For example, I'm learning just how much an experienced defense attorney can know, and it's awe-inspiring. Two weeks ago I accompanied the attorney I work with to the jail to interview a new client. In the space of five minutes my attorney expertly fielded her client's complex questions about how the involvement of federal agencies in his case might affect his chances to plea, whether a drug store would really be able to produce the video they say they have, how other charges in other jurisdictions might interact with the charges we were dealing with, and more. This was a potentially complex case, and this client's questions kind of made my head spin, but my attorney handled them w/out the confidence that only comes from experience. I sat in awe, hoping someday I would have that kind of experience under my belt so I could be as effortlessly helpful as she is.

Another lesson that I'm learning again and again and again is how little police actually know, and the levels to which they will stoop to get even the most meaningless of convictions. The show how little they know when they appear in court and have nothing to say except what they wrote in their reports, which are themselves often full of gaping holes that they then fill with speculations masquerading as "fact" when they're on the witness stand. Half the time it seems police witnesses show up to testify at trial and can't even remember the case. They're coached by the prosecutors, and look to them for advice and help answering questions. They apparently think they're on the same "team" with the prosecution. So much for presumed innocent, etc.

The levels to which police stoop are just chilling. I probably shouldn't say much more on this right now since much of my horror stems from cases still in litigation, but I will say that after six weeks in a public defender's office I'm convinced that the legal fiction of "custodial" interrogations (meaning you're in custody, not free to leave) v. "non-custodial" interrogations (meaning theoretically you can leave at any time) makes a mockery of justice. Do you have any clue what I'm talking about? If not, you prove my point. If so, pat yourself on the back. Now see if you're able to keep your wits about you enough the next time the police interrogate you to remember to rely on your rights to their full extent—especially when the police start lying to you.

I've also learned that the police and prosecutors team up to harrass certain people for very stupid crimes. At the top of that list are the crimes of stealing two flowers from a flower pot, and the crime of impermissible horn honking. Yeah, that's right; in our jurisdiction there's a statute that says you can only honk your car horn in order to give a "reasonable warning." Guess who decides what a reasonable warning is. Hint: If you're black and in a neighborhood known for drug sales/use, your definition of reasonable probably won't count for much.

I've learned how trivial much of legal practice (and especially law school) can seem to a criminal lawyer. This hit home last week when I sat in on a civil appeal that just seemed incredibly pointless. Who cares who gets the house (in a divorce) when someone down the hall may be going to jail for life thanks to police misconduct? (And yes, I realize police aren't always acting improperly, but I'll bet you'd be shocked to learn how often and to what degree they really are.) Off the top of my head, it seems much of torts, contracts, property law, and civil procedure focused on trivialities, while crimlaw and conlaw (and legal writing, of course) were what was important. I know those other classes were valuable and I'm glad I've been through them, but it's a perspective thing. If you're a defense attorney, your clients won't generally care much about torts law—they just want to stay out of jail.

So far, the summer internship is great for big picture perspective like this. Both from my attorney and my co-interns (some of whom are part of "Section Three" at Georgetown, which sounds like the critically contextualized law curriculum I dreamed of but have not found at all at GW), I'm also learning a little bit about being a "radical lawyer." I hope to learn more about what this means to them, but reading just about anything by Duncan Kennedy looks like a good place to start.

Finally, I and my fellow interns have begun weekly "Mock Trial" exercises led by the attorneys in the office. So far we've covered interviewing a client, voire dire, and making opening statements. It's incredibly helpful to hear advice on these things from attorneys who do them every day.