A Goolsby "War Story" About Tolerating Stress And An Intolerable Judge

"The task...is not to feel secure, but to be able to tolerate insecurity." (Erich Fromm)

No doubt, all trial lawyers have war stories to tell about how, at some point in their careers, a fire-breathing judge has given them fits during a trial. Fortunately, for me, most of the Georgia judges I have appeared before have been polite and professional.  However, I will never forget one exception -- a cantankerous old judge who appeared to hate all prosecutors and all police officers, along with any lawyer who appeared in court against one of his favorite attorneys!  Here is my "war story" from my prosecution days about dealing with this judge and about what I learned from a stressful courtroom experience.

This experience occurred early in my career, when I was a young assistant district attorney.  I was trying my second rape case. Even on a good day, I still got the nervous "heebie-jeebies" whenever I appeared in court. The defendant in this case was represented by an experienced trial attorney who was one of the judge's best friends and "favorite son" in that community.  At least, it seemed that way to me!  Sometimes, when you are in such a courtroom, it seems like you can almost smell the "home cooking." In short, you feel like the visiting team and the home-town referee is favoring the home town team.  And I could tell that day that I wasn't invited to this special, "lovey-dovey" feast between the judge and his fair-haired son!

After jury selection, we routinely called our witnesses up front to be sworn in and "sequestered" in the witness room, in accordance with the rule of sequestration.  I informed the judge that I had routinely put our G.B.I. laboratory witness "on call."  In other words, I had decided to allow my expert witness to continue to work at the lab until just before I needed him to testify. After all, the lab wasn't too far down the street.  

I had no idea that this routine decision would set off the judge's fuse against me!  Here is what happened!

Just before I was supposed to make my opening statement to the jury, the judge called me and the defense lawyer up to the bench.  Then, without any warning or justification, the judge became as red as a ripe beet. While shaking his extended finger at my face, he shouted at me, "If your expert witness walks into my courtroom, in violation of the rule of sequestration, I am gonna lock you up!"  Then, he tersely added, "Now, make your opening statement!"

I did as I was told. I made my opening statement! Fortunately, because I was so focused on the important  task at hand, I managed not to become too rattled by the judge's threat. I stayed focused and won my case! 

But you can bet your bottom dollar that I kept nervously looking over my shoulder throughout that trial and made sure that my lab witness didn't waltze into the courtroom!

I also learned some valuable lessons from this dreadful experience. For instance, I learned that being a trial lawyer involves learning how to deal with stress and how to tolerate insecurity. With a tough old judge breathing down my neck, there was no way I was ever going to relax, or feel secure. But the key is that I persevered and managed to handle the stress.  In other words, I learned that, as a trial lawyer, you may not feel warm and fuzzy in the courtroom, particularly when a judge is spittin' fire at you, but you can still learn to deal with the insecurity, and tolerate it, in order to win your case!

I might not have enjoyed the home cooking, or the stressful experience, but victory makes a sweet dessert!

A Goolsby "War Story" About Death Threats and Tests of Courage

[Photo from imfdb.org]

[The following fictionalized account is merely an illustration which is based upon a true story.  For instance, the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty!]

You will never forget your first kiss, your first bike, or your first puppy.  Well, trust me, you will never forget your first death threat, either!  Let me tell you about my first one. 

I was a young, wet-behind-the-ears prosecutor in another part of the state when I received my first death threat.  A fellow Assistant D.A. and I had begun an investigation of a top cop in one of the counties in that judicial circuit.  Simply put, we thought he was a crooked cop being paid off by drug dealers. And we were determined to prove it.  The problem was that he knew we were trying to prove it. 

My challenge was that, on a daily basis, I still had to interact with this alleged crooked cop.  We'll call him Bubba.  As the assigned prosecutor, I still had to handle all the criminal cases which Bubba's office had investigated.

Then, it happened.  One day, after court, Bubba asked me to stop by his office.  He invited me into a back office, offered a chair, and closed the door behind me.  At first, we made small talk -- about the weather and about the Georgia Bulldogs.  I felt extremely awkward and simply wanted to go.

Finally, I could tell Bubba was getting around to the point.  He prefaced his comments by reminding me about a recent death threat made against a popular local judge.  In short, a local narcotics officer had been tipped off by a snitch that a drug dealer had targeted the judge for a hit.  The story had fired up the local newspapers.  For several weeks, the death threat had been the hot topic at the local diners.

But Bubba had a different take on the story -- and a different message.  As he began his remarks, he looked straight at me -- no, it was more like straight through me.  I will never forget his icy glare.  Bubba first pointed out that he didn't put any stock in the death threat supposedly made against the judge.

Then, he added, "Rick, you don't have to worry about the death threats you hear about.  It's the threats you don't hear about that kill you.  If I ever want to kill somebody, I won't warn them about it.  I'll just get me a high powered rifle and blow their f_ _ _ing head off!"  That was it!  Understandably, I really don't remember any of our conversation after that!  But I got the point!  And I got out of there as soon as I could, while struggling to maintain my composure!

I learned a number of lessons from this stressful experience.  For instance, I learned that you can be courageous even while afraid.  I won't lie.  I was afraid.  I believed Bubba.  And after that day, I went on to endure other threats and harassment.  But the point is that I didn't back down from continuing the crooked cop investigation.  We never caught Bubba.  For me, Bubba will always be the big fish in my career that got away!  But I never quit doing what I thought was right.  I learned that the true test of courage lies in whether or not you persevere in spite of your fear.

I also learned, thanks to Bubba, that, generally, the most serious threats are the ones you never hear about.

Finally, I learned that, like your first kiss, your first bike, or your first puppy, you will never forget your first death threat, either!

A Goolsby "War Story" About My Investigation of Corruption in a South Georgia Prison Work Camp

[Photo from electis.blogs.wm.edu]

One of my proudest career accomplishments happened early in my career when I was a young Assistant D.A. in south Georgia.  It involved my investigation of fraud and corruption at one of the county prison camps, or "work farms."  The abuses--including thefts by guards and prisoner abuse--are too numerous to list here. 

For instance, prisoners told me about witnessing guards loading meat from the work camp kitchen into their car trunks.  Also, although money was budgeted for recreational items, there wasn't a single ball of any kind anywhere in the camp!  Where did all the money go?  Another abuse involved the camp's deplorable solitary confinement cell, which was called "the hole."  It was literally a hole dug into the ground, into which rain water, snakes and rats would venture and keep company with the unlucky prisoner confined there. 

What could I do?  Look, I was a tough young prosecutor.  I was no "bleeding heart!"  But, in my heart, I knew that the horrendous prison conditions and crimes were unconstitutional and flat wrong! 

Although I was just out of law school, and new on the job at the D.A.'s Office, I knew I must do something.  But I also soon learned that the local politicians were part of the problem and would not help.  Therefore, I decided that the best disinfectant would be to focus the news media spotlight and public scrutiny on the prison problems. 

So, with help from a cooperative criminal defense lawyer friend, we essentially utilized a preliminary hearing about a prisoner's escape case to expose the work camp abuses to the news media and public.  Over the course of several days, we produced witness after witness who testified about all the fraud and corruption at the work camp!  The lawyer for the local sheriff and county commissioners tried to intervene and stop the hearing.  But the magistrate judge, who seemed to enjoy the media attention, sustained my objection that the county's attorney had no standing to object!  The hearing continued until the public airing was complete.  The news media also helped with headline after headline about the prison problems.

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending!  After this public exposure, the politicians could no longer hide! The politicians scurried like roaches under an overturned woodpile!  Several county commissioners finally got behind an effort to clean up the work camp.  A number of prison employees either retired or were fired.  Several more were prosecuted by me for theft.  The prison kitchen now had meat to serve!  Also "the hole" was eliminated!

So, now, I hope you can see why this investigation of public corruption is one of my proudest early career accomplishments! 

A Goolsby "War Story" About Bridges, Trains, and Getting to Court on Time!

[Photo from babble.com]

As a Georgia trial lawyer and history lover, I have always enjoyed times spent sitting around in court and talking with other (older) attorneys, while waiting for the judge to take the bench.  Some of these conversations and "war stories" about the "good ole' days" of practicing law in Georgia are priceless!

One recent conversation involved the topic of the importance of getting to court on time for a trial.  After all, you never want to keep a judge waiting!  A fellow lawyer, from a nearby town, described his experiences as a young lawyer.  He pointed out that the railroad tracks ran between his law office and the local courthouse.  Inevitably, a train would always be passing through town whenever he was running late for court.  Incredibly, the lawyer said his solution was to park his car, grab his briefcase, jump aboard the moving train, climb down on the other side, and dash off to court on foot!

I recounted my own experience about getting to court on time.  As you will see, I took a different, more conservative approach.  As a former federal prosecutor, sometimes, I had to travel to federal court in Brunswick, Georgia.  The late famous federal Judge Anthony A. Alaimo held court there.  The judge, a former p.o.w. during World War II, was well known for holding in contempt any lawyers who were late for court.  You never wanted to keep this venerable judge waiting, or cause him to look down from the bench in disfavor at you!  As a young lawyer, I was convinced that his piercing eyes, staring down over his eyeglasses, could burn a hole through any disobedient attorney! 

Do you recall what happened, in the first Indiana Jones movie, when the Nazi officer looked into the ark of the covenant!?  He got zapped!  I didn't want to get zapped!

So, here was my dilemma.  When staying overnight, prior to his court, in Brunswick, I had a choice to make.  I could either stay in town, or stay out at Jekyll Island, a nearby beach.  The beach idea was much more appealing!  But the problem with the beach idea was that there was a drawbridge located between the beach and town.  As a result, if you stayed at the beach, you ran the risk of being late for court, if the bridge was raised to allow a ship to pass through.  

I'll be honest here!  I was afraid of being late for Judge Alaimo's court!  So, I always stayed in town! 

What would you have done?  Would you have stayed at the beach and risked the judge's ire?  (Trust me!  You would never want this judge to zap you!)  Or would you jump aboard a moving train to get to court on time!?  You just never know what you will learn while sitting around in a courtroom and telling war stories with other lawyers!