“No, I lost my appetite.”
“I’ll take it.”
“By my count, you said one thing that was interesting amidst that whole harangue.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you say you’ve smoked crack?”
“That’s right.”
“What the fuck were you doing smoking crack?”
“It’s hard to explain but essentially what I was doing was seeking perfection.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a long story.”
“One I want to hear.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Well my entire life I’ve been enthralled with the concept of perfection. Contrary to common perception, as almost everything that’s true is, I believe that it is certainly possible to achieve perfection provided you properly limit the scope of your playing field.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you not attracted by the perfect?”
“The perfect what?”
“Perfection in any form. By way of example let’s talk about mathematics. Do you know what a perfect number is?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think so. Well pay attention you might learn something. A perfect number is a number that is the sum of its multiplicative factors.”
“I know.”
“So for example six is a perfect number. It’s perfect because the numbers that can divide six without remainder are three, two and one. These numbers are the multiplicative factors of the number six. Note that if we add these three numbers, if we add three plus two plus one, we also get the number six. Similarly twenty-eight is a perfect number since its multiplicative factors, one, two, four, seven and fourteen also add up to twenty-eight. There you are. Now let’s put aside for the moment my belief that although I have only ascertained about thirty-nine of these numbers there are in fact an infinite amount of them with infinity itself being a form of perfection.”
“Okay?”
“What’s your reaction when I tell you about these numbers?”
“Um.”
“Because my reaction when I heard about these numbers and really whenever I hear about anything that I equate with perfection is best described as something like adulatory love. With respect to perfect numbers, I’m not alone either. In ancient Italy there was a secret society founded by Pythagoras, yes he of the Pythagorean Theorem, devoted to the study of numbers. This Divine Brotherhood of Pythagoras, as they were called, essentially worshipped numbers in general and in particular ascribed mystical and magical qualities to perfect numbers. They felt what I know. Perfection rightfully inspires an awe that is religious in nature. Not coincidentally, there aren’t many people left walking around praying to a god they do not think is perfect. Of course they make the stupid mistake of ascribing perfection to a separate entity when it is in fact Perfection itself, as its own entity, that they are worshiping.”
“Hold it. Here’s the problem, you need to properly define the term perfection. The numbers you’re talking about aren’t perfect any more than a particular Rembrandt is perfect. The word perfect is being used in both instances subjectively. The numbers have a particular quality, arguably an attractive one, and on the basis of that quality some human beings over time came to refer to the numbers as perfect. In reality they’re no more perfect than say Fibonacci numbers or prime numbers.”
“Incorrect. The numbers aren’t being called perfect merely because they have an attractive quality. The numbers have a quality that’s attractive, true. But we come across other attractive qualities that don’t inspire us to utter the word perfect. The whole number 10 for example can be thought of as more attractive than 13.29 because of its roundness. The difference is that the quality perfect numbers have is an approximation, maybe even an example, of Perfection. The quality possesses the symmetry and flawlessness of the perfect, of the concept or entity we refer to when we use the word perfect. When we study the number six in light of its multiplicative factors et cetera we see that it really is more perfect than seven. It’s not a mere subjective judgment, it’s immutably true.”
“Maybe, but right now I’m more interested in your crack habit.”
“Very well then, my love of the perfect not surprisingly led me to attempt to achieve perfection. Before I came up here from Florida, I routinely represented about a hundred or so clients at any given time. Having grown accustomed to that, when I first got here, before I had a chance to build up a caseload, I found myself with very few cases and a lot of free time on my hands. The amount of time I could devote to each client had grown tremendously. Consequently, the quality of representation I could give my clients also increased greatly and that convinced me to revisit an idea I’d been toying with for years. The idea was I would pick a client at random and proceed to give that person perfect legal representation. I would represent him in a manner that was not only flawless and resulted in the best possible result but my representation would also have the beautiful symmetrical quality found in all objects we deem perfect. In the end I’d be Time’s first human author of perfection.”
“How could you be sure of that?”
“I couldn’t. This famously not being a perfect world and all that, but I could be highly confident. Anyway I did it.”
“You gave a client perfect representation?”
“Patience. The next time I was in arraignments I resolved that the sixth client I picked up would be the beneficiary of my perfection; I couldn’t be sure I would do twenty-eight cases so the choice was obvious. Barnes was his name, a big mean-looking guy who was the nicest guy in the world with a voice like the women who spray cologne at you in department stores. Let me tell you something, I was as nervous as some twerpy newbie trying his first case when I went in to interview this guy. Remember we’re talking about perfection here. Any slip-up no matter how minor would end my quest. If I tripped as I entered the booth or mispronounced his name that would decrease his confidence in me and be the end of it. My nerves were compounded by two decisions I had made. First, I’d decided this would be my only attempt. If I failed to achieve perfection, no matter how early in the process, I would not try again with a different client. The reason for that was twofold. For one thing, I doubted I would ever be able to achieve perfection if I wasn’t motivated by the lack of a safety net. This could lead to countless attempts of varying success each undercut by the knowledge that I could always jump ship and start all over. Also it seemed to me that true perfection involved success on the first attempt and not a gradual building up to it. If I were able to achieve success on my first try that would clearly be more perfect than if it took five tries. Agreed?”
“I guess.”
“Good, the other decision I made was that I would not engage in any rationalizations designed to fool myself into the illusion of perfection. If I failed, no matter how minor the failure, I would accept it and not lie to myself like everyone else does. If it turned out I was no better than the average chump, if I was unable to achieve perfection even when every fiber of my being was pointed towards this simple goal, then I would accept it, this soul-robbing mediocrity, like a man. Of course, I fully expected to succeed. As I said earlier, it is absolutely true that perfection can be achieved.”
“Did you achieve it? What happened?”
“Basically it was a burglary case. Dead as they come too. My guy gets caught inside someone’s apartment. The tenant screams for her husband while the guy makes a hasty exit. Cops nab him a block away. He’s got a screwdriver, an inculpatory ashtray, and makes a statement putting himself in the apartment. He’s also a violent predicate. Anyway I do a perfect interview and get him out.”
“How do you get him out?”
“I make a perfect bail application as I was required to do.”
“What does that entail?”
“Well after interviewing him for about an hour and a half, I didn’t put the case up for another four hours.”
“What?”
“Now you’re starting to get an idea of what I mean by perfect representation. During the dinner break I was able to go to the scene and interview some neighbors of the complainants. I gathered more information in those hours, favorable to my client and unfavorable to the complainants, than I normally would during the entire life of a case. By the end of my application, the judge, who was by no means a softie, had no choice but to say ROR. It was beautiful, as if he were acceding to a determination made by a higher power. In short, my bail application was perfect. But I want you to realize the level of attention to detail that was present. It was not merely a question of effort. Blind effort without sufficient aforethought, regardless of how strenuous, is the near-antithesis of perfection. For example, before I even started to put together my bail application I had to internally debate what my goal should be. Instinctively, I obviously wanted to get him out of jail with all the benefits that derive from that in terms of trial preparation and the like, not to mention avoiding the injustice or imperfection of being incarcerated absent any legal determination of guilt. On the other hand getting him out raised the strong possibility that Barnes would not return to court thereby opening himself up to the further charge of bail jumping. There was also the potential issue of plea negotiations. Since he was a predicate, any plea, even a perfect plea, would likely involve jail time and it was less likely that he would accept such a plea, which could prove to be a disastrous mistake, if he was not in jail. So there was a strong argument that if I got Barnes out of jail it could ultimately prove detrimental to him and therefore deny me the perfection I sought. Ultimately I made the perfect decision, reasoning that subsequent perfect representation would overcome these potential difficulties, and strenuously sought and achieved his release. The point is you can imagine how often issues like that would arise. To get Barnes out of jail I had to place allegations on the record but every one I committed to tied me closer to a particular defense strategy at a time when I had heard precious little of the People’s case. So fine lines were being straddled left and right but in every case it was done perfectly.”
“What about your other cases? What did the other lawyers you were in arraignments with have to say when you took five hours to do one case?”
“I did nothing on my other cases. Well I did the absolute bare minimum I could do while still being considered their attorney. As far as I was concerned I represented one client. Barnes. Every and all day I worked on his case.”
“It doesn’t seem like there would be enough work on one case to occupy your every professional hour.”
“Professional hour? Try every waking and I actually found myself wishing I had more of them. Remember, I had to divide my time between preparing for a possible trial, a trial that in order to be considered perfect would at the very least have to result in a complete acquittal, while simultaneously attempting to procure the best possible plea offer for my client; an equally valid yet completely different, at times even antagonistic, form of perfect representation. I had to involve other people in his defense such as investigators, interns, and social workers yet at the same time I had to strive to do as much of his defense myself in order to be intricately aware of every aspect of his case. I had to win Barnes’s trust and affection so he would go to trial if that was the course perfection dictated but perfection simultaneously demanded that I often inform him of objective distasteful truths that might cause him to dislike me. I also had to research every possible legal issue that might arise at trial so I read everything ever written on those areas of law and basically became the foremost, though unacknowledged, expert in them. So, you see, a lot of my time was spent doing the things we do on every case but of course doing them perfectly which takes a great deal more effort. But I also spent a lot of time doing things I’m sure nobody does on their cases or even thinks about doing, but which seemed to me necessary to a perfect defense.”
“Such as.”
“Well for one thing I was new to the New York system so I had to do research in order to gain the extreme familiarity demanded by perfection. I researched the DA. I posed as a journalist doing an article on how moral DAs are or something and as such I interviewed her colleagues both former and current.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I ordered all the minutes of any trial or hearing she had ever done to pick up tendencies in her arguments et cetera. I had long telephone conversations with her which I later transcribed and had analyzed by a prominent psychiatrist whose work I then corrected. I had her handwriting analyzed by a complete clod who was simultaneously the foremost expert in the field. Despite all that, by the time the case went to trial I knew her intimately.”
“You don’t mean?”
“No, but we were friends and I had her convinced I hated my client, thought he had no chance to win, and would not be putting forth a great deal of effort during the trial. Since people inevitably perform to the level of their competition, and since what most motivates them is the fear of losing to someone they dislike, this tactic led to a predictably subpar performance from her and she was not without talent. I also researched the judge in essentially the same manner. Of course, while I knew the DA I was dealing with would be the one to ultimately try the case I couldn’t be sure that the judge who was handling the case would eventually keep it when it came time to conduct the trial. As a result I had to research every possible judge the case could get sent to so I could know their relevant tendencies. Under various guises, I interviewed countless judges, attorneys, and all other forms of court personnel such as court reporters and court officers. I got a hold of all the statistics showing which parts were the most amenable to acquittals. I analyzed these statistics endlessly looking for statistically significant differences. I made up color coded graphs based on respective probabilities.”
“You putting me on?”
“During the course of this research, I determined that the judge currently handling the case would not be the best judge for me to try to get an acquittal in front of given my type of case. I analyzed the statistics and profiles and identified who the ideal judge to try the case would be. I then figured out what days one was most likely to get sent to that judge by an expediter. Then I manipulated the current judge into thinking she didn’t want to try the case because I would be a pain in the ass. This was difficult to do while maintaining the DA’s illusion that I would be a pushover at trial but I did it and after some cajoling of the expediter I got sent to my first choice, Judge Teal.
You get the idea as to the lengths I went, but let’s get to your question regarding the crack. As you know, from a defense standpoint all cases basically fall into one of two categories, I.D. cases and what happened cases. Conceivably this case could have been either but given Barnes’s statement, the ashtray, which the DA and my own investigation led me to conclude would be identified as being from the apartment, and other factors, I decided it was a what-happened case and one where Barnes would have to testify. I had interviewed and taken extensive statements from every witness that would appear on behalf of the State. Yes, the cops talked to me. I had written out, in mind-numbing detail, every possible course the People’s evidence could take along with the consequent directions my case would take. However, in a case where the defendant testifies his testimony obviously becomes the single most crucial factor in the trial. I had to prepare Barnes to testify better than any defendant had ever been prepped. I had to prep him perfectly.
This was probably the most difficult thing I had to do. I wasn’t content to surrender to the inherent vagaries of my client’s performance. Here was an individual who had never gone to trial, who was facing double digit years in jail, and who was aware that his performance on the witness stand would to a large extent determine his fate. Under this pressure, this unintelligent, uneducated individual would have to testify skillfully. Throw in the overwhelming probability that he would not be telling the truth a substantial portion of the time.
To prep him I had to know him. I had to know what
his life was like, had to know what it was like to go through the world as Barnes. When we prepare somebody to testify we try to eliminate the unknown for them right? We ask a colleague to listen to the client’s expected direct then mock cross-examine them. Then we gauge the client’s response to this fake cross on the theory that we can thereby predict how they will perform on the stand. Well that’s fine for your average case but the limitations of that practice are unacceptable within the context of perfect representation. To be perfect I needed to do more. What this method of preparation can’t fully predict is how the individual will respond to the pressures of the real thing. This was the great unknown hanging over the case and threatening to fuck with my perfection. Of course trying to predict how a human will react to a novel situation is always a tricky thing. But in thinking about this problem, which I did constantly, the thought occurred to me that if I had to pick someone and try to predict their future behavior I would pick myself. After all I know myself best. Failing that option I would pick some other person whose conduct, attitudes, and other variables I was very familiar with. I thus set out to know Barnes as well as I could in order to gain insight into what his testimonial performance was likely to be.
I spent an unhealthy amount of time with Barnes. He was in my office every other day at first. We would talk for hours on the pretext of preparing for the case but in fact I was studying him. I didn’t kid myself though. I knew I wasn’t interacting with Barnes. I was interacting with the person Barnes creates when he’s at his lawyer’s office talking about his pending criminal case. This was useful to be sure but to know Barnes the way I wanted to know him I had to be exposed to the Barnes that existed at other times. I went to his home and visited with him there. I surreptitiously followed him around and observed him in other settings interacting with other people.
I then took it even further. I knew all the objective facts about his life from our extensive conversations. I started keeping a diary from Barnes’s point of view like actors sometimes do. I got an apartment in his neighborhood and lived there for a couple of weeks without going to work. To simulate Barnes’s existence, I gave myself a meager allowance for those weeks. I would wake up each day in this putrid apartment with like twelve bucks in my pocket. Then I would just drink all day and like hang out. But I knew I had to do more. Barnes smoked crack. He was high on crack the day he went into that apartment. I started smoking crack.”
A Naked Singularity: A Novel Page 23
