JUDGING CRIMES

It's a sultry day on the Gulf Coast and you're feeling like William Hurt in Body Heat.  The air conditioning is on the fritz and the old ceiling fan just moves the mugginess from one part of the office to the other.  The Venetian blinds throw their atmospheric shadows across the office, helping to disguise the sweat patches under the arms of your white linen suit.

Then a new client walks in, and when she does the background music switches to a sultry tenor saxophone.  She sits in the chair across from you, tugging at her skirt as she crosses her legs.  In a husky voice, she tells you she's a nurse, providing full-time care to a local millionaire.  The millionaire is dying, and wants to write a new will, leaving his entire estate to her.  But he's so ill, he can't come to the office himself.  So he sent her instead.

All she wants from you is to write an itty-bitty will.  Giving everything to her.  Without ever talking to the millionaire himself.  Pretty please?

The ethical dilemma inherent in the situation is hard to ignore, as I'm sure you agree.  So you bite off the tip of a Cuban cigar, cast a sideways glance from beneath the brim of your Panama, and say which of the following?

a)  "Thirty dollars a day, plus expenses.  The world-weary wisecracks are free."

b)  "Are you kidding?  I could lose my license for that.  In fact, I'd deserve to lose my license if I did something like that."

c) "If we manage to pull this one off, sugar, I get half the estate." 

If you answered c, you could be qualified to serve as an Alabama judge.  Here's what the Mobile Press-Register is reporting, based on word from the Alabama State Bar:

In April 2003, Cheryl Weaver visited [Stuart] DuBose at his law office asking him to prepare and draft a will for Joseph J. Sullivan. Weaver, Sullivan's caretaker, informed DuBose the man was dying and wanted to leave his entire estate to her. She also asked him to name himself as the attorney for the estate of the will.

DuBose did not meet or speak with Sullivan about the will, but he should have.

DuBose gave the will to the woman to have it signed, witnessed and notarized and prepared a certificate of competency to be signed by the man's doctor.

Sullivan died later that month. DuBose was employed as Weaver's attorney as well as the attorney of the estate, creating a potential conflict of interest.

Apparently, the will stood up in court.  At least, the Thomasville Times reports that "[t]he judge in the matter ruled that a $1.2 million legal fee, about 40 percent of the estate value of $2.5 million was 'reasonable and necessary' and allowed DuBose to continue as the estate executor."  (Here's more.)

Well, I guess 48% can be called "about 40 percent", so I won't say anything about the reporter's math skills.  Besides, we're just getting to the good part.  DuBose, having made his fortune in private practice, decided to cap his career with service on the bench.  The Democratic primary for circuit judge was hard-fought.  DuBose's opponent ran an ad with excerpts from a deposition DuBose gave in his personal injury lawsuit against La-Z-Boy. 

Now, it may be that overstuffed recliners don't seem like dangerous instrumentalities to you, but that's only because you've never gotten one mad.  Here's what DuBose said under oath, according to his opponent:

"I've lost my capacity to earn a living practicing law" and "I don't want people around here knowing that I'm taking medicine for depression and for mental deficiencies or incapacities or limitations or infirmities or disabilities or whatever you want to call them like I'm doing."

Ah, but DuBose had an effective response to the disgraceful, mudslinging campaign based on his sworn testimony.  He ran an ad pointing out that his opponent "was a 39-year-old man who had never been married."   That little nudge, nudge clarified the issue.  The people of southern Alabama spoke.  Since there's no Republican in the race, that means DuBose is guaranteed to win next Tuesday.

Still, three years after the fact, the Alabama State Bar's disciplinary committee thought maybe something should be done about this will business.  So it proposed a 45-day suspension of DuBose's license, to begin the day after the election and end before his term began.  As the Times explained, "If he was not licensed on either of the above dates, he could not become judge."

The Alabama Supreme Court, that one-time perch for Zelda Fitzgerald's daddy, rejected the sweetheart deal, sending the case back to the State Bar with instructions to take the case a little more seriously.   (Unfortunately, that court has taken the don't-worry-your-pretty-little-heads judicial ethos of secrecy so far that it won't allow you to read its opinions unless you pony up a fat fee, so I can't link to the opinion.)

Meanwhile, DuBose, helped by his Mom the County Commissioner, has been helping out with the planned renovation of the courthouse.  His chief concern?  Making sure his office is bigger than that of the other judge in the district.