My client who lost his legs in that motorcycle accident got that big settlement he was entitled to. He used it to buy himsaelf a used full size used car he had out fitted with hand controls and a carrier in the back to haul his new electric wheelchair. He developed amazing arm strength and would lower himself to the ground from his chair, fold it up, and store it in the carrier. He would then handwalk to the driver’s side door, open it, and pull himself in. He regained some freedom and liked to go out to the clubs, to be with people, and enjoy the music. They say people gathered around in a circle when he danced his wheelchair. Someone also said he used that settlement to to go into the drug business and was selling cocaine in the clubs. That someone was probably some hapless club goer caught dirty and told ratting out his dealer was the price of his freedom. It’s a very risky business ratting out actual drug dealers and suspect my client made a perfect patsy. But the narcs only caught him with the remnants of a cocaine eight-ball when they busted him leaving a club one night. Enough to charge him with PWID, possession with ointent to distribute, and just to be real pricks, they seized his car alleging it was used to transport contraband under the forfieture statute.
What my client was most upset about was his car being seized, I met with the narcs and we discussed the car being undrivable by anybody other than my client and of no use to them. I proposed we swap for a car of equal value they could actually drive and asked them what kind of car they might want. Their eyes lit right up and, after they conferred about it, said they wanted a small Chevy S-10 pickup. I said that could be arranged and I arranged it. The PWID charge was reduced to possession and pled out for probation. Everybody was happy.
Well not everybody. Almost a year later the receptionist buzzed to tell me there were SLED agents in the lobby asking to speak with me. I said send them back and waited in the hall to usher them into my office. They introduced themselves and showed their ID cards as we sat down. One agent took the lead and opened up an official looking file folder before advising me they were investigating the alleged bribery of police offiers. That got my arrention but I didn’t have the faintest idea what they were talking about. Using an old police trick, the agent removed a document from his file and, held it up reading it as if it was irrefutable proof of criminal activity. The agent then asked, “Did you represent ________________ charged with distributing drugs in Berkeley County.” That caught me by surprise but at least I now knew why they were in my office. “No,” I replied, “he was charged with PWID and pled down to possession.” The agent didn’t like that I showed no sign of anxiety I’d done anything wrong. Undaunted, he proceeded to pull out anothet document and ask, “Did you arrange to give the narcotics officers who arrested your client a Chevy pick-up truck?” Again without hesitation I replied, “Yes, I did,” but added, “My client gave it to them in exchange for them returning his automobile that was fitted with hand break and gas contols.” You could see the agent thought he was getting close to having me admit to the bribe, and he tried to nail his trap door shut by asking, “Was that the same car that was seized because my client was a drug deaker?” “No,” I shot back, “the same car that was seized because my client possessed more than a gram of coke, not because he was a dealer.” “Well, what gave you the authority to do that?” he asked incredulously. I almost laughed and replied common sense.
Now it was my turn to start asking questions. “Are you suggesting I gave the officers a pick-up truck as a bribe?” “Er, eh, well we’re investigating to find out what happened.” “Oh, in that case, since you’re just investigating, I’ll tell you. I don’t know if that file of yours reflects it but my client lost both legs in a horrific motorcycle accident. That car they seized was specially modified with hand controls and a carrier for his wheelchair. The seizure of his car because it had been used to transpot drugs was bullshit but, even so, do you have any idea how hard it is to get a wrongfully seized car back through the system?” The looks on their faces told me they didn’t. “It would have taken months of legal wrangling and cost more than the pick-up truck was worth. It wasn’t a bribe, swapping the vehicles was the fastest and most economical way for my client to get his car back.” I didn’t have to ask for what purpose they thought I would have risked my law license to bribe the officers. They thought it was quid pro quo for getting the PWID charge reduced to possession. “If you really think I had bribe the narcs to reduce the PWID charge to possession when my client had no prior record, you must think I’m a really lousy lawyer,” I said holding my wrists out. “If you think I’m guilty of breaking the law, you’d better go ahead and arrest me. If, not, I think it’s time for you gentlemen to leave.”
They did and I never heard from them again.
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