An interview with Jack:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

“Don’t you believe me? You’re supposed to believe me – you’re my lawyer.” Don’t you know how bad I want to believe your fershtunkenah story. So badly that I”m a little too needy about it. Sometimes it leads me to believe things which if I didn’t believe you, my client, you’d be better off. But I’m such a soft touch for any alibi with a hint of possibly being possible. If the times are right and it’s not your mother – I’m there dude. Tell me how it was self defense. Tell me how another dude did it and then took off and left you there for the cops to come. Tell me how you were just giving a ride to this guy you barely knew out of the kindness of your heart and he all of sudden out of nowhere pulls out a gun and starts blasting. I’ll take anything. Oh give me a story I can believe in that’s all I ask. But don’t tell me you didn’t do it when you already told five different people that you did it, when you tell the cops you did it – because then even I have to think – maybe he’s not telling me the truth. Which is okay – why should you tell me the truth – don’t tell me the truth – i don’t want you to tell me the truth. But tell me something I can run with. Funny ran into this old guy got picked up just coming across the border from Mexico. He’s skipped bail 15 years ago after he’s pled guilty – the judge gave him time to come back to start serving his little prison sentence. Gun never came back until he just got picked up 15 years later on a traffic stop. He was using a different name on his driver’s liecense when he got stopped. But he just said to me straight up – “yeah i’m that guy that didn’t come back to to be put in jail after I’d been sentenced 15 years ago.” I wanted to hug him. For telling me the truth. You see it’s not all black and white.

“It’s my Life, you know.” I’ve heard this same phrase over and over again over the years from my clients. “Oh really? Is that what you think? You just happen to be wrong about that.”

Overheard on the elevator – 2 lawyers talking about their clients – the first says – “the problem with my guy is when he gets to state prison he’s gonna want to be alpha dog and somebody is going to take him out”. Other lawyer says: “well my guy’s no sweetheart either.” First lawyer says: “C’mon your guy? He’s a pussy next to my guy…although he would cap you in a heartbeat.”

Ralph A. Cohen was the criminal defense attorney that everybody knew in Jewish Montreal in the 1950′s. He’d ride in his Cadillac Eldorado convertible up Cote Ct Luc blvd with his bald shaved head and always stopped for hitchhikers. He represented Harry Ship, our local Jewish gangster, who ran a gambling place over the Yang Tse chinese restaurant on Van Horne. Andy Ship, my brother’s friend was Harry’s nephew which gave Andy some extra cachet although he probably didn’t need it – Andy was a pretty cool dude on his own. Ralph A. Cohen advertised in the Montreal Gazette when no lawyer advertised. My brother got Ralph A Cohen to represent him and his friend Jake when they got busted at Eatons for something.

The theory that crime is a result of poverty is in serious trouble. I’m sitting here twiddling my thumbs.