Criminally Yours: How Can You Defend Those People?

For the couple of bad apples who are truly difficult to deal with and completely unsympathetic, there's the majority of others who you can relate to, communicate with, and feel great about helping.

I saw a really disturbing movie this weekend, 24 Days. It’s based on a true story that took place in 2006 when a gang of thugs from the Parisian suburbs kidnapped a young Jewish man because “all Jews have money.”

In bartering for his ransom they kept him for 24 days, wrapping his entire head in duct tape, not feeding him for weeks, stubbing cigarettes out on his body, and ultimately pouring the French version of Clorox all over him then setting him on fire.

The mastermind of the plot, Django, was a Parisian with ties to the Ivory Coast — a brute of a man, with a hair-trigger temper, who cared for no one, was clearly psychopathic and sadistic, and who scared the you-know-what out of his lackeys. (Thus their blind allegiance.)

He wasn’t smart. He wasn’t charming. He wasn’t nice. In short, there was absolutely nothing defensible about him.

It got me thinking, in all the years I’ve done criminal defense work and handled cases from terrorism to murder, I’ve never had a client so despicable. It also got me thinking, what would I do if he had been my client? Could I defend him as well as someone whose crime might not be as horrific or who was just a nicer person?

People in my family still think I put criminals behind bars instead of help them get out. It’s a touchy subject at parties and I hate being asked, “How can you defend those people?” — especially when the person asking is a lawyer.

Lawyers should know better. It’s my job. Clients charged with ugly crimes go along with the territory like rough seas for sailors or bad breath for dentists. Yet when you see a man as evil as Django, it’s difficult to envision wanting to defend that case.

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The “Boston Bomber,” that’s a tough one, granted, but at least he’s a kid and you’re fighting against the death penalty, something well worth fighting against. You’re never fighting in favor of the crime.

I’ve never had anyone as bad as Django, but I’ve had my share of bad ones. Ironically, it’s not so much the crime they commit that disturbs the attorney-client relationship, as the way they treat me as a person. I’ve represented people charged with non-violent crimes who still gave off a vibe so violent, so irrational, so angry, I was afraid to be locked in the same small room with them even with a guard standing outside the door. (All it takes is one swift smash of his hand to my head against the back wall to make my brain mush.)

But in all these years, I’ve never had a problem. No one’s punched me in the nose after losing a trial (as has happened to a colleague), or threatened my family a la Cape Fear. (Why is it the defense attorneys always get the blame instead of the prosecutors?)

I only affirmatively asked to be relieved twice. Once when I was expecting a baby and the client, clinging to the borders of sanity, told his other attorney that he wanted to slash the face of his pregnant lawyer.

The other was the client who, in threatening his girlfriend, defecated outside her apartment then smashed his way inside and began throwing all her property out the window, including her little dog. It was the 23rd floor. It’s not that I minded him so much. I was more concerned with the PETA (People for Ethical Treatment of Animals) people who filled the first two rows of the courtroom at every appearance.

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I’m sure my stories are just the tip of the iceberg and that many of my colleagues have far worse. But in spite of all the “dangerous” clients we handle, and the opportunity for violence or retaliation, I’d bet that for most of us, personal danger is rare.

So, how to beat the perception that we get guilty people out of prison? In my experience, the percentage of truly dangerous people who might be guilty but “get off” is so infinitesimal as to be practically non-existent.

Generally, sitting on the other side of the bars is some scared guy who did some not-so-terrible thing, is being overcharged for whatever he did do, and is facing a slew of time in jail way out of keeping with either his dangerousness or the type of crime he committed.

For the couple of bad apples who are truly difficult to deal with and completely unsympathetic, there’s the majority of others who you can relate to, communicate with, and feel great about helping.

For the others, well, you do it anyway. I still haven’t found absolutely zero thread of shared humanity with any client — although neither do I ever hope to meet a Django of my own.


Toni Messina has been practicing criminal defense law since 1990, although during law school she spent one summer as an intern in a large Boston law firm and realized quickly it wasn’t for her. Prior to attending law school, she worked as a journalist from Rome, Italy, reporting stories of international interest for CBS News and NPR. She keeps sane by balancing her law practice with a family of three children, playing in a BossaNova band and dancing flamenco. She can be reached at tonimessinalw@gmail.com or tonimessinalaw.com.