I wrote about my job.
I had a bad week.
I had a bit of a rough week at work. It started on Tuesday morning, when I had to testify at a hearing that did not go the way I wanted it to go for our client. And while I was sitting in the courtroom waiting for the case to get called, I saw like three other horrible things happen. And then another bad thing happened on Wednesday, and another bad thing happened on Thursday. One small thing after another, none of this was even a huge deal, but it all put me in a bad mood. And I’ve just been in my head all week.
I have wanted to write more about my job for a while, but I really struggle to talk about it in a way that makes sense. I have pieces of essays that I’ve stopped and started saved on my phone and my computer, so many disjointed paragraphs of thoughts that I cannot figure out how to piece together. In my head it all just sounds like a primal scream. But writing helps me process, so today I’m going to try.
I guess I should start by explaining what my job is, because I don’t think I’ve ever done that here. I am an Investigator at a Public Defender’s Office. Basically, I work with the attorneys in the office to help gather information about our clients and their cases. I help them track people down, interview witnesses, sort through evidence, stuff like that. Our office covers four jurisdictions, and as is the case everywhere, most of the people who get charged with crimes in those jurisdictions cannot afford to pay for an attorney. So they all come to us.
I care about this work more than I have ever cared about anything in my life, but it is hard. It is so hard. There is too much to do and not enough money or time to do it. The criminal legal system in this country is so profoundly fucked up. I cannot put into words how bad things are. “Bad” is not a sufficient word. I see horrific things happen in court all the time. It is never fair, it is always astonishingly mean, it is so violent. It’s operating at an unfathomable scale, just churning people through it with no regard for the harm it’s causing. It’s not helping anyone, it’s not fixing anything. It’s so awful. Worse than I could ever possibly explain, crueler than you could ever imagine.
There are times when it feels so soul crushingly bad to watch. I leave work and I want to scream. Sometimes its one really bad thing, but usually its a bunch of little things that pile up, one after the other, slowly pushing me over the edge. It makes me feel insane that it is this bad and it’s happening right in front of us and everyone is just continuing to go about their day. I often struggle to process the fact that I am participating in this horrific process, too small to be able to make large scale meaningful change at any pace that feels like it meets the urgency of the problem. It cannot be fixed, the problem is too big, but I cannot burn it down on my own. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with my rage about this. You can’t do this work if you don’t care about it, but caring about it makes it so much harder.
But then there are days when I help get someone out of jail, or I help someone get in touch with a family member. Or I just have a conversation with someone that makes them feel like they have someone looking out for them in this process where most people are treating them as if they are less than human. When a client tells a judge that they are thankful for the work I did for them. When my presence in the courtroom makes someone feel supported. A few weeks ago I found something really important that is really going to help our client’s case, and they have called me once a week since from the jail just to say thank you. And I can sleep at night knowing that I am on the right side of this, and I am doing something to help people who need it, even if it’s something small. So when I have a bad week I think about all that stuff, and it keeps me coming back.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this in the wake of the Donald Trump trial. I have to admit, I laughed really hard when the verdict was announced. Because I hate that guy, and he definitely did a lot of crimes. But also, so what? The system is still a farce. He gets convicted of 34 felonies and walks free, extremely unlikely to be sentenced to any period of incarceration, unlikely to face any meaningful repercussions at all. Likely to be the President again, in fact. Meanwhile, we have clients sitting in jail for months PRE-TRIAL for minor drug offenses, for how they behaved during a mental health crisis, or for committing the horrific crime of being poor in a public place. What is the fucking point of any of this? What are we accomplishing here? Answer me quickly.
I think often about this op-ed from a few years ago written by a public defender in the wake of the Kyle Rittenhouse and Ahmaud Arbery trials. She makes the point that criminal trials cannot and do not solve systemic issues. She says, “Laws and legal procedures are not ethical codes and cannot sustain the weight of moral reckonings on a national scale.” High profile criminal trials are interesting to watch, yes, but they do not bring with them any type of meaningful change. Convicting Donald Trump of 34 felonies means that he now has a criminal record. That’s it. That’s all it means. It doesn’t fix any of this. I think about this part all the time, too: “Americans are told from birth that punishment solves problems. Retribution is the closest thing we have to a common religion. Redress certainly feels good, like a sugar high… but it does not make us stronger or healthier as a society.”
This week put me in a pessimistic mood, but I will be fine. This all sounds very dramatic so I want to be clear about that. I like my job and the people that I do it with, and I have a really good life. My life is so easy. It always has been. I get to live freely and do what I want, and I never worry about where I’m going to sleep at night or how I will find my next meal. And I appreciate that so much more knowing how that’s not the case for so many people. And maybe next week something good will happen at work.
If you know me in person then you know that I never shut up about this stuff. And since I have some semblance of an audience here on the internet, even though it’s small, I’m going to do that here as well. I would encourage you all to pay a little bit of attention to what is happening in your community. Who is running to be the head prosecutor where you live? This is an elected position, one that you vote for. Who is running for Sheriff? Does your county elect its judges? Do you know how many people are in your local jail? How many of them are mentally ill? Do you know where your local jail is? Is there a local nonprofit that helps with re-entry? Or helps people pay for cash bail? Or helps people pay their court costs? Do these organizations where you live need volunteers? Do they need money? How can you help? We can all help.
Everyone who does this work is begging all of you to pay attention. Please pay attention. I promise, there is something you can do in your own community to help make this a little less bad. Do not look away. It’s important. I would love to talk to you about it if you want to learn more or figure out what you can do.
And also? In the meantime? Never talk to the fucking cops.
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Emily, this was a powerful piece. (I came to your substack from an article that highlighted Jerusalem Demsas and she noted it as one she recommends.) I hope you continue writing about your job. To be frank, I am terrified of the carceral system. The Zen temple I attend offered an opportunity to volunteer at a local prison, and to sit with the practitioners inside. I had every intention of volunteering with this group, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt it was not a space I could manage for myself. The fact that you are facing the system day in and day out is incredible, and you make so clear the cruelty of the system—it is dehumanizing and terrifying. And the problem is so large and monetized. I work in higher education and I'm writing a story about a project some of our faculty are engaged with regarding the carceral system, and the language I hear many people use is "reimagining communities." Such a gorgeous, wonderful aspiration, but true, large-scale change feels impossible. Because the system is so ugly and entrenched.
Love this and sending you hugs xoxo - brownpersonengaginginchaoswithchu