralegals, investigators, and social workers. Defenders note that unlike attorney staff, non-attorney staff tend to be mostly nonwhite. One Defender describes the racial composition of non-attorney staff as “mainly Black and Brown.” Another Defender adds: “I’d say they’re probably 2% white.” Another states: “Non-attorney staff, um, 1% white.” Another Defender observes: “I think the non-attorney staff in my office in [the borough I practiced in] was at about 95% Black or Brown and 5% people that identify as white. And the interesting thing about that is the Black and Brown folks made up the paralegals and the clerks and the mail room staff and that type of thing; [they made up] support staff. The white non-attorney staff made up IT and investigators. Now there were a significant amount of Black and Brown investigators, yes; but where you would find your white non-attorney staff was in the investigation division and IT; the staff that was doing all of the court runs, the filings, the copying, the clerk stuff, was Black and Brown.”
Some Defenders distinguish between social workers and other non-attorney staff positions. One Defender notes: “The non-attorney staff in my office is 99% Black or Hispanic. We have [nine paralegals in total]. One is white. Everybody else is Black or Hispanic…. There are three social workers; they are all white. We have four investigators. Three are Hispanic. One is white.” Another Defender gives a similar answer: “Predominantly people of color, whether Black or Latino; definitely more people of color in support staff. Social workers are very white. Our social work department is very, very white. Investigators are generally people of color, I think. But as far as administrative staff, predominantly people of color….” Answers another Defender: “I think one area where it's sort of different, and I think a lot of this has to do with the education barriers, is when it comes to social workers. The vast majority of our social workers are white women. When it comes to administrators, when it comes to arraignment clerks, there's more diversity in those areas; but I can only think of one non-white female social worker in my office….” Concurs another Defender: “I would say that the non-attorney staff is primarily Black and Latino. The social work staff is predominantly white, but the majority of the non-attorney staff are Black or Latino.”
A majority of Defenders think that support staff are treated disrespectfully. One Defender states: “Oh, they are treated badly, especially by the white attorneys. They won't even know folks’ names sometimes.” Another Defender notes: “I know there are social workers in our office who refuse to take cases from certain attorneys because the attorneys are disrespectful.” Adds another Defender: “Sometimes, at least from what I would hear, the feedback would be that they were ‘non.’ What do I mean by that? It’s like in the mornings, you walk past somebody and you would say, ‘Hello, how are you?’ But it's like there's no acknowledgement that they're present that they're there. I don't know if it's more of a race thing in that regard or a class thing. I've always looked at it to be sort of a class thing. In many of the lawyers' minds, they look at non-attorney staff and the attitude is, you're not a lawyer and so I'm not gonna speak to you or greet you in the same way I do my lawyer colleagues.” Another Defender observes: “Some of the attorneys don't even acknowledge their existence.” States another Defender: “Attorneys treat them the way they treat our clients: disrespectful, condescending, paternalistic.”
Defenders also notes how attorneys would treat non-attorney staff as if they are irrelevant and unintelligent. One Defender states: “Attorneys treated them like trash for the most part; very dismissively. They were treated as if they were not an integral part of the team and the case. Now obviously, there are exceptions to that; but I think in general, the understanding in the office was that these people weren't that important to the work, even though they clearly were. So I think there's a sort of dismissive element to how support staff is treated.” Another Defender states: “[How do attorneys treat them?] Not necessarily so well. I feel like some are short with them. You hear a lot of attorneys say, ‘They're not the brightest bulb.’ I hate that phrase, because I always wonder, did you take the time to explain to them what it is that you're looking for? Attorneys are short with them. They sometimes treat them without respect; and they don't always thank them, which I think is a big deal. Someone does something for you, you really should thank them.” One Defender offers this observation:
There are issues where it's perhaps both the race and a power dynamic from attorney to support staff. I haven't seen what you would consider overt racism in our office, but what I've seen is a lot of presumptions about people's education levels or lack thereof. The way in which they interact with non-attorneys or ask that a task be done shows these presumptions.
There are issues with the respect of people's time and space. I think that space respect is a big issue, and it is partially the nature of how we talk in the hallways about cases; we do things like that. But our support staff, who are mostly women and mostly women who are Black or Hispanic, don't have offices; and people will congregate around their cubicles and will just talk or be loud. Sometimes it's about cases, and sometimes it's not. I think that can lead to our support staff feeling invisible or that their space doesn't matter, because they have to be in this cubicle. They have to be in this open-air space, and they have to make phone calls, or type, and think; and they have to do that over attorneys chattering and leaning on their cubicle walls.
I try, when I see that, to remind folks that this is their space; I’ll say, “Let's move this conversation into an office” or “Let's move the conversation near to an empty cubicle” or something like that, you know? … So like I said, I don't think it's overt racism; but I think that there are issues in the office that could be addressed.
Several Defenders note in particular how public defenders act like non-attorney staff are their subordinates. One Defender says as much: “I really think sometimes they treat them like they're subordinates; not all attorneys, but some of them.” Another Defender states: “Attorneys will talk to them like they were talking to servants.” Another Defender notes: “I’ve seen attorneys treating them as if support staff has to cater to their every whim. I’ve seen some of that, and that's not cool. They don’t all do that, but I’ve seen some who do.” Another Defender remarks: “I mean, some people have respect and appreciation for the work of others and some people feel that people are just there to serve them…. There are definitely people who feel like support staff are service positions, that they are there to serve, as opposed to being an integral part of our representation of the clients.”
A few Defenders either don’t observe much by way of attorney disrespect, or they attribute the disrespect in whole or in part to non-attorney staff incompetence. As to the former, one Defender states: “I think for the most part attorneys treat them with respect…. I've heard maybe specific instances of like one or two attorneys maybe having an issue, but not generally.” Another Defender concurs: “I haven't really heard many stories about that. I mean, I may have heard one or two bad stories; but other than that, I haven't really heard anything too negative. I don't want to assume, but I would say it’s pretty good.” As to the latter, one Defender notes: “No, they're not treated well. However, in my office, some of the contempt and hostility is because they don't want to do the job that they they're hired to do…. I don't know if it's a lack of training and just not having the skill set to do it, or if they just don't feel like they want to do it.” Another Defender agrees: “I'm going to be honest with you: I'm fed up with the hiring of the paralegals by my office, because they don't know how to do anything. 99% of the time, if I need something done that a paralegal should do, I gotta do it myself. So I will say I am one of the people that's not very nice to some of the paralegals, because I just do not think they're doing what they're supposed to do. I feel like they're getting a free check….”
Several Defenders describe fostering good working relationships with non-attorney staff. One Defender remarks: “Some attorneys treat them like shit, and some treat them like homies. I tend to treat them like homies because for one thing, when ish hits the fan a lot of times, they’re the ones that can CYA. They can help you out where something really isn't that serious but can be blown out of proportion. They can kind of help soften the blow.” Another Defender states: “I treat them just the way I would treat clerks in the court system; again, those are the people who can make your life much easier and better, [or they can] make it difficult. Plus, they're genuinely nice people. The people we work with, the people we have in the office, are good people; and they should be treated with respect and they should be treated well….” Adds another Defender: “I don't know how other attorneys treat them, but this is my team; so I have always extended professional courtesy because without them, I couldn't be the attorney that I am. That is my support. That is my backbone to my practice.” Another Defender states the following:
I happen to be much more friendly with the support staff than I was with the lawyers at [the office], and that's because the support staff remind me of the people that I see in my everyday life. The support staff are the folks that will call me if I didn't come in for a couple of days, not just because I called in sick, but because they knew that I was having a situation at home; and they knew that because we were friendly that way. The support staff members are the people that would say, “Let's bring in some food and have a potluck.” And they knew that I wasn't someone who could cook, so they would say, “You can bring in the plates and the spoons,” or “You could take some of the food home.” The support staff are the folks that I see in the community, because we live in the same community. So I'm at the store and I bump into them, and we kick it in that way. The support staff are the people that I would hang out with on the weekends, just like I would the lawyers in the office, because we knew each other and we knew each other's families. The support staff are the people that I would lend $20, or they would lend me $20, when we needed it. That's the relationship we had….
I wanted to say this about the support staff: when the support staff needed legal representation or intervention, they would always come to the Black lawyers because they felt like Black lawyers could understand their situation and keep it secret. I've gone to court and represented support staff in cases that they had while I worked at the public defender office. A lot of people—wink, wink, nod, nod—have done that too; and that's because that's authentic, legitimate family. If you didn't have that at that organization, then you really missed out because that was really family. So it went both ways.
Sometimes, non-attorney staff develop aspirations about going to law school and becoming attorneys. A few Defenders speak to how supportive attorneys were. One Defender states: “I remember I was speaking at an event one time, and I invited a paralegal from my office who had aspirations of going to law school. I spoke to her afterwards, and she told me how she’s told a lot of lawyers about her desire to go to law school, and they are not supportive.” Another Defender offers this response:
I’ve noticed real differences in treatment and who was perceived as excellent. I had a Latina investigator from the Bronx who one day went out and got me an amazing statement. It was a very complicated rape case, and I was in shock that she was able to get that statement, a signed statement. It was like a heroic feat that she was able to do this thing, but anything she did kind of got normalized. On the flip side, there was a white investigator who was also very good, but anything he did was seen as excellent. He was seen as a younger version of some white men in the office. So when it came time for these folks to go to law school, I noticed he was very easily able to get jobs in the same office where he'd been an investigator; and that was true of another white investigator there as well. The Latina investigator was not hired as an attorney….
I definitely saw different trajectories; there was an idea that the Brown and Black investigators would go on and do whatever, and the white investigators would be heading to law school and potentially fold back into the organization. And it's interesting because in that space, another one of the Black investigators ended up working at Human Rights Watch and lived overseas for several years; and they have a very significant international presence in human rights. A lot of Black employees there went on to do really interesting things, but their complexity and their potential was a hundred percent invisible in that space, whether or not they were heading to law school.
A few more responses:
Defender The support staff is 90% Black. There was this idea that there's no difference between lawyers and support staff. “We're the same. I don't see titles. I don't see color. We're all the same; it’s just different shades of gray.” And it's not true because the lawyer's the one who's arguing the case. The lawyer's the one who's making the final decisions on the case. The lawyer's the one who's going to court. The lawyer's the one who's spending the majority of the time with the client. The lawyer can't do their job without the paralegal, and that's understood; but they're two different roles.
The office I worked at attempted to create this liberal utopia that says we're all on the same playing field, so that the Black women who work as administrative and support staff don't feel bad; but until we can actually get to a place where that's really the case, the narrative seeks to destroy itself. So you'll have some Black women who work at the office who believe that; and then she'll go up against some lawyer at the office about what she should or shouldn't be doing. And then there becomes a power dynamic, a power struggle; and the support staff woman is always going to lose. She's always going to lose because she isn't the lawyer. She isn't the one making the final decision. She's not the one that is going to court and performing. Her performance is in the office, behind the scenes. And it's not to say that it's not necessary, because if there was no support staff, then no public defender office could exist. But it's that balance that they seek to wipe away to create this fake liberal utopia; and all it creates is a recipe for disaster.
So what you have are lawyers that are chummy, chummy with support staff…until they aren’t. And when that happens, the ugliness comes out because it often comes out when you've got that kind of dynamic with white liberals and Black people. So a particular example is when a white lawyer thought the door was closed and called a Black support staff member some kind of lazy n-word or some kind of dumb n-word. The support staff member was devastated and was ready to go in the attorney’s office and choke her, and rightfully so; but the dynamic of the fake utopia, in my opinion, fed into that. It's not what created it—what created it was white supremacy and racism; let’s be clear—but it fed into that, because it created a situation where people operate with their guard down. And the reality is that as Black people, we can't operate like that; but the office gives you this false impression that you can….
Defender I think they are all minorities except like two. Yeah, I think everybody's [nonwhite]. And you know they treat them like trash, if that’s your next question…. It's a slave ship down there. They treat them like they can't go to the bathroom without a hall pass …. I get it: there's a hierarchy, presumably; but at the end of the day, it's a professional office. You assume everybody acts professional and that people do what they're supposed to do, that people are where they're supposed to be. But there's a very clear difference in how staff is treated versus how the attorneys are treated; and it's trash. Attorneys are like, “Hey, we're leaving early. It's a hurricane.” Non-attorney staff are like, “I just gotta sit here. They say there is inclement weather, but they say I can’t leave before 3 p.m.” That’s kind of fucked up; and I think that if more of the staff was white, they'd probably be like, yo, what the fuck? But they're nonwhite; so they don't ask for what they need because that's what we are taught to do: just grin and bear that shit, because you want your paycheck and you don't want anybody to give you any problems.
What advice would you give to younger Black public defenders?
Quite predictably, Defender responses to this question range. Some Defenders talk about the importance of asking for advice and seeking mentorship. One Defender states: “Ask for guidance, especially from the older Black attorneys in the office. I've never gone up to an older Black attorney in our office that wouldn't sit down and talk to me.” Another Defender concurs: “I would suggest that early on in one’s career, a Black public defender should seek out those lawyers in the office that are interested in mentoring somebody, or who are interested in having someone as a second seat; and try to acquire as much practical experience as possible. Try to seek those challenging opportunities as early and as often as possible in your career, especially for the young Black defenders.” Another Defender states: “Find a mentor. Find someone older that you could rely on that could guide you through the work. You can't save the world, so don't try. You're going to get overwhelmed, and you're going to become emotional. The work will be hard, and you just need to take care of your own mental sanity.”
Some Defenders speak about finding mentors not only to deal with the work in court, but also to deal with internal office situations. One Defender advises: “You have to find your people; maybe it's a mentor, but you have to have one or more people as you're doing the work who you can talk to about what's going on, who can serve as resource for you, who can co-sign the things you say. Do you know what I mean? Like, sometimes you’ll need that other person who, when a white person questions something or your white supervisor questions something, you can call that's immediately going to have your back. You have to find an ally; you have to find mentors or allies or whatever. You have to be intentional about it.” Another Defender adds: “You need to create your own network. You need to connect with other Black and Brown lawyers at the office, and you need to format those relationships and organize yourselves….”
Some Defenders speak about the need to be practical and realistic about the work future Black public defenders will be doing. One Defender states: “If you think you're going to fight for liberation as an attorney, just go ahead and figure out another plan. The system is not designed for us to use its tools to dismantle it. Now if your goal is to try to alleviate some levels of suffering for Black people, continue. But this ain’t revolutionary. This is not setting people free. This is literally just kind of stopping the bleeding.” Another Defender advises: “The one thing I tell young Black lawyers and folks of color in general is, don't come to this organization thinking that it is this kind of utopia of criminal defense. Don’t come thinking that you’re doing God's work, so to speak. Don't come in here with presumptions about what’s happening here because we're public defenders. Public defense organizations reflect all of the isms of society; it's not devoid of those isms. So you have racism; you have sexism; you have ageism; you have every ism you could possibly think of. And it's manifested here: it's a microcosm of what's happening throughout the world. So come, but come with the spirit that you're going to have to struggle.”
Some Defenders are very encouraging. One Defender states: “Remember and never forget that you earned your place to be here. I sometimes have to remind myself that I earned my place to be in this courtroom. I didn't buy it. I didn't sleep my way to the top or whatever it may be. I earned this, and so I have to remember that I have a right to be here. So remember that you’ve earned it and you have a right to be here.” Another Defender advises: “Be confident in yourself. Go with your gut instinct. By this point in your life as a ‘minority’ in this country, you know what seems wrong. So go with it; and if it ruffles feathers, ruffle feathers, because your instinct is what's gotten you this far. So go with it. Believe in yourself, be confident and make some good trouble.” Another Defender gives this advice:
You know, one thing that comes to mind is to never forget who you are. Never forget the beauty of who you are as an individual, and the persuasive abilities that you have that comes deep within, from our culture. In this field, we are the minority in terms of lawyers, in terms of public defenders, and in terms of professionals that are in that courtroom. Never, never forget your value; never forget that you were there for a reason, and your reason for being there is profound. I find that to be the most important thing, because sometimes when we're in an environment where it's only a few of us, we’re sort of made to feel like we're not doing something right, or we're not advocating and focusing on the right things, and so our confidence is slowly chipped away. So that would be my advice: maintain your level of confidence to never forget why you're in the position that you’re in, why you have achieved the things that you've been able to achieve.
Defenders also speak about not allowing white colleagues and supervisors to stunt the growth of future Black public defenders. States one Defender: “Most definitely do not allow the supervisors to define your ability for you, even if they start doing it in subtle ways. Be prepared; even if you're working in a ‘liberal organization,’ you're going to have to fight to make sure that you are recognized as the intelligent, capable attorney that you are….” Another Defender adds: “Don't let anybody walk over you because people will take advantage of you.” Another Defender advises: “I think also that new attorneys should be more outspoken about what they experience from the beginning. I know for me as a young lawyer, when I had experiences that clearly in hindsight were products of race or gender or a combination of both, it was really easy for me to ascribe that to something else. I was new and inexperienced, and I thought to myself, I don’t really know what’s going on. Maybe this is how it is. I’d make excuses. In hindsight, I wish I had just spoken up more and identified and put words to what was happening out loud…. Say out loud the things that are happening to you. Then, people don't get to ignore it anymore, even if it makes people uncomfortable….”
Some Defenders are “less encouraging.” One Defender states:
Don't go to law school! (Author laughs) Do something else! Good lord! Why would you want to do this?
The job, when I started out, was so much more draining. There are times when it's still draining, but not as much now, because we have less cases. But you have to take breaks. It's a lot, and it's really, really draining; but there are different ways that you can do your job. Some people don't acknowledge their clients and do a phenomenal job on trial, and that's the way that they can separate themselves. Some people get too involved with their clients in their lives, and it takes a toll on them. You have to figure out how it's best for you to do the job and not let the job overwhelm you because it's difficult. You really do have somebody's life in your hands. And because of that, you have to be diligent.
It's tiring. But if this is really what you want to do, you just have to remember that it is tiring. But for me, I honestly loved all of my clients. I really, really do. And I think it's because I really like talking to my clients. I really like interacting with them. That is probably what keeps me going on my cases. You really have to like the people that you are helping or trying to help. And some people you have to realize, for whatever reason, that you cannot help them because they're not in a place where they want to be helped for whatever reason. So you can't save everybody, but you know you can do the best that you can do.
But don’t go to law school!
Some Defenders give advice that is particular to the work, and their advice focused on the importance of centering the client. One Defender states: “Learn to meet your client where they are, especially in that first arraignment interview. Really take some time and kind of step back from the case, and just try to gauge where your client is and what are the things that they might need besides public defense representation. Just try to meet them on a personal level…. Mak[e] no judgements based on charges and rap sheets and that mess. They get that a lot from the prosecution, the judges, and the system; and we want to try to detach ourselves from the system as much as we can while obviously working within it.” Another Defender remarks: “Don't think that you know your clients or can connect with your clients just because you're both Black. So your client may see that you're Black, but they also see that you are not like them; and to think that you have a connection to them belittles their lived experience. If the opportunity is there to make a connection because you're both Black, then make that connection; but don't have a preconceived idea that a connection already exists.” Another Defender advises:
Don't get caught up in an identity trap. Do the work, but don't be the work. Like I'm on Twitter and I see all these people getting into this self-glorifying, saying “I’m a PD!” and stuff like that. Yes, it's great and wonderful, but you're more than this position that you hold. Be very mindful of the power that you have and don't get into this trap of saying, “Oh, we're powerless and we're always beaten up.” It's not about you! It's about the clients, and so your narrative and your story does not matter. It's about liberation and the work for the people. Do whatever you need to do, personally, so that you can come do the work and be that witness and be that advocate and responsibly try to use your power and serve the client. When you can't do that, when it becomes about you, then you need to step away and get yourself together.
Other Defenders speak about being careful how one moves about and functions in the office. One Defender states: “Stay out of drama, do your work, go over and above. I was always told you have to do twice as much to get half as far. Ask for help, ask for advice, ask for guidance. Make it noticeable that you're doing good work and that you want to do good work…. Just be careful, find somebody to trust that you can confide in, both on your level and above your level. Don't screw anybody over, because that will come back to you, but don't let anybody screw you over.” Another Defender gives this advice:
I was told when I first got there by another Black attorney to just be careful who I take advice from…. I didn't know what anyone was talking about at the time; I was just getting these general comments. Now I have given that advice as well, and this actually brings up the time—I didn't even think about this at the time, but when you talk about racism in the office--when there was this person in our office who sent an email filled with the n-word. She was saying, “I was called the red n-----” and things like that. She claimed she was of Native American descent; but as far as anyone can see, she’s a white woman with blue eyes.
I don't know what the person's background is; I can assume that they are and take them at their word. But the email was highly inappropriate. Clearly, a half-second of forethought would've shown that it shouldn't have been sent. And this colleague had a history and a habit of doing sort of these bizarre things. We weren't sure if the person was trying to get fired or what the angle was, but there was definitely something going on with this person.
A young Black colleague came into the office and was kind of being taken under her wing; that person was always offering her help. And not to commit the sin that someone had said, “Hey, be careful of who you listen to” without giving me a reason why, I told this person, “This colleague sent these offensive emails, and is not someone who I would get too close to because she’s not a trustworthy person.” So for young Black people coming into the office, I would say that you really have to seek out advice about people …. It's not really helpful if you just say, “Oh, I just wouldn't deal with that person,” and leave it at that. You have to be more specific, and you kind of have to let people know what's going on and what the score is before they go in blind, thinking from the new attorney's perspective, thinking, I'm here and I'm going to treat everyone the same, and I expect to be treated the same. That's sounds nice, but that's pretty naïve.
That bit of advice, however, can backfire. One Defender unfortunately speaks from experience:
I don't give advice to younger Black lawyers anymore, because the last time I did I had a bad experience. There was a younger Black male attorney that was trying to work with an older white female attorney who'd been known to abuse colleagues in general, but she had also accused a friend of mine—another Black male attorney that had come before him—of being racist or aggressive. She also liked to come and get all the new attorneys and grab them up and make them do a whole bunch of work and come to her house and watch her kids and all types of inappropriate trash….
So when she went to “Ryan,”8 the younger Black male staff attorney, and asked him to work on a trial, I originally wasn't going to say anything because I didn't know him. But I knew that this colleague said that [another Black male attorney] was aggressive; and she made all of these horrible statements that you don't say about a young Black male colleague when they're just expressing their opinion and trying to tell you that the way that you practice is fucked up and the way that you're talking to a Black witness is wrong.
[I spoke to another former Black male colleague, who has since left the office]. He said, “I think you should warn him. When you came to the office, we helped you out. We showed you the ropes. We told you who to stay away from. We gave you that, so you gotta pay it forward. You gotta help him out and make sure he knows what he's getting into, because this person is racist and abusive.” Everybody pretty much knew she was racist and abusive.
I said to myself, you know what? They helped me. They were great to me. Their information was invaluable. I avoided many pitfalls with that particular woman and with other like people. So I decided to pay it forward. I pulled Ryan aside and warned him about her. And Ryan took my kindness and told the white attorney that I thought that she was racist and that he shouldn't work with her and that she can't be trusted.
So she came to me and said, “Do you think I'm a racist? Do you think I can't be trusted?” What do you say when somebody says that? You say “Yes,” you know? Because what the hell? (Author laughs and reacts) What are you going to say at that point? You got caught. So I said, “Yes. Yep, that’s what I said, and that’s how I felt.” Then she broke down crying. She said whatever she felt; and I said, “I don't know what you want me to say about that; that’s how I felt, because that’s what you did.” And I mean, it was a fruitful conversation, because she claimed, “You're tarnishing my reputation with all the new attorneys!” Then she asked me, “Why didn't you tell this other new white attorney?” And I was like, “Because she's white. That has nothing to do with me. She'll be fine since you won’t mistreat her.”
Afterwards, I went back to Ryan and said, “Why would you tell her that? That was information that I was giving to you so that you could take it and do with it what you please.” He was like, “Well, I felt like it was something that y'all should talk about.” Like some fucking HR nightmare: what the fuck do you know about what people should talk about, when you’ve only been here two minutes?
Other pieces of advice Defenders offer:
Defender I would tell young Black lawyers that whatever you do legally should have some positive impact on the lives of Black folks. You don't have to do that; but I think we have that moral obligation given the nature of things in this society and this country, the ways in which laws were used and are used to subjugate and kill us. I think there's a moral obligation. You don't have to be a defense lawyer per se, but there's something that should be happening, even if it's as simple as mentoring other Black attorneys and having some impact on the betterment of the experiences of Black people….
Defender Your reputation is everything.
Defender Be aggressive, be competitive. Don't be—okay, let me finish this, because this is going to sound bad when I say it—don’t be client-oriented in your aggressive pursuit of cases. And this is what I mean by that: a lot of people—God, especially white people—but a lot of people fall in love with their clients. “Oh my poor client, my client has been mistreated.” “My client has been this.” “I gotta stop this system because my client is just this, that, and the other.” That's the complete wrong attitude to approach a case with.
In my opinion, your chief motivation should be winning. I have to repeat that, because that is so important to me. Your chief motivation should be winning. Your client could care less how eloquent or whatever you are. They want to win. Your client doesn't want to go to jail. They don't want the, “Hey attaboy; well, you gave it the college try.” Nine times out of ten, that's not what they're looking for. They are looking to win. They are looking to walk out of that courtroom with as little to nothing holding onto them as possible. That is my job. That is the main thing.
Some of my clients are assholes. I can't like all my clients. In fact, many of my clients are assholes. So if my motivation is going to be my love for my client, then my client is just screwed. So don't get into that whole thing. I have always been of a competitive nature. I always want to win. I do not like losing; losing is like one of the worst things on earth to me. I hate to lose; and that's to the benefit of most of my clients, because they have a guy here who's going to fight tooth and nail because he does not like to lose. So hopefully I cleaned that up (chuckles); but my advice would to them is to be aggressive and don't make it about your love for your client. Don't make it about that, because if you make it about that, you're going to come up short on many, many occasions.
Study and stay on top of the law and the latest legal developments. I still get the case briefs and I still read them. I still find out what's going on in the Appellate Division, so I know where the law is going. This isn’t a once you get the job, you don't have to do this crap anymore. No; once you get the job, you have to do it more. Learn about what the trends are in law, where it's going, what's going on. Know the sentencing structure. Know the sentencing charts. Know what your client's exposure is, so when your client asks you, “Well, I feel like going to trial on this; what do you think?,” you can say, “Well, this is the way I look at it. If you want to go to trial—and we can try this thing here; we have this fact on our favor, we have that fact on our favor—this is what you're exposing yourself to. If we lose, you're looking at blank-to-blank [years in prison]; but if we win, you walk out of the courtroom and it's all done.” Clients respect that; they like to feel secure that their lawyer knows what's going on. So it's your duty to know what's going on.
But I guess the main thing is stay aggressive.
Defender Trust yourself, be yourself. The reason why I say that is because as Black people, we tend to do things differently. We tend to be a little bit more expressive. We tend to be dramatic and speak with our hands. So I feel like a lot of times, we as Black attorneys struggle with finding our voices. As a Black attorney, your white supervisor may tell you that you're doing this incorrectly, or you're supposed to do it the way they are. But everybody’s different. You can’t be inauthentic when you’re talking to a jury. So I would say that you have to be yourself and trust your instinct and trust who you are as a person and how you are as a litigator when you're trying to find your voice; and trust that voice. I feel like a lot of times, the way we do things as attorneys of color gets dismissed. I wish somebody would've told that to me when I was a young attorney starting off.
Defender A lot of folks are going to think that you might have gotten into public defense and you don't deserve to be there, that maybe your place there is the result of, we gotta hire more minorities at this office, or that you got into college or law school through affirmative action, or that doors have been opened for you and that maybe you don't have the skillset to be there. You're there essentially because we need Black people [in public defense]. So you want to make sure that you never validate that misconception; and that goes back to the dedication part, right? Never validate the misconception. Put in that work. Demonstrate who you are and why you deserve to be there. I tell people all the time, “It doesn't matter how you get in the door; just show that you deserve to be there….”
Never stop growing. Outshine. Read that extra case, do that extra thing. Your voice matters as much as anybody else's voice. That’s really important. Don't second guess yourself just because people are speaking louder; if you're right, you're right. If you have an idea, you should share it; and that's advice for new attorneys across the board, because there are lawyers who have been doing this a long time that are working off law from 20 years ago. That's not good law anymore. They have practices from 20 years ago that are not good practices anymore.
So that's some of the things I would advise younger Black lawyers.
Defender To lawyers of color: seek out other lawyers of color in the office…. Anybody I see, I talk about BPDA (Black Public Defender Association). I mean, that didn't exist when I was coming up. And the fact that it's here now is wonderful; it is such a resource on a lot of different levels. It almost feels like it's mandatory that you become a part of this organization because you're going to find so many allies. Allies might not necessarily be in your office. They may be in another part of town, or they may be in another state. But they're there, and this is an organization is also a family because we deal with different kinds of issues. So get involved with the family, because you're going to find somebody that's going to be able to help you, and you won't necessarily always feel like you're alone or on an island.
FN 8: Pseudonym.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Last updated