SELLING THE LAW…

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I love fantasies; often I have been called a head-lost-in-the-clouds dreamer. I love that tag. Dreams are not always the escapist pastime of a slothful mind- they may subconsciously provide the seedlings for the birth of great ideas. Yes, dreams are not real, but when they come to life, present reality changes. Dreams precipitate change. As a dreamer therefore, I am an agent of change…

I had lapsed into this philosophico-poetic mood after I was roundly battered in an argument with some of my young lawyer friends the other day. We were discussing the sense (or lack of it) in the restriction of advertisements in the legal profession in Nigeria, by the Rules of Professional Conduct. I was passionately of the view that the provisions of the rules are too stifling and inconsistent with the modern world.

All the publicity the Rules allow is; a reasonably sized sign-post in front of the practitioner’s office.

‘Many people do not even notice those signs, their bleary black and white prints are swallowed by more interesting items on the landscape’ I had stated. ‘Can you win clients that way?’

‘Massai’ My ultra-conservative friend Edward had interjected ‘a good lawyer needs not be aided by psychedelia, let your records speak.’

‘But that is the point!’ I had screamed ‘how do you transmit the said records without adverts?’

‘Simple, does the law not permit you to affix your qualifications on your business cards?’  that was from Mike, another incurable stiff-back.

‘It is not enough’ I insisted ‘we need to spice up the whole thing a lot more’

‘Do you then recommend that we slide to the arena of pedestrian trivia?’ Samuel-every inch a stuffed shirt - murmured.

‘Yes!’ I was getting heated up. ‘We need to leave our lofty pinnacle and approach equal altitude with the people we are supposed to serve in the first place…’

‘My friend, I think you have what it takes to conquer the world, but first you must wake up from your silly dreams’ Edward delivered the masterstroke.

The rest of my well laid submissions were drowned in laughter.

Now in my quiet moment, I am convinced more than ever that my views are workable.

People complain that the law goes over their heads, lawyers are a mysterious horde, and thus, it takes a fair dose of courage to walk into the hallowed interiors of their sepulchral chambers. End result; the propagation of a populace completely apathetic to litigation and invariably, a proliferation of poor lawyers.

Where then is the dignity which the rules seek to preserve?

What is the way forward? Easy, obliterate the rules!

First, lawyers should be allowed to do away with the reasonable size and sober design cliché from their sign-posts and in their stead, put up eye-catching, life size billboards, amply bedecked with neon lights. Having done this, the lawyers’ gifts of imagination which have been asphyxiated over the years shall be given new life. Their battle of wits will seep beyond the confines of cross-examination and evolve into bits of humorous catchphrases for their law firms.

Slogans like: ‘You will never turn in your Grave…’ inscribed boldly at the bottom corner of business cards and posters will better buttress expertise in Wills and Testaments than a dry list of L.L.M.s and L.L.D.s. In the same vein, the words: ‘When the Police is not your Friend, We kick his butt’ bestows a Charge and Bail specialist with more class and appeal. And if you want to sweep home all the clients in town, a most fitting slogan is: ‘At Z & I Group…we dine with the judges…’

This will be followed by press-conferences, interviews and documentaries of landmark cases where the firm had obtained favourable judgement. It will become common while flipping through the pages to see colourful promos broadcasting:

BONANZA!  BONANZA!!  BONANZA!!!

An Irresistible Litigation Bundle Offer from the Law Offices of Clement & George.

Submit three briefs in 6months and win yourself a pro bono case!

Hurry while offer lasts…

Not to be beaten, a rival Law firm will contract a rave of the moment celebrity, say D’Banj to appear on national TV, complete in his dark shades, plus the venerated wig and gown! : ‘if you are not sitting with S & J Associates, you are on a loooong case!’

Outside a few cardiac seizures to prim and proper hearts, the effect on the profession will be largely positive.

Law offices will overflow with customers, oops, clients; the movement would have bred a new mind-set in the citizens. We all hate what we cannot understand, so if the people get to recognize that the lawyer is just another average entrepreneur hustling for his daily bread and butter alongside other ordinary species of humanity, they shall open their arms wide in fraternity. The great wall of suspicion will collapse; a harmonious accord will be reached. The publicized competition will pull down litigation costs, creating a more legally responsive society… and the lawyers will reap the plums of increased patronage. It is Eldorado in the making!

Of course, to complete this revolution, every serious minded Law firm will engage in some bit of ambulance chasing. The phrase would be renamed to purge it of every derogatory taint, it will simply be called-Marketing. Paralegal staff and interns will be posted on strategic locations in the streets. (A welcome change from sitting and rotting away over mountains of case files). Everyday, persons get knocked down by over speeding cars, fall from dislodged kerbs and get hit by falling objects from overloaded trucks…The field staff will be on standby with sheaves of handbills. These handbills contain detailed workings of the victim-counsel settlement ratio when the negligence suit is won, and shall be distributed to families of the victims. When no family member is around, it will suffice to discreetly press same into the hands of the victim as he is being stretchered away.

Oh, I am dreaming again…

Reality is different; reality is contained in the Rules. The Rules say that unfettered advertisement brings the profession to disrepute, creates prejudice and does not foster fairness in the legal practice. Maybe this is right, maybe not…time will tell. Our world is being fast unravelled; there are no more sacred grounds. Flow with the stream or get stagnated behind. Last year, an Australian High court affirmed that court processes can be served on Facebook! What more can I say? I am eagerly waiting for our rules to be unbuckled to that degree. 
I already have the advert slogan for my law office waiting. I am keeping it simple: "Life is BRIEF; Get a Lawyer…"

I rest my thesis.


First published in Thisday Newspapers: February 3, 2009

The Inscrutable Maiden of Justice

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Two men; a lawyer and his friend, are sitting at the grass lawn on the grounds of the High court on a serene Saturday evening. Having exhausted every subject of their little summit, their attentions settle on a stone statue of the Maiden of Justice which the lawyer’s friend is observing with crease-faced interest:

‘Why does she perpetually brandish a long blade?’

‘To smite the guilty with due retribution.’

‘I would have thought it was to shield herself from possible plunder of her voluptuous femminity’

‘She is invincible; she needs no corporeal protection.’

‘And the scales on her other hand, what are they for?’

‘To weigh one right against another, and grant remedies to the party in whose favour the scale tilts’

‘What if the scale tilts by chunks of heavy metals like, say gold or diamond?’

‘She does not notice, she is blind’

‘No, I observe she is merely blindfolded, so she can always sneak a peek.’

‘She is not interested’

‘Really? Are diamonds not a girl’s best friend?’

‘I fail to see the relevance…’

‘Will its presence not naturally sway a maiden’s sense of judgement?’

‘We seem to be steadily approaching blasphemy’

‘Blasphemy? She is a goddess then, worshipped by members of your fold?’

‘Not worshipped, but accorded strict obeisance in our daily rituals’

‘In the Law courts you mean?’

‘Yes, we pattern our decisions in line with her dictates’

‘Oh, that means she falters sometimes?’

‘No, never, she is infallible’

‘But I hear of court decisions upturned’

‘Yes, only in absolute pursuit of her tenets.’

‘And the disciples that err, what are the rewards? Death at her hand-held guillotine?’

‘No, the chastisement is much milder’

(They pause a while and silently contemplate the sculpture.)

‘What does she do when her sword strikes an innocent?’

‘She never hurts the innocent; she would rather let ten guilty men escape’

‘I think she does that too frequently’

‘Well, that is your opinion’

‘It would not bother me much, if the ones that undeservedly escape her wrath were not always the materially well placed.’

‘Coincidence’

And I notice that her blows are not always deadly to the wealthy when they are guilty’

‘She is gracious’

‘But her measures should be equal…’

‘They are, but if untempered with mercy may prove too bitter for human intake’

‘Or maybe she is just reluctant to kill the geese that lay golden eggs?’

‘Please spice your phrases with more reverence’

‘Forgive me.’

(Another lull, for some minutes.)

‘Does she only act when you entreat at her temple?’

Yes, her temple is the last hope of the common man’

‘Last hope? That is when other options crumble?’

‘The phrase is interpreted differently’

‘And the uncommon man can do without the temple, is that it?’

‘At his peril.’

‘Before she acts, do you pay her a fee?’

‘No, you only pay your lawyer’

‘And the lawyer then pays her?’

 ‘Heavensssakes no!’

‘Pardon me, I was just asking.’

(Another short pause).

‘She wears a sad look.’

‘Life is a sad tale and she listens to it firsthand.’

‘But she does not act very swiftly like her two elder sisters; Nemesis and Vengeance’

‘Yes, she is more rational and thorough.’

‘Believe me; I have seen some very thorough acts of vengeance’

‘They are hardly the same.’                 

‘She looks mighty lonely, do you think she had a heart once that loved and was loved in return?’

‘She is still loved’

‘Feared, not loved’

‘Her job is too delicate to allow matters of emotions come in the way, which is the bane of the sisters you just mentioned…’

‘I pity her sometimes’

‘You waste that sentiment, she does not need it.’

‘I cannot help it, she burns away the raging fires of her womanhood, eternally poised on that platform and nobody cares about her private desires and inner cravings…’

‘Before we descend into flagrant heresy, why don’t we call this meeting to a close?’

(And the two friends walk off, leaving the solitary figure on the pedestal, her sword turned to the darkening sky, her empty scales unwavering in the evening wind.)

                                                                                                         THE END




First published in Thisday Newspapers: January 13, 2009

Yuletide...An Absolute Defence

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 As I write; tunes of Christmas resonate through my neighbor’s good speakers.

Yes, even bad neighbors can own good speakers.

I must state from the outset that the neighbor in question is a rascal of limited cerebral training. As a lawyer, my scorn for the unschooled mind offers no apologies, more so as the aforementioned personality is of a loud and pugnacious make-up.

The loudness would be forgiven if it were limited to his vocal chords (let them wither from over-use) but no, he generously endows his musical gadgets with this attribute as well.

Now, I consider myself a reasonable music enthusiast. I love Jazz, every lawyer should, soft rock also appeals to me; they set the mood right after the humdrum of our profession.

At occasional resurgences of the boy in me, I may sit through some Hip hop tunes.

But Highlife, No sir!

With due respects, I find it an irksome cacophony of exaggerated instrumentation and repetitive incantations. And the subject matter hardly varies from praise- singing or cheap didactics.

I firmly believe that music should be made of saner stuff (apologies, Mark Anthony)

Well, this low-life neighbor of mine does not share my opinion of Highlife, and he amplifies the point daily.

Everyday the walls echo with earsplitting reverberations from his speakers, any other blend of music may not have had the same sharp sting, but Highlife it must be…so everyday,  I grit my teeth and suffer the double jeopardy.

And he always sings in accompaniment!

My view of the fellow is not improved by the fact that his speakers sound far better than the ones in my house.

The few times I attempted to engage him in a Battle of the Decibels, my efforts were pathetically drowned.

Available case law on punitive damages for nuisance shall soon have its records broken, my file is building… before long, his cup shall run over.

I woke up this morning and the peace of the environment was once again being assaulted by his blaring monstrosity.

But wait a minute, it was not his usual…he was playing Christmas carols!

But Heavens, what a way to play them!

Jingle Bells clanged irritatingly on the auditory nerves, Silent Night turned into an oxymoron as The Drummer Boy joyously slammed away on the ear-drums,

O Little Town of Bethlehem would be rocked off its modest foundations by the volcanic vibrations of the woofers.

Hark! The heralding angels would have since gone hoarse if they sang eternally at such pitch.

I have never heard the age-long smoothness of Christmas melodies so ruthlessly abused and my neighbor enthusiastically joined the chorus, this time singing in English!

I muttered a curse and sprang from my bed.

In my methodical groundwork for a water-tight legal action against the scoundrel, I had overlooked my most convenient remedy -abatement of the nuisance.

My heavy poundings on his door finally seeped through the bedlam, the volumes reluctantly went down and the insufferable tort-feasor peeked out.

I gave vent to all my pent up exasperation in a flutter of expletives.

Safe in his ignorance, I let the words; culpability, prosecution and committal order at the Governor’s pleasure tumble freely.

My tirade must have run unceasingly for the chunky part of thirty minutes and from the crumbling face before me, I was hitting bull’s eye.

I turned to storm away, but behold! other inhabitants of our yard had gathered behind us in clusters evidently drawn by the thunderous emissions of my righteous indignation.

Voices, voices, voices…

‘Wetin dey do Lawyer, sef? Na only him go school? So make we no enjoy Christmas again?’

Yet another; ‘Do you blame him? Do lawyers go to church? Are they not the antichrist?’

This not inaccurate reference to the epileptic nature of my hebdomadal reverence to the Powers struck home, but the worst was still in transit:

‘If it is Highlife music he won’t complain o, now that it is God’s song, he is vexing, abeg no mind am my broda’

And we say there is justice in this world.

A quick glance at my vindicated adversary showed that he had regained his aplomb and was waving in solidarity to his formidable defence team.

Crimson-faced, I slunk away.

*                                              *                                                              *

I am lying on my bed, trying to shut out the din outside.

In celebration of this rare victory over the supercilious ‘The Law’, the crusaders of Christendom had assumed positions by my window and joined in the O Come All Ye Faithful, Joyful and Triumphant… chant.

Their voices rang to the skies, and thus motivated, my neighbor’s speakers trebled their vigour.

I have never been more humbled. They may be right; maybe like all lawyers, I am a grumpy Ebenezer Scrooge after all, trying to smother the joyous spirit of Christmas among ordinary folk.

In penitence, I pick up this piece of paper to jot a little list to guide my actions through the rest of the season.

1.)    Never complain about the nuisance value of deafening carols no matter how brazen the interference with quiet enjoyment of premises, Yuletide is an absolute defence.

2.)    Never scold the little boys (and recently, girls!) that ignite fireworks and knock-out bangers on busy streets, the potential hazards are equally excused by the Yuletide proviso.

3.)    Never grumble at the price tags that habitually grow wings this season…Angels also have wings.

4.)    Even if I suffer a salary cut at my workplace in order to finance sky-scraper sized Christmas trees and corresponding decorations, I shall never protest. It is in line with the spirit of giving…the poor and hungry shall behold the majesty and be filled…with awe.

5.)    Never frown at the message of the pre-dawn preacher that frequents our neighborhood this season.

He is right; I should feel guilty for still being alive to see the end of another year …as a sinner.

6.)    (Most importantly!) never forget to say:

                          MERRY CHRISTMAS DEAR READERS!!!

First Published in Thisday Newspapers: December 23, 2008

Anatomy of a Lawyer

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Lawyers! Bah! A contemptible bunch the lot of them; conceited, swaggering, loud mouthed models of vainglorious pomposity.

Hatched in the pits of hell, this mutant species are sprung upon our peaceful ecosystem to wreak unspeakable mischief.

Like termites (with whom they are incidentally similarly clad) they gnaw upon the very fabrics that hold our world together with their diabolic tripod proboscis of ‘words, words and bigger words’

As a seasoned expert in the sciences, oh, that noblest of all vocations worth pursuing, I am propelled by the characteristic chivalry of my profession to rid the world forever of the perils posed by that toxic class-the gentlemen of the law!

In line with the empirical tenets of my field, the panacea for a disease can only be discovered upon detailed and accurate isolation and culturing of the pathogens that transmit it; in their various levels and mode of occurrence.

I proceed now to lay bare my findings on the obnoxious subject under review.

These loathsome changelings are actually born normal, yes, from their mothers’ wombs they proceed as ordinary enough children grow to be; bright eyed and happy, chubby and fresh coloured as they romp in the sunshine.

Let us therefore lay to rest any blames on the good Creator for the plague of Lawyers…

The transformation starts in the schools; the University precisely. Within those four walls of their Faculty of Darkness, akin to Harry Potter’s Hogwarts, the tutoring wizards and witches brew their sinister spells and mesmerize the unquestioning minds of the poor lost souls.

For a start, the children are decreed unto, to discard every trace of colour –in both mind and attire…all intellectual and sartorial imagination are brutally sacrificed for the grimness of black and white. Volumes of magic couched in the best traditions of Abracadabra are transmitted into their brains, and they are taught to repeatedly recite dubious phrases of Latinese balderdash and are tested on their memory capacity to turn out same at short notice, in examinations that reek strongly of the Spanish Inquisition.

Five long Years, the process lasts-the decapitation of their humanness, the vapourization of their hearts, the blackening of their souls.

They are drilled to understand that theirs is the only ‘pure’ race. And that they have a duty to confound, betray and ultimately destroy the rest of humanity.

Rebels against this draconian outfit are kicked out and disgraced; they are not fit and proper for the task ahead.

For the eager scholars, a special place is prepared, at the centre of Hades in the symbolic Sixth Year.

Here, they are exposed to the practical manifestations of their powers; they see how they can break homes, deny freedoms and crumble dynasties.

They revel in their ability to strike terror at the stoutest hearts with a mere glance of disapproval, they strut about in the  amphi-theatre of courtrooms, wielding their singular tool…words, words and bigger words…

In a bizarre procedure of battle, they beguile onlookers, speak in strange tongues and are guided by the untouchable apparition that presides from the Bench.

They, argue, rattle, adjourn…united in the plunder of the poor litigants…

The Good Creator gave us all brains and brawn, He meant for us to fight our own battles, but the Lawyers shriek, ‘No! Don’t take the Law into your hands!’…Yes, leave it, alongside your money in theirs…

At the end of the sixth symbolic year, with the triad of mystical feasts and muted conversations, the new creatures are decked in long flowing dark robes of sorcery, and the great grey hat of magic is placed on their heads…and our world is futher imperiled.

They are commanded to spread to all nations and damn souls.

Their successes are varied…

Some grow oily faced, double jowled and round bellied, nourished by the blood of victims whose necks bear the deadly marks of their teeth.

They clutch smugly at their brief cases…though nothing is brief about the cases they handle, because their survival is hinged on the protracted agony of their unsuspecting targets.

They recline in their glossy cars, air conditioners at full blast; it is cold comfort to be given a free ride by them, Do not be carried away.

On their golden staff of office, there are several notches, each representing the number of conquests by their hundreds.

Upon attainment of the hundredth hundred, they are conferred the title of; Wizard of the Senior category.

For the others, the nemesis of their soiled origins ropes them in the most scorching poverty.

These are hungry and lean. Their robes drape on their gaunt backs, their hats lie askew atop their misshapen heads.

No scene is more ridiculous than encountering a member of this sub-specie in a struggle to assert some dignity.

Even the big words cannot salvage them, they traverse immense distances like the lost souls they are, a myriad of lost soles of their long suffering shoes in their wake.

A pole apart, both classes are still composed of identical ingredients:

Ignorance; Yes, nothing is more reflective of utter vacuum than the cranium of a lawyer. Once the layered mist of longwinded vocabulary blows away, it exposes the emptiness underneath.

In all other fields of human endeavour, they are aliens. They gape in utter idiocy, as the expert witness makes his depositions, true or false –they cannot decipher, they know no better.

In their pitiful state, they proclaim themselves Learned…brethren let us judge, is that not the Holy Book’s portrayal of a Fool? He who knows not and knows not that he knows not…

Of course the Lawyers never read the Good Book; they only swear by it… an act it prohibits.

The second ingredient is cowardice, ah! They have it in excess, these lawyers.

Try and get a handshake from one of them (mind to scrub your hands immediately afterwards) Their fingers are soft, sweaty stubs of non-warriors.

They hide behind the statute books and judicial precedents.

They have not the guts to reply to a  mere  slap from a fellow man, instead they run sniffling to the courts screaming ‘Assault, Assault!’ pointing accusing fingers and hiding behind Daddy’s silken gown, leaving the judgment to him.

A more unfeeling set you have never seen, when calamity befalls through an  accident and claims a life…instead of wailing their hearts out like honest folks do in emotional distress, the lawyer stares dry eyed and scribbles the list of torts and contributory liabilities ,corresponding liquidated and unliquidated damages, further forfeitures and penalties…

While we pray for the dead, they prey on their estate, the vultures!

I am working with a team of the most reputable scientists from various nations, we have isolated the pathogens and cultured the germs, we are making progress.

We shall soon come up with a fool-proof fumigant to chase this vermin from our air space, it shall be labeled ANARCHY.

I rest my thesis.


First Published in Thisday Newspapers: December 9, 2008