A Depression Odyssey - Chapter 3 of 10
Chapter 3 - The Hobo
After walking a good distance, he came across a homeless man lying on the ground, with a few beer bottles strewn around him. The man emanated a strong, horrible stench and his clothes were discolored and torn. Even this poor man’s skin had become discolored with hair holding onto bits of dust.
Walking as quietly as he could, Lempo still managed to wake up the dirty hobo. “Who goes there?” asked the hobo; still trying to gather his senses.
“Sorry for waking you,” replied Lempo, “I’m just trying to get to the laundromat.”
“Well, now that you woke me, why don’t you stay and have a chat with me?”
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea. I really need to get to the laundry.”
“What am I? Too poor for you?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m really in a hurry and I don’t even know you.”
“Don’t worry; there’s enough time to get where you need to be, and also all of your friends were strangers at one point. I’m not going to hurt you kid, just haven’t had a talk with someone in a while. What do you say?”
Lempo thought for a moment before saying, “Tell you what; I’ll stay and talk for a little while, but I have to get going soon.”
“Hahaha, I used to be like you once. Always having to be somewhere, always in a hurry, eventually it all got boring and I couldn’t do it no more. It might not seem like it, but I used to be somebody.”
“What happened?”
“Woke up to the lie I was living. Would you like to hear the story or are you still in a rush to get somewhere?”
Without hesitating, Lempo replied, “No, I’m interested in what you have to say.”
Smirking, the hobo told his story, “I’ll try to keep it short. I was born into one of the wealthiest families in this town.”
“Which one?” interrupted Lempo.
“Oh, you wouldn’t remember them; they’re all long gone now. I’m the last one remaining. So, as I was saying; born into money, I naturally lived the typical affluent life. At a young age I had tutors who taught me how to play the violin and how to speak French; I also learned arithmetic and how to read in Latin, so I could read the philosophy and science books of old. When I came of age, I was sent to a boarding school where I was taught how to act, think, and speak like high society wanted me to. Throughout this time I blindly obeyed and followed everything I was taught. Not once did I protest against the people who were steering my mind into a narrow box. When it was time for me to enroll into college, my parents pulled some strings and I was accepted into one of those prestigious Ivy League schools.”
Once again, Lempo interrupted, “What school did you go to?”
Smiling, the hobo said, “It doesn’t matter, they’re all the same. After experiencing all that college life had to offer, I graduated with a law degree. My parents had always wanted me to become a lawyer and I fulfilled their wish, but little did I know the misery it was going to bring to my life. I immediately started working for the state and became one of the best prosecutors in the county. I married a well-to-do girl and had two kids, both boys. You wouldn’t believe it, but I used to own a huge house, decked with the finest furniture money could buy and my cars were off the lot. I sent my boys to the best schools and bought them the nicest clothes, coolest toys, and newest gadgets. My wife wanted for nothing; also being a prosecutor, she owned the most beautiful jewelry. To the buffoons of the world, I lived a highly successful life.”
“How did you become homeless?”
“I was getting to that part kid, be patient,” said the hobo, “I had always been taught to measure life by one’s wealth and material possessions. In my early years, I never had an inquiring mind; so whatever I was taught, I followed with no hesitation. It wasn’t until later on that I would find out that, no matter how big my bank account got, or how high my IQ was, I was still a fool. Sorry if this story is longer than you thought it would be, but I’m almost done. The good part’s just around the corner.”
Lempo said, “It’s all right.”
The hobo nodded and continued, “Becoming one of the best prosecutors was no easy feat. It took hard work and dedication. If only I’d known these two things would lead to my downfall. I was so dedicated to my job that I rarely spent any time with my family. More often than not, winning a case was more important than attending one of my sons’ games or school functions; and very seldom did I take my wife out to eat or anywhere else for that matter. I thought that, as long as I had them materially happy, I was being the best husband and father. Oh was I wrong. If there was one thing I valued more than money and material things, it was my reputation. What people thought about me was so important to me back then. Unfortunately, the only way my reputation would be solidified was through my job, so that meant I had to do everything and anything to get convictions. To me justice was never an important part of my job; it probably never even crossed my mind, until I had my eyes opened. The only thing that mattered was winning cases so my wallet would get fatter and my reputation would get better. In my eyes, everyone was guilty and I would try to get them as large a sentence as I could get, so my career would look more distinguished.”
Lempo interrupted once again, ‘I’m confused, I thought people went to law school because they believe in justice wholeheartedly and the reason they became prosecutors was to serve justice to those who broke the law and weed out those who were innocent?”
Hearing this made the hobo laugh jubilantly. Seeing the kid annoyed made the hobo slow his laughter until it stopped completely. He then said, “Okay, okay, let me get a hold of myself. I’m sorry, it’s just what you said…hahaha…okay, okay. It’s just what you said is so far from the truth, it’s funny. You’re so naïve kid. The last thing on most law students’ mind is justice; the only thing on their mind is the prestige of graduating with a law degree and working in law, or making their parents proud, or the amount of money a law career earns you, or the power that can be acquired by being a lawyer. The second thing you said was even funnier. Are you really so ignorant to believe what you said? Prosecutors don’t care about criminals or the crimes they may or may not have committed. The only thing that matters is a conviction. Convictions are what get you promotions; convictions get you a better reputation; convictions are what make the people elect you as a judge; convictions are what get you into politics. The legal system is not about justice, it’s about convictions.”
“But, that doesn’t make any sense,” said Lempo.
“And why is that?” asked the hobo.
“Justice is served when the people who broke the law are convicted for the crimes they commit. It wouldn’t be justice if the criminals were let go.”
“Yes, that’s true, but this is not the intention, or purpose, of the prosecutors. In their mind, serving justice is the last thing they think of when seeking a conviction. Yes, it’s the end result of them getting a conviction, but meeting out justice is not the main reason for them wanting the conviction. This would not be a bad thing if ‘true’ justice was being served and if the prosecutors did not become criminals themselves when trying to get convictions at all costs.”
“How does a prosecutor become a criminal, when he’s the one putting away the criminals?”
“I was getting to that part of my story before I was sidetracked.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay kid. So, where did I leave off? Oh, yeah; I remember. Innocence or guilt didn’t matter to me; the only thing I cared about was adding a conviction to my resume. The plea bargain became my best friend; and whenever a person signed it, it brightened my day. Never did I think of what I was actually doing, which was taking someone’s liberty away, whether it was complete or partial.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Complete means sending them to prison, partial is probation or something along those lines. Either way, a conviction is stripping them, in some way, of their liberty. Boy was I good at that, I was handing out years in prison like it was candy. Now, I’m going to tell you the real nasty side of the justice system. Many, if not all, of the prosecutors will deny what I say, but it’s the dark truth.”
“What is it?”
The hobo continued, “The methods I used to convict people were commonplace and routine work, but they were completely unethical and did not promote justice. The crazy thing is that no prosecutor sees anything wrong with these conniving, insidious methods; in fact, we are encouraged to practice them.”
Lempo said, “Can you just get to the point already?”
Composed, the hobo said, “I’m sorry, I figured you should know all this before I tell you. Also, I don’t get to talk to many people, but if you want to leave, go ahead.”
“No, no, I apologize for blowing up on you; sometimes I get irritated easily. Forget what I said, I’m actually interested in your story.”
“Okay then, as I was saying…let me tell you the methods so you could learn the decadence of the justice system; even though I will admit that this system does some good, but at what cost? Ignorance of the law is a beautiful thing to the prosecutors. In a world where people are mostly ignorant of their rights, the prosecutors could violate their rights without them even knowing.”
“How do they do this?” asked Lempo.
“Intimidation, for instance when a person is accused of committing a crime, but a prosecutor doesn’t have enough evidence against them, he will resort to intimidation. The prosecutor will intimidate anyone and everyone that might know something. Now, this method might produce credible evidence to convict the accused, but the benefits do not out weight the evilness.”
Chucking, the hobo said, “A prosecutor might tell a person that they will take someone’s kids away if they don’t cooperate, or they might threaten them with incarceration for obstruction of justice for withholding valuable testimony. In some very few cases they really can charge someone with obstruction, but in most cases this is just a bluff relied upon by the prosecutors because most people are ignorant of the law. A worse method than this is the coaching of a witness.”
“What is coaching?”
“This is when a prosecutor tells a witness what to say and what not to say. Even if the witness has information that can benefit the accused, or prove them innocent, the prosecutor will tell a witness not to mention it, or deny it and only convey information that can convict the accused. Anyone who thinks this is justice is a very sick individual. Unfortunately, this isn’t even the worst method.”
“What’s the worst one?”
“When a prosecutor refuses, or can’t see an accused person as innocent, even if there is clear, compelling evidence of the accused innocence. This evidence will either be hidden or destroyed, if a window of opportunity is allowed. If it can’t be hidden or destroyed and is forced to be taken into consideration, the prosecutor will refuse to give it any merit. In the eyes of a prosecutor, no defendant is innocent, even the ones who are obviously innocent; because even if they are innocent of that particular crime, they must have done something bad, or else they would not be there, no one completely innocent ends up in jail. If you’re in jail, you’re guilty of something. The only evidence the prosecutor cares about is the one proving a person guilty; anything else is of no value because it will not help in adding a conviction to their record. Sorry for getting off subject, let me get back to my story. Not caring about justice, or even knowing the difference between innocent and guilty, my career prospered until one day my eyes were opened. What happened to me next changed my life from that day forward.”
Anticipating what the hobo would say, Lempo asked, “What happened? Did you end up in jail?”
“No,” said the hobo, “honestly I can’t say what got into me, but that fateful morning I woke up and knew something was different. When I saw myself in the mirror, I couldn’t stand the sight of myself. The person I saw looked like a despicable monster. My life felt meaningless, even after everything I had accomplished. I had spoken and believed so many lies, my entire career seemed to be built upon lies and I had lost myself in all those lies. But not only my career, my entire life was built on lies, making my life one big lie made up of small, little lies. I asked myself, ‘If I have everything I’ve ever wanted since I was little, why am I still unhappy?’ Even though I had the nice house, cars, and career that I always wanted, I still felt empty inside. I went to work and couldn’t stand the talk that had been common-place the day before. It was like I had awoken to the reality of what I had been doing for many years. I heard a group of lawyers discussing the fate of someone’s life as if they had no heart or compassion, like if he was just a thing to discard. I said, ‘Don’t you know this is a human being you’re talking about? His life isn’t a game; it’s just like yours and mine.’”
“She responded, ‘He should have thought about that before he killed a person.’ That case was going around the courthouse and I remembered a few things about it so I replied, ‘If I recall correctly, there is some credible evidence proving he did it in self-defense?’ Laughing, she said, ‘I’m pretty sure I can get that evidence dismissed.’ To which I replied, ‘But what if it’s the truth? Maybe it was self-defense?’ In a loud, annoyed voice she responded, ‘The truth is what I can prove in court.’
“If I would’ve continued the conversation, I would’ve made myself more of a hypocrite, so I walked out of the office. All the people who could’ve been innocent, that I convicted, came rushing to my mind, making me sick to my stomach. I had to run to the restroom to throw up. The filthiness of my soul was evident to me at that moment. My entire livelihood consisted of misconstruing the truth, deceiving, and just plain lying, in order to take someone’s liberty away; like if their life was a game that didn’t mean anything. What hurt more is realizing that by doing this, I improved my career and made more money so I could live a life in which I neglected my wife and kids; and the only thing I had to show for all this were some fancy objects that never even managed to make me happy. When you see every person dressed in an orange jumpsuit as guilty, they all become criminals and after a while, you begin seeing them as sub-human monsters that have to be put away. This hatred and disgust for criminals makes a person bitter, even in their everyday life outside of work and this is what happened to me; I had just realized it only until that day. That same day I left from work and drove home, vowing never to return there again. At home, I started to look around and thought to myself, ‘All these things I own, including this house, was bought with money earned by sending innocent people to prison or asking for maximum sentences, even when they deserved mild ones.’ In this job, I earned admiration and wealth on the outside, but on the inside I was rotten, cold, and miserable. I became ashamed of my ill-gotten possessions, so I picked up one of my filthy golf clubs and proceeded to smash all my shameful belonging to pieces. I then took the razor to all my custom made suits, but I did not stop there. I also took a mini-jackhammer I had in the garage and completely destroyed my cars. After that there was still something left to do, so I headed over to my bank and withdrew all my money. I took all the money to the backyard, laid it all in the fire pit, and burned every last filthy dollar. When I was finished with my wave of destruction, I felt relieved, but still miserable.”
Lempo asked, “What about your wife and kids?”
The hobo replied, “As soon as my wife found out what I did, to include quitting my job, she took the kids and left. I tried to explain to her why it all had to go, but she was still blinded and just mumbled, ‘Those people broke the law, they deserve what you gave them.’ When she said that, I knew there was no way for me to get her to understand. After everyone found out what happened, no one wanted to hire me, thinking I had gone crazy; and the reputation I spent so many years cultivating, was gone in an instant. I tried to convince people of the wickedness of the justice system and why I left, but I was discredited and ignored by everyone. No one could believe a law school graduate that wore impeccable suits could do such things. Prosecutors are seen as the epitome of justice and can do no wrong because they are the good guys and the people they put away are the bad guys. I was ostracized from society and forced to live on the streets since no one wanted to be involved with a loon. Eventually my old self was completely forgotten and people just knew me as the crazy homeless guy.”
Lempo took this pause as an opportunity to ask, “Why didn’t you move to another town?”
The hobo replied, “And do what? Start working as a prosecutor again or become a defense attorney? Yeah right, those guys are as bad as the prosecutors. Although most people don’t know about the deceiving ways of the prosecutors, they know how defense attorneys are. I don’t know how to do anything else and either way I go, justice isn’t being done, it’s just a big game to them.”
“I’m sure there’s something you could’ve done to avoid this.”
“Sometimes I think about that old saying, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ All the prosecutors I’ve known have been able to keep their eyes shut to what they are actually doing and they live their entire lives like this. They convince themselves that what they’re doing is a good thing and see nothing wrong with anything they do. To them it’s just a job and the point of a job is to rise up the ranks and get money, so it’s not about serving justice; but instead about making money. Maybe I could’ve remained ignorant like the rest of them, but it’s not worth it. I rather be homeless than live a lie and continue to poison my soul. I’ve done enough harm in my life, much more than the criminals I put away; I can’t believe I used to call that justice…” At this point, the hobo began to ramble on in an incoherent way, making no sense.
Lempo looked on waiting to see if the hobo would calm down, but he didn’t. Lempo was disheartened from hearing that story and seeing this poor man who tried to do the right thing, being rejected and thrown out in the street for speaking the truth made Lempo feel even more miserable. He thought, ‘This poor man lost everything because he refused to serve a decadent and corrupt system. The world is indeed as dark and miserable as I thought it was.’
“You want to know the worst thing about all of this,” said the hobo, apparently back to his senses.
“What?” replied Lempo.
“The reason nobody cares about this injustice done by prosecutors is because it’s done mostly to the poor. They don’t have the resources or wherewithal to complain or be heard enough to make people wake up to what’s happening. Most people might not admit it, but they look down upon the poor and think that they bring this justice upon themselves, that they deserve it. And what makes it easy for prosecutors to commit an injustice against the poor is the fact that they don’t have money to defend themselves properly, so they have complete sway over them. A lawyer provided by the state is not going to do the same kind of job as a paid one, even if he wanted. A court appointed lawyer usually just makes their client sign a plea deal and that’s when prosecutors have a field day; they handle plea deals like they’re playing cards. The poor have always been the easiest to exploit. Those damn lawyers in their nice houses think they’re better than the unfortunate poor folk and therefore take advantage of them, and everyone let’s them…”
The hobo started rambling again, but this time he was foaming at the mouth. Lempo looked on with pity, knowing the injustice this man felt. He thought, ‘Is this the kind of world I want to live in, where the ignorant poor folk get the little they have taken away from them by the people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth?’