I know politicians can hit below the belt on occasion, but I didn't figure they would do it literally. If there are rules men have when playing sports, not hitting another man in the balls with a stick is clearly one of them. I think that is a rule we all can live by, conservatives and liberals alike.
NOTE: He was wearing a cup at the time, so no balls were damaged beyond repair.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Jury Duty: Just Do It
Kate the Great has a great post recounting her friend's story of a man who walked five miles through the snow to meet his jury duty obligation. Stories like this always make me angry about the middle- and upper-class professionals who would rather gnaw off their own limbs than be picked to sit on a jury.
I'm not implying that everyone--or even most people--tries to shirk their responsibility. But enough do that it's become a stereotype (you might hear someone quip, for instance, about the dubious prospect of trying a case to "twelve people too dumb to get out of jury duty"). A few years ago, I witnessed a fellow attorney candidly admit during voir dire that he had absolutely no desire to serve on a jury, and would very much like to be excused. (Two sidenotes: first, one of the attorneys exercised a peremptory challenge to be rid of him, fearful that his client would be the one on whom the lawyer might take out his frustration. Second, the guy wasn't a litigator: most trial attorneys I know would give anything to see a jury work from inside the jury room.)
So when you get that jury notice, instead of thinking about how much work will pile up for you if you have to be away from your job for a few days or how inconvenient it will be to have to go to the courthouse instead of work or wherever else you'd normally be, think about Kate's friend's companion--the one who walked to the courthouse because he didn't have a couple bucks for bus fare.
One of these days, you may need justice from a jury. Perhaps you'll be accused of a crime, or the victim of a crime. Maybe something bad will happen to you, and you'll need to sue the wrongdoer, or maybe someone will accuse you of being a wrongdoer and sue you. And when you do, you'll want to know that there are some people like you in the jury box. And the only way that happens is if people like you--like YOU--serve on juries.
I'm not implying that everyone--or even most people--tries to shirk their responsibility. But enough do that it's become a stereotype (you might hear someone quip, for instance, about the dubious prospect of trying a case to "twelve people too dumb to get out of jury duty"). A few years ago, I witnessed a fellow attorney candidly admit during voir dire that he had absolutely no desire to serve on a jury, and would very much like to be excused. (Two sidenotes: first, one of the attorneys exercised a peremptory challenge to be rid of him, fearful that his client would be the one on whom the lawyer might take out his frustration. Second, the guy wasn't a litigator: most trial attorneys I know would give anything to see a jury work from inside the jury room.)
So when you get that jury notice, instead of thinking about how much work will pile up for you if you have to be away from your job for a few days or how inconvenient it will be to have to go to the courthouse instead of work or wherever else you'd normally be, think about Kate's friend's companion--the one who walked to the courthouse because he didn't have a couple bucks for bus fare.
One of these days, you may need justice from a jury. Perhaps you'll be accused of a crime, or the victim of a crime. Maybe something bad will happen to you, and you'll need to sue the wrongdoer, or maybe someone will accuse you of being a wrongdoer and sue you. And when you do, you'll want to know that there are some people like you in the jury box. And the only way that happens is if people like you--like YOU--serve on juries.
Issue 5 Case Finally Over; Supreme Court "DIGs" the Appeal
In 2001, voters of the City of Cincinnati passed Issue 5. That referendum amended the Charter, so that the chief of police and assistant chiefs of police (there are five) would be appointed by the city manager. Prior to the amendment, those possitions were considered "classified civil service" jobs, and were filled as the result of a competitive civil service exam. One of the effects of Issue 5 is to permit the city manager to appoint a chief or an assistant from outside the department. (To be clear, the manager can appoint only to vacant positions. Chief Streicher, for instance, was the Chief prior to enactment of Issue 5; the manager has no ability to appoint a replacement until he retires or otherwise leaves office.)
When Assistant Chief Lt. Col. Twitty left CPD, then-City Manager Valerie Lemmie appointed a longtime CPD officer to replace him. The Fraternal Order of Police sued, alleging that the charter amendment conflicted with its collective bargaining agreement with the City; according to the FOP, absent a renegotiation of the contract, the CBA should trump the City Charter.
The FOP lost in every stage of litigation. The State Employment Relations Board, which first heard the case, ruled in favor of the City. The FOP lost its appeal in the Hamilton County Court of Common Pleas and subsquently in the Court of Appeals. The FOP petitioned the Ohio Supreme Court to hear the case. It did so, and oral argument was held back in November; today, though, that Court dismissed the appeal as improvidently granted (and provided no further explanation of its action).
Ultimately, Issue Five will prove to be a good thing for the City. The chief and his (or her) assistants are policymakers, and vacancies in those positions should not be filled in the same manner as rank-and-file police officers. And it's good that the legality of the charter amendment is finally laid to rest, once and for all.
(Not to beat a dead horse, but I continue to believe that such appointments should be made by the mayor, not the unelected manager.)
Link: Enquirer
When Assistant Chief Lt. Col. Twitty left CPD, then-City Manager Valerie Lemmie appointed a longtime CPD officer to replace him. The Fraternal Order of Police sued, alleging that the charter amendment conflicted with its collective bargaining agreement with the City; according to the FOP, absent a renegotiation of the contract, the CBA should trump the City Charter.
The FOP lost in every stage of litigation. The State Employment Relations Board, which first heard the case, ruled in favor of the City. The FOP lost its appeal in the Hamilton County Court of Common Pleas and subsquently in the Court of Appeals. The FOP petitioned the Ohio Supreme Court to hear the case. It did so, and oral argument was held back in November; today, though, that Court dismissed the appeal as improvidently granted (and provided no further explanation of its action).
Ultimately, Issue Five will prove to be a good thing for the City. The chief and his (or her) assistants are policymakers, and vacancies in those positions should not be filled in the same manner as rank-and-file police officers. And it's good that the legality of the charter amendment is finally laid to rest, once and for all.
(Not to beat a dead horse, but I continue to believe that such appointments should be made by the mayor, not the unelected manager.)
Link: Enquirer
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Deters Full of Shit
Again, not a shock to anyone who pays attention, but there was only one case of voter fraud in Hamilton County, and in that case the person told on himself. Fighting Joe Deters made grand unfounded claims back during the 2008 election cycle. I'll be waiting for Deters full retraction. I'll be dead before I get it, but I'll still wait.
Why, Oh, Why?
Peter Bronson has a blog.
I just don't know what to say. There are so many things that come to mind, but I'm just not going to do it. Must put down the poison pen.
I just don't know what to say. There are so many things that come to mind, but I'm just not going to do it. Must put down the poison pen.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Meteorological Pontification
Based on my analysis of the breathlessness of our local weatherpeople; the number of tickers, crawls, and weather bugs superimposed on my television screen; and the font size of online Enquirer headlines, I am prepared to make a prediction regarding the alleged coming snowfall.
By tomorrow morning at 7:00, we'll have received about three-quarters of an inch of snow. Sometime tomorrow, we'll receive some freezing rain just in time for rush hour. Two trucks will have problems going up the "Cut in the Hill," forcing the immediate closure of all interstate highways in a 150-mile radius.
Disclaimer: The Cincinnati Blog makes no warranties about the accuracy of its prediction. Readers are not encouraged to rely on this post. We have no access to information that is even marginally useful in predicting the weather. But we're not sure we're any less qualified than the combined efforts of Derek Beasley, Steve Raleigh, and Tim Hendrick to really screw up your day tomorrow. (Randi Rico was intentionally left off this list. Don't mess with Randi. I'm thinking of starting a fan club for her on Facebook.)
UPDATE (1/27/09 at 7:30 am): Oops.
By tomorrow morning at 7:00, we'll have received about three-quarters of an inch of snow. Sometime tomorrow, we'll receive some freezing rain just in time for rush hour. Two trucks will have problems going up the "Cut in the Hill," forcing the immediate closure of all interstate highways in a 150-mile radius.
Disclaimer: The Cincinnati Blog makes no warranties about the accuracy of its prediction. Readers are not encouraged to rely on this post. We have no access to information that is even marginally useful in predicting the weather. But we're not sure we're any less qualified than the combined efforts of Derek Beasley, Steve Raleigh, and Tim Hendrick to really screw up your day tomorrow. (Randi Rico was intentionally left off this list. Don't mess with Randi. I'm thinking of starting a fan club for her on Facebook.)
UPDATE (1/27/09 at 7:30 am): Oops.
Ohio Attorney Avoids Prison By Snitching
In 2006, federal law enforcement officials became suspicious that Frank Pignatelli of Akron, Ohio, was involved in drug trafficking. When confronted by agents and threatened with prosecution, Pignatelli did what many before have done: he agreed to be a snitch confidential informant.
What sets Pignatelli apart, though, is that Pignatelli is a criminal defense attorney, and he agreed to provide testimony against people who thought or would come to think that he was their attorney. One of his "clients" was sentenced last week to serve 15 years in prison.
Pignatelli could snitch on "clients" because when a client and his attorney conspire to commit an unlawful act, their communications are not privileged. So if Pignatelli was helping someone to set up drug transactions or to launder the monetary proceeds of such transactions, his conversations with his clients weren't protected by privilege.
Even though his conduct in revealing client confidences is technically permissible, as a defense attorney, I get an uneasy, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach when thinking about what Pignatelli did. He sold out his clients to the government in order to help himself. He put his own interests above that of his clients: the opposite of what an attorney is supposed to do. That our government is rewarding him for doing so makes my unease grow even more.
Becoming a lawyer means being willing to protect someone else, even when doing so makes us uncomfortable. And as defense attorneys, our job is to be a check against the unrestrained exercise of government power. I know I've just described criminal defense as a more noble calling than it is generally portrayed or perceived, but often, our actions are the only things that will shield a citizen from the loss of his liberty (or his life). Pignatelli went from a restraint on the government's power to incarcerate people to an instrument of it.
Pignatelli's drug clients no doubt placed him in a "high-end" criminal defense practice--in other words, he was making a lot of money from his clients, many of whom he would ultimately sell out. But at the first sign of trouble, he handed them over to the government. His story stands in stark contrast to that of Beth Lewis, a Montgomery County public defender who just a few years ago risked a contempt conviction and jail to protect the confidences of a deceased client.
And the ultimate irony? Pignatelli, no doubt unable to find newget-of-jail-free cards clients in Ohio, has pulled up stakes and opened a criminal defense practice in Colorado, where he defends accused drug dealers.
Link: Beacon Journal (via Talkleft).
What sets Pignatelli apart, though, is that Pignatelli is a criminal defense attorney, and he agreed to provide testimony against people who thought or would come to think that he was their attorney. One of his "clients" was sentenced last week to serve 15 years in prison.
Pignatelli could snitch on "clients" because when a client and his attorney conspire to commit an unlawful act, their communications are not privileged. So if Pignatelli was helping someone to set up drug transactions or to launder the monetary proceeds of such transactions, his conversations with his clients weren't protected by privilege.
Even though his conduct in revealing client confidences is technically permissible, as a defense attorney, I get an uneasy, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach when thinking about what Pignatelli did. He sold out his clients to the government in order to help himself. He put his own interests above that of his clients: the opposite of what an attorney is supposed to do. That our government is rewarding him for doing so makes my unease grow even more.
Becoming a lawyer means being willing to protect someone else, even when doing so makes us uncomfortable. And as defense attorneys, our job is to be a check against the unrestrained exercise of government power. I know I've just described criminal defense as a more noble calling than it is generally portrayed or perceived, but often, our actions are the only things that will shield a citizen from the loss of his liberty (or his life). Pignatelli went from a restraint on the government's power to incarcerate people to an instrument of it.
Pignatelli's drug clients no doubt placed him in a "high-end" criminal defense practice--in other words, he was making a lot of money from his clients, many of whom he would ultimately sell out. But at the first sign of trouble, he handed them over to the government. His story stands in stark contrast to that of Beth Lewis, a Montgomery County public defender who just a few years ago risked a contempt conviction and jail to protect the confidences of a deceased client.
And the ultimate irony? Pignatelli, no doubt unable to find new
Link: Beacon Journal (via Talkleft).
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