From public defender blogger Scoplaw:
a prosecutor asked me if he could read my hallway interview notes with the officers from our impending (as in one hour away) trial case, because, you know, it was really busy this morning and he didn’t have a chance to talk with his own witnesses on this case he’d, like, declared ready on, and which were were about to, you know, pick a jury for.
No. I am not shitting you dear readers. And to keep in the world of profane colloquialisms, my proper response should have been, “Are you f[***]ing kidding me?”
Instead I settled for, “No.”
I mean really, these are the state attorneys I work with. And usually I try (as you might notice from the dryness of the blog) not to talk too much about the job for various reasons of professional courtesy and client confidentiality. But come on. While I could probably curl the hair of the average reader with bathotic tales of incarcerated men, women, and the state attorneys who seek to keep them locked in little metal cages, I’d rather the blog not become blindly reflexive. However, there are some high water marks that should be noted.
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