A Tale as Old as Time

One of my favorite things about working at the DA's office is listening to war stories. One such gem was told to me by my boss on Friday about a prostitution case he tried a few years ago...

My boss put a witness with slightly questionable morals on the stand. There had been rumors about this woman participating in some not so appropriate acts with a 14 year old boy and it was time for the defense counsel to cross.

Defense: What time did this happen?

Witness: I don't know.

Defense, louder this time: What time did this happen??

Witness: I don't know.

Defense, yelling: WHAT TIME DID THIS HAPPEN?!

Witness starts laughing hysterically.

Defense: A man's life is on the line here, tell me what is so damn funny!!!

Witness, still laughing: They ain't got no clocks in the crack house!

Apparently that comment got everyone in the court room giggling--the jury, the attorneys, the bailiffs, and the judge himself who could've been "a hundred and seven years old" according to my boss.

Respect My Authorateh

I was watching a DWI trial today because the defendant was being represented by a famed defense attorney in the area. The two cops who pulled over the defendant came into the courtroom to be sworn in by they judge. Ordinarily, I would've zoned out during this part, but I thought these cops were hilarious.

They were in the darkest but shiniest navy uniforms with the most sparkling of buttons, name tags, pins, and badges. Their flashlights banged against their guns in the most melodious fashion and you could probably see your reflection in their shaved heads as well as you could in their mirror-like handcuffs. They were huge guys, both between 6'2" and 6'7" and were ripped. They looked the exact same with the exception of their height.

If I had been the defense attorney I would've asked if it was a requirement of the department to look like clones. They looked ridiculous.

Criminal is My Homeboy

There was an Aggravated Robbery/Assault of a Public Servant case going on this week that finished today. The defense attorney was the epitome of a "Good Ol' Texas Boy." The defendant had been involved in gangs and was already a convicted felon at the ripe old age of 21. Needless to say, there were extreme cultural differences between attorney and client. At one point while the court was in recess today, the two prosecutors are chatting with the defense attorney...

Defense Attorney: "What are you talking about? I have to defend him to the best of my ability because he's my homeboy!"

Prosecutor: "Oh yeah, I bet y'all keep it real on the weekends."

Then, during closing arguments in the punishment phase, the defense attorney gave the most long-winded, 25 minute long eloquent closing, during which, a female juror began to cry. Then she began to practically sob. The judge stifled her laughter but the bailiffs weren't so subtle. Neither were the interns. Or the female juror sitting next to waterworks lady. No one knows why the hell she was crying, but I would put money on it being the defense's never ending closing.