Public defender strives to give clients cloak of humanity
By JOE LAMBE, The Kansas City Star

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Four years ago, attorney David Bell worked at a Kansas City civil law firm and made profitable use of his costly East Coast education.

Then, to the shock of family and friends, he quit his $82,000-a-year job to become an assistant Jackson County public defender.

His new salary then: $32,000 for working up to 70 hours a week in an office increasingly burdened by rising client numbers and no additional staff to share the load. His customers changed from posh clients needing financial planning and estate work to common criminals too broke to post bond.

Kent Stallard, a partner in Bells former firm, which now is Stinson Morrison Hecker, said staffers hoped Bell would tire of the new job and quickly return.

They are still waiting.

Stinson Morrison Hecker

Bell said he left because he wanted more contact with clients, wanted to see more immediate results of his work and wanted to try cases.

I always had an interest in getting in front of people, he said. I once thought of becoming a rabbi.

Instead, that interest took Bell, now 33, into an experience far different from getting his accounting and finance degree from Wharton business school or his law degree from New York University.

I grew up on the mean streets of Leawood, he joked. Now the jail is like my second office.

He handles a caseload of up to 50 pretrial cases and 20 probation revocations.

Assistant Public Defender Randy Schlegel, a 14-year veteran and former science teacher whom Bell calls his mentor, said that Bell almost tied the office record of seven straight acquittals for a rookie.

He went six-for-six before he represented a client in a case no one could win, Schlegel said.

Bell said he has learned a few things. Among them:

The most serious crimes  those guys are usually the friendliest and easiest to work with, (unlike) the younger guys who come in on things like car theft and drugs.

Things like a gangster lifestyle and music can be a crutch for a lack of self-esteem, he said. Behind it is this insecure little kid. If you can reach that (kid), youve got a chance.

When he started, he questioned the guilt of all his clients. Now he has found that some of them are not guilty because the state cant make a case, and a small percentage are actually innocent.

About 95 percent of cases are settled with plea bargains, often crafted in the face of overwhelming evidence.

You have to get used to losing and waking up the next morning and being willing to fight as hard as before.

Justice is far more complex than people understand, he said, and even a sentence of 30 years can be a win. Take last years high-profile case of Tyrone Tucker.

On Oct. 12, Tucker went before Judge Charles Atwell for sentencing in the murder of John Friedmann, the Jackson County Sports Complex Authority director and a popular community leader.

Tucker used a sawed-off shotgun to try to rob Friedmann, 71, at a Kansas City car wash on Dec. 28, 2003. There was a struggle, the judge determined, and the gun fired and hit the victim, who also was beaten with the gun.

Friedmann died nearly two weeks later.

Tucker, 19 at sentencing, had pleaded guilty to felony second-degree murder, attempted robbery and two counts of armed criminal action, with the maximum possible sentence capped at 30 years.

Friedmanns family members and friends testified for hours about what a fine man he was and how much they missed him. Prosecutors asked for the maximum 30 years for the murder. Tucker would have to serve 85 percent  more than 25 years  before possible parole.

Bell countered with the grim story of Tuckers childhood: His crack-addicted mother beat him, burned him, and finally threw him out on the street at about age 12. After he killed Friedmann at age 17, his mother turned him in for the reward money.

He showed a family picture of Tuckers mother smoking a crack pipe just weeks before she delivered Tucker. An aunt testified that the mother was a crack addict. How did she know? The aunt said she had also been a crack addict and got drugs for her sister.

Atwell imposed a 21-year sentence for the murder and a concurrent 30 years for all the other crimes. With time served, that means Tucker becomes eligible for parole in about 16 years.

Atwell said he wanted to give Tucker, who has only an eighth-grade education, a chance to improve himself in prison and come out rehabilitated.

Under the circumstances, Bell said, he regards that as a proper and winning outcome.

Bell did not show the judge another disturbing family photograph he found, one of a young Tucker rolling a big marijuana cigarette.

It was displayed in the same manner my parents would display a picture of me and my first bicycle, Bell said. How could this individual wind up anywhere but in a defendants chair?

All of this doesnt absolve a person of responsibility for a crime, but it does explain it, Bell said. His job is to take people who are viewed as subhuman or animal and make them appear as they are, which is human beings, to put that cloak of humanity back on them.

Among the toughest parts of his job are child sex cases in which he has to take statements from young victims, he said.

But he can then advise his client of the power of the childrens words, he said, and possibly get a guilty plea that saves the victim the trauma of trial testimony.

There is always something to argue in defense, he said. It all goes back to a spark he sees in the eyes of almost anyone, he said, a spark called humanity, soul, God, or whatever you want to call it.

Even if that spark is not there, he said, Ill be able to say what possibly could have happened to this human being to extinguish the spark.

Bell said his daring jump four years ago landed him in the best job hes ever had. But he has reached the maximum salary of $52,452, he said, and works a second job teaching children Hebrew for their bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies.

He would like to get married and have children, he said, but doubts his public defender job would provide enough money for that or time to be with a family.

If children come, would his old firm take him back?

The door certainly isnt closed at all, Stallard said.
To reach Joe Lambe, Jackson County courts reporter, call (816) 234-4314 or send e-mail to jlambe@kcstar.com .