Thursday, January 20, 2011

Indigence.

Right now I'm sitting at work, taking a break from writing a particularly complicated memo that involves me basically making a lot of decisions that I'm not qualified to make. That seems to be a pretty standard sentiment in my office, and I think it might be a pretty standard sentiment everywhere. This particular endeavor involves defining a bunch of fundamental concepts that we're using to rewrite the way that we determine indigence. Basically, it has come to our attention that the forms and system we've been using to see who qualifies for a public defender are both doing, but not doing well (a distinction that has been made recently in other online literature). So we're going to come up with a new system and new forms that will be easier to fill out, more clear, and help us better determine who is indigent.

Why does that matter? Mostly because we like the word "indigent" and all of its variations. But we also need to know because my office is only allowed to represent people who are indigent, or who are "unable, without substantial financial hardship to himself or to his dependents, to obtain competent, qualified legal representation on his own." There are some basic guidelines provided by the Public Defender Act of Louisiana, but there are also a lot of areas that need to be interpreted, especially if you're determining indigency for people who don't automatically qualify because they get public assistance (like food stamps or public housing) or make less than 200% of the Federal Poverty Guidelines (which for one person totals out to be a staggering $21,660 per year). So, for example, you have to consider someone's assets to see if they qualify for a public defender. And their monthly expenses. And their debt. And how many dependents they have (and their ages). Astrological sign is optional.

It has somehow become my responsibility to sit in an office on Tulane Avenue, look at a computer, and use these (and other) criteria to decide who can and can't afford to hire their own private attorney. Me, the same person who calls families every week to ask them if they can help bond their child/friend/fiance/parent/cousin out of jail, and about half the time hears a familiar "I don't have that kind of money to bond him out." On a $10,000 bond. $7,000 bond. $5,000 bond. Bonds that would cost less than four digits to get a bondsman to get someone out of jail!

But those really aren't the people we're talking about here, determining who qualifies for a public defender. If they're still in jail for the trial, they're going to qualify for a PD pretty much regardless. But what about the people who sold their car to pay the guy's bond? Or used their entire monthly SSI check as a down payment with a bondsman, and owe that much again with no idea how to pay it off?

The point isn't that some people are poor and can't afford lawyers or bonds. The point is that I am acutely aware of how little I know about that entire lifestyle, and yet I'm the one that is saying "You can afford a lawyer, and you can't." How do I know who can afford a lawyer? If you make a thousand dollars more than the income cutoff, do you have a thousand dollars to spend on a lawyer? I'm inclined to think not. It's sort of hard to think of a system that doesn't reward people for bad spending habits, if you count assets like money in the bank against people. If two people have the same income and family unit size, but one of them has saved up a thousand dollars and the other one has no bank account and $19.24 in his pocket because he really likes to buy po boys for lunch, should you tell the first person to pay for a lawyer and the second person he can have one for free?

I suppose it's the nature of the beast that you're going to screw poor people over no matter what. Fortunately, I can take comfort in knowing that plenty of organizations thrive on that purpose, so I'm not alone. And I'm a pretty social person, so that's nice. But basically, you're inevitably going to punish people for saving money, or make poor people hire lawyers that they can't really afford (and go into debt, which leads to a whole slew of other problems), or give a free lawyer to people who can afford their own, which clearly and noticeably detracts from the level of service we can provide to the clients of ours who really need us. And I, with my vast knowledge of and experience with (A) supporting a family, (B) living close to the poverty line, (C) chronic bouts of unemployment or underemployment, and (D) any other of a host of issues that our (potential) clients deal with, am going to sit around the office on a Thursday night and write a policy to determine how much money really is enough before it would cause you "substantial financial hardship" to hire a lawyer.

It's ok. I live in solidarity with the poor, right? I'm volunteering, and living simply, and making less than half of minimum wage. I'm just the man for the job, aren't I?

Sometimes I make myself laugh.