When my son, Robert, was 7, we were all sitting at the dining room table for dinner.  We may have been talking about our days, including mine as a criminal defense lawyer.  He said “here’s a police officer,”  and with an index finger pointed right at me, looking straight in my eyes he said “Everybody knows you’re guilty!”  at which we all laughed.  I mean, it was hilarious.  And the kid now has a strong sense of justice.

So, a year and a half after Robert’s imitation of a police officer, after seeing, on the back of his homework his bubble lettering reading “Latin Kings are awesome” or something like that, my heart sank a little. I realize that I won’t be proud of everything my child says, nor will it always be clever or even interesting.  But I was self-reflecting when I saw the back of his homework.  Around the time Robert made that statement, I went to trial defending a Latin King gang member in a federal racketeering conspiracy.  I had had the case for over three years when it finally went to trial, and my client was the one individual to go to trial out of 49 defendants. As a criminal defense attorney, I had developed an ability to detach from my cases, really out of survival.  So, when the trial began with the testimony of a baby-faced gang member recounting multiple murders without remorse, my reaction took me aback.  The kid was articulate and likeable and well, a kid.  He looked about 14.  When he was testifying, I thought about my 7 year old Robert.  By the time he told the jury that he joined the gang when he was 10 because he had to get to school and needed protection, I felt sick.

I know enough to know this may very well have been practiced testimony, but it was compelling.  The truth was that this boy who was on the stand was in a vicious gang and despite that, whatever he said, people believed it.  I believed it.  It didn’t change my fervor in defending my client, but it had a personal impact.  The second day of trial, a juror told us and the judge that she was so traumatized that she couldn’t sleep and she was crying all night.  She said that these events occurred near someone’s house who was close to her.  Most of these crimes, point blank executions, or random shootings, robberies or drug deals, occurred within a couple miles of my own home.  She wanted to be excused, and she was.

Of course, I didn’t tell my children these details but I had often discussed civil liberties and rights with our kids.  There’s a lot of gray in the world.  I’m okay with letting my kids know that and taking responsibility for answering their questions and reassuring them.  I haven’t talked too much about the Latin King trial, but it was a turning point for me. After the trial, my son experienced bullies at school claiming their “territory.”  They were between the ages of 6 and 12 I think.  Needless to say, we removed him from that school and now he is at a school, still public and urban, where respect for children is evident, and I have heard of no suspected “gang activity.”

Then, where was this glorification of gangs coming from?  Was it the glorification of gangs?  Or was it just writing something down that was a “forbidden?”  I questioned Robert, who was clearly embarrassed and I softened some.  He asked if he could erase the offending words and he cried and cried.  He didn’t want to disappoint us and he thought he had.

A sense of justice is a normal part of development for children.  But I’d like to think some of it, for our children, like that Robert displayed in his understanding of the accused, is from us, his parents.  I’d like to believe that we have tried to teach our children that justice is not easy and it isn’t black and white.  And that not all police believe that “everybody knows you’re guilty.”