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"A Tradition in Storytelling"
|The author is a law professor in South Florida, on sabbatical in the Pacific Northwest. She has produced a number of published scholarly articles, including most recently one n a Canadian serial killer and one on the law of Star Trek. More ambitiously, she is writing a book for a seminar she teaches on the link between bias crimes and domestic terrorism. Last year she was appointed Governor of a UN workgroup on Intellectual Property for its Millennial Assembly. Other than teaching, she has worked in a South London bakery, clerked for a Manhattan Criminal court, interned with a British barrister, and put in two years with the United States Department of Defense. She has six tattoos, which is six more than any other member of the law faculty. She knows all the lyrics to the theme song from Pinky and the Brain, which isn’t saying much, but she’s also proud to say she knows almost all the words to the Animaniacs and to South Park, too. Her main claim to fame, however, is that she once served as a dead body for her friend’s class in scientific evidence.|
|Sometimes You Get Killed|
|There is a difference between sex and violence, love and death, but if you're any good, the difference can be imperceptible.
Jack and Ernie, a diametrically opposed duo entangled another convoluted situation. A mystery to keep you taking another breath and reading another page.
In March, Ernie the errant lawyer got busted. It wasn’t his first arrest: That had come about a year and a half earlier, in Arlington, Virginia, when the charge had been murder. As I told you, back then he’d been innocent of that crime, anyway. He had, of course, been guilty then of the charge on which he was arrested this past March: felony Possession of Controlled Dangerous Substances. He was guilty now, too, of compounded bad judgment: He had offered the coke to an undercover cop with no sense of humor or proportion. Because Luis Mendoza, the cop in Arlington, had had both, Ernie had no priors and was able this time to plead down to misdemeanor Possession. He got a $250 fine and 150 hours of community service.
The fine he borrowed from me; I have no idea where he was getting the money for the drugs. I had no idea, either, where he was getting the emotional wherewithal to do the community service, since he was as tapped out psychologically as he was financially. My best efforts at keeping him solvent in both regards by keeping him working weren’t an overwhelming success. For that, Ernie had no trouble just saying no.
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