Lawyer up, guys.
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Well, she was white so she should be let off easy.
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“Rioting is the language of the unheard”.
Mr. Mattis began working in July 2018 as an associate in the corporate group at Pryor Cashman, where, according to his profile on the firm’s website, he advises public and private companies, their executives and boards on mergers and acquisitions, joint ventures, financing and corporate governance, among other matters.
He also served on the community board in East New York, the Brooklyn neighborhood where he lives.
The picture on his LinkedIn profile shows a smiling young man in a business suit, white shirt and striped red tie, and the profile says he graduated from Princeton University in 2010 with a Bachelor of Arts degree in sociology and earned a law degree from New York University Law School in 2016.
(From the NYT story)
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Oftentimes, charges which strike people as obvious are not brought because of some perceived difficulty with prosecuting them successfully. Lots of time and revenue wasted, lots of judges pissed off, and if double jeopardy attaches, the accused walks free altogether. Prosecutors often decide to go for the lesser charge, like employing an incendiary device instead of attempted murder, and a greater hope of success.
Success is measured by your discipline and inner peace. – Mike Ditka
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Oftentimes, charges which strike people as obvious are not brought because of some perceived difficulty with prosecuting them successfully. Lots of time and revenue wasted, lots of judges pissed off, and if double jeopardy attaches, the accused walks free altogether. Prosecutors often decide to go for the lesser charge, like employing an incendiary device instead of attempted murder, and a greater hope of success.
@Catseye3 said in Lawyer up, guys.:
Oftentimes, charges which strike people as obvious are not brought because of some perceived difficulty with prosecuting them successfully. Lots of time and revenue wasted, lots of judges pissed off, and if double jeopardy attaches, the accused walks free altogether. Prosecutors often decide to go for the lesser charge, like employing an incendiary device instead of attempted murder, and a greater hope of success.
Yep. It all depends on how the attempted murder statute is written, and I suspect it has to do with intent.
Yep:
"In most jurisdictions, attempted murder charges consist of two elements:
The offender took some action towards killing another person
The offender’s act was intended to kill a person" -
@Catseye3 said in Lawyer up, guys.:
Oftentimes, charges which strike people as obvious are not brought because of some perceived difficulty with prosecuting them successfully. Lots of time and revenue wasted, lots of judges pissed off, and if double jeopardy attaches, the accused walks free altogether. Prosecutors often decide to go for the lesser charge, like employing an incendiary device instead of attempted murder, and a greater hope of success.
Yep. It all depends on how the attempted murder statute is written, and I suspect it has to do with intent.
Yep:
"In most jurisdictions, attempted murder charges consist of two elements:
The offender took some action towards killing another person
The offender’s act was intended to kill a person"@Mik said in Lawyer up, guys.:
"In most jurisdictions, attempted murder charges consist of two elements:
The offender took some action towards killing another person
The offender’s act was intended to kill a person"In the context of Floyd, did the officer take action toward killing another person? Yeah, probably, but that's not for us to decide.
Was the offender's act intended to kill a person? Did the cop intend to kill Floyd? I'd guess not.
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No sympathy for them at all.
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Plenty of sympathy here:
https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/lawyers-arrested-molotov-cocktail-nyc-protest.html
But to work within that system is to understand just how capricious and brutal criminal justice can be — the enormous latitude given to prosecutors, the deference extended to judges and juries, and the procedural protocols and professional ethics that often merely cover for the status quo. And when a president and his advisers seem to regard the law as an obstacle course; when an attorney general metes out favors, not justice; and when immigrant children are held in cages and men are killed on video by police, some lawyers may want to embrace a more flexible definition of “lawless.” As recently as a few years ago, even a progressive-minded lawyer might have regarded fervent, visible participation in a political protest as professionally unbecoming. Today, some of Mattis and Rahman’s friends may concede in private that throwing a Molotov cocktail represents a lapse in judgment, but none are willing to discuss the degree to which their friends may have been ethically, professionally, morally, or legally out of bounds. Instead, they emphasize that violence against government property, especially in the midst of political upheaval, is not the same as violence against a person; that the prosecution of their friends for an act of what amounted to political vandalism is far more extreme than the crime itself; that it amounts to a criminalization of dissent and reflects a broader right-wing crusade against people of color and the progressive left — and, as such, demonstrates precisely the horror of the system they were out in the streets that night to protest. There is a version of the Rahman and Mattis story in which they are civil-rights heroes, even martyrs, instead of professionals who crossed a line.
These are people the least deserving of this kind of treatment, their friends say, people who are unfailingly kind, gentle, and decent. Rahman gave a piece of her apartment floor in Athens, Greece, where she was working during the migrant crisis, to a queer Syrian refugee in an abusive relationship; Mattis turned around on his way to vacation to sit by a friend’s hospital bed after she’d suffered a stillbirth. After college, Mattis worked for Teach for America in New Orleans and later won a prize for his pro bono work helping a single mother get child support. Rahman worked in Northern Ireland and on behalf of hill-tribe people in Thailand and was a student of South African apartheid. Over the past year, she started attending Friday-night meetings of an informal Sufi spiritual group and had recently given a short talk to a Muslim women’s group about the sacredness of every single life, including those of animals — which is why she tried to be a vegetarian although sometimes fell short. She joked that she was a “slackaterian” or “vegetrying.”
“My heart — and I speak for many of our friends — my heart has been breaking,” says Tabatha Robinson, who met Mattis through Prep for Prep and has just graduated from Harvard Law. When Robinson was a teenager, Mattis would travel from Princeton to her New Jersey high school to watch her ballet recitals because she’d confessed to him her dream of becoming a ballerina. “What college boy shows up at their friend’s high-school ballet recitals?” She starts to cry. “Forty-five years to life? Are you kidding me? I want a world in which our sentencing doesn’t look like this.”
Mattis and Rahman are not, nor have they ever been, a couple, their friends say. The press is painting the night of May 29 as this “weird Bonnie and Clyde situation,” says someone close to Rahman. “It’s so freaking ridiculous. Colin is like a cute, lovable baby.” What Mattis and Rahman do share are life circumstances that set them apart from their friends, most of whom were raised with more privilege. Each of them lost parents comparatively young. Rahman’s father died suddenly when she was 23; Mattis’s died in a stabbing on St. Vincent when he was in law school, and his mother, a powerful presence in his life — and a fervent Christian — died last summer. So they both know early grief and loss, and as the responsible, high-achieving adult children of immigrant parents, they stepped in to shoulder more than their share of the family obligations, while their peers were far more carefree. Rahman looked after her mother, doing the shopping and ferrying her to doctor’s appointments. Mattis took over the raising of his mother’s three foster children after her death. Their relationship is more “like brother and sister,” says Salmah Rizvi, who co-hosted the birthday party where they met. “Like, they take care of each other.”
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