Now Playing: Ah, The Memories!
Topic: Personal
When I was 18, I somehow came to the conclusion that true love had passed me by. I met a squirrelly and mildly entertaining little chap in Toronto's hippie culture, and married him. He was arrested for selling pot to a police officer. This particular memory is of his lawyer. The lawyer was a public defender, and I wish I could remember his name. I'll bet he has made a fortune as a defense lawyer.
Brian was 18, and his best friend, Willy, was a couple of years younger. Willy was young enough to have his case processed through the juvenile system. He had already pled guilty and been whisked away to Nova Scotia by his parents.
The first thing the lawyer did was to insist that Brian go back to school and get a job, a haircut and a suit. He then proceeded to convince a jury that 16-year-old, apple-cheeked Willy was the dominant member of the duo and Brian his unwitting dupe. The pot had been sold by the "nickel-bag," in an envelope, with the word "dope" written on it in multi-coloured letters. Brian would have had to be blind, as well as unwitting not to know what he was selling! Nevertheless, the first trial ended in a hung jury, and the second, in an acquittal.
That's a hell of a lawyer!
Posted by ronni87
at 4:24 PM CDT