“Get in the car,” she yelled from the window of her black, convertible Camaro SS. I obliged, opening the passenger side door. This was my first in-person interaction with Autumn Chastain, the private defense attorney for whom I am interning this semester. Ms. Chastain graduated from Rhodes College and received her juris doctorate from the University of Memphis Cecil C. Humphreys School of Law. She is the head of a local firm that handles criminal cases on the state and federal level, but also includes a heavy focus on juvenile justice. The diversity of her practice is responsible for a constant back-and-forth between the Shelby County Juvenile Court, located in the hospital district, and 201 Poplar, the infamous downtown address that houses the police and sheriff’s offices, the district attorney’s office, and of course, criminal court. That morning was no exception: we made several trips in the Camaro, and I honed my skills counting change from her center console for parking garage tickets.
I got to do a lot more than count change, though; I was right in the thick of Ms. Chastain’s busy Monday morning. It was exciting and mildly overwhelming. I was lucky enough to observe several court hearings, preliminary hearings, and pre-trial meetings at both 201 Poplar and Juvenile Court. Ms. Chastain also brought me to several different courts to observe the judges’ different styles. One disgruntled criminal court judge, upon hearing a defendant exclaim, ‘this sucks!’ yelled, “Oh yeah? Are you using profanity in my courtroom? Wanna see how much it sucks when you’re behind bars?” All the attorneys in the room laughed to themselves, and Ms. Chastain whispered to me, “this guy doesn’t take a lot of crap.”
Reflecting on that first day, the aspect that resonated most with me was the culture and attitude surrounding Ms. Chastain’s work. Defense attorneys traditionally have a reputation for being sleazy or dodgy, a stereotype that is certainly reinforced by an existing faction. However, defense attorneys fulfill an important role in maintaining the legal foundation of this country. And, of course, there is a more wholesome side. Ms. Chastain is a member of the Juvenile Defense Panel, a group that represents delinquents in juvenile proceedings, primarily those who could not otherwise afford counsel. These are often difficult cases, with many layers of morality, and plenty of societal connotations. Ms. Chastain and her peers are a well-respected crowd at the Juvenile Court. Most judges, prosecutors, bailiffs, police officers, and office assistants greeted Ms. Chastain, or at least showed outward signs of respect. At the end of one pre-trial meeting—a meeting between the prosecutor and defense attorney before court—the prosecutor thanked Autumn for its relatively agreeable outcome, and told me that Autumn was one of his favorite defense attorneys with whom he works. His only regret was that I did not experience a more exciting pre-trial: “Sorry you did not get to observe a more litigious discussion between myself and Autumn here today,” he said. But I knew he was actually pleased that the pre-trial had gone so smoothly.
The attitude of that prosecutor is a perfect representation of Ms. Chastain’s approach to her work. She and her peers treat each other with respect and share a common goal of finding solutions that fit within the legal system. This mission has its challenges and tribulations, but Ms. Chastain and her peers take everything with a grain of salt, and perhaps more importantly, pepper each day with a little bit of humor. Ms. Chastain’s work personality does well in the fight to shed the atrocious reputation of defense attorneys. It is a refreshing change of pace, a different attitude than what one might expect from a lawyer. Perhaps a lawyer should not have to take himself too seriously; he should be able to casually say, “Get in the car!”
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