I know that I bitch about my job. Alot. There are days when judges, District Attorneys, clients, colleagues, and the general public conspire to make my job as miserable and impossible as any Dante vision.
Those are the days that I want to run away and hide. I have thought of moving to Costa Rica (too far from family). Maybe Hawaii (too expensive), a South Sea Island (couldn't stand the poverty and that would make me work twice as hard as I do now). Italy came up on the list. (Can't speak the language and just as far away as Costa Rica-besides it is too popular now.)
So, I dream of running away but I don't. I slog on.
And then there is a day like today. I am set for trial in a case that should not have made it to a filing desk but, because of federal grants and such, prosecutors file on all such cases. This was a domestic violence case where my client was a woman. It is rare but not unheard of.
But this client had breast cancer. Stage 4. Her spouse was also on medication which warned of anger issues as a side effect. (Great, take this medicine, it will make you pissed off at the world and a bit out of control but it might help what ails you?)
The trial had been delayed for a long time while my client received treatment.
For the last two years her name went on a pink cape worn by my friend Thumper as she walked the Susan Komen 3 Day walk for the cure. (Thanks, Thump!) Her last PET scan showed her to be cancer free.
Today, the District Attorney announced that he could not proceed. It is irrelevant why. He just couldn't go forward.
After all the discussions and accusations. After all the harsh words and posturing. After all the court appearances.
It was over.
The stress. The unknowing. It was over.
My client wept on my shoulder. She was free from the criminal justice system and from cancer.
Some days it is worth it.