knew they weren't the first group of boys to cut class to hang out and
watch a Food on a Stick girl at work. Hell, it was practically a rite
of passage in America's suburbs. That said, I still couldn't help
myself when I heard one of them speculate what the girl could do on his
stick.
Introducing myself as a deputy district attorney for Multnomah County,
I flashed my badge to make sure they appreciated the enormity of my
clout. "You all better get back to school or I'm going to have to page
a police officer from the truancy unit to have you picked up." The
kids hightailed it up the escalator faster than you can say
there's-no-such-thing-as-a-truancy-officer-anymore.
Feeling good about my lunch and my good deed, I headed back to the
courthouse to draft the complaint about Derringer.
A criminal complaint is the initial document used to charge a defendant
with a felony in Oregon. It's simply a piece of paper, signed by the
prosecuting district attorney,
notifying the defendant of the charges that have been filed. Once the
defendant is arraigned on the complaint, the State has a week to
present evidence to a grand jury and return an indictment. Without an
indictment, the complaint will be dismissed and the defendant will be
released from the court's jurisdiction.
I drafted a complaint charging Derringer with Attempted Aggravated
Murder, Kidnapping in the First Degree, and Unlawful Sexual Penetration
in the First Degree. I also included charges of Rape in the First
Degree and Sodomy in the First Degree, since Derringer could be held
responsible as an accomplice for the sex acts of the other suspect,
even if the second suspect was never caught. Finally, just so
O'Donnell wouldn't think I had completely disregarded his opinion, I
added the Class C felony of Assault in the Third Degree.
I walked the complaint over to the Justice Center so I could get a look
at Derringer and argue bail myself. The Justice Center is a newer
building two blocks down from the county courthouse. It houses PPB's
central precinct, a booking facility, holding cells for prisoners with
upcoming court appearances, and four non-trial courtrooms, used for
routine preliminary matters like arraignments, pleas, and release
hearings.
I took the stairs to JC-2, the courtroom where Derringer's case would
be called on the two o'clock arraignment docket, and handed the court
clerk a copy of the complaint, a motion for continued detention of the
defendant, and a supporting affidavit summarizing the facts. The JC-2
DA looked relieved when I told her I'd handle the Derringer matter
myself. She was a new lawyer I'd met a few weeks ago at a happy hour.
I suspected she was just getting used to the monotony of calling the
misdemeanors and petty felonies that comprise most of the JC-2 docket.
God help her if she had picked up the Derringer file to find an
Attempted Agg Murder complaint.
Judge Arnie Weidemann was presiding over the docket today. It could
have been worse. Weidemann was a judge who truly stood for nothing. He
was neither a state's judge nor a liberal. He didn't write law review
articles expounding on either judicial activism or conservative
restraint. He was interested in neither outcome nor analytical
process.
If he felt strongly about anything, it was keeping his courtroom
moving. Quick from-the-hip decisions during the juggling of a crowded
docket were his forte. Weidemann, therefore, was a terrible judge to
draw if you had a complex legal issue that required sophisticated
analysis. He wasn't bad, though, for what I needed today. A
superficial take on Derringer's case would weigh in my favor on
pretrial issues like release and bail.
When it was time for Derringer's matter, I took a moment to look over
at him while the MCSO deputy accompanied him to the defense table. His
hair was shaved down to a shadow not much darker than the one left on
his face from the night in jail. A tattoo of a vine of thorns hugged
the base of his skull. Everything about him looked chiseled except for
the acne scars cratering his cheekbones. His strong jaw was clenched,
his lips a cold slit. His eyes appeared to register nothing as he
stared straight ahead, seemingly unfazed by his current
circumstances.
Then his head turned slightly as I approached, and I realized he was
watching me out of the corner of his eye. It was unnerving, but I went
ahead and called the case. "The next matter is State of Oregon v.
Franklin R. Derringer, case number 9902-37654. Samantha Kincaid
appearing for the State. The defendant is in custody on a parole
detainer for having unsupervised contact with a minor. Based on the
same incident underlying the parole violation, the State now charges
him with Attempted Aggravated Murder and other substantive crimes in a
six-count complaint that I have forwarded to the court. The State
requests that the defendant be held without bail."
An audible snort from Derringer revealed his disdain. He had already
filled out an affidavit of indigency, requesting the court to appoint a
state-paid attorney on his behalf. The court now made a finding that
Derringer qualified for court-appointed counsel. Then a hard case got
even tougher. The judge appointed Lisa Lopez to represent him.
Public defenders generally fall into one of three different camps.
There's no diplomatic way to describe the first bunch. They're bad
attorneys who wind up in the public defenders' office by default.
Whether they're devoted to a specific client or to the larger cause of
criminal defendants' rights is, in practical terms, irrelevant. Even
at the top of their game, the performance of these lawyers is dismal so
pathetic, in fact, that most prosecutors will admit it takes the fun
out of winning.
A second crop of public defenders consists of what I call the straight
shooters. These attorneys have been around long enough to understand
the realities of the system, and axiom number one is that the
overwhelming majority of criminal defendants are guilty. The straight
shooters review discovery materials early on and decide whether the
client even stands a chance. If he doesn't (and most don't) the
defendant will soon get a heart-to-heart from his attorney. The
straight shooter will explain the way things work to his client and
then negotiate the most favorable plea deal possible.
If the client has a serious defense, or if there is a real possibility
of having material evidence suppressed, the straight shooter will take
the issue to court and do a good job trying it. He or she will always
deal honestly with the prosecuting attorney.
The second camp of defense attorneys is my favorite. Lisa Lopez was
not, however, among them. She belonged to the third group, the true
believers. Card-carrying members of this crowd represent the most
naive demographic still in existence. It doesn't matter how long