The Domestic Defender took the summer off to be overwhelmed and stressed about her case load, but now that her husband is traveling for work again, it’s time to share that anxiety with the internet. I’ve felt guilt about my absence from the Domestic Defender blog, but I’ve had nothing too promising to post about. I’m having sporadic success at work, but more disappointments than celebrations, for sure. The sheer number of cases has me grinding my teeth at night and drinking more than I should.

Ralph was on the streets at a young age. He picked up a third degree felony trafficking charge a few years ago and turned to Mr. Durham’s construction training program as a way off the streets. I wanted to blog about Mr. Durham last spring when one of my other clients scrapped pipes out of one of Mr. Durham’s properties on East Blvd. and caused a quarter of a million dollars in water damage to the historic property. Mr. Durham showed up at sentencing to recommend that that client join his program, teaching young, disadvantaged kids construction skills, rather than paying restitution or going to prison. I didn’t write about him because Mr. Durham showed up at sentencing but my client didn’t. Subsequently, my client picked up another case for stripping a house of its pipes and has been in county jail since May. He plead today to the recent case and will be sentenced on both cases on Sept. 6th.

Mr. Durham is a Saint, with a capital S. He made a small fortune in real estate in Cleveland, went out to the eastern suburbs where black men weren’t welcome and found the limits to success. He has taken all that he’s earned and offered it to the young men of Cleveland. He wants them off the streets and working a trade. He’s been stopped by police at least three separate times he’s told me about. He looks like a working man. Not like a man whose address is on Parkland in Shaker Heights.

Ralph is charged with a first degree felony, carrying a minimum of three years in prison, felonious assault on a peace officer. After graduating from Mr. Durham’s construction program, he started picking up houses at auction and flipping them. This house in Cleveland Heights was on the auction list. Ralph was in the backyard looking through the window to assess whether this is a house he’d bid on. An off-duty police officer working security at the high school across the street saw him and radioed the police. An old white guy wouldn’t have warranted a call.

Ralph got back in his jeep, left running in the driveway of this foreclosed house, and was promptly surrounded by at least 8 Cleveland Heights officers, some with weapons drawn. They drafted their reports to reflect that they warned him numerous times to stop and he continued to reverse down the driveway, putting officers in danger. He disputes this account. He says he had no idea what was happening and stopped as soon as it registered. The officers didn’t give him an opportunity to explain why he was there and he wasn’t polite in the face of their aggression.

After providing the prosecutor with information from the auditor’s office to establish why Ralph was on the property, I was offered a fifth degree felony and a misdemeanor attempted breaking and entering. Under most circumstances this would be a good resolution, first degree felony reduced to a fifth degree felony. But he wasn’t trying to run anyone over in the driveway, he wasn’t trying to break in. He’s not a kid with resources and education, flipping houses for a living; he’s a kid from the streets who overcame a lot to come this far. He deserves accolades he’ll never see. When I first met him, I handed him my card – and he handed me his. That’s never happened to me.

We go to trial the day after Rosh Hashanah. I set it during the High Holidays because I don’t have faith in juries, but maybe God will be watching. Will the officers from Cleveland Heights admit what really happened? Will they lie consistent with their contrived reports? Will one of the few success stories end up in prison because his story won’t be as credible as all of these officers? I can’t carry this burden of injustice.

I’ve never had to tell my sons to keep their hands on the steering wheel in full view if they’re pulled over. My friends who happen to have been born black have much different conversations with their sons. It saddens me beyond explaining here. Some of these kids are like my sons in so many ways but color. I lay awake at night worrying about them. If it was up to me, Ralph would just take the damn F5 and misdemeanor, do a year on probation and move on. If we lose, I’ll shoulder the blame, right or wrong.

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