Realities of a Criminal Defence Lawyer

I was called to the bar in 2019, a life-changing event that came after many years of struggle. Today and every day since, I have been a criminal defence lawyer. I see, hear, and experience things that very few people come to know first-hand. These are my realities.

I have seen grown men cry on a regular basis. Society tells men they cannot show emotion, but I can tell you from experience that their feelings are real. All that suppressed pain and nowhere for it to go until they reach my office. I have the tissues ready for anyone who comes to see me. It is not a good day if you end up in my office. I regularly tell people that I hope they never need me.

I meet people at the worst points in their lives. Their freedoms stripped, their jobs lost, their lives ruined. I hold many secrets that nobody will ever know. Not my family, not even my colleagues. These are secrets that will die with me and me alone.

I have been escorted out of the courthouse by security with a client following their acquittal due to the intensity of the negative reactions coming from the body of the court following the verdict. I have read comments in news articles saying I should be disbarred for getting another client bail. Some even try to reach out to me directly via social media to express their disdain.

Being a criminal defence lawyer is not for the faint of heart.

It can be tricky, too. I have had to interrupt and leave conversations to maintain my ethical duties. I swore an oath. I am held to a high standard, and so it should be. My profession is a privilege, not a right. I like to let loose and have fun, but I am always aware of the great responsibility I carry.?

I have been the one to look a client in the eye and tell them there is nothing else that can be done in that moment. I aim for the best but,?always?prepare for the worst. After all, you can’t win them all. I am the last person to shake hands with a client who had no criminal record being remanded into custody after a devastating loss.?

I am the one who never gives up. Relentless, I will adjourn a matter in court a week at a time until I get the answer I am awaiting. Another attempt to see my client at the jail is unsuccessful. Another urgent email to the Crown ends up in the queue. Another call to the Sergeant is needed. My tone is polite, but persistent.

I like to think I have built a reputation for being tough and resilient, but sometimes even I feel like bashing my head against a wall. I watch the system drone on while the very real financial, professional, and personal consequences of delay wreak havoc on my clients. Another charge is ready to be withdrawn, but there are no notes in the file to confirm. Other times, the computer is down. Other times, the information cannot be located. Another adjournment, another day gone. It’s nobody’s fault, but it still sucks.?

Many of my relationships from my pre-law life grow more distant with time. I realize I cannot do everything or please everyone. I give my all to what I do because it drives my sense of purpose. My time and energy are limited. What I do is very emotionally draining, so I am ruthless about my time and the company I keep. My mental health and self-care must come first. After all, I can’t simply “call in sick” and skip a day of work when someone else’s freedom is on the line. I am tired, but I persist. As a much smarter lawyer once told me: “whose life will I ruin if I do not get out of bed this morning?” I feel it now too. With every year comes more responsibility. More lives that could be ruined if I do not show up.

I am also there for the good though. I lose count of the messages I receive, each one more heartfelt than the next. “Guardian angel.” “Life-saver.” “Warrior woman.” “I haven’t slept like that in ages.” “I thought to myself, my lawyer is like Trinity. She is ready to fight. She likes to fight.” Countless words of thanks and appreciation flood my inboxes. They have a weight to them. A feeling of gratitude sometimes consumes me to the point of tears. I will never fully get used to the difference I can make for others. I have had total strangers break down and cry just for giving them a few minutes of my time over the phone.?

The great and the terrible, these are the thoughts that go through my head when I should be sleeping. My life is full of love, success, and happiness, but these are not the last things I think about before I drift off. How can they be, when I am exposed to so much pain, suffering, and injustice in the world? A martyr does not always sleep peacefully, but the hope is that it’s sound enough to fight another day.

It’s like that scene in “The Batman” where Robert Pattinson’s Batman rides off into the night on his motorcycle, watching Catwoman riding away in the opposite direction through his rear-view mirror. He focuses back on the road ahead to the disasters that await him. You can tell he wants the girl, but Gotham must always win.?

And so too do I ride on. While others flee the defence practice, I know I am here to stay. Because if you were in trouble and your life was on the line, wouldn’t you want someone like me, who didn’t want to be anywhere else, in your corner?

Sam Puchala, a.k.a. “Crusher” is a badass, motorcycle-riding criminal lawyer who is relentless in advocating for her clients. Founder of Velox Law Professional Corporation / Société professionnelle Droit Velox, she has cultivated a successful defence practice focused almost exclusively on representing individuals with no criminal records accused of crimes against the person.

Sam is the 2022 Recipient of the Middlesex Law Association's Rising Star Award and is known as being an involved trail-blazer within the legal community, including in her role as Treasurer of the London Criminal Lawyers’ Association.

You can read the original publication of this story in the September 2022 Issue of The Snail.