OKAY, IT'S CONSUMER FRAUD.

From deep in the files of personal experience practicing law in San Francisco:

***

Late one evening as he drove slowly around the block, the gentleman in the pickup spotted the attractive lady with the long legs, the high-heels, the fishnet stockings and the bouffant wig, blond of course, strolling near a corner in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco.

He'd never met her before, but, since she was also wearing a short skirt, a tight blouse and strutting in an alluring manner, he thought he might just say hello. 

What could be more innocent than that?

He rolled down his window, looked in her direction and she smiled agreeably at him. 

"Are you dating?" she asked, speaking in the code of the street.

He allowed as how he might be persuaded.

A brief conversation followed in which an accord was reached.  She slid beside him into the cab and off they rolled to Hemlock Alley, aptly named, a quiet lane where anything can happen and often does, between Polk Street and Van Ness Avenue.

A romantic encounter of sorts began when they parked.

Sometime before what was intended by the driver to be the climactic moment, two of San Francisco's Finest created a climax of their own, alas, almost as though they had done this many times before and had it timed.

They flashed badges, shined flashlights into the cab and shouted, "Police....Freeze!" in tones that would take the bloom off the sincerest form of romance.

Which is how the gentleman met me. 

I represent people who need an experienced, dependable attorney when they find themselves in legal hot water.   For years I've served first as a prosecuting attorney and now as a defense attorney in San Francisco and the neighboring Bay Area counties.  I've tried a lot of jury trials and do my best to keep clients out of trial whenever possible, something they seem to appreciate.

Necessity requires that I take a somewhat broad view of human foibles when my clients must appear in the Department of Human Weakness, sometimes called the Hall of Injustice, or, more euphemistically, the Hall of Justice, the Hall, for short.  I don't judge clients, they're sometimes surprised to learn, I defend them.

The officers arrested the Hemlock Alley couple for "engaging in an act of prostitution," defined as exchanging sex for money, a bit too directly for social acceptance, which is a violation of the California criminal law.  The officers then provided the usual warning and asked a few questions.

Sometime later, the embarrassed man arrived at my office.

"Let me get this straight:  Two experienced San Francisco vice cops nailed you participating in an act of sex in your truck, on a public street, with a known prostitute that you picked up in the middle of the Tenderloin.  After receiving the Miranda warning, you admitted that you'd paid her the money.  Got it."

"Yes," he replied, "they told me they'd seen her before and were watching when I showed up, so they followed us both. If I'm convicted, I'll lose my job.  My wife will kill me if she finds out about this." 

"This is sad," I commiserated. 

However, if his wife kills him first we won't have to worry about getting convicted, will we?  I dismissed the question as being unworthy.

"But that's not the worst part," he continued.

"What could be worse?" I wondered, since no one had died.

"At the police station," he said, head sinking, "one of the officers told me that she was really a he." 

"Hmmm...," I thought, letting this sink in, "the jury is going to find this interesting.

What am I going to tell the twelve jurors? 

That the cops got the wrong man? 

When they got them both?!"

"Hmm, what I'm hearing is that you really don't want to go to trial and also that

Now... you...want me... to get you... off?"

That was about the size of it.

"Why do you always get the hard cases?" my kids would ask.

My adversaries, trained, experienced attorneys with agendas of their own, often have the facts, or the law, or both, on their side, as in this case. 

My job is to think of something.

At the pretrial conference, held in the judge's chambers, the district attorney quite accurately described what the two cops had seen my client doing with the lady, so to speak, of the evening, making it seem a hopeless case, indeed, for our side. Perhaps a little jail time followed by a period of probation to put a halt to such crime in the streets might be in order, he suggested.

"How are we going to make justice triumph in this situation?"  I asked myself.

The other attorneys awaiting their turn to defend their clients stared at me when the judge leveled his gaze and asked,

"What is your client's position, Mr. Sheridan?"

The judge waited for an answer, as I took a deep breath.

I wasn't sure that my client had a position, other than the one that brought him to the Hall that morning, which didn't seem very promising at the moment. I was going to have to come up with his position, but fast. 

The judge, the DA and the other counsel seemed curious to know whether I was going to have anything useful to say.

But..., saying something useful to judges, at the right time, is the profession I'd chosen, attorney for the damned as it were, having the honor to speak for those who might not be as able to speak for themselves when the pressure was on.

I had been giving the predicament some thought.

"My client's position, Your Honor..., is that he is the victim... of... Consumer Fraud!"

The hard faces of the DA, the other attorneys and the judge, slowly melted.

This audience of experts almost seemed to approve of this legal analysis, which did, at least, have the advantage of being, as far as it went, true.

They smiled. 

Someone chuckled.

"What do you want to do with this case?" asked the judge in a less unfriendly manner.

"What my client would like to do, Your Honor, is to donate $100 to the Salvation Army as court costs and have this case dismissed," I proposed as evenly as possible.  "He'll agree to stay out of the Tenderloin."

The attorneys gazed at the ceiling.

The judge focused on the DA. 

The DA peered intently at his file.

"Okay," smiled the DA, looking up, relieved no doubt at not having to present this engaging matter to a jury over the next several days.

"Okay," smiled the judge, satisfied apparently that justice was in the process of triumphing, yet again, in his court.

Lord knows what the other attorneys thought as they looked at each other.

"Praise the Lord!" smiled my client after he handed his check to the clerk for the Salvation Army and experienced, firsthand, justice triumph as the judge dismissed his case. 

Years later, after many other courtroom efforts, I happened to recount this little incident while seated in Sal the Barber's big chair as we spoke about the importance of avoiding those little situations that can grow into seemingly impossible problems requiring the services of an attorney who knows how to say just the right thing at just the right time.

Sal slapped his knee, gave a laugh and suggested that I might want to put this on my web site.

"Not a bad idea...," said the face in the mirror, smiling.

***
Copyright 2007
All rights reserved, by
Robert Sheridan

***

The office web site is here.

Comments

[rs]

...priceless...

Well, there is a slight cost associated with both the mundane and the miraculous, Harry, but I do appreciate the compliment.

Many thanks for the kind words, Harry.

[Harry da Hammer]

Bob - I visit often but do not post often. I enjoy reading what you post and miss you at the other site. This consumer fraud story is priceless. - HdH