Why Do I Love Bad (Fictional!) Lawyers?

Popular culture is full of lawyers. As both a lawyer and a writer, I apologize for that, but the legal profession is a pretty rich vein of drama (and even comedy) for writers. There’s crime and deceit, business dealings and family squabbles. The law touches every area of life (for good or for ill), so it’s a great way to examine life itself.

There are plenty of heroic lawyers in pop culture. Perry Mason’s having a kind of resurgence with the new, gritty, noir-flavored HBO series. Atticus Finch is a popular choice for crusader who launched a thousand earnest legal careers.* There are countless others, of course, lawyers who fight for the little guy (or gal) or justice or law in the abstract. They’re fine, of course, but when you always win, things can get kind of stale.

Which is why some of us – or maybe just speaking for myself here – have more of an affinity with the legal bad boys, the ones who work on the edges of professional ethics, for whatever reason. There’s a quite a rogue’s gallery and I pretty much love every one of them. They’re the patron saints of the legal profession, in my eyes.

Front of mind at this point can be none other than Jimmy McGill, aka Saul Goodman, of Breaking Bad and his own prequel spinoff, Better Call Saul (which is better than the original, I think):

Saul2

The “patron saint” thing is kind of a joke, but the fact that Saul is about a struggling criminal defense lawyer makes it instantly more relatable to me, even if I never find myself nearly dead in the desert hauling two duffle bags full of drug cartel money (let’s hope). He is a sleaze, no doubt, and it eventually gets him into serious trouble, but at least early on he’s willing to use that sleaze to help the underdog and generally fuck with “law and order.” While I can’t say I approve of Jimmy’s methods, I appreciate the attitude. It’s one that sustains long-time public defenders like me.

Of more long standing in the pantheon is the one, the only “law talking guy,” Lionel Hutz:

Hutz2

Voiced by the wonderful Phil Hartman on The Simpson, Hutz is just a master class in legal incompetence. He marvels at how useful law books can be. He changes the terms of his retainer by marking up his own business cards. He shudders at the otherwise happy thought of a world without lawyers. He requests “bad court thingies.” And, most notably, he’s always looking out for himself:

Deep in the heart of every lawyer lurks the certainty that, if nothing else, they’re better than Hutz.

He’s not the only cartoon lawyer with a hold on my heart. How can I not love Harvey Birdman?

Harvey

Harvey’s less an idol for his legal acumen that he is for his ability to keep a calm head on his . . . wings, while everything else falls apart around him. It’s an important skill for an attorney, especially a criminal defense lawyer. Besides, who wouldn’t want to have an eagle for an assistant?

But if we’re going old school, there’s one sleazy lawyer that was lodged in my brain long before I was anywhere near a law school – Steve Dallas:

SteveDallas

Looking back I’m a little appalled at my love for Bloom County’s legal scholar. He’s a loud mouthed, rude, misogynistic, frat boy – precisely the kind of person I’d loathe if I met him (or saw him online) today. I mean, he did have cool cars, so that counts for something. And he was, come to think of it, the only professional in Bloom County (among the regular cast, at least). He had credentials and never let anybody else forget it. Like Harvey, he also recognized the value of good help:

SteveOpus2SteveOpus1

When it comes to all these guys (and they are all guys – I’ve noticed) I’m reminded of that idea, from Tolstoy, that all happy families are the same, but dysfunctional ones are unique in their dysfunction. I think that’s true for fictional lawyers, too. Good-hearted crusaders are important and uplifting, but they’re not always much fun. Bring on the bad boys!

* Years ago I went to a legal writing seminar where, for the session on issue spotting, we used the facts of To Kill a Mockingbird. A mere 45 minutes later he was facing a lengthy ineffective assistance of counsel charge.

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