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When I was growing up, I, like many of you, dreamed of a job that I would love. One that seemed like the perfect way to spend every day of my life. I don’t know how I ever landed on becoming a lawyer; I’m sure my parents would have remembered back then but by now those memories are long gone. All I know is that this was my destiny.

         

I decided to write about this topic because the passion I had felt towards law prior to my internship was strong, but different. I feel that I was raised in a way similar to so many others, a way that blinds one side of our country. When I began my internship and subsequently through this research it was as if I had finally removed the lens inhibiting me to see clearly. I finally saw, and it was a sight that I still grapple with every day.

 

Our criminal justice system, the one that I used to rave about, the one where when people would ask if I wanted to be on prosecution or defense, I used to say well do I want to be on the good side or the bad side? This is the system that lied to me, and continues to lie to you. I fell onto my internship by luck more so than searching; a friend of mine had interned there a previous summer and said I might enjoy it. My expectations of what I was to do followed the stereotypical image of any intern; getting coffee, sending faxes, maybe working on a small project or two. I wasn’t prepared to be thrust into the world that I saw, the injustice and the divide. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully understand and accept what our court system has become, but being the person that I am I needed to know more, needed to know how this has come to be, why I was so ignorant all this time.

 

I knew coming into this internship that our criminal justice system and prison landscape were messed up. I had heard the facts, seen the riots, watched the documentaries. I think many of us know that something just isn’t right, but we don’t have enough knowledge or investment to actually do something about it. It seemed like a vague reality to me because, in all honesty, I can’t name one person close to me who has been to prison or has been charged with a serious crime. Sure, I’ve seen countless MIPs in college, maybe a couple drunk and disorderly people, and the occasional assault at the bar that I work at. But once you walk into these felony courtrooms and read through the thousands of cases we have piled up in the office, you realize that this is much closer to home that you thought.

 

Let’s get this out of the way now; I’m aware of my biases in this country. I’m half white, half Hawaiian, and have been raised in a middle class family my entire life. I’ve been blessed with opportunities that many people haven’t, and the education I’ve received is akin to none. I also have a level of legal knowledge that many do not; I was active in Mock Trial throughout high school and have continued researching and investing my time in law. As such, I will try throughout this chapter to be as informative and detailed as possible.

 

The office that I interned for is a public defender’s office. Basically, if you’ve ever heard an officer tell someone their Miranda rights, there is a line that says “You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided to you.” Well, that’s us. We get the cases where defendants are unable to afford even the cheapest jailhouse lawyer. This puts us in an uncomfortable spot; see we have an image of being unqualified, understaffed, and uninterested in cases. Many times clients don’t trust us, and given that we’re a free resource; they don’t have any real commitment to us either. The stereotypes and rumors are beyond false, my attorney went to the University of Michigan Law School, is one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, and immerses himself in every case we come across. We have a commitment to equality, to the best legal representation for every client, and this passion extends to every person in the office and beyond.

 

My first day at my internship I walked into an orientation room 10 minutes before 8AM, I’ve always been the type to arrive early. My dress pants were still creased from the store I bought them at, and I had chosen a modest sweater and necklace over a blazer. I sat down on the right side of a U shaped group of tables, next to a bright and well-spoken girl in a full suit. She immediately introduced herself; a second year law student at Michigan State University. I tried to act cool and collected but the thought of interning with law students as an undergrad scared me beyond words.

 

As I looked around the room, I noted how much of a discrepancy there was between men and women. Out of the 25 or so fellow interns, only 2 were men. More surprising to me was the abundance of color in the legal interns. At least 1/3 of the interns were of color, adding a refreshing yet different perspective that I wasn’t used to. I still remember how funny the attorney was that gave the presentation; a trait that I and many others don’t associate with law. The humor aspect of my internship would prove to be a protective barrier against some of the ridiculous and often unbelievable cases. My 3 years of high school Mock Trial are what, up to this point, I had considered to be the most motivating factor in wanting to attend law school. After this internship, my desire is stronger than ever.

 

When I started this chapter I wasn’t sure of my audience, my purpose, or what had truly led me to want to write about this experience. It became clearer and clearer, week after week, that something needed to be said about what I witnessed. Attorney client privilege is something I respect greatly, and so all the names and distinguishing features of these stories will be kept anonymous. Furthermore, I am asking you, as the reader, to keep these stories between us, as many have occurred not more than 10 miles off this very campus you call home. What I share here is solely scratching the surface of the true injustice, the 5 cases I see twice a week are only a fraction of what they represent in our community, and around the country. Keep that in mind when you read through what is to come; that this is just a snapshot of every single day. These aren’t the extremes; these are the norm.