Happy Evacuation Day!

Yes, today, March 17, is an official holiday here in the Boston area, one that is taken very seriously--if not entirely soberly. (College students seem to be its most dedicated celebrants, which is commendable: it's always nice to see our nation's young scholars take an active interest in historical causes.) It commemorates the end of the colonial siege of Boston and, as of this year, the 230th anniversary of the peaceful retreat of King George's army from one of the most important ports of the New World. (They never came back.)

Sadly, however, this kind of orderly exodus is bound to be a one-time historical event. Given the current preparedness plans--namely, mayor Menino's infamously pointless evacuation signs cheerfully pointing the way to nowhere--I don't see how it's ever going to be repeated.

Oh, and: for some reason, Irish Americans in Boston get especially excited about Evacuation Day. I guess they didn't like the British any more than the rest of us, but still. I'm sure someone can explain it to me.

incompossibilities

My ethical qualms may remain (see below), but I can't complain about the work I'm getting from this firm. It's all improbably interesting, and pleasantly variegated.

In the past couple of weeks, I've thoroughly analyzed an IRS proceeding, written two motions to suppress (one in federal court) as well as a motion in opposition to a motion to attach real estate, drafted a non-disclosure/non-compete agreement involving a major European corporation, and learned more than I ever cared to about possible tort issues involved in the transmission of a relatively minor sexually transmitted disease. Not bad for part-time work. More as it happens.

Oh, and I don't to hear about the typo in my heading. Look it up, jabbernowl...

Approaching the bench

I made my very first ever appearance in court today. It was a simple enough case--on paper, anyway--but still terrifying in that way that doing big things for the first time--let alone being expected to do them virtually blind--can be. The total suprise didn't help much.

Got a call from the attorney I've been doing research work for this morning requesting that I meet him in Suffolk Superior Court (that'd be the distinctly Orwellian 16-story monolith near Boston's Government Center) to be with a couple of clients ("I just need someone to hold their hands") before and after a grand jury proceeding in which they'd be taking the Fifth. Of course, that's not really what happened. I should have known that trouble was coming when he took off immediately after the clients arrived.

Through a convoluted series of events that I can't really talk about here, I was knowingly placed in a situation in which I would have to end up having to head off a very real potential ethical problem by appearing in front of a Superior Court judge and having our clients assigned new counsel. Which, again, sounds easy. And should be. But it's not until you actually have to do something as manifestly practical--and undeniably overwhelming--as actually enter a courtroom with clients (not to mention a lingering sense that you've narrowly avoided being used for unethical ends) about whom you know virtally nothing that you realize just how little you've learned in your past three years of legal education. Things like where to stand, how to informally address the opposing party (friendly? tough? understanding? flexible? stonewalling? these all seem to be appropriate at different times), when to look appropriately concerned, when to attempt conversation with your client (especially in your nervous, limited, really-I-can-write-it-so-much-better-than-I-speak-it espanol guero), and just how intimidating even the nicest of judges can be the first time you approach the bench.

Again, I wish I could say more about the circumstances; they were really all very amusing a couple of hours after it was all over. I will say that I'm still pretty annoyed about being intentionally placed in the ethical quandary in which I found myself this morning, however, and couldn't help feeling as if I was being tested to see if I were willing to make the wrong choice and live with it. I was not, and am not. (Forgive me just a sentence worth of self-righteousness: if that's really the kind of person they want doing this job, I'm not going to be there long. Okay. THank you.)

Oh, and I'm still drafting my thoughts on the Hussein trial, and will share them soon enough. I'm totally right. You'll see.