http://www.sfgate.com/crime/article/Worst-case-scenario-Defending-child-molester-a-2919122.php For 26 years, Carl Spieckerman has represented the underbelly of society, but it took Curtis Dean Anderson -- the Vallejo kidnapper and molester of an 8- year-old girl -- to test his resolve.
As the notorious case went to trial last month, the whole Bay Area was watching. TV cameras mobbed the hallways of the courthouse and Spieckerman's client made proud confessions from his jail cell to the press. Anonymous women left Spieckerman nasty voice-mail messages saying he was worse than a pedophile for representing Anderson. "Bad things happen to people like you," said one message "People like me?" Spieckerman thought. The words echoed in his mind. After years representing destitute people assigned to him by the court in murder, burglary, drug and domestic violence cases, Spieckerman was accustomed to feeling misunderstood. Spieckerman, 57, is regarded by his fellow attorneys in Solano County as a straight-shooter. He's a workhorse who has 12 trials on his calendar in the next four months. When he's not overworked, he worries he's losing his edge. He's not flamboyant or theatrical, but takes pride in the times he has whittled away at the prosecution to win acquittals. Judges often turn to him with their toughest, least glamorous cases -- people accused of murders, defendants who've fired multiple attorneys, and unruly people like Anderson, who nobody else wants and who won't follow their attorney's advice. The stocky attorney wears a grey beard, round eye-glasses, and collar- length hair brushed back from his temples. His light blue eyes are surrounded by deep shadows and his broad forehead is criss-crossed with wrinkles. Private-practice defense attorneys have a sometimes unfair reputation for chasing ambulances, but most must hustle for private clients because that's usually where the money is. "It's a very difficult business, quite honestly," said Solano County Conflict Defender Dane Besneatte, who used to have his own practice. "(You're) having to make people pay and trying to collect money and (do) the business end of it." While most attorneys' caseload include perhaps 10 to 20 percent court- appointed cases, the vast majority of Spieckerman's cases are assigned to him by the court because the public defender has a conflict of interest. For most court-appointed cases, Spieckerman earns $55 an hour, sometimes more in tough cases or for particularly ornery clients. Until about 10 years ago, Spieckerman used to accept a wider range of cases, including divorce and child custody disputes. But he tired of parents calling him at 8 a.m. Monday morning to complain their spouse delivered their child home 15 minutes late. He hadn't the inclination to hustle for clients and decided his heart was in criminal defense. He likes the mental challenge and when he wins a case, it's a professional victory. "That's what you live for, that rush. You feel great," Speickerman said. Ever since Spieckerman was a young man and an Army sergeant derisively ordered Spieckerman and the other "college boys" to empty the toilet bowls and clean them, Spieckerman has been his own boss. He graduated from the night law school at John F. Kennedy University in Walnut Creek and two years later opened his own practice a block from the Vallejo courthouse. Spieckerman visits his clients in jail most weekends, although once in awhile he'll go camping by himself. Sometimes he cooks for relaxation, but most evenings, his wife says, he pores over case files at home. Spieckerman works in a utilitarian second floor office in a non-descript stucco building, with white walls, a brown carpet and basic padded metal chairs. His wife helps him out, often working 60 hour weeks, but he doesn't have a secretary or other staff. His bread and butter are clients like a young man recently charged with three felonies in a trailer-park burglary. Spieckerman shook his head when the man was late to his own preliminary hearing. But ultimately the judge ruled there wasn't enough evidence to hold him for two of the alleged felonies. "They're just these dumb kids, hanging around and drinking," said Spieckerman. Spieckerman refused his wife's request to drop Anderson's case. And when one of his step-daughters asked why he couldn't just "throw" the case -- that is, not present an aggressive defense -- he said that was impossible. Spieckerman had invested his adult life in a principle, and Anderson was going to get the best he had to offer."People say you've got to believe in the defendant before you work as hard for them. I don't believe that," said Spieckerman. "You still try to do the best you can because that's your duty, both to your client and society and the concept of justice," he said. Spieckerman approached defending Anderson as he has other tough cases. "Sometimes you're pretty much check-mated from the time you start. You make sure whatever evidence there is, you get it in front of them (the jury)." he said. Spieckerman read in police reports that the 8-year-old girl's friends had said she wanted to run away. When Spieckerman asked the little girl on the witness stand if that was true, she denied it. That was the basis for his defense. Spieckerman said he never set out to prove the girl wanted to go with Anderson, but he wanted to show she was capable of not telling the truth, and that not every detail of her story was necessarily accurate. His cross-examination of the girl was fairly mild, but during his closing statements when she wasn't in court, he accused her of lying. Spieckerman didn't expect to get Anderson acquitted of all charges, but he hoped he could shave the sentence down from 250 years in prison to 70 or 80. In part, it was a matter of professional pride. The public, however, thought his argument was abhorrent. "Who is the real sociopath; Carl Spieckerman (the lawyer) or the child molester Curtis Anderson?" one woman wrote to the Chronicle. "Some day Carl Spieckerman will have to answer for this and I would suspect he will rue the day." The trial was an especially tough week for Spieckerman. Fellow defense attorneys Dan Russo and Amy Morton sent him flowers with a card: "You're our hero." "I think a lot of lawyers would have been so consumed with the contempt that the general public felt," said Russo. "(Spieckerman) always gets the worst cases and the most difficult defendants and it would be easy to just be going through the motions and my experience with Carl is he doesn't just go through the motions." Stephanie Kahalekulu says she privately cursed Spieckerman during the trial. "After I heard Spieckerman, I thought how can you do this? How can you defend this person? He may get off. He may be let free," said Kahalekulu. Now, Kahalekulu said she harbors no grudge against Spieckerman. "One thing I appreciated about Spieckerman was that he did not torment (the little girl)," she said. Solano County Deputy District Attorney Donna Stashyn has faced Spieckerman in a number of cases, including Anderson's. She said he's respected by prosecutors as well. "In a case like this, someone's gotta represent him and all you can hope for is it's a good, fair attorney and I think that's what Mr. Spieckerman is," she said. Representing Anderson was the toughest thing Spieckerman has done professionally. His family ultimately showed their support by sitting through parts of the trial. His son, Damian Spieckerman, said he is proud of his father. "I think he represents his clients well and I think he has a good heart. " said Damian Spieckerman. "I think it's really hard and sad for him to walk around and know that so many people look at him and don't see any of that." Spieckerman, 57, is regarded by his fellow attorneys in Solano County as a straight-shooter. He's a workhorse who has 12 trials on his calendar in the next four months. When he's not overworked, he worries he's losing his edge. He's not flamboyant or theatrical, but takes pride in the times he has whittled away at the prosecution to win acquittals.Judges often turn to him with their toughest, least glamorous cases -- people accused of murders, defendants who've fired multiple attorneys, and unruly people like Anderson, who nobody else wants and who won't follow their attorney's advice. The stocky attorney wears a grey beard, round eye-glasses, and collar- length hair brushed back from his temples. His light blue eyes are surrounded by deep shadows and his broad forehead is criss-crossed with wrinkles. Private-practice defense attorneys have a sometimes unfair reputation for chasing ambulances, but most must hustle for private clients because that's usually where the money is. "It's a very difficult business, quite honestly," said Solano County Conflict Defender Dane Besneatte, who used to have his own practice. "(You're) having to make people pay and trying to collect money and (do) the business end of it." While most attorneys' caseload include perhaps 10 to 20 percent court- appointed cases, the vast majority of Spieckerman's cases are assigned to him by the court because the public defender has a conflict of interest. For most court-appointed cases, Spieckerman earns $55 an hour, sometimes more in tough cases or for particularly ornery clients. Until about 10 years ago, Spieckerman used to accept a wider range of cases, including divorce and child custody disputes. But he tired of parents calling him at 8 a.m. Monday morning to complain their spouse delivered their child home 15 minutes late. He hadn't the inclination to hustle for clients and decided his heart was in criminal defense. He likes the mental challenge and when he wins a case, it's a professional victory. "That's what you live for, that rush. You feel great," Speickerman said. Ever since Spieckerman was a young man and an Army sergeant derisively ordered Spieckerman and the other "college boys" to empty the toilet bowls and clean them, Spieckerman has been his own boss. He graduated from the night law school at John F. Kennedy University in Walnut Creek and two years later opened his own practice a block from the Vallejo courthouse. Spieckerman visits his clients in jail most weekends, although once in awhile he'll go camping by himself. Sometimes he cooks for relaxation, but most evenings, his wife says, he pores over case files at home. Spieckerman works in a utilitarian second floor office in a non-descript stucco building, with white walls, a brown carpet and basic padded metal chairs. His wife helps him out, often working 60 hour weeks, but he doesn't have a secretary or other staff. His bread and butter are clients like a young man recently charged with three felonies in a trailer-park burglary. Spieckerman shook his head when the man was late to his own preliminary hearing. But ultimately the judge ruled there wasn't enough evidence to hold him for two of the alleged felonies. "They're just these dumb kids, hanging around and drinking," said Spieckerman. Spieckerman refused his wife's request to drop Anderson's case. And when one of his step-daughters asked why he couldn't just "throw" the case -- that is, not present an aggressive defense -- he said that was impossible. Spieckerman had invested his adult life in a principle, and Anderson was going to get the best he had to offer."People say you've got to believe in the defendant before you work as hard for them. I don't believe that," said Spieckerman. "You still try to do the best you can because that's your duty, both to your client and society and the concept of justice," he said. Spieckerman approached defending Anderson as he has other tough cases. "Sometimes you're pretty much check-mated from the time you start. You make sure whatever evidence there is, you get it in front of them (the jury)." he said. Spieckerman read in police reports that the 8-year-old girl's friends had said she wanted to run away. When Spieckerman asked the little girl on the witness stand if that was true, she denied it. That was the basis for his defense. Spieckerman said he never set out to prove the girl wanted to go with Anderson, but he wanted to show she was capable of not telling the truth, and that not every detail of her story was necessarily accurate. His cross-examination of the girl was fairly mild, but during his closing statements when she wasn't in court, he accused her of lying. Spieckerman didn't expect to get Anderson acquitted of all charges, but he hoped he could shave the sentence down from 250 years in prison to 70 or 80. In part, it was a matter of professional pride. The public, however, thought his argument was abhorrent. "Who is the real sociopath; Carl Spieckerman (the lawyer) or the child molester Curtis Anderson?" one woman wrote to the Chronicle. "Some day Carl Spieckerman will have to answer for this and I would suspect he will rue the day." The trial was an especially tough week for Spieckerman. Fellow defense attorneys Dan Russo and Amy Morton sent him flowers with a card: "You're our hero." "I think a lot of lawyers would have been so consumed with the contempt that the general public felt," said Russo. "(Spieckerman) always gets the worst cases and the most difficult defendants and it would be easy to just be going through the motions and my experience with Carl is he doesn't just go through the motions." Stephanie Kahalekulu says she privately cursed Spieckerman during the trial. "After I heard Spieckerman, I thought how can you do this? How can you defend this person? He may get off. He may be let free," said Kahalekulu. Now, Kahalekulu said she harbors no grudge against Spieckerman. "One thing I appreciated about Spieckerman was that he did not torment (the little girl)," she said. Solano County Deputy District Attorney Donna Stashyn has faced Spieckerman in a number of cases, including Anderson's. She said he's respected by prosecutors as well. "In a case like this, someone's gotta represent him and all you can hope for is it's a good, fair attorney and I think that's what Mr. Spieckerman is," she said. Representing Anderson was the toughest thing Spieckerman has done professionally. His family ultimately showed their support by sitting through parts of the trial. His son, Damian Spieckerman, said he is proud of his father. "I think he represents his clients well and I think he has a good heart. " said Damian Spieckerman. "I think it's really hard and sad for him to walk around and know that so many people look at him and don't see any of that."
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