Note from my unwritten autobiography ...

A public defender does not choose his clients; they are assigned to him. The client, who cannot afford to choose his own, is in the same position. That’s why I thought my first job was to convince the client that whoever had made the choice for each of us wasn’t nuts.

Usually this worked out. I made sure I looked the part: well-tailored, Mont Blanc pen, leather briefcase, engraved business cards. I never introduced myself by my bureaucratic title: “Deputy Public Defender, Grade IV.” Rather, I was an attorney there to represent him or her in the matter before the court.

Usually, it got me off to a decent start. Sometimes, the resistance was stiffer. One client fingered the card, examined my name, and asked, “You a Jew?”

Anti-Semitism is not the only objection that a person in this position might have. A bit less common than: “You work with the DA?” or “The system pays you, don’t they?” or “Why can’t I have a real lawyer?”

The idea in this first encounter is to build confidence. Truth is therefore recommended. 

So, I said, “Yes, I am.” My demeanor was intentionally affirmative, neither confrontational nor apologetic.

The client nodded his head and relaxed. “Good. Jews are smart.”

This client’s logic was fairly straightforward and rather unimpeachable. 

I was a lawyer. I was a Jew. Jews are smart. Hence, I was a smart lawyer.

That is the sort of stereotypical nonsense I could work with.