A feel-good story

I used to do a lot of dependency work, representing parents whose kids had been taken away by the Department of Social & Health Services. About a year ago the State centralized most of that work and I moved on to other things. I can't say I miss it much. The stories were usually tragic, the clients usually had personality disorders or some other mental disability, and the social workers were inconsistent. Some were terrific (Hi Mom!) some were just serving time, and some were on power trips.

Anyway, the other day I was in the courthouse doing some other work and some guy came up to me in the hallway and said

"You're Erskine, right?"

"Yeeesss..." ( I feel that "Who's askin?" is unprofessional)

"I'm a social worker with OPD [the agency that now represents parents in dependencies]. I've been working on Tom Joad's case."

Now, Tom was an unusual case for a dependency. He was a single parent who honestly loved his son and worked hard at being a good parent to him. He didn't abuse substances and kept an immaculate house. The difficulty was that his son had some challenging mental health/developmental issues and Tom wasn't all that bright himself. He also had a rigid approach to life that didn't mesh well with the school counseling or DSHS staff, and frankly probably not too well with his son's needs. I thought taking the kid out of home was overkill; the State didn't and we had a major battle in court over it. Lots of parents in that position can't be bothered to show up consistently for visits with their kids; Tom showed up early every time and was constantly demanding permission to take his son fishing or camping.

Back to the courthouse:

"I read all the transcripts and exhibits on that case. You really fought hard for that guy. He's about to get his son back, and you laid the foundation for that to happen. I always wanted to meet you and thank you for what you did."

You never get rich doing what I do. The big money lawyers are in the downtown skyscrapers. I tried that right out of law school and found that arguing about moving money from one pocket to another bored me to tears. I make enough money to keep my family comfortable, and that's all I need.

The real rewards are the memories:

The hugs from a defendant and/or his family as the guards take the shackles off after the jury says "Not Guilty" or the judge says "Motion to Suppress granted".
(Here's the difference between prosecutors and defense lawyers:
Prosecutor: "How can you let those people hug you?"
Defender: "How can I not?")

The teenager who says "Now that I finished inpatient and have been clean for a year, I understand why you never let up on me about not using meth. Want to come to my high school graduation?"

Got another one this week.