I have a really hard time figuring out what exactly people deserve.
To be even more precise, yet unfortunately more abstract, I guess I don’t even know what it means to “deserve” something. According to whom or what? I think we derive what it is we think we deserve from what others tell us. Okay, that just sounds convoluted. It’s this: Someone or some group gave us law, for instance; they set up the rules of the game, brought us out of our theoretical state of nature. And, accordingly, if the law says I deserve X, then I deserve X. No questions asked.
I’ve wondered for quite some time whether law’s declaration is sufficient. It seems necessary for a functioning society, but is it sufficient? Is it enough to point to rules, which are subject to change, to determine one’s just desserts? As a side note, I wonder if that word “dessert” derives, in any way, from “deserve”? If so, it seems to carry with it only positive connotations, whereas “deserve” appears neutral, awaiting an object. In any case . . .
That question of who is deserving and why confronted me recently as I watched, mesmerized, the third season of Dexter, a television drama on Showtime. The show itself is morally complex, a diamond in the rough of TV land. An incident halfway through the season stood out: The District Attorney murders the Public Defender. No one discovers this, except Dexter, a clandestine serial killer himself.
Unusual for a serial killer, Dexter has a set code of ethics that confines him to kill only those he deems “deserving” (i.e., murderers themselves). One afternoon, in confidence, the DA suggests to Dexter that the PD deserves to die. The DA explains that the PD had defended criminals—kidnappers, rapists, and, especially, murderers—who she knew full well were guilty; and in securing release for these criminals through some gap in the legal patchwork, she released them back into society to wreak havoc all over again, to kidnap, rape, and murder.
The argument comes across far less compelling than it actually is because the DA is portrayed throughout the season as the essence of Satan. Dexter doesn’t find the PD’s vocation honorable, but he decides that she doesn’t deserve to die. He reasons that she didn’t murder anyone herself; rather, she was simply doing her job.
Stop right there. She was just doing her job? I paused the show and thought for a while. Just because you act in concert with your vocational obligations, it doesn’t mean you’re acting ethically. In what world of ethics can you knowingly put a murderer or rapist back on the streets if you believe he will murder or rape again? I just read about the alleged distinction between lying and deceiving in our casebook reading for Legal Ethics, and I don’t buy it, primarily because both involve withholding the truth from those who . . . deserve it. Back to this again. Sigh.
I have a massive problem with public defenders. I won’t go as far as the DA in Dexter, but I also won’t condone what they do. A few of my classmates who hope to be PDs one day defend on the ground that everyone deserves a fair shake to the extent that he or she is not taken advantage of. Noble, yes; well-intentioned, sure; but I don’t think it’s all that realistic. I think our legal system has, in this respect, developed to the point where PDs cannot be controlled by the long arm of the law. They are not stopping after a fair shake; rather, they have become unfair to society. They give back to society what it obviously does not want, but more importantly what it does not deserve—unconvicted criminals.
I’ve hardly thought about this much before these last few weeks, but it’s been marinating now for quite some time. I think a solution is for the PD to decide from the dawning of his career that he will not pursue a close, filial relationship with any of his clients. Frankly, I don’t think a PD can ever be a friend of any kind with his clients. Maybe this is naiveté speaking, and I’ll be the first to concede the point if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I’m too far off base when I say that the closer you get, the harder it is to pull away. It’s cliché, but it’s true for almost every human relationship. The closer a PD gets to his client, the more likely he empathizes and forms opinions about what his client “deserves,” opinions that could easily run counter to the law.
If I don’t trust myself to maintain distance, then I certainly won’t trust others less cynical about the nature of man. Locke’s wrong. People are born bad, and many only get worse. Yes, yes, yes. This isn’t true in every case; I know that, but those are obviously not the PDs or the criminals whom I’m worried about. I worry about those who have a skewed definition of “deserve,” those who honestly, in the deepest regions of their being, believe that these criminals deserve not just a fair trial, but an impassioned, even philosophical defense of the assault on society—all because it’s part of the job. It’s not about ethics at that point; basically, it’s about a paycheck.
Almost a decade ago, when I competed in high school debate, I remember the one quote every debater knew cold. It was Aristotle’s definition of justice: “Giving every man that which he is due.”
I think it’s vague, but at its core correct. It’s just that we too often lose sight of the other side of the coin. As future lawyers, we walk around with future clients on our minds, but those entering the criminal defense arena can’t forget the harmed party—society. It’s a word, but it’s people. It’s a little girl, an older woman, a young couple. I fear that many lawyers get so high on pride that they lose perspective; and the longer the high, the worse the disorientation. All that matters is the client; these lawyers become godfathers and hired guns.
Ultimately, if we surrender so great an effort to defend those who disrespect the dignity of law-abiding individuals, if we err on the side of the unjust—then we will ultimately undo the pillars of our society.
We cannot sustain justice if we sacrifice it for our livelihoods, for our jobs. For a buck.
