Sunday, August 16, 2015
Sunday Reflection: Sentencing and Grief and an Oculus of Hope
Today's Washington Post has a great story about my client, Weldon Angelos, complete with a video and photo gallery. It was written by Sari Horwitz, a three-time Pulitzer Prize winner, and she writes compellingly about his case, his situation, and some of those who have come to his aid.
I urge you to watch the video attached to the story (which is un-linkable). It lays out the cost of sentences like the one given to Weldon, who got 55 years for a first offense-- selling about $1,000 of marijuana and possessing guns while doing so (though the guns were not used or brandished). The cost is exacted not only from the offender, but from all those around him, particularly his children. Watch to the end of the video… this project matters.
One of the deep tragedies of this is something that I have a unique understanding of, since I was a prosecutor. In that job, sometimes there are people who just piss you off. They won't do what you want-- like provide information on others or plead guilty-- and won't heed your threats. There is a gut feeling that tells you to grind them into the ground. It's that feeling, combined with laws that let such a base, mercurial instinct lead to action, that concocts these tragedies. It is a few minutes of anger in one person's head, a toxic brew of pride and anger and self-importance. And yes, at times that was me, too.
In the end, faith led me to something else. That is clemency, a simple, gentle machine of mercy and justice. I work to make it function again, in league with many others who are better and smarter and more competent than I am.
Sometimes, I do that work in shadow, and that is ok. The Post article, for example, talks about the Koch Brothers and their counsel, but doesn't mention the work my students and I did on this case over the course of years. And that is ok-- in fact, it reinforces something I talk about the first day of Criminal Law class. In that first session, I use art to illustrate my points, and one of them is Degas' "At the Millner," which looks like this:
It is a fascinating painting. The customer, in the foreground, is happily trying on a hat, smiling. She is the one who will wear it to a society function, get compliments, and enjoy the reaction it gets. Her face is well-defined, and her hands are prominent and well-describes by Degas' elegant strokes.
In the background is the milliner; this is the person who actually made the hat the customer loves so much. She is in shadow, though. Her eyes do not even make it into the painting, and her features are unformed. Her hands are formless and hidden behind two other hats being proffered.
My point to the students is this: As attorneys we are servants; we are the milliner, not the customer. We should be content to be in shadow if justice is done, if our client is radiant with freedom, or if our advocacy has made something better. Humility is not only a Christian value, but it is a job skill, if we are to be true to our calling.
Weldon Angelos is more important than I am, and more important than the Kochs, too.
When he is free, I will rejoice from afar. There are some things that are even better than a well-made hat.
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I love how you use art, a specific painting, to illustrate your point. I won't forget that because I now have an image to attach to the idea.
Off to read the link and watch the video now.
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Off to read the link and watch the video now.
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