In October, I sat in the courtroom after meeting the client and listened to oral arguments on the case. I was still involved enough that I was mouthing answers to the court’s questions from my seat against the wall.

   Finally, yesterday, the court posted their opinion — a surprise, since the Court of Special Appeals doesn’t often report decisions. Reading the decision was gratifying and instructive on many levels. Most importantly, our client’s conviction was vacated and remanded for a new trial. Sure, we would have been happier if it was simply reversed as a matter of law, but a new trial isn’t the end of the world; especially since several jurors told the attorney after the trial that they would have decided otherwise if they were given instructions that allowed it.

   The process was incredibly enlightening. Aside from getting a kick out of seeing my arguments and words referenced in a court’s opinion, this crystallized my feelings that I want to practice law. Until now, the little voice that some of us have in the back of our minds has been asking me if becoming a lawyer is really something I want to do, or if it just looks like a good idea in theory.

I’m looking forward to doing this again.

   The court states that:

‘

It seems to us that period is 14 days. That provides plenty of time for the suspect to get reacclimated to his normal life, to consult with friends and counsel, and to shake off any residual coercive effects of his prior custody.

   Fourteen days. Fourteen days from a run-in with the police, accusing you of a crime. Fourteen days from being stuck in an interrogation room with angry cops. Should we assume that those fourteen days are a carefree time, full of laughter and gaiety? Are those two weeks a vacation from the stress and concern over the accusation?

   I understand that the police practically require a bright-line rule when they’re in the field. I respect the difficulty in formulating such a rule. I seriously question whether this rule makes any sense whatsoever.

   As Scott puts it:

‘

The politics of war bears no connection to the sacrifice of these men and women, or the loss of their families and friends. Having given their lives, the least we can do is remember them, offer comfort to their families and honor their sacrifice.
The hope is that this is the birth of a tradition that will find its way into the hearts and minds of Americans across the nation. This December 12th, there was but one ceremony held in Florida. Next year, let this ceremony be repeated across the nation. Those whose bodies were lost to the water are no less deserving of our thoughts.

   No matter what people have said regarding religious ornaments being used in honoring the fallen, I agree with Justice Scalia’s view:

‘

It’s erected as a war memorial. I assume it is erected in honor of all of the war dead…What would you have them erect?…Some conglomerate of a cross, a Star of David, and you know, a Muslim half moon and star?”

   Writing as an orthodox Jew, acknowledging that a wreath and the time is Christian-centric, I have no qualms in adding my hopes to Scott’s — that this ceremony be repeated next year across the nation.

‘

@ProfJonathan @mglickman — Good question. Although the FTC cannot endorse a particular solution we met and reviewed our system. DM for info.

   Naturally, I DM’d (DMed?) the @cmply account, offering my email address. The response I received, not 2 hours later, was informative and comprehensive from Tom Chernaik, the principal of CMP.ly’s parent — DigComm. Tom described how DigComm involved the FTC in the design of the CMP.ly service, so that — when implemented properly — it meets and exceeds the FTC’s new guidelines. He also invited further questions and discussion.

   I have nothing to do with DigComm or CMP.ly. I don’t even consider myself enough of a blogger to make use of a disclosure engine such as CMP.ly. If I were looking for an answer to disclosure requirements, however, the responsiveness and openness of those in charge of CMP.ly would definitely put my mind at ease.

esterday brought another interesting post from Scott Greenfield’s Simple Justice. He had been made aware of a blog by a new law school graduate with hopes of entering the world of criminal defense. The author monologued about the moral dilemma a defense attorney has when representing a “guilty-as-charged” client. Her ultimate answer to it was that a defense attorney has a duty to tell her client’s story in order to achieve a fair outcome.

   Scott, lodged in a lesson about the dangers of blogging (Loose blog posts Sink egos, or something of the sort), explained that there is no moral dilemma. A defense attorney is there to beat the prosecution and win freedom for his client. It is, after all, an adversarial system. (Disclaimer: This is my summary. Read his comment.)

That was yesterday.

   Today I found that Rick Horowitz wrote in response to these posts. One of Rick’s points is that a fundamental principle of American Justice is that a defendant is presumed innocent until the prosecution has proved beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty. There should never be a moral dilemma, since a defense attorney is merely maintaining the existing, fundamental, presumption until if — despite his best efforts — the prosecution wins and proves beyond a reasonable doubt that the presumption was incorrect. The presumption was never improper, but it may turn out to be inaccurate. (Disclaimer: This is my summary. Read his post.)

   Both Scott and Rick point out that telling a client’s story is not integral to the job of a defense attorney. Rick even mentions that the presumption of innocence exists without the defendant saying anything at all and in some cases that may be the best route to defending a client. In other cases, telling the client’s story may be part of the defense. My real concern was with myself; when I read the instigating blog post, I felt myself nodding in agreement. “Why yes,” my unconscious murmured, “what else is a defense attorney to do?” I had asked Scott to give his explanation, both on twitter and in his comments, because I wasn’t clear exactly where the original author had gone wrong.

   I think I finally figured it out. While in Law School (which I am), taking CrimLaw (which I did), the students read a multitude of cases and opinions. I think it’s safe to say that almost every last one is an Appellate Opinion. What is the big difference between Appellate and Trial Court opinions? The facts.
   We law students are exposed to criminal law with the facts laid out before us. We have a bird’s eye view on the crime, what happened and whodunit. This almost always plays out when the class discusses the death penalty, and the point made when discussing death penalties is that, when there’s nothing left to do in defense of the client, you tell his story in the hopes of dissuading the jury from handing down the death penalty.

   I know, I’m highlighting yet another disconnect between law school and the practice of law. Nothing novel or exciting. Just another reason for me to sigh heavily when I think of my student debt.

Social Media.
Social.
Media.
   Why do these two words confuse the hell out of so many people? I don’t just mean confuse in the whimsical way your parents might be confused about how to open a file in an email. I mean confused — to the point where people end up doing things completely bass-ackwards and screwing themselves over.

   Yesterday, Scott Greenfield and Brian Tannebaum posted excellent, somewhat related and extraordinarily relevant statements regarding the need for lawyers to subscribe to and follow an ethical guideline. The overlap between them lies in a lawyer’s online presence, and since I am so obviously steeped in online reality that I instantly associated those verbs as online colloquialisms (“subscribe” to a feed and “follow” on twitter) I will focus mainly on the online aspect of the issue.

   Which brings me back to Social Media. How complicated can it be? Why are there Social Media Gurus for hire, who obviously are certified via Social Media Certificate programs? How on Earth can something that is based on the most natural activity in the world — talking to someone — become so overwhelming that people feel the need to pay for people to do it for them? Networking existed for centuries, long before Social Media came around. Is it the “Media” that’s throwing people off? Do people feel like they need to follow someone else’s instructions or outsource their online presence because they don’t feel comfortable dealing with media?
   Because it’s not media. It’s online networking. It’s like walking into a room full of people, except it’s online. There is nothing mystical or confusing or difficult about this concept.
People didn’t have a problem understanding chat rooms; but as soon as it has a Title people drop everything they might have known about social interaction online.

   My personal opinion is that Social Media is a straw man. Yes, it is missing a brain; but more importantly, it diverts the attention from the real issue — the issue that Brian Tannebaum focused on in his post.

All too many people, not just lawyers, don’t worry about the ethical considerations of their actions. Social media is just new enough that it’s an environment where these people can slip into what they feel more comfortable doing — trying to game the system.

The sleaziness online won’t last, but it sure is annoying in the meantime.

   On an unrelated topic, I have no idea what the title of this post means, but it sounded sufficiently dramatic. So, there you go.

• If the joke you heard last night about Article 9 of the UCC had a punchline based on Justice Frankfurter’s opinion on stomach-pumping under the 4th Amendment… you might be in law school.
  • If you got the joke and laughed… you are definitely in law school… and you’re a geek.
• If, somewhere in your subconscious, you feel guilty when you’re not carrying roughly 200 lbs of textbooks… you might be in law school.
• If you have dreamed of a § key on your keyboard.… you might be in law school.
  • If you even know what the § symbol means… you might be in law school.
• If you have ever complained that BarBri is a monopoly… you might be in law school.
  • If you know that BarBri was a monopoly… you might be in law school.
• If you have a stated preference between Westlaw and LexisNexis… you might be in law school.
  • If you have run the exact same search through both… you are definitely in law school.
• If you think a paragraph feels naked without the word “however” or the phrase “in regard to”… you might be in law school.
• If you have ever been asked a question which has no correct answer… you might be in law school… or you might just be married.

Now that that’s out of the way, allow me to get to the point: I participated in my schools Intellectual Property Clinic this summer. Formerly based in an incubator (it has since moved to a school campus), the clientele ranged from authors to web-based business to bio-engineers to financial auditing contractors.

When I first applied to the clinic, I was not aware of the amount of time that it was going to take. Taking the clinic for 5 credits, I had to clock in 28 hours a week (not “billable” hours, simply work hours) — students taking 7 credits had to clock in almost 40. I cannot consider taking a clinic again, since I simply cannot commit that amount of time to it again — it was a stretch this past summer.

That being said, it was the single most informative and educational experience of my law school career to date. I met with clients; I drafted agreements; I performed trademark searches; I was exposed to the kinds of issues that are common in the realm of real business — there was no mention of acres of any hue!

My class was eligible to petition for a journal this past summer, but I knew that I would have time to either petition or attend the clinic. I might have committed career-suicide by opting for the clinic over the journal, but I don’t regret the decision; if an interviewer asks about it I’ll simply answer in good Jewish tradition with the question: “Which is more important: being on a journal or actual work experience?”