The Education of a Maverick Prosecutor, Part I: Life in the NOIR Zone

by Bruce Han­ify

The fol­low­ing Pros­e­cu­tor Series encap­su­lates what I learned dur­ing my 15 years as a deputy pros­e­cu­tor. They are intended to shed some infor­mal light on a very dark area: crime.  Hope you enjoy them.

#  #  #  #

I was born before 1960, when the world was Black-and-White. Repressed men and women mum­bled innu­en­dos through cigarette-clenched lips. Dan­ger­ous, exis­ten­tial con­flicts cir­cled rest­less dreams like a hun­gry lion — kept in check by house pay­ments, kids, and alco­hol. You know what I mean. If you are 50-years-old or older, you were likely con­ceived in a cloud of Chester­field smoke and learned to accept lip­stick on your restau­rant glass as a part of the Sur­geon General’s rec­om­mended diet for future depres­sives. Yeah.

That’s Noir, man.

The A&E execs pay peo­ple to answer the ques­tion: “What is film Noir?” Are you kid­ding me? Noir is not a film, man. It’s the world America’s World War II com­bat vets revealed through films like Black Angel and The Asphalt Jun­gle. The world of Noir started with All Quiet on the West­ern Front and ended with Cape Fear. That’s Noir, Jack. About 30 years. If you throw in Twi­light Zone’s five sea­sons, 35 years.  Noir is the world that shaped my soul.

My sis­ters and I grew up in a house where the specters of the dead did not let us for­get the shad­owy side of life. My mother’s first hus­band was killed at Nor­mandy; her sec­ond hus­band — my father — landed at Nor­mandy and sur­vived the Bat­tle of the Bulge through VE Day. We didn’t watch war movies with either of our folks around.  The end result of my early years was that I was always more at home in the 1940s than I am in our own time, which seems so .… so much like a pam­pered kid from a one-child fam­ily. They’re only cute to their par­ents. The rest of us are forced to endure their specialness.

Flash for­ward to the sum­mer of ’88. Freshly divorced, and rest­less, I began what would turn out to be a near-career of pros­e­cu­tion in Yakima County. One after­noon I was argu­ing a sum­mary judg­ment motion in a civil case against the County. I turned and saw that Jeff Sul­li­van, the elected pros­e­cu­tor, was watch­ing me in action. I barely got back to my office when the phone rang. It was Sul­li­van. On a sweaty August day in 1988, I hung up my spurs as an insur­ance defense attor­ney and became a deputy pros­e­cu­tor.  I would spend my next 12 years in that office.

Yakima was a shoot­ing gallery. It seemed there was a drive-by shoot­ing almost every week. A friend of mine in the defense busi­ness went with his client’s fam­ily to the Pizza Hut for lunch break dur­ing his client’s trial for .… a drive-by.  A car back­fired. Every sin­gle per­son at that table instinc­tively ducked for cover. That’s how it was. With­out even real­iz­ing it, I learned to check belt lines when I was on the street, in stores. Yakima was my sweaty intro­duc­tion to America’s post-Noir world, a place where there was nei­ther romance, nor honor.  Smarmy greed and cruel force were the dom­i­nant cur­rents in America’s dete­ri­o­rat­ing social scene.

Man per­fected by soci­ety is the best of all ani­mals; he is the most ter­ri­ble of all when he lives with­out law, and with­out jus­tice.  Aris­to­tle

The only entity that can medi­ate between the indi­vid­ual and the tribe is, for bet­ter or worse, a state, and it is the prosecutor’s pecu­liar respon­si­bil­ity to enforce the will of the state against an indi­vid­ual.  Because jus­tice is rooted in pro­por­tion­al­ity, and pro­por­tion­al­ity can­not take shape with­out some­thing with which to mea­sure its appli­ca­tion, i.e., force, it nec­es­sar­ily involves the use of power against oth­ers.  Hence there is always an ele­ment of war in pol­i­tics.  You can­not impose an income tax with­out mak­ing “polite” war on the cit­i­zenry.  There is no nice way to part some­one from what they’ve cul­ti­vated through effort and intel­li­gence.  You have to take it from them, and if they resist, you have to imprison or kill them.  Peo­ple want to hear these things expressed in terms of ideals, but up close, it doesn’t work that way.

Still, if it weren’t for the state, we would soon find our­selves in a Hobbe­sian night­mare of end­less strife.

It is in jus­tice that the order­ing of soci­ety is cen­tered.  Aris­to­tle

The entire uni­verse is a power sys­tem. In any dynamic, whether mechan­i­cal or psy­chic, there is an exchange of energy.  In inti­mate rela­tion­ships there is sex­ual power, emo­tional power, finan­cial power, even psy­cho­log­i­cal power — unless the two per­sons are excep­tion­ally evolved. Even kind­ness can be used to manip­u­late the other. Some­times one party is an extremely secure per­son, the other is not, and so on.  Always there is con­flict in human rela­tion­ships.  The best rela­tion­ships are the ones where each party pulls his or her own weight and respects the other per­son with­out resort to guilt, or fear.  It is by this mech­a­nism that our per­son­al­i­ties and our char­ac­ter evolve.

Almost all the world’s prob­lems can be traced to the improper exer­cise of power.  The pur­pose of foren­sics in the law is to shape the per­son­al­ity so that it gives expres­sion to the prin­ci­ple of pro­por­tion, which could be defined as the “cir­cum­scribed appli­ca­tion of force.”  True matu­rity in the law and in pol­i­tics con­sists of get­ting the per­son­al­ity out of the way.

There is no human being who can­not fall prey to greed or evil.  It takes a tremen­dous amount of work to free your­self from dis­torted attach­ments to the power dynamic. Most of us prac­tice power rit­u­als we believe are unique and use­ful but which are, in fact, prim­i­tive force plas­tered over with a Smi­ley Face.  In the final run, Death is the Joker that forces us all to let go of all our delusions.

The law is rea­son, free from pas­sion.  Aris­to­tle

Over time, the force of per­son­al­ity is con­cen­trated by respon­si­bil­ity, whereas eva­sion of respon­si­bil­ity weak­ens its force, which is why I’ve told the pros­e­cu­tors I’ve trained that you can­not achieve jus­tice with polit­i­cal ide­ol­ogy or per­sonal pref­er­ence because when you do that, you are impos­ing your per­son­al­ity upon other peo­ple which is — to use the old-fashioned term — tyranny.  To apply force justly upon oth­ers, your will must be guided by prin­ci­ple.  It takes an uncom­monly evolved per­son­al­ity to under­stand how quickly prin­ci­ple can be dis­torted by greed, pet­ti­ness and cru­elty, whether open, or concealed.

Therein lies the pri­mary issue of power: whether its appli­ca­tion is con­scious or uncon­scious, prin­ci­pled or tyran­ni­cal.  It is the same for all human beings, in all cir­cum­stances. You can only dis­en­gage from manip­u­la­tion if there is a con­scious effort to cul­ti­vate a ster­ling char­ac­ter for­ti­fied by solid prin­ci­ple — or the pain of adver­sity forces you to let go.

In my 15 years as a pros­e­cu­tor, I actu­ally got to know, and exer­cise, power, albeit at mod­est lev­els. In the next install­ment, we’ll con­tinue with real life sto­ries of pros­e­cu­tion, and how I learned to observe the State in action.

Or, more prop­erly, how I learned to exer­cise power.

Wel­come to my world.

Books by Bruce Han­ify at Smash­words
Bruce Han­ify 2010 All Rights Reserved