Sergio De La Pava - A Naked Singularity

“Yes. But the laws and society were changed and I no longer think it’s accurate to term our government or society racist in the same sense the term might’ve been accurate fifty years ago. Do the laws always work? Does everyone follow them? Of course not, but that doesn’t seem to be the most important issue as I see it. All we can do is set up a system that’s as fair as possible. Listen no system can guarantee that there won’t be some fat, toothless, inbred piece of shit from West Virginia who wants to kill all black people. All it can do is give everyone a fair opportunity. We have that.”

“We don’t have that,” said Henry.

“We do Henry! Look at you. You’ve been an attorney for twenty years and have done very well for yourself, you could buy and sell me were it not for the fact that I’m not currently for sale. Racism hasn’t prevented you from achieving quite a bit within the framework of our system and it doesn’t prevent anyone else from achieving the same things. The reason is all the impediments have been removed. Listen I don’t dispute that there were some serious problems in the past. The battle, which undoubtedly was righteous and constituted an absolute moral imperative, is over however, and we’ve gone as far as we can until science takes over. Now sit back and let The Human Genome Project do the rest.”

“Hold on. Just stop right there because everything you’re saying is wrong and wrong in important ways. The fact that there are successful people who look like the people in this audience means next to nothing. One of the things the Board of Ed argued against Oliver Brown was that the separate schools didn’t harm children like his third-grader Linda. After all, they said, didn’t George Washington Carver among others achieve greatness in spite of facing even greater obstacles than the kids then attending the lesser, segregated schools. Well many years have passed and the stakes are different but you’re rehashing the same argument and it’s weak. The relevant question is not whether back then a few extraordinary individuals could overcome a system strongly weighted against them or whether today an admittedly far greater number requiring far less talent can succeed. The real question is whether it’s harder for the people in this audience to succeed be they extraordinary, average, or below average. If it is, and I think it obvious that it is, then that’s untenable in a country that purports to provide equal opportunity for all. Now of course you’ll dispute my claim that it is more difficult to succeed for them. You say the battle’s over. I say not only is it not over but you yourself are stationed on the frontline of the battle and have been all these years. This room and the criminal justice system as a whole is the frontline. This is where modern-day segregation lives on.”

“Well that’s quite a bit hyperbolic don’t you think?” said Conley.

“Is it?” He began to read from a pamphlet in his lap that had undoubtedly started the whole thing. “Let’s take the example of Washington,” he said, “our nation’s capital named after our first president. Well the National Center on Institutions and Alternatives looked at them. What they found is that fifty percent of black men ages eighteen to thirty-five in D.C. were either incarcerated or under probation or parole supervision. Our government controls one out of every two such young men in that area.”

“That seems way too high. Besides even if you’re correct you’re referring to a small sample that may not accurately reflect—”

“Fine, nationwide the number is one out of three. Additionally, Justice Department statistics show that nationally about eight out of ten such men will spend some time incarcerated during their lifetimes. What this does is—”

“That number seems a bit high. That can’t possibly—”

“Please Conley,” the third party rejoined the fray. “Why are you making him spout all these stats? Even if they would seem extreme to the average person you can’t tell me that you, with this job, are surprised by these numbers, or that you truly doubt their accuracy. Like he says, look in the audience of this courtroom for Chrissakes. Go in the back and look at the pens. I worked arraignments last week. I did about thirty-five cases and all but maybe three of them involved minority defendants.”

“Has your experience been any different Conley?” said Henry. “Think of your caseload.”

“I don’t think of my clients in terms of their color,” he smiled, “they’re all just people whom I have the highest obligation to defend.”

“Well humor me for a moment and estimate what percentage of your cases involve black defendants.”

“Okay I accept your numbers. It does appear that roughly eighty to eighty-five percent of our clients are black but what does that mean? More importantly, why is that the case? I don’t think, for example, that the police, who are often themselves black, at least around here, are ignoring crimes committed by whites or purposely looking to arrest more blacks than whites. The only logical conclusion if you agree with those figures is that blacks must be committing more crimes than whites. If that’s the case then it is more difficult to be black in this country but it’s not really the result of racism but rather the result of being part of a ravaged community. A community ravaged from within by its own members.”

“The problem is those numbers don’t accurately reflect the discrepancy you’re referring to so something else seems to be at work,” Henry said. “And moreover the discrepancy itself may be further evidence of what I’m alleging. More importantly, what I’m saying is these aren’t just statistics, they have profound human effects.” He looked to the third guy for some more support. “Because what happens as a result of—”

“Isn’t that your kid?” Conley was looking at the defense table then me.

“Curses,” I said. My kid was Jenkins who was standing at the table looking helplessly at the judge and wondering where I was. I slithered out of the jury box and stood behind the defense table at Malkum’s side just as Sizygy was asking which attorney belonged to the case. Greetings were exchanged and Collis began his update speech. Things were not going as swimmingly as Malkum had painted but overall he was doing fairly well and Collis, who wore an absurd, stop-sign-red scarf, had a rare contented air that filled the courtroom. Malkum looked down at the table intently, eyes averted and knuckles cracking. But well enough is never lonely for long in this racket so Sizygy decided he’d chat Malkum up:

“Glad to see you’re doing well,” he said. “I see from this report that you only completed up to the ninth grade in school. Well, if you keep doing well with this program, they’re going to help you get your GED. Is that something you want to do?”

“yeah, yes.”

“You bet it is, you know it’s not too late for you son. You can still make something out of your life. I firmly believe that in this country everyone can make what they want of themselves provided they’re willing to work hard enough.” He was warming to his task now, convincing himself and maybe others, looking around while people nodded and Malkum looked downward. “What do you want to be?”

“…”

“What are your interests?”

“…”

“Answer me young man!”

“i don’t… um,” Malkum was looking for me to maybe feed him a line. I put my hand on his shoulder because that always looked good then whispered in his ear. I explained that everything was going relatively well, fine, but in that courtroom he had a speaking part. He had to talk a little about the error of his ways and the value of appropriate intervention. Malkum looked at me like I’d just grown a second head. Silence filled the room for the first time that day.