Montecito

You know how you float into an old un-inhabited house, lost in time, lost in history, off the maps, and you look at the furniture, the walls and the space around you and it seems as if time has stood still. And you slowly walk around and there are memories sitting on the furniture. And you know life is suspended here. You can feel the words, the conversations and the life that once was here and is no more.

I am there… I am here… in the middle of this living room with huge windows looking out to the green hills behind me rising up to the turquoise and kissing the sky with its pine needles… The expanse between me, the brush, the hills and the sky is enormous… I turn around in this room, this house… I know this place. I have been here before. My soul has been here. I don’t know when but I know I have felt this room. My breath catches. There is a part of me that’s twined to souls in this room. I don’t know who they are and where they are… but I know they are a part of me.

My breath… my breath is shallow. I am afraid to breathe any heavier or deeper or else I risk losing this imperceptible silky fine thread that connects me to here… My eye catches the silver reflections of the horizon dancing on the ocean laying bare out of the other window.. Eternity has been here and reaches to the end of the horizons…

I need to walk and move … my bare feet slide on the rustic hardwood floors, and the sound of laughter, the ecstasy of joy and the relentless pitter patter of children’s feet moves through me. And pain… tremendous pain… heartbreak, loss, sorrow… All I can do is to stop… stop.. stop! STOP. Close the eyes, move within myself to inside my core and feel the breath go in slowly, through the nose, to the lungs and the back of the lungs. Keep it there. Feel this, feel them… Talk to me.

I am floating between two worlds, between the here and there, between what is and is not. There is a parallel world that is moving within me and is running its roots around me, pulling me pulling pulling me ….

There are stories to be told. With the words lingering in the air and the memories sitting on the shelves, I am waiting for someone to listen to the stories, to tell me the tales, to listen to my words, to my breath. I am waiting for someone to recognize the warm embrace of the chocolate velvet couch in the corner of the musty room, waiting for someone to savor the words. This is home… and yet I have never been here. I am lost and yet I am home. I don’t know where this is, but I know this place… I know them, I know you… on a visceral level.

7/4/2015

Montecito.

Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law

A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
alalehkamran@alalehkamran.com

Los Angeles, Las Vegas

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alaleh-Kamran-Criminal-Defense-Fan-Page

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Tired

I am tired.

It is not easy to fight someone else's fight...

with all odds stacked against you.

it is not easy to fight for someone who,

more often than not,

was dealt a bad hand,

because of a bad mom,

or a bad dad...

or a bad decision....

it is less easy ...

to fight when the cop is dirty...

the prosecutor lazy,

and the Judge, ... compromised,

because there is political stake at hand.

i am tired...

of bringing it home,...

of owning it....

of making it mine...

I am tired of all that is not just...

all that is not right...

all that could have been...

all that should have been....

and the world that might have been,

had each of us,

been true

to our conscious

to our inner self

to our personal moral compass....

i am truly tired.

Tired beyond words...

tired beyond space...

Signing off

CDAK

8/20/2013

Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law

A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
alalehkamran@alalehkamran.com

Los Angeles, Las Vegas

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alaleh-Kamran-Criminal-Defense-Fan-Page

https://twitter.com/AlalehKamranLaw

http://alalehkamranlaw.blogspot.com/

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To my son... who will be going away for college.

He moseys to the kitchen…  dragged himself out of bed because the smell of breakfast wafting through the house and plumps himself in front of the breakfast bar.  He looks scruffy and ratty.  He is wrapped in his soft red blanket. His eyes are half open and incoherently he says:  “mom, what’s for breakfast?”

As I fill his plate to place it in front of him, the other one thumps around the house with elephant feet… We can hear him before we see him.  Within a split second, the gentle giant walks into the kitchen with a happy hungry smirk.  “Mom, what’s for breakfast, I don’t want any carbs” … “Good morning to you Sunshine.  Get the oatmeal from the cupboard.  That’s the best that I can do this morning.” I say. 

The hustle and bustle of Sunday morning breakfast is in full swing. The dog keeps running around, hoping for a piece of food, a game of ball which will undoubtedly not take place, and a wagging of tail that says: “I love you, whether or not you play with me, I am just a happy dog”  My husband, busy fixing the squeaking and rattling dryer,  moves in and out of the scene as the boys wolf down their food and tell their stories from the previous night, one’s lines lovingly interrupted by the other’s and accentuated by the sound of laughter and sarcastic witty responses to each other’s adventures. 

They are no longer boys… My toddlers, my precious little gems of innocence with eyes of wonderment and curiosity have become young men with chiseled cheekbones, muscular bodies and deep voices who establish their presence way ahead of their apparition. 

I am holding my cup of coffee and observing their raptured conversation about last night’s adventures… They are in the moment, they are so real … and their belly laughter and expressions of emotions raw and real.  The heat of my cup warms up my hand and moves up to my heart. 

It has been a difficult week end of introspection, of soul searching and self examination.  The never ending doubts and questions, the incessant analyses of my own “wheres and whys and wheretofores” have left me drained of all energy.  I have a mountain of work at the office with looming trials and motions and a myriad of other deadlines, but I can’t move.  The sound of the kids and their heavy-footed and boisterous no-longer-pitter-patter of their feet keeps me riveted to the kitchen. 

For the millionth time of any given day, it hits me, once again, with the same consistent velocity and vigor, he’ll be moving away to college.  My heart, my breath,  my precious one is leaving.  He is taking to the skies.  He is, as rightly he should, expanding his wings, and exploring the universe, to explore his horizons, to find himself, to discover his path, to walk his journey and to leave his indelible mark on the Universe. 

The impending feeling that my heart is about to be torn out of me and my inability to stop the world from turning, forces me once again to admit and accept my insignificance in this huge Universe, that will revolve no matter what my resolve…

I walk over and sit at the piano… My fingers have long been estranged from these keys who used to bring me solace and joy in my law school years when I, too, had left the house and was expanding my wings and taking on the horizons rebelliously, against my parents’ wishes with all the angst and anger of a young adult determined to discover herself, her path and her journey.

The notes shy at first, hesitant and timid… remind me of my younger self, scared and fearful of the future but thirsty for the adventure, play themselves on the keyboard.  Oh, to be 21 again.  Oh, to be that naïve and doe-eyed and bewildered once again.  How life batters one’s soul and fortifies the weakest parts of one’s soul…  I had rebelled, I had broken barriers, I had moved beyond the norms of all that was acceptable and understood at the time, because “no” was not and will never be an acceptable answer to me.   And how life teaches you that choices are real and permanent. 

My son joins me at the piano… and helps me with the notes.  I am having trouble with the F sharps, not because I don’t know where they are … but because the tears are making me blind to the sheet music…  He is leaving.  He is taking to the sky, and if I have done my job well, he’ll always know that he will have a nest to come back to… I get up and he sits down and picks up where I left off.  His gentle fingers make love to the piano and he gracefully eases the music from this old beat up instrument.  I watch him and walk away.  My heart cannot endure this. 

Go son… take on the sky … expand your wings.  Find your horizon.  Reach for the skies and take on the stars, the moon and the sun.  Glide and soar beyond infinity… find your path, discover your journey, stay true to yourself, be happy, be joyful and most importantly, always and forever honor thy soul….

 Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law

A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
alalehkamran@alalehkamran.com

Los Angeles, Las Vegas

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alaleh-Kamran-Criminal-Defense-Fan-Page

https://twitter.com/AlalehKamranLaw

http://alalehkamranlaw.blogspot.com/

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Mental Illness that is the criminal justice system.

The rhythmic metrical beat of the music synchronizes itself to the white lines of the freeway. I am once again headed to the Mental Health Court, that aging beat up space once known as a pickle factory. An old red brick building, dressed up in parts in hastily drawn gang graffiti and naked in parts as the paint has slowly been peeled off by the patient hands of time. Her dark stories are many… her tragic comedies of human error and fallibility even greater. Her secrets and her pains, etched in the hallways, in the courtrooms, on the walls, and in the holding cells much like her muted cries are only visible and audible to those who share the hallucinations of the patients who breathe life into her.

Life here is the theater of the absurd. A poorly painted tableau of incomprehensible and hard-to-decipher images of mental illness, family shame, disappointment and human tragedies intertwined with murder, rape, violence etc…. This is a rabbit hole, and I never know what to expect.. The mental health patients from various hospitals loiter around in the sitting area waiting for their cases to be heard… Some are catatonic. Others clearly responding to internal stimuli. Some are ragged looking. Others disheveled. A few well groomed. The army of nurses, forensic doctors, clerks and attendants glide invisibly much like the agony and torment of these patients.

As I walk down the hallway, my heels syncopate on the bare floors. I feel the breath of the building, rasping under the weight of the cases… or at least, the weight of my cases, in this building, is too much …. A son charged with attempted murder of his mom by driving a knife into her face to rid her of the perceived evil that had engulfed her, another man charged with murdering his best friend while in Meth induced psychosis, and yet another 21 old beautiful girl with a schizophrenic breakdown charged with attempting to blow up an imaginary bomb and yet another 50 year old charged with hate crimes and terror threats against those he believes have planted monitors in his head and have raped him electronically….

I walk to the security area to gain access to the holding cells where the incarcerated ones are held. The long walkway smell acrid. The putrid smell of a meat packing house sauced up with putrescent air fresheners attack the senses. I look at my wrists. Unshackled, unbound, and free… I am walking to the holding area. I lift my arm and bring my wrist closer to my nose. I remembered to wear my perfume today. It lifts me to a happy place, to a place of love, comfort and sweet tenderness… of music, joy and euphoria. It’s my defensive wall in this harrowing place.

Dressed in Yellow connoting “mental health” jail classification, my client stares at me with vacant eyes. He has not shaved, bathed or brushed his teeth or hair in days… Dogs on the streets are better managed, I remark to myself. Our conversation is stunted, the content void of any significance, legal or otherwise… I slowly trudge back to Court and wait for my case to be called.

I think it is Victor Hugo that said that "society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.”

We have failed… we as a society have failed to provide basic necessities, such as education, health care, mental health care and jobs… and if these souls are left in the darkness to commit sins and crimes against the society, it is US that is guilty… for we have turned away from the light… We are the cause of the darkness.

Signing off.

Alaleh Kamran

Uncollected Writings, 2015

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger

http://alalehkamranlaw.blogspot.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alaleh-Kamran-Criminal-Defense-Fan-Page

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Was It Good For you?

November 7, 2014.

I walk into court today. It's a couple of days after prop 47 has passed which means many low level felonies will now be reduced to misdemeanors by operation of law.

My client is facing multiple cases all around the county. Prior to Prop 47, including his probation violations and his 4 open cases, he would be facing several years in State Prison. Most of his charges are drug related from use, to sales...Now, because of prop 47, i can finally get him into long term rehabilitation as opposed to warehousing him in state prison.

Today, he is being arraigned on several charges which were felonies when he was arrested. As I approached the prosecutors desk, I realize the deputy sitting at the desk today is an old old colleague of mine. I met him 24 years ago when I was a law clerk at the District Attorney's Office.

Over the years, being on the same side, or being on opposite sides of cases, we have formed a professional relationship which allows us to frankly and openly discuss the facts of our case and reach socially just and acceptable results.

I slowly go up to him. Judge is off the bench. The Courtroom is quietly bustling with the business of the day...

Me: Hey love... How you been.
DA: Hey girl, what brings you to my courtroom?
Me: [with an exuberant and effervescent tone] you gonna give me my first prop 47 reduction today...
DA: I am gonna be your first
ME: You gonna be my first. Talk dirty to me ...
DA: ok. you ready?
Me: ready ready... talk to me talk to me...

....

The Judge takes the bench, and the case is called. DA goes on the Record and says: Count I is reduced to a misdemeanor. Count II is reduced to a misdemeanor. Count III is also reduced to misdemeanor.

We take care of the rest of the issues... Defendant is given the opportunity to enroll in an In Patient Rehabilitation Program...

Judge goes off the Bench..

I walk to the DA. He looks at me and says:

DA: was it good for you...?
ME: it was good for me... was it good for you??

and we both laugh until tears roll down our cheeks.

Some days, i just love the practice of criminal defense.

Have an Awesome week-end, everyone.

CDAK, Alaleh Kamran.

Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca 91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
alalehkamran@alalehkamran.com
Los Angeles, Las Vegas

https://www.facebook.com/…/Alaleh-Kamran-Criminal-Defense-F…
https://twitter.com/AlalehKamranLaw
http://alalehkamranlaw.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/AlalehkamranCriminalDefense
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The Sun Shines at UCLA Career Center

Alaleh?  are you available to sit on a panel at UCLA about careers in law? said the message in my Facebook inbox? Sanaz Nabati Career counselor at UCLA was contacting me to invite me to sit on a Panel at UCLA Career Center to discuss Law with prospective law students....

I was sitting in Court waiting for the Judge on a really messed up Murder case. And this message was like a piece of candy after a hard night of drinking... soothing for the soul and invigorating for the body.. I chuckled to myself. Have i ever met a microphone that i didn't like, i asked myself?? Of course i will talk to these students...

So, i show up, to look at a room full of UCLA students, shy, excited, ambitious, apprehensive and thirsty.... thirsty for knowledge, thirsty for answers. And i think to myself, OH MY GOD. they are so young!!!! Was i this young when i was in College? did i look this innocent? did i have this look of awe and thirst on my face when i was their age???

And as i canvass this room, i see this beautiful face sitting in the front row. She smiled like she had swallowed the sun. And, i know. i just know that i have seen this smile somewhere before.

We do what we are supposed to do... As a panel we discuss, we present and and we impart our vast knowledge of the law with these bright-eyed bushy-tailed young students. Sunshine sits in front of me, and every time i glance at her, she is looking at me, with her gorgeous smile... and drinking up the information, as if drinking from the fountain of youth.

The night winds itself down...and I'm surrounded by a half dozens students. They're asking questions.. they are each patiently waiting their turn, to tell their story, to ask their questions and ask if the law is for them.... And i look up and see Sunshine waiting patiently.

Finally, I make my way to Sunshine. And i say: "I know you. Where do i know you from?" And she responds: I saw you several years ago, at Nessah Temple. You were speaking about Juvenile crimes at Nessah Israel with Dr. Orly Saghian, Ph.D. And I didn't know if I wanted to go to Medical School or Law school. And that day, after you spoke to us, i made up my mind that i wanted to become an attorney. You inspired me to become an Attorney"

********

Do you know what it feels like to be washed over with emotions so strong that you feel like your knees are about to buckle? Do you know what it feels like when you are hit inside the pit of your stomach with the realization that you can make a difference in other people's lives without ever knowing or having intended to??

*******

I well up in tears. And all I can think is Oh, My, God! ... I am the luckiest woman on earth. I do what I love, I get paid for I love, and I inspire young women to follow my path. ... Can I get any luckier than this? can I be blessed any more?

I hug her. i am at a loss of words. Sunshine is truly sunshine. She radiates warmth and along with her warmth, she brings happiness.

You know who you are. Thank you for being you, for being there at Nessah, for being here tonight and for talking to me tonight. Wherever you go, may the road rise to greet you. May the Sun be behind you shining on you. And may you navigate life's vicissitudes with ease and wisdom.

Thank you for the gift you gave me tonight. I love you.

Alaleh Kamran

November 5, 2015

UCLA

Law Offices of Alaleh Kamran

 15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010

 Encino, Ca 91436

 818-986-6222

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Crack Baby

She gurgles with the cutest sounds…  plum and pink, and rosy cheeks, she sticks her fist into her tiny little mouth, and drools all over herself.  A tiny little pink tutu covers her booty, and her tiny little sleeveless Tshirt is bedazzled with little rhinestones that read:  Daddy’s princess.

She is climbing up and down her mommy, pulling her hair, mouthing her cheeks, and restlessly creating a playground to keep herself amused while contrained between the armrests of the uncomfortable seats of the courtroom.  

She is a crack baby.  Or maybe a Meth baby.  But really is there a difference?  I know ‘cause I represented mom when she was pregnant and using.  Dad is now in custody.  And what should have been a day at the park, or at “Mommy & Me" class, or at the Baby-Gym, is now a routine “let’s watch daddy in court” day… 

What chances does this child have of succeeding in life?  Everything is stacked against her.  Her learning ability compromised in Utero, and further stunted by environmental conditions, such as horrible parenting; what realistic opportunities will she have to become a successful member of the community?  

Will she be that hyperactive restless child who will have to have special education classes?  Will she become the disruptive kid in school who will be constantly marching in and out of the principal’s office?  Is she going to be seeking comfort from the madness of her life by dumbing herself down with drugs and alcohol? And will she replace dad’s missing presence by searching love from one opportunistic asshole to the next?  

Are we going to recognize that troubled teenager as one who started life with everything stacked against her? Or are we going to look at her with judgmental eyes, shooing her away from our kids, and shaking our kids with scorn at her unacceptable ways?  

I don’t have the answers… I am trying to concentrate on the officer’s testimony so that I can cross-examine.  Maybe my job is not to save the Dad because the dad is innocent or not… but maybe my job is to find a way to send Dad home, so that the kid can at least have some semblance of a normal life….

Yet another day, and another tragedy unfolding in the Courtrooms…

Alaleh Kamran

Uncollected Writings.  2015

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger

alalehkamran@alalehkamran.com

Follow my blog:   http://alalehkamranlaw.blogspot.com/

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