Today in Supreme Court History: October 2

Matter of Disbarment of Maddox, 516 U.S. 802 (decided October 2, 1995): I’m an obscure, unsuccessful lawyer and former crisis center director who has never rubbed shoulders with anyone who touched the Court, with this one (literal) exception.  In 1987 Alton Maddox was one of the trio of people (with fellow lawyer C. Vernon Mason, and Al Sharpton) who represented a black teenager named Tawana Brawley, who allegedly was gang raped by white police officers in a small town near my crisis center.  The three kept bleating in the media about wanting justice but would not allow her to be interviewed by any prosecutor so that evidence could be gathered and charges brought.  It was a fraud that caused lasting damage to race relations -- crying about injustice yet not allowing it to be righted, which unfortunately served the proto-”antiracism” crowd just fine.  Eventually one could deduce that the three had realized that Tawana had fabricated her story and, having painted themselves into a corner, could not admit it.  Instead they kept defaming the officers by name.  Sharpton, now a commentator on MSNBC, has never owned up to it, which is why I still can’t watch him.

The fallout included Maddox getting disbarred, and I was in the New York Appellate Division on another case when his state disbarment proceeding was being argued.  I did not know it was going to happen.  Unusually, the seats began to fill (with black people).  I was near the front, and Maddox came in and sat right next to me!!  It was weird, just he and I in the middle of a bunch of empty seats.  I looked back to the crowd and said to him, “They must think I support you.”  He said, “Do you?”  I thought for a second and said, “I wish you the best.”  His case got heard, I forget the details, but my case was next.  Everyone left as I got up to speak and I made a little joke to the judges about nobody wanting to hear me.

I often think what I could have done.  He was probably in a hothouse atmosphere, surrounded by layers of yes-people, with no one around he could really open up to.  My crisis center persona had reclaimed me.  Maybe I could have said, “I think there’s a reason you sat next to me,” and given him my business card, and put my home phone number on it, and said, “You can call me any night.  I won’t tell anyone.  Your name is Sam.”