The Way Things Are Supposed to be, and the Way Things Actually Are

Readers of my blog know that there's no secret that I am really enjoying AMC's "Better Call Saul."  I think it's because being a solo practitioner, while I may strongly disagree with Jimmy McGill's ethics, I understand his struggles. Last night's episode, we saw some of the tension of big firm lawyers, who expect things to be the way they are supposed to be, and the solo practitioner, who understands the way things are. 

Time for my required spoiler alert for those who have recorded it, want to catch an encore showing or will be watching through AMC's app. 

***SPOILER ALERT***

Jimmy got in trouble last week by airing a commercial without the partners' prior approval. He wasn't fired, but warned that he would be under a lot more scrutiny. 

This week, we learn what that scrutiny is. A second year associate has been tasked with reviewing everything Jimmy does, and teaching him the firm's way. Jimmy, not surprisingly, is annoyed that he, who was hired as a fourth year associate, is now being babysat by a second year associate. 

The scene that stuck out the most for me was when Jimmy and his babysitter go to court to file a motion and to get a date for a hearing. Jimmy isn't getting the date he wants. So he pulls out a Beanie Baby to offer to the surly clerk. Suddenly, and better date opens up. 

Shocked, the babysitter pulls Jimmy aside and chides him for offering a bribe. The result? It will now be more than a month until Jimmy gets his hearing. 

Look, all of us have come across that bureaucrat who has their own little fiefdom, and will let you know that they have power over you. The question is how do you deal with that. 

I think the mistake many lawyers make is forgetting that the bureaucrat is a person. Some lawyers will treat the clerk or the bailiff or the security guard as just a means to an end. This person has something I want, and she should just give it to me. 

Jimmy's solution, while shady, at least recognizes the person behind the job. He has taken the time to learn that the clerk loves Beanie Babies, so he makes her feel good by offering what she likes. 

Yeah, the direct quid pro quo is wrong. But I do think Jimmy is on the right track. As the saying goes, you get more flies with honey than vinegar. 

I remember back to my internship days. I was the guy who went to a certain embassy in Washington to turn in the paperwork for visa requests for our consultants. For a long time, the consular officer was surly. Even though I knew the paperwork was correct, she gave me attitude. I didn't get things from her on time. This was her fiefdom. 

I didn't go to Jimmy's extreme. But I did change my attitude. I tried to engage her on conversation. I knew a little of her native language, so I would greet her in it. I'd try to joke with her, ask her how her day was. In general, I treated her like a person and not like a means to an end. Heck, I even fixed her printer once. The result?  I suddenly had the reputation of getting visas approved faster than the other interns. My bosses were impressed that I got the clerk whom everyone thought was cold to thaw. 

But that's the point of being in the trenches. You get to know how things really work. You learn how to manipulate that to your advantage, or you learn to live with it. Jimmy, for all his faults, at least knows people. 

By: William J. Kovatch, Jr. 

Better Call Saul's Jimmy McGill Has Got Gall

I continue to be impressed with "Better Call Saul."  Like "Breaking Bad," the show is a character study, showing the initial build up and then decline of a flawed character.  The show is all the more interesting to me because the flawed character is a struggling lawyer.

In this past week's episode we got to see more of one of Jimmy McGill's character traits that is both impressive, and disturbing. 

Before I go into detail, let me give a spoiler warning to those who recorded it, or who are going to try to catch an encore performance.

*** SPOILER ALERT ***

The character trait I am talking about is gall.  Last week, we saw Jimmy get frustrated because strict adherence to ethics rules about in-person solicitation made it difficult for him to find more clients.  On one hand, his bosses loved it when he brought in more and more clients.  On the other hand, his biggest critic, brother Chuck, sneers art the prospect of in-person solicitations.  The rest of Jimmy's bosses seem content to ignore the possibility that Jimmy might be bending ethical rules, so long as they don't actually see it and he keeps bringing in the clients.  But Jimmy's in love.  And we see this season that his main motivation is to impress his girlfriend, fellow lawyer Kim Wexler.  Since Kim won't play footsie with him during the staff meeting, Jimmy makes a bold promise not to engage in further questionable solicitations.

His solution?  A TV commercial.  He approaches one of the partners, Cliff, with the idea.  Cliff is interested.  He tells Jimmy to talk to him more about it when Cliff gets back from a trip.  Cliff even further reinforces that client outreach is Jimmy's bailiwick.

So what does Jimmy do?  He makes a commercial.  He uses an elderly woman who proclaims that after she moved into an assisted living facility, she can't figure out where all of her money went.  Jimmy then does a voice over urging people to call.  Without consulting the partners, he runs the commercial during "Murder She Wrote" in one of the firm's target cities.

This week, we see the partners calling Jimmy to the carpet.  They are furious.  How dare he run a commercial without their approval.  And here's where Jimmy's gall comes out full force.

Jimmy doesn't hang his head, admit that he did wrong, apologize and promise to do better.  No, he expresses no remorse.  He acts like he doesn't understand what he did wrong.  Hey, the commercial was ethical.  It generated calls from potential clients.  And Cliff, you told me client outreach was my department.

Of course, the audience knows that Jimmy knows that he's done wrong.  He knew he had to approach the partners.  He just felt hamstrung.  He went to great lengths to hide the commercial from them.  He figured that one commercial on afternoon TV that no one but the elderly watch would never get the attention of anyone else. 

And to some extent, Jimmy may be right.  I didn't see anything unethical about the commercial.  Personally, I think it was far more tasteful than those lawyer commercials asking if you've taken some drug or had some medical procedure and had side effects.  "You may be entitled to compensation," these ads proclaim.  I shudder for my profession when I see those commercials.

But that's not the point.  The point was doing something controversial, that you know you need approval on, but deliberately fail to seek that approval.  And then getting caught.

Gall.  In Yiddish, it's "chutzpah." You don't back down, even if you think or know you are wrong.  And you defend your case boldly.

The disturbing side is that in life you have to learn how to play well with others.  You can't just go around doing what you want or you feel is best, without considering the interests or feelings of others.  It's an easy way to lose friends and the support of colleagues.

But professionally, lawyers sometimes need that same chutzpah when they have a case where the odds are against them.  I have experienced this.  As part of my practice, I take some court appointed cases.  Sometimes I defend people in cases when a friend or relative is trying to have them committed to a mental health facility against their wishes.  Sometimes, I represent indigent criminal defendants who have exercised their right to appeal.  Often in those cases, I look at my facts, and I know that the law is very likely against my client.  But after explaining the situation to my client, if the client wants me to vigorously contest the case, as long as I believe there is a good faith argument, ethically I am bound to do it.

At times, this is very difficult.  Sure, I may think there is language in some case somewhere that supports my client.  But I know that the judges are not likely going to agree with me.  I still need to go in front of the judges, and present my client's argument.  Zealously.  In times like that, I need the same chutzpah Jimmy showed when he was called to the carpet by his bosses.

Be Wary of Voluntary Police Interviews

Last Night's Better Call Saul was brilliant.  It was brilliant in many ways, but I am only going to focus on one for the purposes of this blog.  And that concerns a police tactic that I am all too familiar with, and that I wish many of my clients understood before they spoke with the police.  It's a tactic I'm not particularly thrilled with, since it is an attempt to circumvent the Constitution and hang a person by their own petard under the guise of "consent."

I'm about to talk about the details of the episode, so here is the mandatory SPOILER ALERT.  If you haven't seen the February 22, 2016 episode entitled, "Cobbler," and you've DVRed it or intend to catch one of the encore showings, don't read below.

***SPOILER ALERT***

I love Mike Ehrmantraut. We know from Breaking Bad that he is a former Philadelphia Police Officer who had his own trouble with the law.  He's not above profiting off of criminal activity.  But he's smart, and having been on the inside, he knows police tactics.

Enter Pryce, an employee at a pharmaceutical company who tries to make a little money on the side selling pharmaceutical grade drugs to street criminal Nacho Vargas.  In season one, Pryce hires Ehrmantraut to be his bodyguard for the drug exchanges.

Pryce gets a bargain in Erhmantraut, but doesn't realize it.  When Mike balks at going to a meet in Pryce's new gaudy Range Rover, Pryce fires him.  In his naivety, he then lets Vargas see his car, thereby giving Vargas the information he needs to rip Pryce off.  By the end of episode one, Pryce has reported a break-in at his house to the police because his beloved baseball card collection was stolen.  Of course, the police get suspicious of Pryce's car and the reason for the break-in.  When Pryce is out of the room, they find his hiding spot in the baseboard behind the couch.  But, of course, there is nothing they can do about it right then and there.

In episode two, we meet Pryce again as he comes to the police station for an interview with the police.  Unknowingly, he once again becomes the luckiest stupid criminal alive, as he runs into Mike, who is the parking lot attendant.  When Mike realizes why Pryce is there, he pulls him aside to tell him why he should not speak with the police.

As Mike explains, the police are suspicious.  At this point they have nothing.  So they invite Pryce in to speak with them voluntarily.  They intend to be friendly and lull him into a false sense of security.  Then they will pounce on him and try to get him to confess the illegal activity that made him the victim of the break-in in the first place.  Pryce is reluctant to believe this, but agrees to leave the station when Mike promises to get his baseball card collection back.

And that is the tactic I wish my clients understood.  I have met many people who have been invited to the police station just to talk.  The police promise, "look you're not in trouble.  We only want to understand what happened." They may even say, "If you did nothing wrong, you'd be doing yourself a favor."  If you go in, they proceed to ask questions for hours, wearing you down.  They hope you don't realize you can have a lawyer.  They may even say, "Hey, if you didn't do anything wrong, why do you need a lawyer."  And then the conversation continues . . .  voluntarily they claim.  At no time do they tell you that you can get up and leave.  And if you do, again they ask, "Why are you in a hurry?  We only want to understand what happened.  You're not in trouble now."  So you stay, and worn down, you give the police the confession they want. 

In court, statements from such an interview are difficult to suppress.  The police will claim that no one was under arrest, that the person was free to leave, he just chose to stay and tell us what happened. 

The moral of the story is quite frankly don't trust the police if they ask you to come in for a "voluntary" interview, and claim that you are not trouble.  In truth, they only do this when they suspect criminal activity, but have no proof that they can use in court.  They are looking to trick you into giving a confession without a lawyer present, and then claim that the constitutional rights do not apply because it was voluntary.  While you may believe you have anything to fear, in reality any such contact should only be done in the presence of a lawyer representing you.