My Multicolored Clients

I have had three clients named “White,” two clients named “Black,” and one client named “Brown.” All of the Whites were black, all of the Blacks were brown (Yup’ik Indians), and Mr. Brown was white, so go figure.

My first client named White was a woman I represented in a noncontested divorce. She disapproved of her husband threatening her with a gun. I remember seeing her intake information and, noticing that her father was listed as “unknown.” We were just about to wrap up the whole thing without a hitch when she announced the divorce could not go forward. When I asked why, she informed me, “I’m pregnant.” So that particular piece of pro bono work was extended for nine months. I remember thinking, “Welcome to the world, kid. You are so screwed.”

My second White client was a woman who asked me to get her a civil protection order. When I asked what her husband’s address was, so he could be served, she told me he was homeless, but for the time being, he was in Franklin County Correctional. When I asked what he was charged with, she informed me that her former paramour was awaiting trial for aggravated robbery and first-degree murder. He was, however, gentlemanly enough to agree to a consent decree to stay away from her for five years. I encouraged Ms. White to form somewhat higher standards for boyfriends. (Those of you with teenage daughters might tell them that story!)

My most recent White client is a new father whose newborn tested positive for cocaine. I have informed mom and dad that they can be parents or partake in cocaine, but they can’t do both. There’s a very real possibility that kid will soon be up for adoption.

I remember my first Black client was a Yup’ik Indian, a 17-year-old girl who I had met at the Tundra Center, Bethel, Alaska’s halfway house. I forget exactly how many prior convictions she had for public intoxication, but she was in double digits. When we finished our interview, I was thinking, “Where were her parents while she was getting falling-down drunk?” (I’ll leave it to the reader’s imagination what sometimes happens to passed-out drunk Yup’ik girls at parties.) I got my answer a moment later, when her father entered, who needed defense against his own alcohol-related charge. Perhaps he was handing her the bottle.

Mr. Brown, who happens to be white, told me the tale of a guy who, perhaps, dreams of qualifying as one of America’s dumbest criminals. Just released from jail, he walked out the front door and into the jail parking lot. He started going through the cars parked there, including one belonging to a local badass named Virgil Mitchell. (Absolutely, positively no relation whatsoever.) This proved to be bad judgment on his part because the jail parking lot is under constant video surveillance. The arresting officers had a very short trip taking him back to jail. This is possibly a Delaware County record.

I try my level best to treat all my clients with respect, regardless of their name or color, because as long as I submit my paperwork on time, eventually, I will get to see Mr. Green.