"No, I usually greet my friends with an effusive ‘how-dy!’ and ask how they’re doing. Of course, most of my friends don’t leave me worrying if I’m going to be subject to an FBI investigation just for talking to them."

"America has become a sad and terrible place. What have we come to when two old friends have to worry about the apparatchiks of a suffocating state intruding upon their deliberations?"

"Paulie, the cops have been tracking you since long before America became a sad and terrible place."

"I have no legal problems that would concern you at this time."

I snorted. The thing about Paulie is that about 10% of the population would like to arrest him, and another 10% would like to kill him. This makes him a rather risky dinner date.

"And besides, I am in somewhat good odor with the current administration, who understand the needs and travails of a common businessman."

"Right. Just a garbage collection company owner who happens to be a billionaire."

"The American dream come true."

"Cato Institute REMs. Yeah."

"Now, don’t be fractious, Zepp."

I sighed and closed my Solitaire game. By now, dossiers on me were probably open on half a dozen government desks, and I might as well hope they were the only ones watching us. And besides, Paulie, despite his occupational flaws, was a pretty entertaining guy and a good conversationalist. If I had to chose between putting the black six on the red seven or hearing about Paulie’s latest non-actionable ventures, Paulie was the clear choice.

"So what are you up to, Paulie?"

"I am bursting with pride."

"Pride?"

"Pride." Paulie eyed me. I wore my best guileless look. "Do you remember my nephew James?" I thought for a minute. Paulie’s extended family – blood, marriage and other – was confusing at the best of times. But I remembered James, because he was introduced as Paulie’s nephew. The thing is, James was about ten years older than Paulie, which put him up in the Strom Thurmond class. Paulie would look on his nephew with doting avuncularity, and try to act as James’ mentor, and old James would just shuffle along and do what he damned well pleased, which is a right reserved to guys who are Jimmy’s age. When tact is directly linked to physical health, I can be tactful. I kept the noncommital expression, and probably some fingers.

"OK, I remember Jim. Nice kid." Kid twice my age, ten times my salary.

"Well, he has just passed his bar. He is now a lawyer!"

"Well, my congratulations to him. But Paulie, don’t you already have a couple of dozen lawyers in your family already?"

"Yes. It has been a blessing."

"I bet."

"But Jimmy has taken on a position in the Alameda Public Defender’s office."

"The Alameda Public...this is a joke, right?"

"Why would I joke about something like that?

"Public defenders are the bottom of the food chain. They make maybe $50K a year, work 18 hour days, and everyone hates them for saving us from ourselves. There isn’t a job in America that has more responsibility, and less appreciation!"

Paulie waved my objection away and paused to take a Meaningful Glance at my coffee pot. I got up and pour us both some Sumatran Giant Rat Poison, three sugars and two creams for Paulie, black and bitter for myself. Despite the time to think that the digression gave me, I couldn’t figure it out. Paulie’s family was known for its generosity and largess for the community, and the local parish, but their charity usually stopped dead at the doors of the public sector, and at the legal system in particular. Some bad blood there, I was given to understand.

Paulie sniffed at his coffee, smiled. He’s one of the few people who can drink my coffee. The stuff in the pot, on average, is three days old, and kept at a steady 180 degrees for that peak flavor experience. I’ve found it’s handy to stay in a chemically enhanced bad mood in my line of work.

"Now, it may be true that public defenders are held in low esteem, and it may be that I have uttered one or two derisive turns of phrase about them myself." I repressed a snort. Half-hour rants was more like it. "But never let it be said that they do not fulfill a critical function in American courts. In a situation where guilt is in doubt, a competent defense attorney can see to it that there are no unjust punishments. Conversely, a defense attorney who is inattentive to detail and lacking in motivation can greatly decrease the changes of an innocent accused who is hoping for justice."

"Well, sure. In fact, that’s something that puzzles me." I paused. I needed to consider my words. "Your nephew..."

"James."

"James. He has been in court a few times himself, and was a guest of the state for five years, right?"

"Three. He got out on good behavior."

"And he would inevitably wind up defending someone where there might be a conflict of interest. He could end up defending one of your, ah, competitors."

"It’s odd that you should mention that..."

"Oh, boy. Here it comes."

"...but his very first case, slated to start tomorrow, is defending Marion D’Amato."

"What? Isn’t D’Amato the one that testified against him, got him sent up?"

Paulie nodded. "He did give testimony that, seen in the wrong light, would seem to implicate my nephew in some schemes that could be viewed as nefarious."

"RICO, wasn’t it?"

"An obvious frame-up by a vengeful prosecutor."

"And James is going to be defending him?"

"That is correct. You can be sure that James is a professional, and will perform his task with integrity and in compliance with the letter and spirit of the law."

"Paulie, don’t insult me."

Paulie’s voice dropped a notch. "I said he will perform his task with integrity and in compliance with the letter and spirit of the law. Are you making an accusation against my favorite nephew?"

"Um. Jim’s a good guy, Paulie. I know that. But how did you swing this? I mean there are professional standards and conflict of interest laws that even Alameda has to observe..."

"Not any more."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"There are no longer any laws regarding professional standards and conflict of interest for public defenders."

"Paulie, what the hell are you talking about?"

"The Supreme Court has made a ruling."

"Well, they do that. I take it this is a particular ruling?"

"Mickens v. Taylor, No. 00_9285. The court ruled, 5-4, that even though the defense attorney defending Mickens had a conflict of interest – he had previously worked for a man who was the victim of Mickens’ alleged crime."

"‘Worked for’? As an employee, you mean?"

"As an attorney. This attorney, who is named Brian Saunders, had defended the man, one Timothy Hall, on weapons charges, and had secured an acquittal for the young man."

"So the defense attorney knew the victim. That is kind of dicey. How long before this defense attorney took Mickens’ case did this happen?

"Three days."

"Three DAYS? Hell, the trial should be overturned because the defense attorney lied to the judge."

"He didn’t lie. The judge was aware of the situation."

"And he let it go forward anyway? Damn. That’s pretty cheesy. So what did Mickens get that made it worth fighting to the supreme court?

"The death penalty, is all. He was convicted, after all, of raping and murdering Timothy Hall."

I felt dizzy, and it wasn’t the coffee. "The death penalty. Ho-kay. Let me see if I have this straight. This guy Mickens is accused of raping and murdering Hall...

"...A most heinous crime. I am truly disgusted."

"As you say. He supposedly murders Hall, and he is defended by the same attorney who, three days before the crime, defended Hall."

"That is correct. You have a talent for distilling the essence of a story."

"Were there no other attorneys available?"

"I’m sure there were."

"And nobody thought, ‘Hey, this guy Saunders might have some personal feelings about this case, seeing as how he defended the victim just days before.’?"

"Apparently not."

"And the Supreme Court was OKAY with this?"

"The vote upholding the conviction was 5-4."

"Let me guess. Rehnquist. Scalia. Thomas. O’Connor. And Kennedy. Am I right?"

"Zepp, did you know the odds of correctly picking the right judges in that order are 60,479 to one?"

"Luck had nothing to do with it. I know who the disgraces on the Supreme Court are. So who wrote the opinion, and what was his rationale, if any?"

"Antonin Scalia."

"Ah. A fellow compatriot. You should be proud."

"Oddly, enough, I am not. He does nothing to dispel the stereotype that we are thuggish, stupid and crooked. He wrote that the United States Constitution and something called "policy sense" – whatever that might be – did not require that just the possibility of conflict of interest be deemed enough to overturn the court decision."

"Which means...?"

"Which means that the mere fact that a conflict of interest exists isn’t enough. The client would have to prove that the attorney was actively sabotaging his case."

"Which, of course, is nearly impossible to prove. Did any of those five whores indicate that they were throwing out due process?

"No. However, you will be happy to know that John Paul Stevens is still a loyal American, and brave enough to stand up to those neo-fascist thugs. He wrote in dissent..." Paulie snapped open his briefcase, pulled out a New York Times: "‘The court’s novel and naive assumption that a lawyer’s divided loyalties are acceptable unless it can be proved that they actually affected counsel’s performance is demeaning to the profession." Zepp, Stevens went further, and added that this travesty of a decision ‘poisons the integrity of our adversary system of justice.’"

I felt the back of my neck getting hot. "So a lawyer could be receiving money from the prosecution, and unless the client could prove he was throwing the case, the court can take no notice of this."

"That’s right."

"And that’s how it’s possible that your newphew James is defending a man who once had him thrown in jail."

"That, too, is correct. But Zepp, my friend, remember this: James is an honorable and decent man who will do nothing to, as you say, ‘throw the case.’ He will cross all the ‘i’s and dot all the ‘t’s. Nobody will find any procedural errors.

"Thanks to Tony Scalia and his little court junta, it is now possible to dispense with the tedious process of demanding that our courtroom officials be unbiased and fair, and now justice can be done in a manner that appeals most to men like Scalia.

"And my nephew James will see justice done."

Paulie grinned.