I Shouldn't Have Said That

Plea bargaining is the pits. You wait years for trial, prepare a defense, put on your war paint, walk into court, and then you are offered a deal so sweet you cannot refuse.

Consider the case of X. He was charged with kidnapping and multiple counts of rape. A conviction would yield mandatory time, and plenty of it. But he unwaveringly declares his innocence.

It all started with two adults well past their prime "hooking up" on line. She appeared at X's home, arriving so eager for play that she was not even wearing shoes. Accounts of what happened that evening vary.

When she was stopped by a police officer for eratic driving later in the evening, she cried rape. X gave a statement that she arrived ready, willing, able, and even hot to trot. There was some give and take about the boundaries of this libidinal encoutner. X said she left abruptly after an encounter with, well, er ... a sex toy.

So we are ready for trial. Consent is the defense. The judge urges a deal and the state relents. A suspended sentence, a misdemeanor charge, no sex offender registry, no sex offender treatment, not even a plea to a sex offense. The next best thing to an acquittal.

The client balks. He is innocent. But X is also cautious and knows not to gamble with what he cannot afford to lose -- his liberty.

The court conducts a plea canvas. Has anyone forced you, the judge asks? X stumbles. He feels extorted all right. Extorted by a lie. The canvas continues and the plea is accepted.

The court finally enters orders as to seized property. Computers go back to my client. Clothing, destroyed. And what of the dildo?

"We donate it the victim for use as she sees fit," I say. Both court and prosecutor show me scorn and order it destroyed.

I know, I know, I shouldn't have said that. But my client needed something to make the plea feel like a victory.