One
of
the
many
secrets
(or
maybe
not-so
secret
depending
upon
whom
you
talk
to)
is
the
issue
of
enforcing
judgments
—
not
winning
them
but
collecting
on
them
—
which
is
comparable
to
walking
barefoot
across
a
field
of
rusty
nails
without
a
tetanus
shot
beforehand.
The
client
is
deliriously
happy;
the
case
has
been
won,
the
defendant
vanquished,
and
now
all
that’s
left
is
to
collect
that
judgment.
Then
the
client
asks
when
he
will
receive
payment.
Uh-oh;
the
lawyer’s
face
may
well
turn
red.
That’s
when
our
two
favorite
words
are
used:
“it
depends.”
Some
losing
defendants
will
pay
promptly
to
avoid
interest
accumulation
and
possible
reputational
risk,
but
others
don’t
and
won’t.
Then
it
becomes
a
game
(and
not
a
happy
one)
to
get
paid,
incurring
additional
expenses
along
the
way,
expenses
that
the
client
never
anticipated
and
for
which
the
client
is
really
peeved
at
having
to
pay
to
get
what
the
court
already
said
was
his.
There’s
no
getting
around
the
reality
that
having
to
enforce
a
judgment
…
sucks.
Clever
defendants
(aka
debtors)
have
all
sorts
of
ways
to
delay,
stall,
or
file
bankruptcy
before,
during
and
after
the
inevitable
enforcement
mechanisms
are
set
in
motion.
A
winning
but
unhappy
plaintiff
will
often
take
less
on
the
dollar
(aka
haircut)
to
get
something,
rather
than
wait
and
wait
and
wait.
Cue
the
unhappy
clients;
cue
the
even
unhappier
lawyer. Did
the
attorney
ever
explain
to
the
client
that
a
check
for
the
full
amount
of
the
judgment
may
not
magically
appear?
Did
the
client
understand
that
the
amount
of
time,
money,
and
effort
may
make
it
hard
to
collect
on
all
or
any
part
of
the
judgment?
Any
need
to
call
the
E&O
carrier?
And
here’s
a
“not
a
Tom
Girardi”
story
about
a
California
lawyer
being
disbarred
for
making
promises
he
could
not
keep
(or
never
having
any
chance
of
having,
because
he
couldn’t). Aaron
Spolin
agreed
to
disbarment
because
he
promised
families
of
incarcerated
people
the
one
thing
he
couldn’t
promise:
chances
for
release.
He
had
no
hesitancy
to
take
money
from
a
vulnerable
population
(these
folks
did
not
commit
the
crimes)
when
the
reality
was
that
few
inmates
are
released.
Spolin
whitewashed
bad
news,
giving
the
families
hopes
where
there
was
truly
little.
Spolin
pled
no
contest
to
defrauding
eight
clients,
all
current
or
former
inmates.
Just
as
with
Girardi,
I
wonder
what
motivates
a
lawyer
to
give
false
hope
to
those
who
desperately
want
to
believe
in
such
hope?
Daffy
Duck
says
it
best.
Tomorrow
is
the
Fourth
of
July.
Are
you
going
to
celebrate
it
this
year?
There
will
be
the
usual
barbecues,
holiday
parties,
keggers, even
fireworks.
BTW,
drones
are
now
the
newest
and
safest
way
to
have
a
fireworks
show.
What
shall
we
celebrate
this
Fourth?
The
shredding
of
the
rule
of
law?
The
evisceration
of
the
First
Amendment?
The
obliteration
of
concepts
of
equality,
diversity,
and
inclusion?
For
all
of
us
who
have
been
in
the
profession
for
decades
and
decades
and
who
have
fought
hard
for
those
concepts
only
to
be
rebuffed
so
completely
now,
there
is,
IMHO,
nothing
to
celebrate
this
holiday.
While
some
may
celebrate,
others
will
mourn.
How
did
this
happen?
Lots
of
possible
answers
depending
on
your
point
of
view.
You
can
color
me
blue
this
holiday.
In
this
forthcoming
law
school
term,
what
are
constitutional
law
professors
going
to
include
in
their
curricula?
Given
that
concepts
of
precedent
and
stare
decisis
have
now
gone
pretty
much
the
way
of
the
VHS
(remember
that?)
what
will
be
taught?
How
do
you
teach
precedents
when
they
don’t
seem
to
matter
much
any
more?
This
holiday
weekend,
take
a
look
at
Charlie
Chaplin’s
(Google
him)
film,
“The
Great
Dictator.”
It’s
on
YouTube.
Released
in
1940,
it
is
both
a
satiric
and
sobering
look
at
the
world
then.
Chaplin
plays
both
a
Jewish
barber
in
the
ghetto
and
Adenoid
Hynkel.
Parallels
to
today
are
obvious,
even
though
the
film
was
made
85
years
ago,
and
they
hit
close
to
home.
A
British
citizen,
Chaplin
was
exiled
from
the
United
States
in
1952
for
purported
Communist
sympathies,
among
other
things,
and
was
denied
a
re-entry
permit.
(And
no,
he
wasn’t
picked
up
by
ICE.)
His
stirring
monologue
in
the
movie
speaks
truth
to
power,
something
we
especially
need
today
in
this
world
of
vitriol
and
nastiness.
Happy
Fourth?
Bah
humbug.
(I
know,
I
am
six
months
early.
Live
with
it.)
Jill
Switzer
has
been
an
active
member
of
the
State
Bar
of
California
for
over
40
years.
She
remembers
practicing
law
in
a
kinder,
gentler
time.
She’s
had
a
diverse
legal
career,
including
stints
as
a
deputy
district
attorney,
a
solo
practice,
and
several
senior
in-house
gigs.
She
now
mediates
full-time,
which
gives
her
the
opportunity
to
see
dinosaurs,
millennials,
and
those
in-between
interact
—
it’s
not
always
civil.
You
can
reach
her
by
email
at
[email protected].