Lawyer Roundup in "Jeff City"

A Missouri judge taps the state payroll for public defenders

When Circuit Court Judge Byron Kinder stepped to the bench in his Jefferson City, Mo., courtroom one day last week, he looked down on an unusual audience: 100 lawyers. They were not there by choice; they had come in response to a subpoena that warned, "Fail not to appear at your own peril." All 100 work for Missouri agencies based in Jefferson City, the state capital. In a drastic and perhaps unprecedented step, Kinder had summoned them so that he could press them into service as public defenders for indigent criminal defendants.

The U.S. Constitution guarantees a lawyer to poor defendants, but Cole County, of which "Jeff City" is the seat, has only one public defender and has run out of money to pay private attorneys to help. The result: nearly 200 suspects biding their tune in the county jail. Since Cole County has a "speedy trial" law that terminates prosecutions that fail to lead to trial within 180 days of arraignment, Kinder was concerned that many criminals might end up going free. Until more state money becomes available July 1, the judge explained, "I have no choice but to reach out and touch someone."

He touched nearly every local lawyer on the state payroll. Among the exceptions: the Governor, the Lieutenant Governor, the attorney general and his staff, and a woman who is 8 1/2 months pregnant (she may be called after she gives birth). Nor was Kinder disposed to exempt those who believe they are too busy. "There are only four reasons anyone would work 60 to 70 hours a week," Kinder told his audience. "First, they're unhappily married and don't want to go home. Second, there's one man doing the work of two, and that would certainly go against everything I know about government in this city. Third, they may be incompetent. Or four, all of those reasons."

Another common excuse offered by the lawyers was their inexperience in criminal matters, a genuine problem in many cases despite Kinder's reminder that law students are required to take a course in criminal law. Said Kinder, 47: "I'm not going to put some kid fresh out of law school with Jack the Ripper."

The most sophisticated objection came from Attorney General John Ashcroft, who asked the Missouri Supreme Court to block last week's hearing. His plea: the separation of powers doctrine forbids one branch from summoning trusted officials of another. He failed, but the high court may agree to examine and rule on the plan's legality after Kinder actually assigns cases. "I researched the books," says the judge, "and I cannot find a thing that says I can't do what I'm doing." His tactic has attracted calls from other judges who may follow his example.

In fact, says Kinder, his plan may be a blessing in disguise for some lawyers, like the one who said that during her 34-year legal career she had never set foot in court until subpoenaed last week. "Once they get in the courtroom and it gets in their blood, they'll be hooked," insists Kinder, who spent a decade as Cole County prosecutor. "It's like good whisky. Once you get a shot of the stuff and you like it, you miss it if you get away from it." Judging from the grumbling, though, it appeared that a good many Missouri lawyers would rather remain teetotalers.

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