In Commemoration of Yom Hashoah...

Vivaldi! Bach! Albinoni! Shubert! Barber! ... Where, where? The posters are all over Paris and the thought of listening to the Baroque masters in the heart of Paris tingles within me. The bombastic and yet all knowing Concierge at the Hotel Bel-Ami tells me: "Madame, c'est a la Saint Chapelle"....

OH MY GOD... The same Sainte Chapelle that we studied in school? the Crown Jewel of the French Gothic Era? Situated where else than in the Palais de Justice, where Justice a la Francaise has been meted out at this site since the medieval times.

The heat in Paris is stifling in the middle of July.  And yet, I will not pass up the opportunity to drink a glass of wine before going into the Concert.  We grab a table on the sidewalk of Brasserie Les Deux Palais, and with delicious anticipation of my baroque experience, I let the the wine seduce my taste buds.  

From the sixteenth century to the French Revolution, Le Palais De Justice was the seat of the Parlement de Paris. ... This is the courthouse, this is where I would have been practicing law, had I become an attorney in France rather the United States. This is where I would be going to Court on a daily basis, had the hands of fate landed me in Paris as opposed to Los Angeles

Marie Antoinette was kept and imprisoned here before her guillotinage.  Construction on this site begun sometime in the 13th Century, it survived the middle ages, the Renaissance, the French Revolution, etc...  ... I am excited.  The wine coursing its way in my veins, i can feel my body buzzing with anticipation. 

I walk my children in the hallways of the Palais De Justice, passing by the different offices that i would have walked by on a daily basis in Los Angeles.  The Court of Appeals, the Victims Rights office, The Restitution office, the Fines and Fees office.  I  am overwhelmed by the beauty of the architecture of the building... Of the history, of all the stories that it carries,  of all that my life could have been!

This is the country that gave us Jean Jacques Rousseau... "man was born free, but everywhere he is in chains"... and the naissance of the social contract, of the modern legal society.   My head spins... So many have died to be free... so many have fought to be free... so much historical weight in these hallways... and who am I? little nobody who wanted to changed the world and fell so short of the mark.

We walk into the breathtaking chapel with high vaulted ceilings.. The painted glass of the 13th century, the gilded wooden frames and high arches, the enamel... What can I say that hasn't already been said, other than its sheer magnificence brings me to my knees.

I have been lucky enough to score front row tickets. And the Quatuor Classik Ensemble start playing. As the bows plaintively cross the strings to draw the darkest moments of history from the notes, it occurs to me...

I am but a little freedom fighting girl, exiled from her own homeland, on account of being a Jew, living in a whole different part of the world, listening to Samuel Barber's Adagio and made timeless by Spielberg's Shindler's list celebrating one man's courage to fight evil by saving thousands of others, sitting where else but in the heart of Europe, where the French laid to the Nazis like butter does to bread.

and look...

Nationless... exiled... Rooted elsewhere.... and sprouted.

I am still standing... We are still standing.

and they are NOT.

My hands shake. I must have pushed the off button on the video, i realized much later. It is good to be free. It is good to have freedom... and it is a good fight, that which i fight...

Signing off
July 2013, Paris

CDAK.
Lecturer,
Radio Host,
Citizen Journalist, Blogger.

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Law School Graduation Speech 6/10/1991

I was given the very coveted honor of delivering my Law School graduation class' Commencement Speech. UWLA School of Law Class of 1991

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


I have dreamed of this moment since I was 12 years old.  The winds of revolution were blowing and with it, millions of Iranians took to the streets yelling freedom. 

It was an illusion.  It was a lie.  As I stepped into the airplane forever leaving my homeland, I saw the multitude of nameless faces with fists raised in the air, demanding, chanting freedom. 

I realized then, that liberty cannot be gained and sustained without law, order and justice.  I vowed to myself that the law would be my profession.

We stand before you today to accept the responsibility to uphold and honor the legacy that our forefathers left us in 1776.  What they fought and died for must be preserved. 

There are those among us who may become scholars, or judges, or teachers.  Some will defend, others will prosecute.  Some are motivated by  ambition, others by the pursuit of financial gains, and yet others seek intellectual challenges.  However, as divergent as our paths may become, the one thing we have in common is the like demand for freedom.  The right to breathe freely.

This is not only an ethical duty that we should assume.  We should never forget those who are not entitled to the inalienable rights that we enjoy. 

Those same liberties that are ours as a matter of right in this country, such as the freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom of association; are considered crimes the penalties for which range from long prison terms to the death sentence in many other countries. 

We should not forget the plight of the Kurds, nor the Chinese students in Tiannenmen Square.  We should remain cognizant of the uprisings in the Baltic States, in Ethiopia and the Eastern Block countries.

You may ask why? Why should we worry about what happens to some desolate farmer in Iran? 

It is incumbent upon us to uphold the law and justice in this great land of ours.  So we may keep open our doors to those desolate souls that want to live and die free.  Only because these United States of America have stood for the beacon of light, the signal of hope and the symbol of liberty for those of us who were cruelly subjugated to oppression, tyranny and despotism.

The strength of a free society rests in how it deals with its weakest links.  I came seeking liberty and freedom. I have been  afforded the opportunity to become the provider. 

And as the purveyors of the law, we bear the obligation to fight for what is just and honorable, vigilant against intolerance and bigotry.

So we remain free to pray as we please and to vote as we please.  So we are tried before a just and fair tribunal, so we may have our voice heard, no matter how socially or financially insignificant we may be. 

I left what was my home, because my life as Jew was not safe.  This is now my home.  This is now my land.  I am so very proud to stand here today.  I am so very proud to accept this honor. 

June 10, 1991
UWLA, School of Law Graduation Speech
University of West LA, School of Law.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Epilogue:  While i started out law school at McGeorge School of Law, i dropped out a month before the end of my 2nd year for Medical reasons.  I was told by Dean Gordon Schaber, upon my request for a leave of absence:  "Can't you read the writing on the wall?  Can't you see the law is NOT for you?  You'll never pass the Bar.  No one will ever give you a job.  You will never make it as an attorney"

Well, I went back to law school at UWLA, School of Law's evening program,  after Justice Bernard Jefferson convinced me that the legal field needed women like me.  He also helped me get a job at the Los Angeles County District Attorney's office as a full time certified law clerk. And the rest is history, or better yet, my story.

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Heroin and Meth

Breaks my heart.. he is barely 20.. arrested again for Heroin and Meth. Again. His mom sits in my office, not knowing what else to do. Dad tells me that he will kill the motherfucker that introduced his son to Heroin, he will kill him.

I look at the dad... stare him in the eyes and i know he is serious. i recognize the look. It is the look that a man dons when he has lost all that was worth living for. It is the look of a man whose only reason for living is the revenge for the death of the one they love.

My client calls from jail... Collect. Mom and Dad hold their breath while i talk to him. Do they think i can solve their issues here and now? do they think i am some kind of miracle worker? How can i fight Heroin? How can i win over Meth? What kind i possibly do or say to change anything?

He is going thru withdrawals.... stomach pains, diarrhea, joint pains, nausea, vomiting, shakes, sweating, runny nose, agitation, fear, .... The cops left him in the cell, by himself. What can they do? what can anyone do while someone is going thru detox.

I listen, we talk, we discuss plans of what may or may not happen in Court. I hang up. Give mom and dad the phone numbers that they need to deal with Co-dependency. Mom looks at me,... she wells up. i look at her, i well up too.... She says: "my son is your son"... i get up from my desk, hug her and tell her: "your son is my son, help me help him"...

My sons are home, safe. And may God keep them so, from bad friends, from bad choices, from bad events. May God save them all... May no parent mourn for a child lost to drugs...

I need to go home and smell my children....

Signing off

CDAK.

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger.

Encino

June 9, 2013

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Release...

The greatest harm that takes place in our justice system, is not because the cops or the prosecutors are crooked or mean or have a hidden agenda.  It is because they are overworked, underpaid, over stressed and under funded...

So, naturally... details are lost... and sometimes, a man's innocence which could have been vindicated with only a small detail, a small bit of evidence, a tiny shred of the immutable truth gets buried and entombed... victim to sloth, to apathy, to languid indifference...

And i sit in my office, burning the candle..., knowing that the truth, like a naked child hiding from the public, is there... somewhere on my desk, in my binders, in my reports, in my research... I have it all in my head, 'cause I've analyzed it in my  head countless times as i've been prepping for the big day...

The adrenaline kick is strong.  It is an amazing sustained rush which keeps me going for hours.  Sleep means nothing. Hunger dissipates... My heart's elevated and rhythmic thumping synchronizes itself with the trance music playing in the background of the office...

And as I prepare my questions, my cross examination, the identification of the documentation;  slowly, the palms of my hands slowly sweat... my breathing has become shallow...my throat is drying up...

 It's mounting, ... the force, the tension, the pressure... waiting for that one question, that one piece of evidence, and that one ruling... I can see it, i can taste it.. i want it .. i want to consume my release, to earn my victory, to make my mark, to achieve my vision, and to vindicate my client...

and yet i know, ... like all fantasies, it can be so beautiful and well planned in the head, and yet when it comes to execution, reality has a nasty way of interfering with life.

Until yet another victory.

CDAK.
4/8/2013

Law Offices of Alaleh Kamran

15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010

 Encino, Ca 91436

 818-986-6222

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Epiphany In Ankara 2008: From Victim to Liberator.

How odd...

For the first time in over 30 years I am returning to a  part of the world that I have longed for, dreamed about, hated, adored.   A part of the world that has excluded me, exiled me, and yet a part of the world that has never left me.

30 years ago, I left my land, my home to never go back.   At the  tender age of 12,  I didn't know what it meant to leave your land behind.   How can you leave your land, your home, that which has taken hundreds of years to make you, that which through time has become part of  your blood, part of the scent of your body, part of the glow of your  eyes?

For 30 years, I have gone back to my land, in my dreams only.  For 30 years, the closest I have ever come to my land, has been when the fresh smell of earth rises with the first rain of the season, when I, like a disheveled peasant, run out to the street, to the yard, to the parking lot, to wherever I am,  just to breathe in the smell of earth which takes me back to my land.

How odd that I am flying back now not to my land, but to the land just near it, where the likes of those who chose to exclude me now escape to get their Green card to the United States, my adopted homeland.   How odd, that I, the excluded child, am now flying to Ankara to walk one of them thru the interview process.

He leaves by Choice.

I left by Force.

He's immigrating.

I was exiled.

He will take his personal belongings, his heirlooms, his memorabilia.

I took nothing! not even  a fistful of dirt from my land.

The irony of it all is that I, the exiled child have now become the bearer of the torch, the same torch that lady liberty holds up high in her hand on Ellis Island.

I, the exiled child, who for 30 years, silently carried the pain of being a victim of Anti-Semitism am now going back as the liberator to my oppressor.

How odd.  

How strange!  

How so very powerful!!

How enormously and deliciously gratifying.......

July 2008

On the Way to Ankara

War Veteran

"Iraq Veteran... Anything will help"...

He looks up, distant glossy eyes reflecting a detached soul. He is so young, yet aged by unspoken horrors that have etched their mark around his eyes. Part of a leg is missing. He looks dissheveled, unkempt. 

My breath hitches.   Not the kind of hitching brought about by unbridled passion, but the kind brought by extreme pain. 

We lock eyes. i stand there, petrified. Anger, shame, disappointment, disgust, hatred fills my core as i try slowly to stabalize my breathing. My vision blurred, i know that i have succumbed to the tears. I dare not move. I keep my gaze on him, as his intensifies.

And finally, one shameless tear escapes and makes a run for my lips...

......

"I am sorry, so very very sorry"....

That's all i can say as i pull out what ever i have in my purse and dump it in front of him. Ashamed, disconcerted, humbled, distressed... i cannot fit into my own skin. The collective guilt of a wrongful war, of any war has knocked me to my knees.

Who have we become? what have we done to our youths? what are we leaving behind for our children.

.....

i weep as i walk into the Courtroom.

CDAK

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The Life of a Criminal Defense Lawyer.

I have seen men of iron will collapse to their knees; 

I have seen women of steel fall apart like chalk.   

I have seen tears of blood, shattered hearts, broken lives, and lives cut short... i have seen it all... 

i have seen dead bodies on the ground because of drugs, guns or accidents... 

i have seen zombies, who were alive while their soul was dead...

My soul has lived a thousand lifetimes.. 

i have woken up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, at times because i found a viable defense while i was sleeping... 

at times, because i was dreaming of the innocent teen-age client who is doing a triple life sentence on contaminated evidence. 

Mothers have entrusted me with their children. Others have said: "first god, then you"... Loved ones have sat in my office picking up pieces of their shattered lives...

Like Sisyphus, i have carried this stone up the mountain, to watch it roll down time and again. Like Alexander, i have faced the Gordian knot time and again... 

i have tried to bring light where there was nothing but darkness. There are times that i won, .. and so often, i have failed. In the process, i have been polished like a mirror, buffed by adversity.

All those who look at me watch with wonder and amazement... yet very few see the pain, and the awesome burden that is part of my daily routine... With every case, my soul is spliced. With every defeat, i am ripped apart... 

There is no victory that is sweet enough to wash down the bitterness of those cases that should have been won, and yet were lost because the government was corrupt, the cop dirty, or the judge biased.

Protect your liberties. Cherish your rights. Soon enough, there will be none left. 

My name is Alaleh Kamran.

  

I am a Criminal Defense Attorney.

I am Constitutional Defender.

I am a Citizen Journalist.

And this is my blog. Welcome to my world. 

CDAK

11/27/2012

Encino

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