The public defender in this conversation simply could not accept that possibility because, again, he seemed to be of the opinion that prosecutors are something very close to pure evil and incapable of redemption. From his perspective, the big sin of prosecutors is that they simply do not care at all for defendants; they don't see a person accused of a crime, they see a criminal, and that's really not a human being at all, so all they want is to put that person away and get another X in the “win” column. The defender kept repeating: “They don't care about them [the accused]! They just don't care!” . . .
I don't love prosecutors or think they are generally terrific people. However, I'm willing to give them a bit more benefit of the doubt. Everyone I've known who has been or is on his/her way to becoming a prosecutor is motivated by a desire to help people and to do something good for society. I generally disagree with their methods toward this goal, but that doesn't mean I think they are evil. I think they are wrong. They think I am wrong. We disagree. But it also seems that it's crucial to have good people on the side of the prosecution—people with good judgment, people who really care about the responsibilities they carry and who will work hard to make good charging decisions and to conduct their prosecutions ethically and fairly.
Arbitrary and Capricious sums it up like this:
Well, yes, you can usually find a prosecutor in your area who fits this description, but the majority don't, and AmbImb is right to be skeptical of that p.d.'s claim. In my experience, P.D.'s and prosecutors have more in common than either care to acknowledge. For starters, there's the courtroom, and there's the notion of public service, which AmbImb notes that each define a bit differently, but come to sincerely (again, with the there's - one - in - every - jurisdiction exception). No, if anyone, if any one group of lawyers has nothing in common with p.d.'s, it's more likely to be BigLaw types than prosecutors.
If a former member of the ranks of this particular "axis of evil" may put her two cents worth in for a moment? Criminal law is all about helping people - nobody makes a fortune as a public lawyer on either side of the fence. There are many views on how best to go about it, from deterrence, counseling, punishment, to empowerment. There are also two sets of people to potentially feel sorry for: the victims and the accused. Does a lawyer abdicate his/her right to empathize with a victim of a horrific sex crime simply by choosing to work as a public defender? I think not. The same holds true for the prosecution, I didn't give up my sympathy for a defendant who had a hard upbringing or was a victim of circumstance simply because I chose to prosecute.
In my state, the PD's office is actually far better funded than the county attorney's office, which I understand it inopposite of most jurisdictions. So to become a prosecutor over a public defender was actually a pay cut, not a perk, for me. Why did I choose as I did? In my opinion, it afforded me the best opportunity to use my own judgment on how best to help people. Let me explain: my counterparts in the public defender's office were constrained in their approach by the wishes of their clients. They could advise, but they could not ultimately - ethically - exercise their independent judgment and advocate what was best for the accused and the victim, if it conflicted with their client. For example, maybe in some cases it would actually be best for a drug user facing a probable conviction to enter a halfway house treatment program. But if the drug user wanted to ask for nothing but complete exoneration and no penalty, that's what his lawyer had to go for. There was no wiggle room. On the other hand, I could look at a situation and see what I thought would be best. Is this guy actually a hard-core dealer, or just a kid who's had too many bad breaks? Within the sentencing limits required by law, over which I had no control, I could choose to request jail or prison for the former, and a suspended sentence with treatment for the latter. Working for the State didn't impede my ability to evaluate whether the evidence came from a tainted search and the charge should be thrown out, and I would not hesitate to tell officers so, either in a kind way when the mistake was understandable, or in less so when it was apparent they knew better and were trying to skirt the law. In crimes with victims, naturally my sympathies were with the victims, but that didn't negate my attempt to take a step back when it came to sentencing to use my best judgment in making my request
I recall one case, very early on, in which I actually did my best to assist the defendant. He was charged with keeping an unlicensed kennel, a crime of which he was unquestionably guilty. However, the neighbor who had reported the crime had a long-standing Hatfield/McCoy type dispute with him, and had actually shot one of his dogs when it had broken it's chain, wandered onto the neighbor's property and had gotten the chain entangled in a bush. The dog was restrained, not a danger, but under the law as it stood the neighbor had the right to shoot it. The reporting of the kennel was just another dig in this spat. I pulled the defendant aside prior to trial and offered to recommend a deferred prosecution if he just licensed his dang kennel. He refused, thinking he had some kind of constitutional argument. I proceeded with the prosecution, although I did incur a complaint to the ombudsman's office by the neighbor for refusing to call him as a witness. It took the defendant three-quarters of the way through the trial before he understood a conviction was inevitable. Because I don't punish people for being ignorant, I reiterated my offer, he pled, and we were done. Okay, it was a simple misdemeanor, but it makes my point: I knew what I thought was fair and was able to act on my discretion. If you're interested in seeing justice done, that's a good day's work.
I got sick to death of people presuming I needed to rack up convictions for some hypothetical record. No one cares what my conviction rate was, no one kept track. Again, I realize that might be different in other states, where assistants as well as county attorneys may be elected, or where rising through the ranks to acquire the county attorney spot might actually pay quite a bit of money. In my case, I was not elected, and aside from the "clients" nobody knew who I was. Making county attorney would have meant many, many increased headaches for a slight salary bump: no thanks. So, for me, I couldn't see the point of being married to statistics. It would take a special sort of competetive personality to put a non-tracked win-loss ratio ahead of justice. In fact, I would think that those people are far more likely to take the competitive biglaw or corporate law positions than to stick around in a county prosecutor's office. Though I do understand that there are some bad apples in every bunch.
To end this little rant, I guess I'm surprised that the issue would come up. My colleagues in the public defender's office of the counties where I worked were generally former prosecutors who'd made the jump primarily for pay reasons. I could trust them to give me the straight scoop on whether their guy was a career criminal (frequent flier) and they just thought the bust was bad, whether we were looking at an unusual situation of a good guy in the wrong circumstances, or whether we were just going to have to fight it out, regardless of the circumstances, because this was the one that would land their client in prison. I didn't think any less of them for doing their job, and vice versa. Generally, we could all go out for a beer and argue theory after the work week was over. Sometimes I won, sometimes they did. Sometimes we just made each other's head spin. Either way, we recognized the other side had valid points and it was only the balance of the two views that could make the system work. I'm sorry for the public defender who thinks all prosecutors are the antichrist because they're to rigid in their viewpoints. Something about casting the first stone comes to mind . . . ?
UPDATE: "Morning, Ralph." "Morning, Sam." - Alaskablawg says it best.
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