Objection!

My town is playing host to a rather sensational murder trial, and I've been following it in the news. It's hard not to. And, as I read yet another article about the attorneys arguing the technicalities, I'm reminded of why I left the courtroom behind.

As a student lawyer, I had my own chance to work on a sensational case. It was a last ditch appeal for clemency prior to execution. The defendant had gone on a killing spree when he was just shy of his 16th birthday, and was convicted and sentenced to death in a trial that featured mental illness, drugs, and devil worship. After 15 years of appeals, it was down to a matter of days. This was it.

As a matter of law, the original trial transcripts provided more than enough ammunition for a clemency argument. The public defender (amazingly) didn't vigorously pursue an insanity plea due to lack of adequate funds for psychiatric evaluation. The judge's jury instructions regarding the weight to be given to the defendant's age at the time that the crimes were committed were fatally flawed. These were legal arguments rooted in the failures of the justice system, and they were the type of arguments that formed the basis of my own opposition to the death penalty. The issues were valid, and I was completely comfortable arguing them.

However, I was not even remotely comfortable arguing the merits of the man himself. During his 15 years on death row, the defendant had become a Christian and started a thriving prison ministry. How nice. The attorneys arguing for clemency chose to focus on this angle to the practical exclusion of all else. In essence, they were trying to turn the murderer into a hero.

Before I had even met the defendant, I had problems with this approach. First, it completely ignored the shortcomings of the original trial. Second, well, it glossed over an ugly truth. In my Bible Belt state, the conversion to Christianity might be given favorable consideration that would never be given to a big black man who became a devout member of the Nation of Islam. It's unfair as hell, but I knew that it was the truth. That made me squirm.

After spending some time with the defendant, I was even more uncomfortable with his cannonization. It was all bullshit. The man was a sociopath, pure and simple. A murderer who had blown people away with a shotgun to see what it felt like. No other reason. Sociopaths don't "get better," and they damned sure don't become saints.

I shouldn't have cared. A good attorney argues whatever will benefit her client; this is not a philosophical exercise. But, I did care. And, I recognized that I always would.

So, I left the courtroom and never looked back.