Rethinking George

I’ve never been a big fan of George Clooney. Perhaps that’s because my ex thought he was sexy, or maybe it was that I just thought he was an average actor playing average characters. He was certainly no Pacino, De Niro or Eastwood, my three favorites.



But, in the last 24 hours I’ve had to rethink my animus toward Clooney. I watched two of his movies – one for the first time, one for the twentieth, - and came away with a new sense of respect for his acting ability. The characters he played in those two movies spoke to me. Clooney, I’ve come to realize, is good at what he does. Good movies, like well-written books, succeed when the theme speaks to the audience. A man coming to grips with his broken, failed life, believing in love even after divorce, doing the right thing even when it costs you. Story themes work when people can say “I get that”. I said that twice the other night and Clooney was the reason.


First, “Michael Clayton”. Clooney plays a lawyer at a powerful New York firm in the middle of defending a corporation in a class action lawsuit brought by farmers over carcinogens in a fertilizer/weed killer the company sold. Clooney isn’t much of a lawyer; he’s a “fixer”. You have a problem, Clooney gets it fixed.


But his life is broken. He picks his son up from his ex-wife and new husband’s home. He spends time playing poker (and losing badly we come to understand) in illegal, all night games. He’s alienated from his family, he’s lost thousands on a failed restaurant, he owes a loan shark $75,000.


At one point he’s talking to the firm’s senior partner and he says “I’m 45 and I have nothing”. His mentor, another lawyer at the firm and perhaps the finest trial attorney he’s ever seen - has a break down –or is it a profound attack of conscience about defending the corporation.


Clooney struggles as he realizes his life, his career, haven’t been about justice. He’s accomplished nothing. He’s done nothing. He’s been on the wrong side.


I felt what Clooney’s character felt. The law, I learned early in practice, wasn’t about justice. It was about winning. And, I enjoyed winning. Later, in my job with Farm Bureau, I calculated the likelihood of success in court of hundreds of cases. I put a value on injuries and deaths. How much is a four-year olds life worth? How much responsibility does a thirty-year old bear when she fails to yield the right of way and an accident occurs?


I learned Virginia juries (and judges) didn’t go overboard with monetary awards. As a result “I guessed right” on my valuations almost every time. I was good at what I did, but deep down I was conflicted. The law was supposed to be about justice. I couldn’t face the fact that it wasn’t. Like Clooney’s character, I had nothing to show for my life. And, I began to compromise who I was, what I believed, to be successful. Was I a good husband? A good father? A good lawyer? A good friend? A good lover? A good man? I didn’t think so, at least not without being all things to all people, including the woman I thought would love me unconditionally.


And then there’s “Ocean’s Eleven”, a man’s quest to reunite with his ex-wife against the backdrop of a casino heist. Clooney (“Ocean”) has numerous conversations with his ex (“Tess” played by Julia Roberts). The entire movie takes place in and around the Bellagio, a Las Vegas casino I gambled and dined at extensively with my ex (I’m no George Clooney, but to me my ex was more beautiful than Julia Roberts on her best day).


How’s this for dialog:


Roberts: “You’re a liar and a thief.”
Clooney: “I only lied to you about stealing.” (We wrote each other those exact words).
Clooney: “Does he make you laugh?”
Roberts: “No but he doesn’t make me cry either.”
Roberts: “How are you going to give me the five years back your lies cost me?”
Clooney: “With better years in the future.”


As the story unfolds, Clooney and his band of sophisticated thieves get millions from the casino. Clooney goes back to prison. This time when the gate opens, Julia Roberts is there, waiting on him.


Sometimes life imitates art. Sometimes it doesn’t. In “Michael Clayton”, Clooney continues to gamble, and lose, even though he’s told everyone he’s done gambling. He “comes right” at the end and yet, we see no repercussions, just him riding in a cab.


In “Oceans Eleven” his ex realizes she always loved him. He’s still running scams, still breaking the law, but that’s OK because they have each other.


Life, at least my life, didn’t play out that way. I did the right thing from August 18, 2008 forward. I made my case easy for the prosecution. I confessed to everything, gave detailed information on every action I took, signed everything over to my wife and kids so they’d be secure and then paid hundreds of thousands of dollars in partial restitution. There was no cab ride for me, no “just drive” moment.


And my ex telling me she still loves me, always loved me, coming by the prison to tell me her faith in me, in us, is unshakable? Didn’t happen.


Today would have been my 29th wedding anniversary. I’ve done well today because I’ve finally realized my life isn’t a movie, at least where it involves my ex. Only one of us is still in love, only one of us misses our mate. The other, another day and life goes on.


For a few hours yesterday I watched Clooney play two roles and recite lines, and salvage his own life and his marriage. For a few hours I thought “if it worked for George, it could work for me”. For a few hours I felt that things would work out for me just like in the movies. That George Clooney really is a good actor!

All Around Like Heron

A guy came up to me at the law library asking if I’d take a look at his “paperwork” and see if there were any options he had to get his sentence reduced. As I do with anyone who asks, I said “sure”. He then said, “Your name is all around the yard like heron”.



I didn’t know quite what he meant so I asked my friend Ty – the law library aide – exactly what he was talking about. “Heron, you know ‘heroin’. In the projects everyone knows where to score heroin. In here, everyone knows who to turn to for help.”


He then said this: “You’re a righteous man. The guys here respect you because you care and you try. It’s not about a hustle to you.”


I thought a great deal about Ty’s comments. The strange thing is, in here I am who I am. I’m still the same outgoing guy I was before my arrest. I talk to anybody; white, black, Hispanic, gangbangers, gay, it doesn’t matter. Most guys in prison keep to themselves. They say little, if anything. I’ve always engaged people. Just me being me. As my friend Paul (a/k/a “hippohead” – guy must have the biggest head on record!) said, “Only you could act this way in prison”.


The “helping” issue is a little different. Years ago, when I was in private practice, I was a damn good lawyer. I outworked my opponent, out hustled them. I viewed law practice as hand to hand combat. I wanted to win, whether it was the right result or not.


When I met my wife in college, I was young and idealistic. I told her I wanted to defend the oppressed and argue great questions of constitutional law. Then came law school, marriage, law practice. I wanted to win; I didn’t care who got hurt. The win was all that mattered.


I changed. I took the job at Farm Bureau and was damn good at that too. I evaluated cases for the company. I made recommendations when to fight and when to settle. I can honestly say my opinions were always correct, if correct means calling a case within a few dollars of what a jury would do.


I told my wife how much a life was worth. So much of my job was about that. How much was a 7 year-old girl worth who died in a car accident? How much is a 45 year-old homemaker’s life worth?


I got involved in community service, working with my church and the local Meals on Wheels group. I like to think I did it to “give back”. Thinking about it recently, I’m afraid I did it to compensate, to balance out the fact that I put winning ahead of what’s right.


Self-reflection is a scary thing. You look in the mirror one day and see “the real you”, at least the you you’ve become and you realize you could have, should have done better. I realized after my arrest I’d been after all the wrong things. I wanted so badly to be loved and appreciated, I was willing to lie and steal. I realized I was so hell-bent on success; I’d sold out my values.


So I lost everything. The woman I loved never loved me. My kids turned from me. My own church abandoned me. Friends left me. Almost every dollar I earned, every possession I owned, was given up. Then, I found my idealism again.


I help guys in here. But, I tell them the truth. I won’t file suite for a guy just to file. If he’s guilty, I work toward a fair sentence. Remorseful? I use a pardon. I’m researching and briefing significant points of Constitutional Law. It’s funny sometimes how God works. Our lives come full circle.


I recently found out a friend from church was in the last few days of her life. She has fought cancer courageously for a number of years. This beautiful woman is now confined to her bed, with only days remaining. Friends have been sitting with her so her husband could continue holding his college classes. My ex-wife has been with her a number of days.


I wrote my youngest son earlier this week and told him to see, understand and love the compassion he is witnessing from his mom. “Be gentle and kind”, I urged him. It means more than all the power, prestige, and wealth in the world.


My morning devotional the other day included a verse from 1 John – “The world is passing away . . . but the one that does the will of God lives forever”.


I may be wrong, but I think God’s will is ultimately that we love, we forgive, we be kind and compassionate. Hard to believe it took prison for me to realize that.


Ty told me something else the other day. He told me a group of guys had prayed for me. Two months ago, I helped a guy win a new appeal when I argued his lawyer provided ineffective assistance of counsel. We filed a Bar complaint and learned last week the attorney had been disbarred (11 complaints; 3 from inmates. The attorney admitted he suffered from depression which led him to not prepare his cases).


The other two inmates are also housed here. I’ve filed papers for them to get appeals granted. Given the Bar’s action, their appeals will be granted. At least they will get a fair shot at proving their innocence.


Perhaps these cases would have worked out that way without me. I’m not smart enough to know the answer to that. I only know that the idealism I felt as a young man is back.


It really is weird to count you blessings when you’re in a tough spot. For all my stupid stories about prison, this experience really does suck. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I was still with my wife and kids, sleeping in my bed, watching the sunset from my deck. But, I’m doing better than I ever expected in here. And, I got guys praying for me and comparing my presence here to heroin in the ‘hood. All in all, not as bad as I thought.