There’s a wily thing worth mentioning here called an Alford plea. It’s a special animal, a zebra in a stampede of horses named “guilty” and “not guilty.” The Alford is a guilty plea, but when you make it, you’re not admitting guilt. It says, “I didn’t do it, but you’ve got a case that sure makes it look like I did.”
Don’t confuse Alford with pleading “no contest”—aka “nolo contendere.” Our little buddy nolo is not any kind of a guilty plea, and it’s a pretty special case. I don’t think courts even accept a nolo plea in some states, because it gets in the way of the three-strikes laws—legislation that dings you with hefty penalties, up to life in prison, if you are convicted of three felonies. An Alford plea can count toward those strikes and a jury can be informed if you get in trouble again in the future. Nolo contendere cannot. However, a court doesn’t even have to accept nolo. So now you know, they aren’t interchangeable.
And the Alford plea? It usually still gets you plenty of jail time, but you may be able to strike a better deal than you would get if you threw yourself on the mercy of the court—plus, you get to maintain your innocence. I’m sure that’ll keep you warm on those cold, cinder-block nights.
Defenses against a murder charge can boil down to two basic categories: not guilty, didn’t do it, and “yeah, I did it, but you still can’t blame me for it.”
The American justice system is hard-coded with the idea that we’re all innocent until proven guilty. It’s basic, been with us from the beginning.
But in reality, the moment investigators settle on you as a murder suspect, that old presumption might as well be Bigfoot.
Let’s say you didn’t do it. Hell, let’s assume you didn’t! The first thing you and your attorney will want to find is an alibi. Solid alibi, easily proven? Good as gold. Shaky alibi, say, hard to verify and delivered by a very sympathetic family member? Eh… not so much. That will provide some prosecutorial wiggle room, and they will whip out their Hula-Hoops and shimmy your story straight into the trash can.
Without an alibi—and too often, folks don’t have an alibi good enough to fly—the case gets far more complex. “Reasonable doubt” becomes your best friend, your Bible, your inspirational poster of a cat clinging to a tree branch. It’s only earned with very hard work by you and your attorney—and slack work from the other side—that you build that doubt in the judge’s or the jury’s mind.
We’re all innocent until proven guilty, yes. But I’d still be sleeping on a futon in the back of a nail salon with off-limits cucumber water if everyone stayed innocent and never needed to fight to prove it. If it comes down to battle, call your Saul and soldier forth.
PART III
Good Ways to Not Make Things Worse
One thing about jail, about most penal facilities: the wardrobe options are as bountiful as cool springs in the Sahara. I mean, seriously, who looks good in an orange jumpsuit with matching orange slippers? No one. Okay, I knew a guy back in Illinois who wore it well, and he did become governor, eventually. But see, four Illinois governors have gone to jail in the last thirtysomething years, so that one guy doesn’t really prove anything.
I’m including ideas on how to avoid jail here, but we should also talk about how to skirt mandatory sentencing laws. Sometimes you need a life coach, and I’m here to give you a pep talk and blow the whistle if you start swimming out of your existential lane.
To be clear: I’m not trying to condemn anyone or criticize the lives they’ve led so far. Clients rely on their defense attorneys not to do that! I’m talking about practical shit when all is said and done. Strategies, tactics, plans. You don’t have to be MacGyver using a paper clip to defuse a bomb strapped to the bottom of a boat to be a superb tactician. With the right tools, we can take a little bit of leverage and nudge your explosive life back into calm waters.
Let’s talk about your friends. Not just me. I’m talking about Suzy, who you’ve known since third grade, and who—despite her slightly caustic personality—you swear wouldn’t ever hurt a fly or persuade you to hot-wire a car… again. Sometimes, when I first meet a client, they’ve already been through a round or two of trouble. They have an idea of what the whole incarceration thing is like. We cross paths because they’re poised to repeat a grade at the Fresh Meat Finishing School.
Most of the time, this déjà-vu has come about because once they repaid their debt to society, they went right back to running with the same troublemaking friends that helped get them into hot water in the first place.
I can’t tell you what to do and be sure you’ll do it. I wish attorneys had that kind of sway over clients—we’d all be the Atticus Finches or Perry Masons we set out to be. But it’s your life and your choices, no matter how wild the ride gets. Here’s a thought: maybe some of your friends are part of the bad choices that led to you being popped in the first place. That one friend who brings out the “best” in you might actually be the one who seduces you over to the Dark Side.
So here’s a point to consider: if it feels disloyal to end a potentially toxic relationship altogether, at least consider pumping the brakes with your criminal soul mate. Definitely try to stay away if you’ve currently got a case in court; the judge will view it as an act of good faith. And one act of good faith can be the difference between showering in the luxury of your own home and bartering unfavorable favors with Krazy-Eyed Kevin for a bar of Dial in Cellblock D.
It isn’t that your friends don’t care about you. You certainly give a damn about them! But sometimes the best path really can be the straight and narrow one. There’s nothing wrong with working a solid job with a health plan and a reliable nine-to-five schedule. Sure, that gig might not pay as well as whatever business you were in before, but honest work, in the eyes of the court, is much better than no work at all. Plus: boring jobs have perks, too! You might find wholesale prices on electronics are just as sweet as wholesale prices on street candy.
I know this might be asking something that feels impossible. I mean, life falls into a groove, you know? We get comfortable with making money a certain way, with the acquaintances we have. These are the pals that hid you in the bed of their pickup truck after you got caught skinny-dipping in your trigger-happy neighbor’s pool—how can you turn your back on true amigos like that? But, a good friend will understand when you are trying to make something out of yourself. They’ll be proud of you. Which means that maybe once things settle, you can go back, get together, and laugh about the fun you crazy kids had in the good old days.
If you’re not getting a tan from the sunshine just blazing out of my ass, then I’ll put it another way: if a client is a regular visitor to the county facilities, just waiting for a permanent spot up in the state penitentiary, it’s because one or more of their relationships is taking a sledgehammer to their well-intentioned knees and hobbling them out of the good life they deserve.
If your best buddy is a drug dealer and you know it and are down with that, he or she may get caught and you could go down with them. You want to play shuffleboard in the shadow of a volcano? Don’t be surprised when it all blows up and your bungalow gets a lava shellacking.
So: work with what you’ve got in order to show acts of good faith to the court. If you have decent family and have been disconnected from them, reconnect. If someone will give you a legit job, the kind that takes all those wonderful taxes out of your machine-printed paycheck, take the damned thing with a smile—no matter how unappealing it may seem. Shit, shave every day. Set alarms and get up when they go off. Jog for five minutes every morning. Make it work.