New Rule: 3500 Reasonably In Advance

I'm sure noted Criminal Justice Act lawyer Bruce McIntyre didn't have a heart attack just because the government withheld 3500 material in his tax case until the eve of trial (as is their practice and as the law permits).  And I know for a fact the prosecutor who was opposing Bruce in that case is a principled guy who would have given up the 3500 material earlier if ordered to do so, and that probably would have been his preference anyway. But I nearly spit out my coffee last night at the Eastern District Memorial Service for Bruce when CJA lawyer Susan Kellman spoke, looking dead-on at our prosecutor friends and asking, in front of judges, God, and everyone:   "Would it kill 'ya to turn over the 3500 material a little earlier?"  Like a stern mom admonishing her children, Susan challenged the room to elevate life balance over silly tradition. 

So it got me thinking.  When did discovery in criminal litigation become such a clogged artery?  Why do civil defendants get to depose and interrogate to their heart's delight while criminal defendants have to guess at the identities of victims and witness, even in cases lacking even the slightest hint of violence or danger?

And why did CJA lawyer Tony Ricco, who summed up on a trial in the hours before delivering his speech at Bruce's Memorial, confess to having felt so awkward, like a bad schoolboy, when he had to seek a couple of hours off his trial to attend his dear friend and colleague's funeral? What's up with that?

Has everyone in this criminal justice system forgotten that we make better advocates if we get more sleep and have more time for our families?  Maybe we Clawsters should start demanding that the silly parts of this system get unsillified.  If stuff can get done in more efficient ways, well, let's demand that it get done that way.   

So, in my next trial case I'm invoking the Bruce McIntyre Memorial Rule:  3500 Reasonably In Advance of Trial.  Prosecutors should have to give one reason why we shouldn't get 3500 material at least a week in advance.  And that reason better be something more than just "that's how it's done."  Life's too bloody short.

Bruce McIntyre: Goodbye to An Unsung Hero of the CJA Panel

Bruce McIntyre was scheduled to start a trial on the first Monday morning in October.  He hadn't much time to prepare on Friday; he had to get to Suffolk County on a state court case.  Driving back to Brooklyn, he stopped by the U.S. Attorney's Office to pick up his 3500 material, crossed the Brooklyn Bridge to his downtown office, opened up his load of 3500 material (it was a tax case) and died of a heart attack.  He was 55.

Bruce was a criminal defense lawyer of rare attributes.  He did most of his work for indigent clients, as a member of the Criminal Justice Act Panel.  In that regard alone, his loss is profoundly felt.  He was one of just a handful of African-Americans on the CJA panel.  Of course, Bruce would have given me grief about writing that last sentence.  He never leveraged race.  His noble life was a strong enough testament to the power and promise of his community. 

Bruce began living this quiet life of righteousness simply enough:  in Queens.  Raised by a middle-class family who scrimped and saved for his education, he even attended Julliard to study trumpet.  Bruce's closest friends never knew that he was an accomplished musician, nor did many know that he went to Columbia and Yale, so carefully did he avoid pretense. 

I wonder whether he would admit that the turning point of his professional life was his showdown with Charles J. Hynes, the District Attorney in Brooklyn, who hired Bruce to be an Assistant District Attorney.  In 1990, Bruce was assigned to "second seat" the racially-charged Yousef Hawkins trial (remember those hot summer NYC days right out of Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing?).  Shortly before the trial began Bruce quietly resigned.  His resignation letter to Hynes contained no hint of political agenda.  Nor would he return the hundreds of press calls or give a single interview confirming what was "widely reported" by the New York Times and others:  that he was resigning because he refused to be leveraged as a token black man at the prosecution table. 

When he left his prestigious position as a homicide DA, Bruce become a criminal defense attorney.  He took on the most unpopular cases at court-appointed rates, representing alleged terrorists and Chinese gang members, always bringing calm to the table.  But as anyone who tried a case with him knew, it was his thunderous, preacher-like summations that often turned the tide of prejudice away from his maligned clients.  In 1998, my husband Mike Padden and I tried the "Subway Bomber case" with him, and against huge odds, his client was acquitted of all counts of terrorism and attempted use of weapons of mass destruction.  The jurors didn't acquit Bruce's client because they were soft on terrorism; Bruce simply appealed to their sense that guilt by association was just plain wrong.  ''Is it because he's from Palestine that he's supposed to be guilty?'' Bruce challenged the jury.

At his funeral service, Bruce's colleague and dear friend Gary Villanueva spoke of Bruce's love of movies, especially the really cheesy ones wherein the hero lives a life guided by a code of honor he need not advertise, so obvious was the code to others.  A quote from one of his favorites, Gladiator, is that "what we do in life echoes in eternity."

Echo on, Bruce. 

MEMORIAL SERVICE IN HONOR OF BRUCE MCINTYRE WILL BE
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2009, AT 5:00 P.M

THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT
EASTERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK

225 CADMAN PLAZA EAST, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

COURTROOM TO BE POSTED AT THE COURTHOUSE.