Судебная система
Nov. 21st, 2024 09:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chuka_lis"The law was a large, rusting machine that sucked up people and lives and money. I was just a mechanic. I had become expert at going into the machine and fixing things and extracting what I needed from it in return.
There was nothing about the law that I cherished anymore. The law school notions about the virtue of the adversarial system, of the system’s checks and balances, of the search for truth, had long since eroded like the faces of statues from other civilizations. The law was not about truth. It was about negotiation, amelioration, manipulation. I didn’t deal in guilt and innocence, because everybody was guilty. Of something. But it didn’t matter, because every case I took on was a house built on a foundation poured by overworked and underpaid laborers. They cut corners. They made mistakes. And then they painted over the mistakes with lies. My job was to peel away the paint and find the cracks. To work my fingers and tools into those cracks and widen them. To make them so big that either the house fell down or, failing that, my client slipped through.
Much of society thought of me as the devil but they were wrong. I was a greasy angel. I was the true road saint. I was needed and wanted. By both sides. I was the oil in the machine. I allowed the gears to crank and turn. I helped keep the engine of the system running.
"The Lincoln Lawyer"
There was nothing about the law that I cherished anymore. The law school notions about the virtue of the adversarial system, of the system’s checks and balances, of the search for truth, had long since eroded like the faces of statues from other civilizations. The law was not about truth. It was about negotiation, amelioration, manipulation. I didn’t deal in guilt and innocence, because everybody was guilty. Of something. But it didn’t matter, because every case I took on was a house built on a foundation poured by overworked and underpaid laborers. They cut corners. They made mistakes. And then they painted over the mistakes with lies. My job was to peel away the paint and find the cracks. To work my fingers and tools into those cracks and widen them. To make them so big that either the house fell down or, failing that, my client slipped through.
Much of society thought of me as the devil but they were wrong. I was a greasy angel. I was the true road saint. I was needed and wanted. By both sides. I was the oil in the machine. I allowed the gears to crank and turn. I helped keep the engine of the system running.
"The Lincoln Lawyer"
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no subject
Date: 2024-11-22 06:06 am (UTC)У нас в Российской Фашистской Федерации всё много проще и скучнее чем у вас в созданной мечтателями-идеалистами от масонов маме Америке.
Вся вышеописанная поэтическая красота - для норм. людей с мозгами, а следовательно - соображением и воображением.
Наш-же суд - это тупо гильотина или топор который поднял безродный плебей-олигофрен спрятавшийся в чёрном балахоне завязавший глазами и замкнувший затычками ушами, чтобы покарать, нарубить и расплющить головы несчастных и больше ничего. Оправдательные приговоры у нас ваще не канают.
Легко садят 68-летних бабушек и дедушек за гражданскую позицию которая не устраивает кремлёвских вурдалаков.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-22 01:26 pm (UTC)но, в любом обществе, главное -не попасть под раздачу.