Quite aware the arrest of her new client was in the news, the public defender stepped gingerly into the jail cell. "Sir," she said tentatively "I've been asked to come help you."
The man in the jail cell -- he had come to be known simply as "The Immigrant" -- said nothing.
"You are being detained for crossing the border," the lady said, brushing her hair back.
The Immigrant lifted his head. "I did cross that border, didn't I?" he said. "You know why I did it, don't you?"
"Tell me," she said.
"I wanted to challenge the system," he replied. His eyes shifted back to the cement floor. "I've done nothing wrong. I'm not a murderer, nor a thief, nor a rapist, and I'm not coming to murder, or to steal, or to rape. Shouldn't freedom be the heritage of those who are law-abiding? As long as you don't murder, as long as you don't rob or commit arson, then freedom should be yours, shouldn't it?"
"I see," the defender said. "But, actually, you did commit a crime."
"Did I?" asked The Immigrant. "And, what did I do? Did I wander a little too far to the north? Let me ask you, if you robbed, or plundered, or raped, would they toss you in jail?"
"Of course," replied the defender.
"Well, what if you walked too far to the right, or to the left? Would they arrest you for wandering from one place to another? Let's say you wanted to pick where you lived, would they arrest you for picking where you wanted to live?"
"Of course not," the lady said.
"That's because those things aren't crimes, not for you anyway" The Immigrant said. "My question is, why should it be a crime for me, and not for you? If something really is a crime, it should be a crime for everyone, not just for those you choose to pick on."
The Immigrant stopped and picked up a scrap of paper off the floor. "Ma'am," he continued, "you're a public defender, and you defend immigrants. Tell me, have you ever wondered how it can be legal for one person to do something, but not for another? I mean, murder and rape and theft -- those are things everybody has to avoid. There is no law that says you only cannot do them if you come from another country. Crime are crimes, and they don't have anything to do with who you are or where you come from."
The Immigrant paused. He looked at the scrap of paper he had picked up from off the floor. "I brought this little note with me," he said. "Care if I read it?"
The lady nodded her permission.
"It's the definition of the phrase, 'Justice is blind.' It has a picture of Lady Justice, who is blindfolded, of course. So, my little note here reads: 'Justice is Blind. This expression means that justice is impartial and objective. There is an allusion here to the Greek statue for justice, wearing a blindfold so as not to treat friends differently from strangers, or rich people better than poor ones.' "
The immigrant swung his head to look at the defender. "Ma'am, that definition speaks of strangers being entitled to the same justice as everyone else. I'm a stranger. Lady Justice doesn't look at me any differently than anyone else. So, as long as justice wins the day, I'm going to be okay."
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead."Trouble is, I've got more than Lady Justice to worry about," he said. "Now, ma'am, do you remember how I just picked this note off the floor a moment ago? Now, was that a crime?"
"Of course not," she said, again brushing back her hair.
"But, somebody could make a law against it. Then it would be illegal, wouldn't it?" he asked.
"Well, yes," she said.
"Sure, they can make anything they want illegal," he said. "So, here's the thing, Ma'am: If I commit murder, or rape, or arson, those are crimes. Everybody can see what a crime is. And, everyone has to answer to crimes equally. But wandering too far to the north -- what's that? Well, just the same, man can make a law against it. If they want, they can say it is illegal for me to pick up a piece of scrap paper. They can say it is their country, and whatever law they want to impose on me, they can do it. Then, when I lean over to pick up that piece of scrap paper, they can toss me in jail."
The defender brushed back her hair one final time. She winced, and gave him an understanding look.
The Immigrant sighed. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Ma'am," he said. "I feel a little bit picked on."
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