via
Getty)
The
standard
definition
of
“turkey”
is
a
fowl
eaten
on
Thanksgiving
Day.
But
there’s
another,
slang,
definition: In
AI
speak,
a
turkey
“can
mean
a
person
or
thing
that
is
a
failure,
incompetent,
or
a
dud.”
Close
enough
for
purposes
of
reviewing
some
of
the
most
outrageous
faux
pas
in
our
profession
this
year.
There
are
so
many
that
it
is
difficult
to
choose.
But
let’s
start
with
several
judicial
turkeys.
A
judge
of
the
Missouri
St.
Charles
Circuit
Court
loved
Elvis
so
much
that
he
wore
an
Elvis
wig
and
played
his
music
during
court
proceedings.
(I
am
not
making
this
up.)
He
also
discussed
politics
while
on
the
bench.
The
Missouri
Judicial
Commission
did
not
take
kindly
to
the
judge’s
antics.
So
they
cut
a
deal
with
the
judge:
six
months
unpaid
suspension,
after
which
he
would
return
to
the
bench
for
another
18
months
and
then
resign
with
the
understanding
that
his
judicial
career
would
then
be
over
permanently.
Meanwhile,
in
Alabama,
for
a
longtime
Lauderdale
County
circuit
judge,
it’s
not
turkey
but
a
long
stretch
in
the
pokey
awaiting
him
when
sentenced
later
this
month.
A
jury
convicted
him
on
17
counts,
including,
but
not
limited
to,
using
his
office
for
personal
gain,
lying
to
a
grand
jury,
and
lying
to
state
auditors
looking
at
why
there
was
almost
$150,000
that
couldn’t
be
accounted
for
in
two
accounts
that
the
judge
oversaw.
Funds
were
used
for
vacations,
personal
expenses,
and
to
cover
overdrafts
in
his
personal
bank
account.
The
judge
blamed
“sloppy
bookkeeping”
during
COVID-19.
Puhleeze.
All
but
one
of
the
convictions
are
felonies
and
carry
various
sentences
from
two
to
20
years.
Do
they
serve
turkey
in
the
pokey
or
only
crow?
How
can
judicial
officers
be
such
turkeys
as
to
trash
their
careers?
Lack
of
judgment
perhaps?
(Pun
intentional.)
I
would
be
remiss
if
I
didn’t
include
some
lawyers
competing
for
the
turkey
award.
We’re
still
in
Alabama,
but
this
time
it’s
about
an
Alabama
lawyer
who
has
been
accused
of
trying
to
kill
her
husband
with
fentanyl,
not
once
but
three
separate
times.
The
husband
is
alive,
but
the
lawyer
has
been
charged
with
attempted
murder
and
other
charges.
Married
to
a
former
Auburn
football
player
for
more
than
30
years,
the
lawyer,
Sara
Baker,
has
been
her
husband’s
caretaker
since
he
suffered
a
stroke
a
few
years
ago.
Even
if
driven
to
distraction
and
beyond,
trying
to
murder
him
and
almost
succeeding,
her
actions
do
not
look
good
for
her
wedding
vows
“till
death
do
us
part”
nor
the
attorney
oath
she
took.
Baker
was
obviously
trying
to
advance
her
spouse’s
date
of
death
on
her
calendar.
How
many
hallucination
cases
can
we
take
in
one
year?
Those
attorneys
are
also
running
in
the
turkey
trot.
The
flock
of
hallucinating
attorneys
(and
even
some
judges)
continues
to
grow.
In
every
case,
there
have
been
sincere,
remorseful
apologies,
promises
to
never
do
it
again,
to
take
whatever
remedial
steps
have
been
already
taken
and
will
be
taken.
Yada,
yada.
Vigilantes
had
their
place
in
the
Old
West,
and
they
are
now
reborn.
Back
then,
they
were
sometimes
crusaders
for
justice,
depending
how
you
defined
“justice.”
These
21st
century
vigilantes
are
lawyers,
they
don’t
carry
sidearms,
and
they
have
nothing
to
do
with
horse
stealing
or
horse
trading.
These
vigilantes
deal
with
horse
shit,
aka
hallucinations
in
briefs.
Their
weapons
are
words,
not
guns.
The
lawyers
track
down
AI
snafus
in
court
filings.
They
collect
the
most
outrageous examples
and
post
them
online,
hoping
to
shame
the
offending
lawyer(s)
and
reduce
what
is
now
called
“AI
Slop.”
Essentially,
they
are
trying
to
put
a
stop
to
that
slop.
An
attorney
in
France
has
created
a
database
of
cases
in
which
AI
hallucinations
have
appeared.
It
lists
more
than
600
cases
as
of
mid-September
2025.
The
database
includes
the
nature
of
the
hallucination,
the
outcome
and
sanctions,
and
any
monetary
penalty.
Take
a
looksee
if
you’re
curious.
If
public
shaming
doesn’t
work,
should
punishment
return
to
the
medieval
stocks?
And
no,
I
am
not
that
old,
but
something
has
to
be
done
to
prevent
attorneys
(and
judges)
from
running
afowl
[sic]
of
proper
procedure.
How
hard
can
that
be?
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].