Anna Dorn - Bad Lawyer: A Memoir of Law and Disorder

T he day I decided to write this book, I left a confidential legal document in a barand not just any bar but a German-style biergarten, where the servers wore traditional dirndls and lederhosen. Festive, perhaps, but not the best environment for a confidential document. Soon after I left, the barmaid came running after me, frantically waving my juvenile clients rap sheet in the golden afternoon light.

At the time, I was practicing indigent criminal appeals, meaning I got the case after my hopeless client had already lost at trial and my odds of achieving a favorable outcome were slight. But something about a disheveled, beribboned barmaid thrusting beer-stained files back into my hands after Id had a few drinks made it all feel that much more fruitless.

Id never really felt like a lawyer, but at this moment I felt particularly unqualified.

To be clear: Law school was never my dream. It was a profession pushed on me by my parents, teachers, society... whatever. Its not the worst thing that can happen to a person. Law school was cushy, nowhere near as bad as people make it sound. It was definitely better than a job, and way easier than putting on a duvet cover.

At UC Berkeley, I wore leggings every day and played beer pong most nights, and my classmate who I later found out was American royalty (my lawyer has advised me to omit the family name) was always handing me Molly at parties. Honestly, the roughest thing about the experience was the idea that Id someday have to be a lawyer. But then Id turn on an episode of Damages, watch Glenn Close throw a stapler at someones head, and think it looked kind of chic.

As it turned out, there was nothing sexy about being a lawyer. I had to wear a boxy suit and ingratiate myself to revolting old men who could never manage to keep their mouths closed while chewing a sandwich. I never saw the sunlight. Oh, and I was also very bad at it. Not because I wasnt smart enough, but more because I couldnt get myself to play by the rulesthe draconian citation requirements, as if we dont all have Google; the slavish reverence for American tradition, as if our country doesnt have a vile past. When it comes down to it, the law is horny for rules in a way my rebellious ass could never get behind. And the legal system was so unjust. If I let myself care too much, I would probably end up in a mental hospital.

Mainly, I was trying to escape.

I spent most of my clerkship writing a novel in the body of a judicial order form and trying to convince the judges that no one should be punished for a misdemeanor. I mean, how could you possibly punish a homeless person for stealing a cup of soup?

In my stint as a criminal appellate attorney, I cant count how many times I filed the wrong document with the court by accident or mixed up client names in important emails. Ive never shredded a document or read a contract all the way through. And, as my biergarten folly shows, I never took lawyer-client privilege or confidentiality ethics very seriously.

I wrote Bad Lawyer because I know that Im not the only bad lawyer, and Im definitely not the worst. Ive seen prosecutors lie and file briefs so lazy their reasoning is The defendant is guilty because he is not innocent.

Once, when I asked a friend for details about a recent case, she responded, Top secret (Ill tell you later once Im drinking).

Ive seen judges sipping on bourbon in chambers and perusing auctions on eBay instead of listening to homicide testimony.

I once watched a judge convict a defendant in a bench trial because he couldnt tell what happened. So much for innocent until proven guilty.

When I first sat down to write this book, my Twitter feed was furious that a Supreme Court nomineeKavanaughhad sexually assaulted someone when he was seventeen. To me, a high-powered judge having sexually abused someone is not remotely surprising. I heard a woman on the radio call a judge the highest arbiter of moral authority. Funny, I see judges as power-hungry narcissists, morally neutral at best.

When I lived in San Franciscos Bay Area, former Ninth Circuit judge Alex Kozinski was famous for his movie nights, which my friend called fun as long as you have a male chaperoneotherwise, Kozinski would likely corner you into a weird conversation and stare idly at your breasts. (Hes been accused of sexual misconduct by more than fifteen women, but denies all allegations, stating during his resignation that these women must have misunderstood his broad sense of humor and candid way of speaking.)

Its crazy the reverence the average American has for the Supreme Court, which legal historian Jacob Anbinder aptly calls a reactionary conservative institution that has made like six good decisions in its 250 year existence. All things considered, my former clientsalleged criminalswere more deserving of respect than most of the sitting members on the Supreme Court. At least they wanted to be good.

We may fetishize the law as a noble profession, but if my whack experiences in law school, courthouses, and law offices have taught me anything, its that the law leaves much to be desired.