Like a lot of prosecutors, I possess a zeal that can border on the bloodthirsty .... I put a lot of people in prison, and I had a great time doing it ...
[N]ow I describe myself as a recovering prosecutor-"recovering" because one never quite gets over it. I still like to point my finger at the bad guy.
- Paul Butler, former prosecutor
I have never yet tried a case where the state's attorney did not say that it was the most cold-blooded, inexcusable, premeditated case that ever occurred. If it was a murder, there never was such a murder. If it was a robbery, there never was such a robbery . . . If it was a larceny, there never was such a larceny. - Clarence Darrow
For reasons psychological, political, or both, being a prosecutor did not appeal to me, so criminal defense was the only way to go. - James Kunnen, Former public defender
A FEW STORIES ABOUT PROSECUTORS By Abbe Smith
The problem is there are too many examples to choose from. In more than thirty years of criminal law practice, from public defender in Philadelphia to professor running a criminal law clinic in New York, Boston, and DC. I have had countless encounters with prosecutors and countless conversations. Early in my career, the encounters and conversations were noteworthy something to rail about back at the office, or to "dine out on" with friends. Soon enough they became commonplace, not even worthy of mention, just the way things were.
But it's important to pick a few examples and talk about them. Here's a recent one:
A student and I were appointed to represent a young man accused of trespass. I'll call him Malik. Malik had just turned nineteen, but seemed younger. He looked like Michael Jackson circa 1974: same baby face, same hairstyle, similar sweet smile. He had no criminal record, was in the twelfth grade, and planned to graduate high school with a real diploma, not a GED. When we asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said, "a fireman."
Malik had been taken from his mother when he was six or seven. There was evidence of abuse and neglect, probably related to his mother's drug use. He had been in the foster care system ever since, and was now living with a foster father in Baltimore, about an hour away from D.C. Still, he regularly visited his mom in the old neighborhood. One of the things you learn in this work is that people love their mothers, no matter what. It's a powerful tie.
Malik was arrested at the elementary school playground around the comer from his mom's house. He was charged with trespass for being at the playground two hours after closing. When police came upon him on that warm summer evening, Malik was sitting on a bench talking to a friend. "We was coolin' talking about our problems," Malik told us. When the police asked to search him, he consented. When they told him to put his hands on his head, he complied. But when they told him he was not supposed to be in the park after hours, he ran. They caught him in the school parking lot. When they asked his name and date of birth he gave a phony name and said he was born two years earlier than his real birth date, making him a juvenile.
I don't know why the police arrested Malik instead of telling him to go horne--or asking whether he had a place to go home to. Maybe they wanted to punish him for running, giving a false name, and lying about his age. Maybe they just didn't like the look of him: a young black male hanging out. But, they didn't arrest Malik's friend, who didn't look much different; they sent him home.
Police officers have enormous authority on the street, and they don't always temper their authority with wisdom. One of my favorite depictions of the police is a New Yorker cartoon that features a police car emblazoned with the words WE'RE COPS AND YOU'RE NOT.
But, prosecutors are supposed to be more restrained and thoughtful.
They are lawyers, after all professionals "learned in the law."