Truth from the NYT Obituary of Richard H. Poff, Retired Virginia Supreme Court Justice

Congressman Richard Poff

As a young man of this era,  I confess some embarrassment at not remembering Richard H. Poff a Virginia Congressman that Richard Nixon nearly nominated to the US Supreme Court in 1971 to replace Justice Hugo O. Black, Lewis Powell received the nomination instead.  Poff who died Tuesday at age 87, withdrew from consideration because he was ashamed of his anti-civil rights voting record especially his publicly-professed segregationist views.  Poff aggressively abandoned those views and engaged in a remarkable public mea culpa over his calculated segregationist politics which he shared with his generation of Southern republicans. 

Poff said, "I can only say that segregation is wrong yesterday, segregation was never right.  But is is one of the most lamentable frailties of mankind that when one's wrong is most grievous, his self-justification is most passionate, perhaps in the pitiful hope that the fervor of his self-defense will some how prove him right.  But this doesn't make it so.  And he doesn't foll himself."

Last week, I had the occasion to formally revisit some of my worst professional misconduct dating back to 2003-7 with precisely the same feeling of self-loathing.  No one, can punish you for a moral or ethical wrong more than you yourself can, if you have the capacity to be honest.   Richard Poff went on to redeem his error, I fervently hope to retain at least the hope that I might someday be able to.  We'll see.

Bad Lawyer is Traveling Tuesday and Wednesday this Week

The Bad Lawyer blawg will publish irregularly through the 4th of July holiday.   A brief summer hiatus to focus on professional obligations and the annual family picnic for the 4th. 

Please rejoin me for regulary posting July 5.

Return from Morgantown

At 6:45 AM one day last week I sat in a holding cell in the Reception and Discharge area at FCI, Morgantown dressed in prison issue "out" clothes.  The other inmate leaving that day was slapping on some sort of noxious cologne in preparation for a day's worth of bus travel to a halfway house somewhere in Virginia.  His "people" sent in over sized pants, a FUBU jersey, amazing basketball shoes, and one of those CC Sabathia-style ball caps which is worn askew.  When it was time to go I was relieved that my fellow former inmate, cologne-and-all, got into a BOP SUV for a ride to the bus stop.  I walked, outside, up to the front gate where the BSL magically appeared brandishing Starbucks and kisses.  Delicious!

Within half and hour we were in a Morgantown hotel room where I reunited with my two beautiful kids and grandson who was born December 23d.  You might imagine that my heart was bursting and you'd be right.

After a motel shower and a quick change into my clothes we returned to OurTown.  Almost from the moment of arrival our home was filled with food, love, and blessings.

In the few days since, it's been chaotic.  I met with my employer to review paperwork necessary for submission to the OurState Supreme Court secondary to reemployment; I've had coffee with my old friends at the S'bucks; I've been to half a dozen AA meetings;  and, I met with my accountant (who if I had listened to him in the first place, none of this would have happened!)--oh, by the way I filed my 2010 tax returns. And I met with my probation officer, Ms. W. 

All of this is by way of saying, I'm back.  As soon as I catch my breath I'll begin posting again.  Until the OurState Supremes issue my permission letter I am in a waiting mode to return to work, and so I have some time on my hands.  At least initially I plan to devote myself to telling you all about my incarceration.  My prison sentence was ONLY 5 months, but let me assure you the experience was--how should I say this....lumpy sounds like an accurate descriptor.   There are other appropriate adjectives, but I'll save those for later. 

Several people asked me how it felt to be released. After mulling this over it occurred to me that release was like walking through a wall.  On one side there is this surreal dimension on the otherside a normal reality--from a dream (and not a very good dream) back into consciousness.  Back at Morgantown I left behind some wonderful people who will be in that surreal-reality for years to come.  Returning I regained the physical reality of my family and friends.  So this is a promise to tell you some remarkable stories about the prison industrial complex, my adventures, and resume Bad Lawyer over the coming days. 

I'm so glad to be home.

I Hate Saying Goodbye

When I started writing here, and it became apparent that nothing good, from my limited perspective was going to come of my tax and disciplinary woes, I promised to at least tell it all on Bad Lawyer.

My professional conduct deviated from the standards of the ethical attorney in the maintenance of my IOLTA account;  and, in the reporting of income and payment of taxes.  I rationalized that I would be able to "catch-up and negotiate."  This was delusional on my part.  I thought to myself that I was not stealing from my clients, I was just taking from my allocated attorney fees.  While technically true, the rules mean something--if in fact, I could not pay may bills, keep the phones turned on and pay the secretary without cheating then I really had no business holding myself out as being fit to practice law.  As the secrets of my incapacity compounded I was sicker, and less able to practice.  After 15 years of sobriety I relapsed, seriously oblivious to the connections between my unethical and illegal conduct and sobriety.  I thought my relapse related to my father's dying--I recognize now that my father's dying and the crisis in my family was just an excuse to medicate my more profound disorganization and emotional disorders. I was sick.

The most painful moment until now was standing in Federal Court and admitting to the Judge that I was a tax felon.  Not something I ever envisioned, not something I ever dreamed possible.  I genuinely respect the law, I did not think I could break the law.  I broke the law.  My heart and mind are shattered by what I did and what it means for my family and for me.  Thank God for my friends, family, and support system, especially AA and OLAP; looking forward from the time when I knew charges were coming down I did not imagine surviving the psychic blow that I knew was in store for me.  But I did.

Today, tomorrow, or Monday I will have myself driven down to the US Marshall's office to surrender and commence my 5 month incarceration. 

I am in extreme emotional pain, and the desire to go early is my recognition that I am not spending these remaining moments of freedom with anything but the heaviest of hearts.  My poor kids.  I can't imagine what it's been like for them this last couple of years. 

I will miss my children the most.  Despite the day to day disappointments and gnashing of teeth that parenting teenagers presents--they are the best things that ever happened to me, and they would not be in my life but for the willfulness of the BSL who demanded that we go out and fetch them from the universe.  My children are pure joy, smart, fun, loving and beautiful.  Their friends and family are blessed to know them and have them in their lives.

My friends: Pat, Sharon, Bill, Steve, Lester, Irving, Chris, Mark, Nancy, Ron, Laura, Robbie, Carmen, John, Chuck, Mike, Alex, Gail, Betty, Gayle, Yehuda, Keith,Tom, Marcia, my sisters: Sharon and Amy, my co-workers, and my neighbors are amazing!  Instead of abandoning me, they opened their arms and showed me more love, concern and care than I deserve or thought possible.  Thank you all.  I want you to know that several folks have played roles in reporting my offenses or claiming that I did this or that wrong or unethical act.  In all sincerity, I thank former peers and colleagues who felt it incumbent upon themselves to report me to the disciplinary and tax authorities--whatever their intention or motivation, they saved my life and freed me from the bondage of my secrets.   I wish all my friends, family and former colleagues:  peace, prosperity, freedom, love, justice, and health.

Please keep me and my family in your prayers--I know you will. 

Finally, while I am in Federal custody I plan to write, if only for myself to relate to you at some future point.

I hate saying goodbyes, but this blawg was a long good bye to who I thought I was, who I admire, who I am, what I think about the law, lawyers, and judges, how I and others fail, and what I dream about.  I dream about justice and love.  I dream that children are born without physical and psychological diseases, that they are loved, and that justice and peace prevail in their lives.  I dreamed that the law, and those who are practitioners in the law will work to advance this dream. 

It was an honor to be an attorney in OurState, a privilege.  I regret that my limitations cost me this privilege.  Someday I pray that a miracle occurs that will allow me to fully pay my debts and return to the profession I loved. 

Maybe my experience will at least serve to caution you to take very seriously the obligations to uphold the laws of your state and of the United States of America;  and, to take in all seriousness your duties under the Rules of Professional Conduct. 

I'll see you in April!

the Bad Lawyer

Bad Lawyer to Begin 5 Months on November 15

This AM I placed the phone call to the US Marshal Service to begin the process of "surrender" to federal custody.  I am to serve 5 month term of incarceration as part of the sentence on my "attempted tax evasion" conviction. 

Being a 56-year old, white collar criminal with arthritis, diabetes, alcoholism (in remission), and a history of bi-polar illness it will be an interesting process which I hope to document for later journalization.  As I have said many times since the inception of this blawg--learn from my example.  Do not do what I did.  My daughter will give birth to my first Grandchild in my absence.  Somehow, my wife with the support of friends and family will manage our home, and, our two teens, while continuing to be the Blond Super Lawyer. 

Since I started to write this post, I received a call back from the US Marshal service.  I am reporting to the US Marshal's Service locally on November 15, 2010 to begin my 5 month sentence in custody.  I may or may not sporadically update the Bad Lawyer blawg depending on all the things I don't know and can't predict.

Please keep me and my family in your prayers.  Thanks.

Saturday October 2--Seven Deadly Sins

Complete darkness, on this side of dawn on this side of town.

All light, any light reflects up from head lights that my car and the very few other cars prowling wet streets cast.  The road is sprinkled with leaves, acorns and other fall cast-off.

I am on my way to morning coffee.  My present, slight, headache is a combination of something low-grade viral, seasonal congestion, and caffeine craving.  When I arrive, I find everyone else already in place. These friends of mine, the essential, self-styled "mens' show" regulars, already sunk down in the faux club chairs under the new spotty lights that the Starbucks installed in the ridiculous redo of the former gas station and repair shop at this Westside location.  With my Times and my large coffee I wedge in among my pals, Chris, Matt, LaLa (Laura), Chuck, Ken(n,) Charlie, and Ron.

"'Morning, class."

"Hey, Billy, check the piece on M****, and R****," (Chuck is gesturing to an article in the local paper about county politicos enmeshed in scandal.)

"Front (page) or Metro?" I ask, having already scanned the piece online before leaving my house.

"Metro, below the fold . . .  but big space on B-8."

Chris alerts me to further developments mostly humorous, to be scanned, and commented on.  This is our daily communion.

Fifteen or twenty minutes into morning bliss, the toxic avenger, Cliff, wafts in uninvited.   I will leave as soon as practicable, to avoid dealing with angry Cliff, a former regular.  Over the last year, Cliff is too bizarre for me.  Maybe it's DNA or something biological but Cliff and most of us are unable to occupy the same ten foot radius without inexplicable nastiness leaking.  Cliff's arrival is an acrid dispersant and we drift out
Before I go, I tell La my thoughts on breach of fiduciary duty.  She asked my opinion, yesterday morning and I had to think about it.  She's handling a commercial matter that seems to be southbound after two days, last week she spent in East Lansing.

I feel bad, I wanted to say more to La.  She says she was counting on the $40k that would have been her cut on the collapsed deal.  She wants to improve her living arrangements. I sagely assure her that "doors close and windows open," be patient I tell her.  It's all hollow-advice from a disgraced and suspended attorney working in-house shuffling paper.  What a guy! I'm leaving my family in the lurch for 5 months in federal custody on my federal tax count, and I give career advice.  What  a sweetheart, I am.

I head over to John's Diner on the the other end of town, a Greek-owned greasy spoon that my very limited wallet can still afford; plus, I know John's adorable 29-year old daughter, Pamela.  Seeing Pamela's pretty face always makes me happy.  She's not there.  Oh well.  At least I can read my Times in peace.

"John's" is the old style joint built into a dining car, it's exterior is clad with a combination of block and wood-siding.  A small block addition on the one end and behind the dining car adds interior space for a few extra tables, kitchen-space, and bathrooms.  I suppose the structure could use some attention, and then again not, its accidental ambient may be perfect. 

Two idle waitresses are sitting on stools chatting.  I take a booth at the end of the counter so I can spread the paper out over the faded red Formica.  The familiar smiling waitress drops an oily discolored menu in front of me.  I tell her what I want to eat without touching or referring to the official options.  Before I can read the headlines, an approximation of what I ordered arrives.  The potatoes, are undercooked.  When I tell the waitress, no longer smiling, she snaps up my plate.  She takes my breakfast away. 

"He wants his potatoes crispier," she tells the cook through a little window.

"Um, could I have the rest of my meal while it's still hot?"  I ask.

She rolls her eyes.

She looks back through the little window, "Just take the potatoes," she tells the unseen cook.  "He wants the rest of his food, now."

The platter, without the offending spuds returns.

"Your toast is on the way," she sighs.

My compassionate angel, now turns and asks her co-worker, "You remember, the guy that used to come in here, wanted his potatoes, burnt?"   Apparently I evoke a fond memory. They laugh.   Reluctantly, I decide not to kill her.  Without touching my eggs and ham, I tuck the paper under my arm, I put a $10 bill on the table.

"You did not treat me well," I tell her as I leave safe haven, number two.

It's now light outside but intensely dark inside. 

I usually don't eat breakfast but having it inches from my senses, only to be withdrawn through my defect of personality, well, I determine that I am officially hungry and angry.  My stomach rumbles.

I've missed the 7:30 AA-meeting, the 10:30 AM Big Book is next.  If I can white-knuckle until then, I will be OK.  I grit my teeth and head on down the street.

When I talk on Bad Lawyer about the twists and turns in this adventure I'm not sure I say all that much about the specific feelings and sensations of disappointment and sometimes, rage and resentment welling up.   With all my problems I am for the most part a happy and fortunate man.  Still there is a legacy of false pride and anger that is familial inheritance.  It is crippling.  I struggle with rejection and rarely rage over the most trivial things. 

Where do I go from here?

On this blawg, I documented injustices, outrageous miscarriages of justice, scoundrels and lunatics. Sometimes I told you about fleeting moments of justice, mercy and grace.  Have no doubt, every story was about me.  They are a documentation of the seven deadly sins, or in the parlance of AA, my 4th and 5th steps to recovery.  From the most extreme, to the most miraculous--this has been my life and experiences.  I am trying to see the symmetry and perfection in my situation and go forward.  Just saying so, does not make it happen.  I need to change, to abolish all darkness.

I resolve to change, to bring light.

Georgia Kills the Suicidal Death Row Inmate--Deterrence, and a Personal Note

Brandon Rhode (pic) was a suicidal death row inmate in Georgia.  He was convicted with a buddy of the heinous (really, is there any other type?) triple slaying of a trucking company operator and two children.  Prior to his execution scheduled for September 21st Rhode tried to slash his own throat and wrists; but, the heroic Georgia authorities saved his life.   Then they killed him last night. 

This is reporter Greg Bluestein's account for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution:

"A Georgia prisoner who tried to kill himself last week by slashing his arms and throat with a razor blade was executed Monday night amid heightened security for the 1998 murders of a trucking company owner and his two children.
Brandon Joseph Rhode, 31, was put to death by injection at the state prison in Jackson. He was pronounced dead at 10:16 p.m. Rhode declined to speak any last words or have a final prayer.  He was convicted in 2000 of killing Steven Moss, 37, his 11-year-old son Bryan and 15-year-old daughter Kristin during a burglary of their Jones County home in central Georgia. His coconspirator, Daniel Lucas, was also sentenced to death in a separate trial and remains on death row.

Rhode's execution had been set for 7 p.m. but was pushed back several hours as corrections officials waited for the U.S. Supreme Court to decide on his plea for a stay of execution. The court rejected appeals later that night.

Medics then tried for about 30 minutes to find a vein to inject the three-drug concoction.  The prisoner's eyes darted around the room before the lethal mixture began coursing through his veins. Within minutes he was staring blankly at the ceiling of the death chamber. Moments before Rhode was pronounced dead he turned his head, exposing a bandage over the part of his neck he slashed.

It took 14 minutes for the lethal dose to kill him.

Rhode had initially been scheduled to be put to death Sept. 21, but the Georgia Supreme Court postponed the execution after Rhode was rushed to the hospital that day following a suicide attempt.  Rhode was stabilized at a local hospital and placed in a restraining chair to prevent him from removing the sutures from his neck or doing any other harm to himself, state attorneys said.

Defense attorney Brian Kammer countered that Rhode was put in a 'torture chair'  and subjected to cruel and unusual punishment.  'He has been subjected to the surreal and incomprehensible: Heroic measures taken to stabilize his life by the prison staff that would then execute him,' Kammer said in one court filing.  Kammer urged the Georgia Supreme Court Monday to push back the execution again so experts could evaluate whether Rhode was mentally competent to be executed, or understood why he was being punished. He said Rhode lost half his blood Sept. 21 when he cut himself, went into shock and could have suffered brain damage.

'The threat of execution has pushed Mr. Rhode's limited coping skills to the breaking point,' spurring him to slash himself with blades he hid from guards while under a blanket, he said in the filing.

Rhode and Lucas were ransacking the Moss' home in search of valuables in April 1998 when Bryan Moss saw them through a front window, and entered through a back door armed with a baseball bat, prosecutors said. They said Moss and his son and daughter were shot to death. Lucas later shot each of the victims again to make sure they were dead, according to the records.

Rhode appealed the case several times, arguing that his trial attorneys failed to present enough evidence to persuade the jury to spare his life. Kammer argued more recently that his client should be granted clemency because doctors discovered he suffered from organic brain damage and a fetal alcohol disorder."
______________________________
Deterrence is "specific" and "general or indirect."  Punishment is intended to prevent further crimes by the offender as well as "incapacitate" the offender.  Punishment is also meant to send a message to the community of humankind about community and societal values.

The goal of specific deterrence was met in Mr. Rhode's case through his incapicitation achieved by his incarceration.  The ghastly execution of this loser sends the message of vengence. 

Recently, I was sentenced to prison for 5 months by a very wise federal judge; he expressed the need to send a general or indirect message of deterrence to other professionals who might rationalize tax offenses by looking at a "too lenient" punishment for my offense.  Mistakenly everyone in the courtroom connected to my case believed that Judge P had granted me leave to serve this sentence on house arrest with work release.  I posted about this in the Bad Lawyer Sentencing post. An alarmed email from my lawyer (who also mistakenly believed that I was given home detention in lieu of prison), late yesterday alerted me. 

I will be winding down (since most of my posts are written in advance I don't know what will still publish automatically), but the Bad Lawyer blawg for the time being is going on hiatus, in light of this clarification of my federal court sentence.  Obviously, my friends, and especially my family are in shock this morning. I can't say that I am being treated unjustly or unfairly, the mistake was mine, "wishful listening."  To the extent that I can, I'll focus any further posts on the twists and turns of this process, but effective immediately my regular trolling of local news sites and commentary ends.

Thank you for reading.  Watch this spot!

Bad Lawyer Update

The Bad Lawyer is off this weekend, working on  Personal Thank You notes and an Update, following his sentencing in US District Court on this last Thursday.   Regular posting will resume Monday.

Go ride a bike!

Bad Lawyer Is Being Sentenced for Attempted Tax Evasion

I am off to federal court, where I will be sentenced on my tax crime at noon, today. 

I am grateful to all my friends, family and followers for their prayers and kind messages of support.  Amazingly, I've received letters of support from amazing old and new friends, friends from in the blogosphere and from former colleagues and judges.  But the most powerful connections are those that God placed in my path a long time ago, friends (Steve, Lester, Pat, Sharon, and Irving) who did not abandon me; my family (especially Sharyn, Amy, Liz, Maddy, and Will) that understood the weight and legacy of burdens and confusion that I was not able to overcome.  And of course, Alcohollics Anonymous and OLAP.

Do not do what I did.  My failures were unjustified, completely irrational, and inexcusable.  I say these things not as a consequence of being "caught," because in truth the revelation of my tax offenses are answered prayers.  My secrets made me a very sick person.  Anything I've done right  in the last year has been because I've been relieved of my mental illness manifest in being unable to operate a successful and sane solo practice.

If you have not dealt with your business or tax obligations there is help, in fact the government is more than willing to assist you if you are proactive in seeking assistance.  Do not delay one more day, call for help today--if you live in and around OurTown I can put you in touch with tax and legal professionals that can and will help you.   I beg you, do not ignore the chaos.

When my situation permits I will honestly report on my experiences.  There is much I have not reported about the nuts and bolts of going through this experience--for obvious reasons.  But I intend to tell it all as my situation permits.  Despite my crime, and my admission of guilt I have been treated with dignity and concern for my health and the welfare of my family.  Nonetheless, you do not want to go through what I am going through so I entreat you, take action now.

1000 Posts, 1-Year Anniversary, a Year of Sobriety

Today, the Bad Lawyer blawg celebrates several milestones.  This blawg began one year ago, and this will be the 1000th post.  Personally, this Bad Lawyer will celebrate a year of sobriety.

I began the Bad Lawyer blawg as an effort to deal with full-on-panic attacks, unable to sleep, and seriously suicidal.  After 27 years of practice, 30 years pursuing this profession--I knew in August of 2009 that I faced disciplinary action and potentially criminal prosecution over my taxes.  Since then, I was suspended for two years with conditions that absent some sort of unforeseen financial miracle guarantees that I will never practice law again;  I've returned to work as a W-2 employee for the first time in nearly 30 years; I pleaded guilty to one count of "attempted tax evasion" and I face sentencing guidelines of 18-24 months; and, my 17 year old, unmarried daughter is pregnant.  Someone at the office used the expression, "being thrown under the bus" then looked at me laughing.  She said, "Oh, I forgot you're not only under the bus but you're still being thumped along."

So it's been an adventure.  I will say, in all honesty I fully created these circumstances all on my own accord; and, miraculously, I've been treated decently and respectfully by the officials with the U.S. District Court pre-sentencing and probation services. Miraculously, I am the beneficiary of much love and support of many friends like my pal Chris who shot and composed the Bad Lawyer graphic and Ron who offered me a job and encouraged me when I was at my very lowest, former colleagues including the Saint(ed) Lester P. and Steve N. and the amazing former colleagues: Irving, Pat, Gail, Marcia and others too numerous to name all former peers and co-workers who against all-logic created a job for me subject to the very limiting rule of the OurState Supreme Court that, a job that nonetheless, gives me a daily sense of purpose and value.  More importantly this great job provides income and health insurance which my pregnant 17-year old daughter needs. Lest, I forger, my family that still loves me and supports me through this crazy adventure.  This is especially true of my siblings and cousins who read and write me privately about our lives and how we all got to where we are or aren't

As a career path I don't recommend this trajectory, but there are worse ways.  I hear it said:  it is better to be seen, than viewed.

I've also "met" online, many new friends, especially my fellow-blogger, Gayle, author of  the terrific and her Shakespeare Blog which continues to inspire me.  Gayle encouraged me to go on, when I was on the verge of abandoning this effort especially after it became clear that I was on the verge of becoming a tax felon. 

I received invaluable help and feedback from other "blawgers," some who have re-published or linked to my drivel.  Let me acknowledge that much better writing is out there on legal current events, but the point of this "blawg" is not scholarship or deep thought on the philosophical currents in the law.  Instead, the philosophy of  Bad Lawyer is merely to daily digest many aspects of law, lawyers, courts, characters, corruption, law making, law enforcement, and injustice through the Bad Lawyer goggles with my three decades of seeing it happen, and with the limitations you would expect from someone like me.  Nothing grand is intended.

When I began the Bad Lawyer blawg, all, I intended to relieve personal pain; and, maybe get some much needed sleep.  A year later, I've made progress.  I see clearly my role in how I ended up, here.  My sense of outrage and offense at injustice is unabated, but my personal sense of injury is fading.  I am in free fall, but my eyes are open. 

This is my 1000th post, I don't know what the future holds.  Thank God.

Bad Lawyer in Indianapolis for a Seminar

The Bad Lawyer is in Indianapolis Saturday and Sunday for a seminar.  Since I spent some of my childhood in Indy, I'm looking forward to a wee bit of psychic time travel!  Regular posting will resume Monday, AM.  In the meantime, stay safe and don't piss off anyone.

Oh, and a shout out to my pals who took and passed the Winter/Spring OurState Bar Exam!

Bad Reputation

I've been trying to deal with the self-inflicted humiliation that has become occupationally-specific agoraphobia of moving around my former professional world, particularly now that I am actively seeking help and attending meetings through the OurState Lawyers Assistance Program and AA--which requires me to leave my little office high up on the 9th floor of the Public Square of OurTown and walk among the living into venues where I practiced law for 28 years.   I'm trying to get at the root of my fear and dread, and it's all ego--fuck my ego, dammit.

So this morning I turned on my car stereo and the familiar crashing guitars and drums of Joan Jett and the Blackhearts sent me an inspirational message:

I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

You're living in the past it's a new generation

A girl can do what she wants to do and that's

What I'm gonna do

An' I don't give a damn ' bout my bad reputation

Oh no not me

An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

Never said I wanted to improve my station

An' I'm only doin' good

When I'm havin' fun

An' I don't have to please no one

An' I don't give a damn

'Bout my bad reputation

Oh no, not me

Oh no, not me

I don't give a damn

'Bout my reputation

I've never been afraid of any deviation

An' I don't really care

If ya think I'm strange

I ain't gonna change An' I'm never gonna care 'Bout my bad reputation

Oh no, not me

Oh no, not me

Pedal boys!

An' I don't give a damn

'Bout my reputation

The world's in trouble

There's no communication

An' everyone can say

What they want to say

It never gets better anyway

So why should I care

'Bout a bad reputation anyway

Oh no, not me

Oh no, not me

I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation

You're living in the past

It's a new generation

An' I only feel good

When I got no pain

An' that's how I'm gonna stay

An' I don't give a damn

'Bout my bad reputation

Oh no, not me

Oh no, not me

_____________________________

Thanks, light!  Thanks, Joan!

I Am Guilty. Where Am I Going?

I am guilty. 

But you knew that.  I am guilty and I intend to tell a federal judge or magistrate that I am guilty.  I am guilty of not filing tax returns and not paying taxes for many years.  This is a fact, and this is the outcome of years of neglect by me--the Bad Lawyer and worst businessman.  I kidded myself that I could just do what I wanted to do or what appealed to me as a lawyer--advocacy; and, the business part, that I hated and which scared me--would take care of itself.  I dreamed that someday I would have enough money to pay everything and everybody I owed.  This did not happen.  The music stopped and I had not planned to find myself where I find myself without a chair.

If you've been following my tale of woe, I made a concentrated effort to bring myself into filing compliance with the untiring assistance and loving support of my professional friends.  I actually did complete this ghastly task of completing a financial autopsy of my law practice, but too late. 

Let me repeat what I siad before: don't do what I did, if you are not in compliance with your tax filing obligations, even if you are afraid you owe money--don't ignore the obligation to file.  I did not do what I was obligated to do, let me serve as your cautionary example. 

I will enter a plea of guilty to a single felony count of willful failure to file my income taxes.  I may go to prison.   I originally planned to write about this a couple of months ago when this outcome seemed certain, but I did not.  Instead I met with the IRS and the assistant US attorney in an effort to see if there was any alternative available to me apart from this criminal outcome.  There is not. 

I intended to end this blawg, at that time, but I did not.  I think being able to write about what I'm going through has helped me manage and cope.  I am trying to be a power of example for my kids, and while I am profoundly depressed--sinking back into alcoholism, or worse--is not a memory I intend to leave them and others.  Oh, sure those thoughts are in there, but that's my ego. 

It is very hard to talk about this, but I hope I will survive my shame and disgrace.  Frankly what I failed to do was shameful and disgraceful--what's happening to me as a legal matter is merely the consequence I so richly deserve.