catelin: (Default)
( Mar. 12th, 2002 04:16 pm)
I would ask that you take at least three minutes of silence, and sit there in silence and realize, realize how long it takes for a child to lose voluntary control of their body,. --Kaylynn Williford--one of the prosecutors in the Yates trial

Maybe I've seen too many dead kids to have compassion for the people who make them dead. Perhaps I am too familiar with the physical mechanics of what it takes for a little body to give up and quit working. I know more about this case than I care to and I'm not going to argue about my views on it. I've seen plenty of monsters and Mrs. Yates is the worst fucking kind.

Oh...wait...scratch that...her husband's worse.
Well, I've had about three hours of sleep and have to appear this afternoon before the Court of Appeals for oral argument on a case. It's Halloween!!! Happy Samhain to all you groovy pagan people! : ) The Fall issue of Atomicpetals is finally up...after much delay....but it's done. As for me, I'm gonna go put on my nice green Lauren Bacall- looking suit and try to sound coherent for the dudes in black robes.
catelin: (Default)
( Aug. 25th, 2001 06:06 pm)
Ha!!! A portion of the transcript from closing arguments in the case I just finished a couple of weeks ago. This really cracks me up! I must have been delirious!


JUDGE: Counsel, you have ten minutes left for rebuttal.

MS. COMPTON: Thank you, Your Honor. May it please the Court, Counsel. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, in order to acquit this defendant you are going to have to believe one of two things. You are going to have to believe that every single one of these boys that testified is a liar, or you are going to have to believe that the man sitting at that table is the unluckiest person in the world. Really. I mean, have you ever heard of anyone with worse luck than this man? No matter where he goes, no matter what he does, no matter who he's with, he somehow always manages to wind up with a young boy's penis in his hand! And on a bad day, on a really bad day, in his mouth!. . . .


That should lift a few eyebrows at the Court of Appeals.
catelin: (Default)
( Aug. 5th, 2001 12:36 pm)
Home from the's over. Anyone watching him said his legs almost went out from under him when he heard the sentences. Suffice it to say he won't have the chance to do that again...ever. In the meantime, while I worked 18-20 hour days, my grass has died and my kids have grown. I'm skinny from too much coffee and nicotine...and I'm tired enough to sleep a week without even rolling over. I will rid myself of the ugliness still in my head by finishing up with some painting I left half-done, catching up on e-mails, and working on my web site. Life is beautiful.
The key concept to suicide is that you fucking kill YOURSELF. Why is it, then, that someone decides to take some other poor sap along for the ride? I personally have never understood the idea of wanting to make oneself dead. I've got too much of a survivor instinct. You're in a plane crash in the Andes with me, I will be using my pocket knife to make ass steaks. No doubt. But even assuming that there's a bona fide reason for shortening your stay on the planet, why include someone else in that? As usual, my question relates to a case I'm working on. Aside from being the vivacious bon vivant my friends all know and love, I'm an ATF-trained arson prosecutor. You'd never know by looking, eh? Oh, and I mean the training on how to investigate and prosecute arsons, not how to commit them. Just figured I'd make that clear, in light of that pesky ATF/Waco dealio. So I've got this case comes across my desk where one guy decides he's going to blow himself to bits. Efficient. I have no problem with that, as long as it's away from others. However, he decides to do it in his place of employment. Pulls out the gas stove from the wall, turns the radio on, and sits down for the long sleep. A neighbor boy, about 20, smells gas. He sees the guy and runs in to pull him out of the small building. Well, suicide king gets pissed and ends up igniting the gas...building goes boom. Boy of twenty now has burns over fifty percent of his body and may not live. Suicide king has burns, but of course, not nearly as serious as the poor kid who went in to save his sorry ass. The rub in all this is that 20-year-old good Samaritan's mother got to stand by the sidelines and watch her son's clothes burn onto his body. Right in front of her eyes. Man. No good deed goes unpunished. Sometimes it sure seems that way.
On the jury trial menu this week--a new twist on the famous diet. Our spokesperson? A 3-time loser who left his toddler in the car at Subway with the windows open and the keys inside. Lost at least 20 pounds right there. How can I get on this new fad diet you ask? Well, instead of ordering a tasty sandwich, you lock yourself in the bathroom, shoot up some crank; then crawl into the ceiling when you hear the cops looking for the parents of the child you left in the car. Cued by the rave-inspired strobe effect of the cop's flashlight, you take a brisk aerobic spin around the ceiling tiles until you come crashing down into the manager's office. Check your heart rate. Not high enough? A nice dive through the plate glass window should get you right into your fat-burning zone. Once the police have you cuffed you can still diminish yourself further by looking at your crying child and telling the cops, "That ain't my kid."
catelin: (Default)
( Apr. 30th, 2001 10:19 am)
For those of you who've been wondering if I've been kidnapped by one of the many right-wing nut job paramilitary groups that I'm always ranting about, no need to worry. I'm still here. Just had a rough week. Highlights?

Monday 4/23: Physically threatened by a berserk old crusty defense attorney at work. My instinctive thought was to stab him in the balls with my pen (hmmmm...something suggestive about the term "ballpoint?"). My rational side won out since I just bought a new house and can't lose my job for beating the shit out of someone at work. Nevertheless, it was upsetting...more so because I had to behave myself instead of stomping this fucker's head in. Oh, yeah...and I got home to discover that my modem was kaput from a big electrical storm (which is why some of you haven't heard from me...should be fixed this week sometime.)

Tuesday 4/24: Woke up to find the pop-off valve in my water heater had blown. There was about an inch of water in the garage. Normally wouldn't have been a problem, except that's where all my boxes were from the move...yeah, the ones I still hadn't unpacked.

Wednesday 4/25: The electrical storm messed up something in the house and some of the plugs weren't working. It took me two days to figure it out.

Thursday 4/26: Had to go to Kerrville for a speaking engagement...that meant getting up about two hours earlier than normal. This was actually the best day of the week.

Friday 4/25: Woke up to my youngest son's gasping for air at about 2:30 am. He had to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance. Turned out that he had the croup and his throat had swollen almost shut. Needless to say, this made everything mentioned above seem of no consequence whatsoever compared to my kid's well-being. He's fine now, though, but I'm sure that's another 5 years off my life span from the stress.

Saturday and Sunday were uneventful, but the fun was still not over. I locked myself in the garage last night at about 12:30 am. Sometimes I am such a moron. I made it to work alive, perhaps that's a sign that this week will be a little better.
catelin: (Default)
( Mar. 20th, 2001 10:18 am)
I am actually supposed to be working on a brief (why the fuck they call them briefs is beyond me--they are anything but) today at home, but a girl's gotta take time out for coffee and procrastination at some point. If anyone asks, it's Danny's fault. ; )

Fave Board Game:
Careers (I haven't seen it in ages. My grandparents had this game and we'd play it in the summers. I always got to be a miner and discover uranium.)
Fave Magazine:
Interview before it turned to crap, and Sunset
Fave Comic:
I have a collection of scary comics from when I was a kid...any of those I loved.
Now I am obsessed with Red Meat
Fave Food:
Anything spicy or laden with garlic and cheese
Fave Ice Cream:
Mint chocolate chip
Least Favorite subject/class:'s been so long, I don't remember.
Fave thing to drink:
Coffee, margaritas, and mead
Fave weekend thing:
Best advice or tip:
Never say "yes" to something you don't fully understand.
If I could meet one person it would be:
Frida Kahlo
Do you have a crush?:
Surprisingly, yes.
Who was your first crush?:
Jack Wild from H.R. Puffenstuff
Have you ever been in love?:
More times than I should have been

~*~*The Past Side*~*~
What do you remember most about the '00 year:
How fast it flew by
Memory (thing) you miss the most:
The way my grandmother smelled--a combination of Wrigley's spearmint, Max Factor, tobacco, and love to last me 'til I see her again.
What's the first thing you thought of when you got up this morning?:
I've got to get that damn brief done TODAY.

~*~*The Future Side*~*~
Where do I see myself in ten years?:
I never think about that...I always end up right where I'm supposed to be.
What is your dream car?:
One that comes with a chauffeur
Where do you plan on living after college?
Hmmmm....yet again a reminder that I'm outside the demographic of most surveys.
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?:
Only when it's brought into my bed by one of my children.
Anything pierced?:
One hole in each ear is plenty, thanks.
Have you ever been convicted of a crime:
Ha! No.

~*~*The Feelings Side*~*~
Do you believe in yourself?:
Yes, I'm quite sure that I exist.
Worst Feeling(s) in the world:
Outliving your children
Best Feeling:
Being sure that you've done right by your stay on the planet.
What religion are you?:
One thing I'd change about myself:
I'd try to be less cynical.
Are you a health freak?:
I smoke question.

~*~*The Left Over Crazy Side*~*~
Have you ever been attacked by a big dog?
Only of the human sort.
Fingers or a fork?:
I find both useful, depending on the circumstance.
catelin: (Default)
( Jan. 20th, 2001 06:00 pm)
Somebody got me thinking about cops today. Not that I don't think about them everyday since I work with them, but I was thinking more about them today after reading something that's so full of the stereotype cop bullshit that I won't even bore myself repeating it. Maybe I take it too personally. My experience with cops has been, for the most part, good. That doesn't mean some of them aren't shitheels...I've known a few of those too. Overall, though, I've found law enforcement to be an under-appreciated and noble profession. My dad was a cop for most of my early childhood. He got out of it and went back to school. He had a partner named Jack. I don't remember much about him other than that he laughed a lot and was always nice to me. You can find him here. I work with honest, kind-hearted, straight-up decent people everyday who happen to be cops. I like them, I laugh with them, I cry with them, and I worry about them. It hasn't been very long since the last cop's funeral that I went pardon me for not laughing at the fucking donut jokes.
catelin: (Default)
( Jan. 7th, 2001 11:41 pm)
Sometimes I really hate Sundays. Maybe it's facing another week of court, trials, briefs, defense attorneys, judges, etc. when I'd much rather be staying home hanging out with my kids. They grow so fast that I'm afraid all I'm going to remember are the pictures you get when the shutter speed on the camera is too slow. Maybe it's that my boss chewed me out last week because I gave a guy a softer deal than most because he was going to be deported if I didn't. I started crying in the middle of all this from sheer bewilderment that he didn't see that I was trying to do justice, not thwart it. (I'm one of those poor souls for whom crying is like sweating--the harder I try not to, the more I cry.) I still think I did the right thing. He still thinks I fucked up. Whatever. Maybe it's that, as much as I like working hard, I still get a little jealous of my friends who "married well" and don't work at all. I think it's really just that I'm still lazy and sluggish after the holidays. Ah, well. Tomorrow will come and I'll be back in the groove--fightin' the bad guys--trying to figure out who the bad guys really are.
catelin: (Default)
( Dec. 19th, 2000 08:42 pm)
Had a very interesting morning. This kid (looked to be about 18 or 19) was up before the bench being sentenced for an assault and a theft. The judge gave him probation but added on a 60 day jail term as a condition. I'm sitting there watching this kid...watching his face. In the split second it took me to recognize the classic "fight or flight" look, he bounded over the counsel table and made a break for it! I mean, this kid hauled ass--jumping over the bailiff, over people in chairs in the gallery, trampled a couple of defense attorneys and was out the door! They caught him in an alley a few minutes later and dragged him back into the courtroom. Turned out he had freaked out because he'd been doing coke all morning and thought they were gonna piss test him at the jail. Poor, stupid kid...more balls than brains, from a shitty home with shitty parents who couldn't even be bothered to show up in court today. No wonder he wanted to run away. It's these future inmates that are the most depressing. Caught half-way between boy and man, you can still see shadows of the little kids that they were before they learned from the people around them to treat themselves like garbage. It's only a matter of time before I see him again...and he'll be older, harder, and meaner. We call it a justice system. Days like today, I'm not so sure that's the best name for it.
And so it began:

Innocuous Answer: I'm a lawyer.

Cocktail Weenie: Really? I guess I'd better be careful then. You might sue me for sexual harassment. Ha ha. [snuffles like a pig, adjusts his crotch]

Innocuous Answer: No, I don't sue people. [wondering exactly how many times this dude's gonna check to make sure his microscopic penis is still intact, giving my friend across the room the silent "get me the fuck outta here" signal]

Cocktail Weenie: So do you have those uni-sex bathrooms at your office like Ally McBeal? I love that show. Do you watch that show?

Innocuous Answer: Yeah, I've seen it. No, we don't use the same bathroom.

Cocktail Weenie: So what kind of lawyer are you?

Innocuous Answer: I'm a prosecutor.

Cocktail Weenie: Wow. Like on The Practice? I sure do like those lawyer shows. Do you put people in jail? I'd better take the fifth then, huh? Ha ha. [moving closer on the sofa, exposing me to his stink-breath and need for some serious dental work]

Innocuous Answer: Yeah, sometimes. [moving back a little, thinking this guy already took the fifth and drank it]

Cocktail Weenie: Well, whaddya say we get out of here, beautiful, and you can put me in handcuffs and tell me some lawyer stories? It'd be nice to screw a lawyer for a change instead of the other way around. Ha ha. [puts his arm around my shoulders and tries to nuzzle, laying this little gem of a proposal on me]

Innocuous Answer: Sure thing, stud. [smiling real sweet, hissing in his ear] What story would you like? The one about the couple that cracked their baby's skull and then burned her up in a trash barrel? Or maybe I could tell you about the funeral last week for a cop friend of mine that got shot in the face? That'd make you real hard, I bet. Or maybe you want to hear about the crackhead who was pimping her 11-year-old daughter for drugs and now the kid's got AIDS? That's a real turn-on. Or the little boy we found whose father stomped him to death? I have stories to last us weeks. Just let me get my coat, lover. [noticing the guy's looking a little pasty all the sudden]

Cocktail Weenie: Jesus' cunt.

Innocuous Answer: Yeah, sometimes.


catelin: (Default)


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