A brief posting on why I love the law...

I know I usually write about the bars we've been to, the sights we've seen, and the funny people we've met, but today, I'm going to take a quick break and talk about the law. There are three reasons for this.
1) I've meant to post photos, but our work computers recently blocked blogger, so it's been tough to find time to post.
2) Right now, my camera batteries are charging. My dad is in town and we are touristing like mad. The camera batteries have taken the brunt of the work, and they need a break, so I can't put up any photos.
3) If I don't post anything, I will lose readership. So here goes!

There's a sickness that a lot of lawyers and law students have - this gnawing feeling that somewhere out there is a case that proves their point. They are sure that some judge (ideally, in the lawyer's preferred jurisdiction) has ruled on this exact point. They know that this situation has arisen before, and the side of justice (and coincidentally, the side the lawyer is currently taking) has won out. So, instead of just finishing the darn brief or memorandum of law, the lawyer sits in front of westlaw, trying new combinations of words, new westlaw key numbers, and other jurisdiction, for the case on point. Of course, the case doesn't exist, and somewhere around the time of day that the lawyer has just enough time to get the motion to the court, hot off the printer, the lawyer will give up the search for the golden case.

But in all that reading through caselaw, the lawyer comes across the occasional gem - the witty clerk, the eloquent judge, the absurd fact pattern - all of which make research worthwhile. I remember the first time I found a case that made me realize judges were people too - people with a captive audience and, potentially, a lot of creativity bottled up. In research an environmental law case, I found this quote:

In this appeal, we consider the management of the waterways in Arizona's Sonoran desert. This case, of course, inevitably brings to mind the exchange between Claude Rains and Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca (Warner Bros.1942), which aptly distills this dispute to its essence:

Captain Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?
Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Captain Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.
Rick: I was misinformed.

In our case, it was not Rick Blaine, but the United States Army Corps of Engineers that came to the desert for the waters.
Save our Sonoran, Inc. v. Flowers, 408 F.3d 1113 (9th Cir. 2005).

There are lots of funny cases (such as the 7th Circuit decision in 2005 which clarified the difference between "ho" and "hoe" in a footnote, U.S. v. Murphy, 406 F.3d 857 (7th Cir. 2005)) but those pale in comparison to the truly spectacular writing that I stumble across is daily research.

After a couple months at the Public Defender office, I've gained a new appreciation for the Fourth Amendment. Call me old fashioned, but I don't like the idea of being searched for no reasons. I've also gained a deeper appreciation for the Fifth Amendment, and sincerely wish all prospective criminals could be given a STERN warning to SHUT UP when questioned by law enforcement officials, but I digress.

Back on the Fourth Amendment, I've spent a lot of time this summer on Terry stops, which has brought me back to reading Terry over and over again. And you know, it's just plain beautiful. Check this out:
It is quite plain that the Fourth Amendment governs 'seizures' of the person which do not eventuate in a trip to the station house and prosecution for crime-'arrests' in traditional terminology. It must be recognized that whenever a police officer accosts an individual and restrains his freedom to walk away, he has 'seized' that person. And it is nothing less than sheer torture of the English language to suggest that a careful exploration of the outer surfaces of a person's clothing all over his or her body in an attempt to find weapons is not a 'search,' Moreover, it is simply fantastic to urge that such a procedure performed in public by a policeman while the citizen stands helpless, perhaps facing a wall with his hands raised, is a 'petty indignity.' It is a serious intrusion upon the sanctity of the person, which may inflict great indignity and arouse strong resentment, and it is not to be undertaken lightly.
Terry v. Ohio, 392 U.S. 1, 16-17 (1968).

Beautiful! How do you argue with that? It's clear, it's eloquent, and it's just.

I'll quit now, and go to bed, refraining from reminding everyone to read Federalist 10 over and over again for some fantastic writing. Okay, just one quote:
"Liberty is to faction what air is to fire, an aliment without which it instantly expires. But it could not be less folly to abolish liberty, which is essential to political life, because it nourishes faction, than it would be to wish the annihilation of air, which is essential to animal life, because it imparts to fire its destructive agency."