The One (or Two or Three) Things I Hate About HBO's True Detective

Ok, let me get this out of the way right off the bat: I absolutely adore True Detctive.

It's a cop show and while I generally tend to avoid or mock cop shows I really enjoy the good ones.

It's got elements of horror and, though recently I've been exceptionally disappointed in the genre especially when it comes to movies, I've long been a horror fan-boy.

It's got a supernatural vibe, which sort of goes hand-in-hand with horror but isn't exactly the same thing. Think The Killing Room for straight up psychological horror and almost anything by Stephen King as supernatural flavored horror.

It's set in Louisiana. Not just shot in the Louisiana. So many things are shot here that it's becoming almost commonplace to gaze at a screen and think, "Oh! I know exactly where that is!" But it's set in Louisiana and, in many ways, the Great State is a character.

It's almost like Nic Pizollatto sat down and gave some serious consideration to the question, "Ok, how can I write a perfect story for that guy with an obscure blog about Louisiana and its law?"

So, yeah, really what's there not to love?

Wellllll, here are a few -- admittedly exceptionally nit-picky -- things that just crawled under my skin and made my nerves stand on end.

There is no statutory rape in Louisiana --  or in most other states, for that matter. In Louisiana, that particular crime is called carnal knowledge of a juvenile and comes in felony and misdemeanor grades. The producers paid enough attention to make a rap sheet briefly shown on screen look fairly authentic, except for the statutory rape charge. (Sorry, couldn't find a screenshot of it.) I get that it's a convenient shorthand but couldn't the difference be easily explained?

"Yeah, he was charged with felony carnal knowledge," Hart could say.

"What's that?" asks the long-time Texan Cohle.

"It's like statutory rape."

Problem solved and authenticity maintained. Unfortunately nobody asked me.

Then there are, at least from my perspective, waaaaayyyyy too many Protestants -- and fundamental Protestants, at that -- in True Detective's southwest Louisiana. I don't doubt that fundamentalist Protestants are in southwest Louisiana, the main geographic location for True Detective. In fact, my father's family is mostly around Bayou Pigeon and has been for generations, with one of the first ancestors popping up in public records there in the late 1700s. And they are all hard-shell Baptists. But they are much more the exception than the rule. The Catholic Church essentially rules Cajun country and has for a very long time.

This isn't a huge issue because, like I've pointed out, I'm sure there are fundamentalist Protestants actively practicing in that area of the state, it just rings a little false to me.

Maybe the most, for me, jarring part of the series is the (I'm sure unintentional) altering of Louisiana's geography.  The first time it happened was in Episode 4, I think, where Hart drives down Canal Street -- and I mean obviously down Canal Street toward downtown New Orleans  -- then jump cut to his car on a lonely one lane dirt road with refineries in the background. My wife and I looked at each other and said, "Maybe he's going to Norco?"

Yeah, yeah, I know. That really wasn't enough to prevent the suspension of disbelief. Even this earlier in the series where Cohle is hallucinating while driving down Causeway near Airline Highway in Metairie wasn't enough to prevent me from suspending disbelief.  I expect some things like that whenever something's set in Louisiana. Sort of like that scene in The Big Easy where there's a chase through downtown NOLA and straight into airboats.

But I had hoped that, economic realities notwithstanding, a bit more care would have been taken with places. Ok, I get it that the story required a strip mall with a cell phone store and an obvious bar and grill. Sure. Not a problem. I mean, otherwise how could Hart have met Beth who then sent him a non-naked selfie that Maggie found that led her to ruttin' with Rust that led her to telling Hart that led him to trying to kick Rust's ass that led them to being interviewed separately 10 years later? Without that dirty martini and bag o' feminine hygiene products we don't have a show.

I get that. But why did it have to be the Fox and Hound? There's only one location in Louisiana and it's in Elmwood, not Lafayette. Why not Hooters? Or some generic fern bar?

Maybe the A.V. Club is right. Maybe the whole point of this series is to turn us all into Rust Cohle. After all, I've spent much of the morning picking nits in a fictional show instead of working. The madness has infected me and the end is two weeks away.

Bar None

The Louisiana Bar Journal recently published an analysis of the changes in the Louisiana Bar Exam and the effect those changes have had on passage rates. The changes, to say the least, haven't been well received by recent graduates seeking admission to the bar.

In fact, for the most recent July bar exam the overall passage rate was just over 50 percent.

Don't misunderstand. Simply because a person graduates from law school and is allowed to sit for the bar doesn't mean they should necessarily be granted a law license. Though my views on the subject have unsurprisingly changed some over the years, a bar exam should test whether the examinee is competent to practice law and nothing more. It shouldn't test the ability to memorize volumes of material. It shouldn't test endurance. It shouldn't test writing ability (or at least not exclusively).

And a bar exam shouldn't be secretive. One of the changes I strongly disagree with in Louisiana's bar exam is that essay testing would be blind, that is the examinees wouldn't know when specific subject were being tested. That smacks of unfairness. We usually don't allow attorneys to be secretive in their dealings with the court or opposing counsel. And when we do -- when ex parte motions are allowed -- there has to be a good reason.

The bar examiners also apparently are now prohibited from reusing old exam questions. Again, that just seems fundamentally unfair. I'm not an advocate of reusing the same questions every year, or two years, or five years. But using similar questions, structured in a similar manner, examining similar areas of law, and publishing the old questions certainly gave examinees a chance to get a sense of what the exam would cover and, perhaps as importantly, lessened some of their anxiety in a pressure-packed situation.

Are there too many lawyers in Louisiana? Yeah, probably. Will toughening the bar exam reduce the number of lawyers in Louisiana? Yeah, probably, but only in the short term. Bar Bri and other bar review courses will ultimately adjust and passage rates will climb again.

So what's the answer? I doubt Louisiana will revert to the old essay-based Monday, Wednesday, Friday bar exam. But I also can see prospective law students, looking at a 50 percent passage rate and ever-increasing tuition, start to look elsewhere for post-graduate education. And that might not be so bad either, if, that is, law schools can still attract qualified candidates. If they can't, then the law schools may well face difficult decisions.

Deep questions. No easy solutions.

Pensively floating.

That Funny Louisiana Law

It's the question I get most often from colleagues outside of Louisiana: "What's the deal with that whole Napoleonic Code thing in Louisiana?" And it's sad that it's so misunderstood and that people (especially lawyers, but even lay people) from outside of Louisiana think it's just another example of how backwards Louisiana can be.

Actually little could be farther from the truth.

On the one hand, I hope Professor Palmer and Professor Yiannopoulos read this and (even almost 10 years later) realize they got through to at least one student. But on the other hand, I hope they don't read it and find I totally missed the point. Oh well.

The main difference between Louisiana's civilian law and the common law found elsewhere in the US, at least in theory, is that Louisiana's civilian law is codified into one fairly compact volume. So, again in theory, it's possible for Louisiana citizens to grab a copy of the Civil Code and "possess the means of acquiring a knowledge of his civil rights" as Governor Claiborne told the Territorial Legislature in 1808.

That position is expanded by Col. John H. Tucker, Jr. in the Foreword to the current edition of the Civil Code. "It is the most important book [in a Louisiana lawyer's library] because it ushers you into society as a member of your parents' family and regulates your life until you reach maturity. It then prescribes the rules for the establishment of your own family by marriage and having children, and for the disposition of your estate when you die, either by law or by testament subject to law. It tells how you can acquire, own, use and dispose of property onerously or gratuitously. It provides the rules for most of the special contracts necessary for the conduct of nearly all of your relations with your fellowman: sales, loans (with or without security), leases, usufructs and servitudes; and, finally, all of the rights and obligations governing your relations with your neighbor and fellowman generally."

Louisiana's Civil Code is also rooted in ancient Roman law. An excellent example of this is found in Article 185 of the Civil Code that establishes the presumption of the paternity of the husband of the mother.

The main difference between Louisiana's civilian tradition and the common law tradition elsewhere in the US is that the civilian tradition requires deductive reasoning -- that is, starting with a general principle and expanding to a specific case. Louisiana's general negligence statute  is probably the best example of this difference.

Damn. Did I geek out enough for you?

Definitely time to float.

Hello World

I don't have any idea what this blog is eventually going to cover.

I would suspect it's going to be a bit eclectic, kinda like me.

And speaking of me: I'm a solo lawyer with a varied practice in South Louisiana. I practice mostly in criminal law, personal injury, family and some business representation. In the past I've worked as a prosecutor and for a maritime insurance defense firm. I'm sure some of that will make for interesting fodder here.

I'm also a Saints and LSU fan. Or fanatic.

I'm married with two kids, a 6-year-old son and a 17-year-old stepdaughter. That makes for some different dinner conversation.

I'm also a fan of what I consider quality television. Stuff like Game of Thrones, Mad Men, The Walking Dead etc etc. I'm sure some of that will make its way into this blog.

Finally, I'm a son of Louisiana and -- though I lived in Houston for a while -- can't imagine living anywhere else. I recognize Louisiana's many, many issues but the positives outweigh the negatives by far.

So, for the first substantive post, let's talk about criminal sentences in Louisiana. It's no secret that my state leads the nation in length of sentences handed down. But at least there are some folks who are trying to get the Legislature's attention to change that.

Here's an Advocate article discussing the issue. What's interesting, at least to me, is that most of the people and groups involved now are on the conservative side of the political spectrum.

Don't get me wrong. Criminals need to be punished. But, in my experience, the vast majority of people I end up representing are good folks who either made stupid decisions (mostly due to youth) or have substance abuse problems. Locking those people up for extended periods of time doesn't accomplish anything.

What's the answer? I don't know. I do know, though, that "tough on crime" doesn't have to mean longer sentences.

Gotta float.