A Little Eulogy

In case you didn’t already know, I’m a public defender. Usually when I tell people about what I do, they remark that I must have a lot of interesting stories. I do, actually, and some of them are frightful, some are funny, some are even cute. But many of them are also sad.

Around Christmas I met a woman at a party who asked me what I do for a living. When I told her, she grimaced and said, “I’m sorry.” I was offended, but I’m used to rude remarks about my chosen career. I said, “I’m not sorry. I love what I do.”

And the truth is I do love it, but today I’m not explaining why I love it. I am, paradoxically I suppose, going to illustrate the humanity of someone you might not otherwise find very sympathetic. I am even going to tell you, with utmost sincerity, that he was really a good person. I will change his name, however, for the sake of his family.

William had suffered a lot of adversity in the past few years after leading a fairly trouble-free life. His beloved parents died within a short time of each other, and his wife was in a terrible accident that left her disabled and dependent on his care. But he worked and owned a home and did his best.

Unfortunately, his job wasn’t good enough to pay mounting bills. One day he did a dumb thing and stole a purse out of a car. He had never done anything like that before in his life, and later could not account for what the hell he’d been thinking. His wife happened to be in his car when he got back inside after the theft, and apparently a witness, spotting the incident, notified police immediately. A police chase ensued, and a morning news program got wind of it. The news program made a big deal out of the arrest and splashed pictures of the unhappy couple all over TV, an event that so deeply humiliated William’s wife that she suffered a nervous breakdown. Their community shunned them after seeing the publicity. William’s then-boss fired him. Later, the bank filed a foreclosure notice after they missed two house payments. As his wife struggled with her physical and emotional pain, William began to suffer stress-induced migraines whose pain crippled him.

Less than a week before his court hearing, he committed suicide. I just got the news today.

I’m very upset about it, because I thought I recognized in him the soul of a man who felt genuine remorse, and a strong desire to get himself straightened out. I’ve seen all kinds of people in my years, and I’m no bleeding-heart ingénue. I’ve dealt with mean, tough, hard, angry, shiftless, hateful, psychotic, addicted, abused, weak, and – why, yes, as a matter of fact – innocent men and women for eighteen years. This man was not innocent, but he was a good person, and his death is a real loss.

I also feel like reading the people in William’s community, and the news media, and a few people who might be reading this, that part of the gospel where Christ reminds people not to judge others unless they’re prepared to be judged for their own failures. On reflection, I think I do that in some way almost every day when I go to work.