Occasionally, the champions of justice emerge victorious. While these moments are rare, they certainly deserve our applause and attention. Therefore, let’s acknowledge the courageous Biglaw firms that have bravely challenged the administration’s overreach, asserting that the executive orders issued by 47 violate the fundamental rights enshrined in the First, Fifth, and Sixth Amendments to the Constitution. These firms are either currently securing or have successfully obtained judicial relief, showcasing their commitment to legal integrity. What makes this situation particularly amusing is how the flimsy justifications previously used by those firms now appear utterly baseless, echoing the sentiments attributed to film producer Sam Goldwyn: they are not even worth the paper they are not written on.
The anticipated ramifications are now unfolding: clients are beginning to reassess their relationships with these law firms. If these firms are unwilling to defend their own existence, how can clients trust them to advocate on their behalf? This skepticism has led to clients reconsidering their engagements, pulling work from those once-revered Biglaw firms. It is indeed a challenging position for these firms, as they struggle to maintain loyalty while simultaneously diverting resources to those who do not require their support.
The Wall Street Journal rightly asserts that journalists play a pivotal role in crafting the initial narrative of history. This is especially poignant as we look towards January 20, 2025. Historians will undoubtedly analyze these chaotic times with the benefit of hindsight. It’s curious to ponder why 47, who seems obsessively focused on his public persona, appears indifferent to how history will eventually judge him. His current grip on the narrative is temporary, and the truth has a way of surfacing.
Having started my career as a journalist and spent nearly five decades practicing law, I remain captivated by the intersection of journalism and law. This fascination has only intensified in the last decade, particularly with the rise of fake news, the proliferation of unsocial media (a term I coined, which you’re welcome to use), and the widespread inability of people to engage with factual realities. The level of disinformation has reached unprecedented heights, while public trust in media and other institutions has plummeted.
The days of unwavering trust in figures like “Uncle Walter” or the “Huntley-Brinkley Report” are long gone (feel free to look them up). When Walter Cronkite returned from Vietnam and declared that the war was unwinnable, President LBJ acknowledged that if Cronkite lost faith, he had lost the support of middle America, prompting him to withdraw from the 1968 election.
Fast forward to the present day, and skepticism reigns supreme. People no longer trust the words of others, regardless of their position. Reflecting on Cronkite’s comments (which I vividly remember amidst the height of the Vietnam War protests), I find it ironic that even AI summaries of his statements include disclaimers that they “could contain mistakes.” Is this an acknowledgment of AI’s limitations? Truly remarkable!
As legal professionals, we place immense value on factual accuracy. Any misrepresentation of facts can severely undermine our credibility. Today, it is not just about the facts; it extends to the legal cases we cite. We are confronted with instances of hallucinations in the legal realm. If we fail to verify that the cases we reference genuinely support our arguments—and, more fundamentally, that those cases indeed exist—we risk finding ourselves in serious jeopardy with clients, opposing counsel, and the judiciary.
Have any legal ethics experts pondered whether the agreements between various Biglaw firms and Trump might conflict with our professional obligations? Who are these firms representing? The German Bar Association has begun cautioning its members about potential conflicts of interest. Are the Biglaw firms serving their existing clients, or are they now beholden to 47? What critical questions arise?
Is there a Taco Tuesday happening behind bars? It’s irrelevant whether you prefer hard or soft tacos; what’s noteworthy is that TACO has become an acronym representing 47’s erratic decision-making. Perhaps Tom Girardi, the disbarred California attorney notorious for securing substantial settlements, will find tacos on his prison menu. He begins serving a seven-year sentence in July for client theft and other unethical actions. This serves as yet another illustration of how the State Bar of California has taken a disturbingly prolonged approach to oversight. Do you believe the 86-year-old Girardi will actually spend time in prison? I invite your thoughts on this matter.
Jill Switzer has dedicated over 40 years to active membership in the State Bar of California. She recalls a time when practicing law was marked by a more compassionate approach. Her career has been diverse, encompassing roles as a deputy district attorney, a solo practitioner, and various senior in-house positions. Currently, she engages in full-time mediation, which allows her to observe interactions among legal professionals of all generations—dinosaurs, millennials, and everyone in between—often revealing a lack of civility. You can connect with her via email at oldladylawyer@gmail.com
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