In which two clients misbehave very slightly

Yesterday was a Rikers day. I posted on facebook that those are like little holidays gilded with despair and burnout, but the fact of the matter is I can get up at 10 if I need to, or really even later, on a Rikers day. It takes a fucking long time to get there but...I'm getting ahead of myself. I did need to get up at ten. Twelve hours earlier I was in the Atlantic in my underwear, no kidding, and then you have to figure in slow service at Volna and two medium-length subway rides and it all adds up to, well yeah, fun, but also a stack of unwise choices for a Sunday night.

I had two clients to interview on Rikers, but the great news was that they were both at the same facility which, all told, cuts about an hour off a two-client day, I'll wager. Just check in at mission control or whatever the hell they call it, get on the 4 bus which happened to be right there, interview, interview, back on the 4, Bob's your incarcerated uncle, and you're done.

Both were good interviews, which means the same thing it meant last time I was yammering about this: able to describe what went wrong in some detail. More generally: able to participate actively in their own defense by doing things like providing the names for a bunch of people who will say "he can do better." One was kind of a fast-talking, I'd have to say charming young guy who breaks into cars for drug money. I'd anonymize that except it's quite anonymous already. The other was a middle aged addict who wants to leave New York but meanwhile breaks into cars for drug money. See?

The funny thing is that each one, in the course of a good, ready-to-use interview said something a client has never said to me. In each case it put me mildly on the defensive. Maybe both are worth thinking about for a sec?

Client A had refused my request to be produced at the courthouse because he works at night and wouldn't have gotten any sleep. Client A was really pissed at his attorney but didn't take it out on me, which plenty of them do. People with public defenders often assume that the things that suck about their situation are because of having a public defender, primarily the difficulty they have getting in touch with their attorney.

And some of this is probably fair, though they'd do better to blame the state for things involving funding and therefore caseloads.* Client A said "she's had my case six months and I've never met her." I kind of doubt this, as the attorney in question is diligent and organized, but I also don't know why he'd make it up altogether, though exaggeration seems likely. Exaggerating is just part of complaining. Ask me. I know.

Client A gets a bunch of credit for self-control or something like, since I actually started the interview by saying "listen, we're not in great shape because you refused my request and I have to have something done by your court date on Thursday." Had the roles been reversed, I would have been defensive and petulant, but the kvetching about his attorney actually didn't come up until the end. And suddenly I realize none of this has much to do with what he said to me but whatever, you may be used to this by now.

So his surprising statement happens this way. I ask him a question that is useful what feels like exactly 50% of the time, and I phrase it this way: "aright, this is kind of a dumb question but I always ask it because sometimes people have interesting answers. What do you get out of getting high? What does it do for you?" He doesn't have much of an answer [Client B does, by the way. 50/50.] but when I sense that from his fumbling around in no particular direction and reiterate--for reasons of my own need to feel like I'm not asking dumb questions--"ok, well, no big deal, sometimes it's not the best question," he says in a completely non-confronatational way "I've heard all these questions before, you know. A lot of times."

Of course I know. But, presumably because saying so does contain some baseline degree of frustration--not just with me, but with the way people with problems are treated when those problems are inconvenient for society--people never, ever say to me "ah right. Next you're going to ask about high school. Could we mix it up a little?" So I'm able to pretend that my interview is searching, original, a veritable cocktail party, a veritable appearance on Larry King. I said "I know you have" and left it at that because usually I'm pretty good at not making clients take care of me.

Client B said something less revealing but, to me, kind of funny. Basically started by thanking me for coming out to Rikers--all but a very few clients hate being produced, because they get them up at 4:30 a.m. or something. I have heard this so many times that I started saying to clients I did have produced "I'll try really hard not to have you produced again. I know they get you guys up in the middle of the night." Once in a while someone says "are you kidding? It beats the hell out of being at Rikers" but not as often as you'd expect.

So he starts out by thanking me sort of effusively for not putting him through that particular ordeal. But then he says "anyway it works out for both of us. I know when you guys come out here, you don't have to go in to the office for the day." I actually got kind of flustered and started to say how it's a schlepp to Rikers but trailed off with this because yes, it is in fact a tiny holiday gilded with despair and burnout.

It was just funny how discomfiting it was to have that acknowledged. We want gratitude, of course, and there is a sadistic element to this wish, especially when it's frustrated. In a worse mood, let's say if I had ended up going to Rikers in the rain (newsflash: not fun!) I might have gotten frustrated with him, maybe given him a shorter interview though I think/hope not. But, his luck: he had already charmed me a little. So I just took it home to think about and maybe blog about, which I have now done.

*By which I just mean that's where the blame is properly lain. If you can't get in touch with your attorney when your court date is coming up, of course you're not going to write to your senator.