the unRegistered Sex Offender
when your thoughts drift to this while your talking to the jury,
then you know you've lost that adrenalin rush while orating
My last criminal trial took place, if my memory serves me, about 1978.
I could check the records in the basement at 220 West Broadway, but why bring
back the painful memories of being a court-appointed lawyer to defend a sex offender
living in Ocean Beach after his recent release from Atascadero.
He obtained a job as a handyman at a condominium complex in the middle
part of San Diego County. However, he failed to notify the police of his new address.
This is a crime. Not a major crime, but a crime.
He favored teen-age boys. Himself, he was about 40 to 45 years of age. White, male, single,
built like a fullback with a shaved head on a bull-neck, and prescription glasses over his eyes.
His name shall remain unknown to protect----the innocent? Was he innocent of the crime
that I defended him for? The jury thought he was. Me? I didn't ask him if he did it.
That wasn't my job. My job was to insure that he received the best possible legal defense.
Bear with me. It's late tonight. I'm going to sleep.
The same way that Judge Manny Kugler did during our second trial.
He had a rude awakening!
Good night for now.
I'm back and the story continues, like a recurring bad dream.
First trial was in front of Judge Adams, and the Assistant District Attorney
prosecuting the case was a screamer. Standing directly in front of the jury
for his closing argument, arms waving, face flushed, directing the attention
toward my client and myself with his gesticulating accusations. He has been
a fixture on the Criminal Bench for the past ten to fifteen years. This first
jury was not able to convict my client of the battery charges of touching the
boy inappropriately. They did find him guilty of failing to notify the authorities
of his change of address within the appropriate time period. Was it 10 or 30
days? I don't remember which and I don't want to reread the Code.
A mistrial was declared and the next time around the Assistant District
Attorney on the case was a quiet, well-mannered man who showed no emotion during
the trial. He just presented the facts. Just the facts, ma'm. Just the facts.
What were the facts?
Two witnesses, two stories. Who do you believe? Who did I believe?
Not my job to believe my client. I ask him what happened, he tells me. I tell
him that it is against the law to lie in Court and if I discover that
he is lying to me,
I will not let him testify to those lies.
He affirms his story and I present his case according to his story in Court.
Client tells me he was working the bathroom of the condo and the kid
was in the place. My client dropped his wallet out of his pocket when he was
working under the sink in a stooped position. Kid picks up his wallet and sees
the registration card for the Sex Offenders and confronts my client about it.
Says unless my client gives him cash, that the Kid will tell the condo
complex manager and have him fired. Client refuses to pay, kid screams, takes
his dad's rifle from a closet, screams some more, a burly neighbor
arrives on the scene, and the Kid enhances his story by telling the neighbor
that the client had grabbed Kid's penis. Cops come, Client goes away.
That was the Client's Story. The Kid tells a different story.
You be the Judge.
The Kid had to tell this story at two trials: Client is working on the sink,
and has some dirty magazines with him that he shows the Kid. Kid gets excited,
not too experienced in sex, probably not aware of Predators in the world,
especially ones that like Boys. During his excitement, my Client grabs the
Kid's penis and jerks him off! Then he performs the same act on himself!
Kid runs out of the room, grabs the gun, calls the neighbor, and you know the rest of the Story.
Who do you believe? I wasn't there when it happened. I was not a percipient
witness to the events. Who do you believe?
At the second trial, after he testified under direct examination by the
Assistant District Attorny, I asked the Kid my first question on cross examination:
Now, it is your testimony, that my Client first touched you where?
Silence in the court room, except for the Judge who is nodding off in the
afternoon heat of San Diego. Kid is still. Jury is still. I am still with
expectation. The bailiff waits with experience. And the Kid suddenly leaps from
the witness stand and flies toward my Client only to be blocked by the moving
bailiff who diverts him through the spectators and out the front doors to the courtroom.
Judge Kugler wakes up, sees what happened, and has the Jury go outside.
I ask for a mistrial based upon the conduct of the Kid being
too prejudicial to my client. That the jury would believe his testimony based upon his run.
Judge Kugler breaks and goes into his chambers and my Client goes in the hallway while he
takes this into consideration. Suddenly there is the sound of heavy footsteps in the
hallway and the Assistant District Attorney and myself go through the doors to see
the Kid being tackled by the bailiffs. Apparently he tried to jump my Client.
The Assistant D.A. yells, "Don't hurt him, hez the victim!"
Judge granted the mistrial motion. Case was never tried again.
You be the Judge. Who do you believe? Anybody? Nobody? Do you really care?
That was my last criminal trial. Never saw the parties again in my life.
Life is too short to associate with people who repel you.