Stephen “Steve” Laiche was a man I wanted to punch in the face. He did what he could to humiliate me, berate me, show any incompetence and his attempts and antics started to get to me.
Many moons ago, I was a baby cop, fresh out of the police academy, brand new on the job and extremely proud to be a Police Officer.
It was a wild ride. Coming from the more innocent worlds of growing up as a missionary and pastor’s kid, I was not fully prepared for what all I would see and do in my first years in law enforcement. Wow…the things I saw…the things I did or got to do…the violence I got myself into and legally committed…was awesome.
Cop work is a front row seat to the greatest show on earth and most of the time, I was in the show and occasionally its main character. Even as a US Army (Reserve) soldier with a solid deployment to the Middle East under my belt, there’s nothing quite like being a cop in the decently busy city.
One of my first court cases as a rookie cop arrived and I went into court as prepared as any well-intentioned, barely-out-of-FTO, fresh-faced cop would. Man, I was nervous.
I was told I would be the Advisory Witness to the prosecution and I didn’t even know what that meant. No one had ever told me.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting at the prosecuting attorneys table…supposedly to advise them! Pfft, like I knew anything.
Opposite was the attorney for the defense – a guy named Steve. He seemed pleasant enough. The slight webbing of veins on his nose made me think he enjoyed a whiskey or four during the evening hours, yet he nodded my way and smiled, asked general questions of people on the stand, debating answers, sparing over legal-ize and going back and forth professionally with the judge.
He did a reasonable job of defending his client, whoever it was I’d arrested over some matter that escapes my memory…after a while, so much of the crime and calls for service and the arrests run together and only the really odd stuff or truly nutty people stand out in my memory.
Now, I was predisposed with a bias towards anyone on the criminal’s side. And, as a rather sophomoric newbie, I held the defense attorneys and criminal attorneys in almost contempt. How dare they stand there and pretend their clients were as innocent as the wind-driven snow when they and I KNEW how much of a dirtbag they really were?! How does one so easily ignore the innate moral compass and defend bad people?
So, I watched Steve with a mixture of curiosity and an emotion that wasn’t quite disgust but was probably edging that way.
He asked a few dumb questions and said some rather ridiculous, outlandish things. I was surprised the attorneys I was with and the judge didn’t roll their eyes; instead, they ignored him as they scribbled notes or just lazily looked off in space and watched the jurors.
I realized he was just throwing crazy stuff out there and hoping to get a reaction but when none would come, he would just move on.
Then, it was my turn on the stand. Nervous I’d forget LOVID or would mis-speak, or fumble if Steve really torn into me, or of just looking stupid and naive, I took the oath and adjusted my suit and tie. I’ll tell you, taking that oath in court the first couple of times feels so ominous; later in my career, it was ho-hum and normal but at that point, I remember feeling almost breathless and that I was partaking in something big and of consequence.
Steve immediately started off with almost southern hospitality and gentle kindness. I remember thinking he must have spent time in the American South…that sense of bless-your-heart charm that is beguiling and doesn’t quite mean your heart is bless-worthy. Name, agency, position, how long on the job, experience, etc.
He – politely, almost even charmingly – spent some time making sure the court and jury knew I was just a rookie, barely out of the FTO program and that I was STILL on probation. He made sure – ever so kindly – everyone in the court knew I was barely a cop and had almost zero experience, and what little I had surely couldn’t be trusted with such weighty matters.
Then, he began grilling me over the entire incident, maddeningly going over and over the same details from a multitude of directions, re-phrasing the same questions in an obvious attempt to trip me up.
Remembering my training, I stuck to my report, often asking for time to refresh my memory and took the time to really be sure I knew something before answering, then only briefly, with the barest details – just as I’d been trained – until Steve would press deeper and deeper for simple answers. I could tell the brevity was annoying Steve and I kind of enjoyed it.
Then he began making faint insinuations that I’d messed up on the report, that I’d poorly handled the chain of custody of the evidence, that I was wrong in how I’d treated his client, that I might have violated PD policy or even broken the law while doing my job. He insinuated I was possibly corrupt, or reckless, or just plain stupid, yet so faintly that it was almost hard to catch and he did it with a polite, soft smile. It was maddening…I honestly wanted to punch him in the face…but I played cop poker, holding a poker face and tone in responding, just as I’d been trained to do. I began realizing Steve was trying to push my buttons on purpose to see if he could rattle me and cause an intemperate reaction that would reflect poorly on me, and thus my report and of the overall arrest, all in hopes of swaying the jury to not convict or not be too harsh on his dirtbag client.
I calmed inside while doing my best to not let it show…and maybe it didn’t…but it probably did.
Eventually, I was released by the judge and returned to my spot as the advisory witness at the prosecution table. I watched with some anger as Steve wrapped up. How dare he try to humiliate me and make it seem like I was just some dumb, biased, corrupt cop?!
Ultimately, we won the case against Steve and his client. I sniffed self-righteously and mentally filed away that Steve was a dirtbag, and that if it wouldn’t cost me my job, I’d happily bop him in the face or assist him to the ground for some Winch cranial road contact abrasion.
Over the next year or two, I had more dealings with Steve in court and it mostly went the same way. He was always charmingly kind until I was on the stand and then he’d just politely tear into me and make all the same general accusations.
I never lost a case to Steve…in fact, never lost any case of mine that went to Municipal, County, District, or Federal court…but Steve became one of the attorneys for the defense I truly relished beating. He did his best and had me sweating a few times but after a while I began to not hate the guy.
Once, while I still sorta despised him, we were in court and talking between breaks while the judge was in his or her chambers. It was mid-trial and it had been a somewhat long day with Steve being Steve. He came over to talk with me and the prosecuting attorneys about some paperwork. He asked me a fishing question or two, and he got nothing in return could use against me later. I noticed he was wearing a darker plaid sport coat with bluish-purple checkered stripes. His hair was well combed and he looked well put together for the trial we were in.
As he spoke, he was slightly turned away towards the court bench but his head was turned to the left and he was looking me in the eye with his sincere, “C’mon, give me something” expression that was so Steve-like. I suddenly noticed a HUGE bug crawling up the back of his sport coat, towards the upper left side of his back. It was some kind of a rather large beetle, all shiny black and looking almost armored, with huge wings and long, skinny bug legs.
I have no idea where it came from or how it got there but there it was, towards the middle of the left side of his back and moving at a fast pace towards the collar line of his neck. I instinctually said, “Hey, Steve, there’s a big bug on your back!” and I pointed towards it. It was big and ugly and I didn’t want to touch it but it was going for the back of his neck and head. Something had to be done quickly.
Well, I’d noticed Steve had a tendency to occasionally just smile and talk over others. He was doing this as I’d tried to interrupt him to point out the beetle but he did his ever-so-polite smile and just kept talking. I froze, watching that thing move up closer and closer to Steve’s neck. Then, I reached out to swat it away but Steve had just looked away and he moved slightly and I missed the bug. He looked back at me questioning so I started to say something but he turned away again, just as the judge walked back into the courtroom. We all customarily froze in place out of respect and in the tradition of the court until his or her Honor released us.
I side-eyed the bug crawling up Steve. It was huge and RIGHT at his neck line on his shirt collar just above his sport coat collar, sitting there fat, dumb and happy. I started to say something again as I reached out protectively but then the Devil stopped me as I realized, “Hey, it’s Steve…the guy who just loves trying to tie me up into knots on the stand…and who will certainly be doing it again soon.”, so I smiled, retracted my hand, and waited to see what fun would begin. Visions of Steve yelling and jumping around in court trying to swat a nuclear-waste sized bug almost had me snickering (a lot of nuclear waste in that area).
The bug moved again, over towards the right on the shirt collar, but Steve moved too. He turned his neck again, looking askance at me. As he did so, I lost sight of the bug. I evilly smiled at Steve and shrugged. He looked at me for a beat, smiled his little smile, and turned back to pay attention to the judge.
It turned out to be a sore disappointment. Nothing ever happened. No hollering or flailing from Steve. No big dramatic bug squishing. No jumping around and ripping clothes off in court because of some monstrous beetle crawling around inside. I watched, snickering, and waiting for some reaction…and NOTHING. It was so disappointing. Man, I wanted Steve to pay and this was perfect karma but alas, the gods smiled on Steve and not me. There is no justice in this world after all.
He tried to tear me a new one on the stand and failed, ultimately losing the case, so he later came up to me and asked what the earlier strangeness was all about. I told him I’d seen a bug on him and tried to knock it away but had missed and it must have gotten away. He just looked at me oddly and shrugged. Maybe my bug friend never made it up onto Steve’s neck. The episode became a favorite Steve memory.
Later, after another case, Steve came up outside the court. I was annoyed at how he’s treated me once more but I’d beaten him again and was determined to remain professionally polite enough. Steve said something I’ll never forget and it was a good lesson.
To paraphrase, he said he sure had tried to rattle me over the last few years and even thought he might be able to when I was a rookie, as he said he could usually rattle most of them just enough to change the outcome of a case more in his client’s favor. He said he’d learned over time I was always well prepared and careful even when he’d pull his attorney tricks and he felt I was a really smart officer who knew the law well, and had always been fair and even-handed with his clients. He said he knew most of his clients deserved worse for their crimes but that he was the one person who would Constitutionally stand up for them so he was just doing the best job he knew how. He told me how it was never personal when he would attack me on the stand and that if the day ever came where he needed my services, he knew he could count on me to help him and defend him with all I had. He said he considered me “one of the good ones” and that he was proud to work in the same system together, even though we were theoretically each other’s opposition. He told me how even the worst people deserved a good attorney and that he knew it irked my sense of justice someone like him would work for those people but he was a needed bulwark in the system for the occasionally unjustly accused and the rest of the time, he just wanted to make sure some of the more decent people who were his clients didn’t get railroaded by the judicial system.
He reminded me that it was never personal, no matter how it must feel in court when he was attacking me, and suggested we get together for dinner and drinks sometime, saying he knew we could be friends.
His going out of his way to be kind and personable was unexpected and it began loosening the frustration I had towards him. My hackles began letting down. I’d occasionally run into him around the courthouse or in town, both on duty and off, and our occasional interactions became friendly. I stopped relishing the vision of punching him in the face and realized he was doing a very necessary yet often thankless job; in fact, I’d wager he got as little or even less gratitude from his clients – who rarely won their cases – as we cops did on the streets.
Our court cases together became more of a fun cat and mouse game, and it became a true disappointment when I had a less adept opposing attorney to face when Steve was not on the case.
Later, when my best friend, brother, and fellow cop committed suicide minutes after he called me to say goodbye, Steve reached out with a sincere hug and tears in his eyes, along with earnest, consoling words of both of my friend and towards me.
Later, after my policing career morphed into becoming a fulltime defensive and firearms trainer, he even called a few times for help on a case. I never did ultimately do so, as his clients were bad people who deserved the book thrown at them, but he was kind and I was in return and we joked as we talked, the way of old enemies from past wars who’d become friends.
Steve has come to mind on occasion over the years and the saga of that big, disgusting bug crawling on him has brought smiles in the times since.
It was with great sadness I heard Steve passed away last week. I’ll forever remember his charmingly ferocious defense of his clients and his patience with a snot-nosed cop who initially looked at him with disdain. He patiently waited until we had enough experience between us and a slight amount of rapport before he gently began educating and correcting that young cop into better thinking.
There’s a lesson from Steve I’ve emulated at times and certainly one we could all learn from.
He was one of those who made life better.
Adam Winch
Founder, Defenders USA
