Posted on May 20, 2022

A Public Defender No More

Anonymous American, American Renaissance, May 20, 2022

Photo credit: Nick Youngson CC BY-SA 3.0 Pix4free

This story is one of hundreds Colin Flaherty planned to publish in a book before his death. American Renaissance will post one a week. 

In my state, public defenders handle felonies — the worst of the worst — from drugs to homicide and everything in between. A state public defender isn’t someone right out of law school who just passed the Bar Exam. He has to be an seasoned lawyer with trial experience even to be considered for these jobs. They are coveted positions and the competition for them is extreme.

Many big-name private lawyers who take felony cases don’t know what they are doing. They just put on a big show. What do they do every time they get these cases and need help? They quietly, almost secretively, come to their State Public Defender’s Office and ask for help. It’s a well-kept secret.

Virtually all public defenders in my state are top criminal felony litigators. Money is no object if you take a case: Polygraph experts, investigators, experts of all kinds to keep defendants out of jail.

Virtually all our clients were black men and women, even in a region that was mostly white. One day, I was assigned a new client, a black woman accused of aggravated assault and armed robbery. She was looking at a max of 15 years in state prison. She claimed the white victim was the one who attacked her. Somehow, she ended up with her cell phone and valuables, and the white woman ended up in the hospital. My client explained that the victim was a racist and didn’t like black people, and that justified assault and robbery. She demanded a jury trial. It was my job to make the best possible case for her.

I worked a miracle: not guilty on all charges. She expressed no gratitude. I said, “Well you can at least say ‘thank you.’ I put in a lot of effort and kept you out of prison.” Her reply: “You white mother f*ck*rs don’t deserve a ‘thank you.’ What you need is a mother f*ck*n’ *ss beatin’.”

Another client was a black man, under arrest for armed robbery at a convenience store. He used a handgun to beat and terrorize an Indian store owner and then took all the cash. I visited him in the county jail. His defense was, “I ain’t do nothing, white mother f*ck*rs just need somebody to f*ck with.” I explained that I was trying to help him and would do everything I could. He said he had done nothing. I said “But the police grabbed you right down the street with a gun in your pants and the money in your pocket and you wore the same clothes as in the video.” I had him watch a very high-quality surveillance tape that clearly showed the whole, extremely violent event. His reply: “That ain’t me and you mother f*ck*rs are trying to railroad me.” I told him I was on his side and that I was going to have trouble explaining away this good video, the gun, the victim’s identification of him, and the money in his pockets. He said, “All y’all crackers can go to hell.”

Another client was a black man in jail for homicide. He was accused of aggressively instigating an argument with a totally innocent teenager. The argument ended when the man drew a firearm and shot and killed the kid. There was a co-conspirator testifying against him and there was very persuasive physical evidence. I met him in jail and told him I was there to help. What were the first words out of his mouth? “Just what I need, a cracker.” I hired investigators and experts. The State offered him a plea bargain of only 20 years when he should be looking at life in prison. He said, “F*ck their flea bargain it’s just because I’m black and they don’t like n*gge*s.” I said “George, it isn’t a ‘flea’ bargain it’s a ‘plea’ bargain and your buddy is testifying against you and there’s a ton of physical evidence. We have spent over ten grand of taxpayer money on experts to help you.” His response: “F*ck the taxpayers. My mother f*ck*ng people were your f*ck*rs slaves.” I told him, “George, my family didn’t come to America until 1939 and we were poor and didn’t have slaves.” Then he tried to hit me.

Another black client was charged with aggravated assault and attempted murder of an older white guy for whom he was supposed to be doing yard work. He didn’t do much work, and threatened the white homeowner. The white homeowner felt intimidated, and put the full amount in an envelope and gave it to him to get rid of him. My client then beat the older white man half to death, took the money, and left. I met him in jail after seeing copies of all the police reports and evidence. I asked him what happened. He got very angry and said, “That white mother f*ck*r called me a monkey and wrote ‘monkey’ on the envelope.” I pulled out the copies of evidence and showed him that the envelope had the word “money” written on it in big block letters. His response: ” F*ck you white mother f*ck*rs. I’m just here because I’m black.” No remorse. White people are all racist and deserve to be beaten. I gave the case to someone else.

I have many, many, more stories. They are all the same: a violent crime, a black client using up taxpayer dollars, and the claim that everyone is racist, including me. The explosive violence of these people is shocking, and when I say explosive, I mean explosive.

It was the same script over and over. If the victims were white — as they often were — they deserved it and were lying. They were “white mother f*ck*rs” or “white crackers who had it coming.” You couldn’t reason with them; there was no reasoning going on. There is a pool of black men and women roaming the streets looking for an opportunity to victimize someone through brute force.

My wife heard these stories for years, and started begging me to get out. She was afraid I would be hurt or killed by one of these degenerates I was trying to help. It was like walking into an enclosure with wild tigers. Sooner or later, if you have enough contact with these people, you will be a victim, even if you are the only one in the world trying to help them. I took my wife’s advice, got out, and never looked back. These people saw their job as collecting welfare, free housing, utilities, getting food stamps. Over and over, I heard the same thing: “Yous peoples owes us.” And then they brutalize people for their own purposes — which I soon saw weren’t always financial. It was often just for sport, or to establish dominance over non-blacks they saw as easy prey. None of them worked and most had never held a job — ever.

If people really knew about the violent predators who are walking around in large numbers, looking to beat them to death for no real reason, they would board themselves up in their homes and never come out. The liberal news won’t tell you, your local politicians refuse to admit it, and the police are accused by both the criminals and the politicians of being the problem. Sometimes people see the tip of this iceberg in the local paper or on a TV report about crime. They never see the autopsy report or hospital pictures of the victims, the bloody clothes or the scars.

Someone else will have to help perpetuate the fraud of our legal system, and go through the motions of “innocent until proven” guilty in case after case of clear, brazen, unapologetic guilt. I can’t do it anymore. Sure, my job was to “uphold the law,” but during these trials, I couldn’t bring myself to look the victims in the eyes — if they were still alive. I am a public defender no more.