Thursday, June 25, 2015

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






Monday, May 25, 2015

OPEN LETTER TO SENATOR GRAHAM: WE ARE NOT YOUR POLITICAL LADDER.



Open Letter to Senator Graham

I am a Patriotic Iranian-American, a wife, a mother, a constitutional defender, a community leader and a tax-payer.    
And you Sir, are misinformed. 

Your comment about Iranians being liars is vitriolic and offensive and bespeaks mountains about how little you know Iranians and/or the Iranian history and culture.
You Sir, are ill-informed

We the Iranians, through Cyrus the Great brought religious freedom and tolerance to the world 2500 years ago.  We illuminated the hallways of superstition with Avecinna’s science and medicine while the rest of Europe was drowning in the dark ages.   We introduced spirituality and love of mankind through Rumi when the rest of the world was preoccupied with conquest and war.
And you Sir, are un-enlightened. 

It is Iranian-American Anousheh Ansari, First Female Private Space Explorer who opened the frontiers of space to Private citizens.  It is Iranian-American Pierre Omidvar, CEO of Ebay who recalibrated the boundaries of Internet trade.  It is Iranian-American Dara Khosrowshahi, President and CEO, Expedia, Inc who has redefined travel for the world.  It is Iranian-American Atossa Soltani, founder and President of Amazon Watch who has brought protection to the Amazon against Corporate plunder. It is Iranian-American Parisa Khosravi Senior Vice President for CNN Worldwide, who has brought balanced and fair reporting to the world. 
And you Sir, are un-educated. 

It is the likes of Iranian Shirin Ebadi, Human Rights activist and Nobel Laureate;  Iranian-American Goli Ameri, Assistant Secretary of State for Educational and Cultural Affairs; Iranian-American Jimmy Delshad, former Mayor of Beverly Hills; Honorable Judge Shahla Sabet, that have brought diversity and tolerance to the fields of Law, Human rights and politics.
And you Sir, are bigoted and divisive.

Your poor attempt at climbing the political ladder by demonizing a rich, vast and convoluted nation of People is deceptive, dishonest and disingenuous. 
And you Sir, are the liar.

We demand a retraction AND an apology…

Alaleh Kamran
Attorney At Law
Iranian-American, wife, mother,
constitutional defender, community leader
tax-payer
Memorial Day, 2015:



A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles






Sunday, May 10, 2015

Mother's Day Juvenile Justice





The sound of laughter of my nephews and their cousins fills the backyard. The kids are clambering on top of the balls, the dogs running after the balls, the mothers after the toddlers, and my own boys engaged in a fierce battle of kick dodgeball. The men hover around the grill. One is doing the Kabob, the other the lobster tails. Another is in charge of pouring the drinks. The women, today, are seated. Mothers, mother in laws, sister in laws, all around. Edith Piaf is singing Padam Padam Padam on top of her lungs.

Pandora keeps getting interrupted. I walk over to the sound system thinking something is wrong with my phone, and i see that i have received a text from a client that i represented years ago. He wrote: "Ms. Kamran, on this mother's day, i wanted to let you know that i am thinking of you. You were like my 2nd mom. Here is a picture of my wife and newborn child. Thank you for not giving up on me when they wanted to throw me away in Juvenile hall."

I stood there for a minute, staring at the picture, and for the life of me, i could not remember the teen ager that he was, nor his case. All i was looking at was the picture of a handsome man in his late 20's. Was it that kid who was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, a gun? or was it the kid who tried to smuggle 35 kilos of pot across the Mexican border? Was it the other kid who tried to beat up his dad with a tire iron when he learned that his dad wouldn't buy him new tires? or the one who got so drunk, drove a car and almost killed a pedestrian? Was it the tagger? the computer hack? the scoundrel who threatened to blow up his high school? or the kid who was selling oregano as weed? or maybe it was the one that used a stolen credit card for an all expense paid vacation in a Malibu hotel & Bar.

Padam Padam Padam....

i quickly catalog 23 years of criminal defense in my head, trying to identify this man... and the rolodex of pictures that flips in my head at a lightening speed, forces me to sit down. For 23 years, i have had the privilege of representing teen agers who, for one reason or another found themselves caught up in the teeth of the Juvenile Justice System for charges ranging from murder to bicycle theft. For 23 years i have spoken at temples and churches and high schools, giving seminars on Teenage Sex, Drugs and Alcohol.

All these years, my passion has been the convoluted and misunderstood lives of teen agers struggling with multi cultural assimilation, divorce and domestic violence. And every time, i have picked up a new juvenile case, i have learned a new lesson in love, in tolerance, in compassion, in understanding, in abundance and in forgiveness.

No child ever grows up with ambitions of becoming locked up in Juvenile hall. No child ever falls asleep at night hugging his Teddy Bear and chasing away the monsters under his bed dreaming of becoming an outlaw. We all want to be good. We all want to be successful. We all want to be happy. But we each make mistakes, and make bad choices, and sometimes, unfortunately go down a one way path. But a bad choice, does not a bad person make. It is however, the inability to learn from that one mistake in one's teenage years that distinguishes between the man who looks at himself in the mirror in his 30's and says: "shit, that was a close call", and the man who has to look up at the sky to find the horizon, because the prison walls block his views.

My attention quickly shifts over to my calendar tomorrow. My client sits in Juvenile hall. He is 16 and has the most gorgeous blue eyes i have seen in years. He is small, frail and this is his first brush with the law, and tomorrow we have a detention hearing on whether or not the Court will release him home pending his trial in Juvenile Court. The charges are serious. i want to believe that i can win the hearing tomorrow and bring him home to his dad. I want to believe that these past few days in Juvenile hall have given him a glimpse of what he NEVER ever wants to experience AGAIN. i am well aware of my limited capabilities, and know that my dreams and wishes do not have magical powers of making reality. But i also believe in the power of love and of compassion.


xxxxxxx


My inbox and my wall today are full of messages of gratitude and love from many of those Juveniles who are now men and women of valor. I know some of you who are reading this are the parents of those once teen-age clients of mine. And i know some of you ARE those once teenage clients of mine. On this Mother's day, i wish you well and i thank you for having given me the privilege of having represented you. I thank you for allowing me to play an integral role in your life and i hope that all that i have learned over the course of these past 23 years helps me tomorrow, as i take on yet another child as my own.

May 10, 2015
Mothers Day.
Lines, Rhymes and Internal Monologues:  Uncollected Writings.

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
Los Angeles

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Closing argument

I have once again danced with a long sleepless night, watching the grey sky outside of my bedroom window... I guess the sun, too, doesn't feel like shining and like a disheveled mental patient needs to wrap itself in the comfort of blankets to find solace in the chaos of the Universe. 

The rhythm of my slightly worn heels, clippitty clop against the sidewalk, as i try to organize my thoughts...  my bland & monochromatic world today is slightly accented by the Purple Jacaranda trees... And like an old picture from the 1920's where everything is black & white, i am the sole moving object in this still picture. 

The criminal justice courtroom is the amphitheater of life complete with tragedies, ironies, failures, success, salvation and redemption... 

And, i ponder once again, my own existence, my own role, and the significance of my own color in this mosaic, on this day, in this courthouse...  

Perhaps it is the sheer magnitude of the responsibility that rests on my shoulders.   The recognition and the knowledge that somebody's freedom rests in my hands.  That it is my job, my responsibility to secure my client's freedom and liberty.   

There exists no greater violence on liberty than the taking of it... and like a soldier i march on to the battlefield, my closing argument in hand, pumped by adrenaline. One thing that i have learned over the course of practicing law in these halls of justice over the course of the last 25 years, is that there is NO Karma.  But there IS balance in the Universe.   The abundance that we share with others is that which nourishes us and the pain we inflict upon others is that which in time comes back to haunt us...  
My legal arguments are ready…. My passion for my work is flowing like the Ganges ….  My need to find absolution and harmony in a world that is sadly lacking in such empowers me more than my legal arguments.  With any luck, I will find strength  from within…with any luck, once again my desire for perfection, for lust of words, and most importantly, my yearning for yet another epiphany will endow me with the power of speech to deliver justice.  

I am for now, a criminal defense attorney, a constitutional defender… that is until such time as I find my true identity.

Alaleh Kamran
Uncollected Writings. 
April 30, 2015
Encino.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Wanderlust

I lose myself to find myself.
And I wind and I twist 
and I turn and I bow 
and 
I bend. 
I know not whence I came from, 
nor I know where I will go.  
And yet I know I am no where near home.  


Alaleh Kamran
Uncollected Writings.  
April 17, 2014 
In the skies above San Francisco. 

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Conundrum of Kim Kardashian's derriere!!

The conundrum circling around Kim Kardashian’s ass has split the opinions on my Facebook literally  in two.  The one half are grossed out, disgusted and revolted so violently, you’d think we’re witnessing a public dismemberment and quartering in the middle of a town square during the Middle Ages.  The other half express emotions of delight, adoration and adulation as if a lost member of the family has suddenly reappeared after having been lost at sea for years.  

And a few including myself are ambivalently stuck in between the left and the right, firmly held in place by the belief that no opinion is needed on Kim Kardashian’s ass.  Excuse the tongue in cheek, I have a hard time escaping the deliciousness of the play on words.

Why is Kim’s ass of such gigantic consequence for me to have to pull over to the side of the road, on my way back from Court to write these few lines??  While we may have been overwhelmed by the glitz, glamour and shine of the maxim that “sex sells”, it is not Kim’s ass that is at issue.  

Ladies, OUR collective ass is on the line.  How dare we judge one of our sisters' figure, lest we allow others to judge OUR thighs, our stomachs, our boobs, our nose, our chin, and other body parts?  How dare we attach measurements, calibrations and standards of “beauty” and “ugliness” to body parts that are what they are?  Have we not suffered enough by being told to be thin, to be svelte, to be lithe, to be this and to be that?   Have we not driven ourselves into madness by going from one diet to another, from one surgery to another, from a nip and a tuck, to a lipo and a suction? From Botox, to fillers, to implants, and ….  

Have we not pushed our daughters into conforming to ridiculous concepts of  THINNESS and beauty that is only achieved through starvation, surgery and photoshop??  Has the fashion industry not enslaved and objectified us enough?  

Which one of us has a god given perfect figure? WHAT is a perfect figure?  Who is there to say that an ass must be small or big? Or giggly or tight?  Who is there to tell me or YOU, or your daughters what the definition of beauty is? Why do we sit in judgment of ONE of our own and become so violent in critique??  how many of us can stand in front of the mirror and look at our own body and say:  "i am gorgeous as i am" without comparing ourselves to the Angelina's, the KK's, the Sophia Lorens etc...

We, as women have rightfully bemoaned, loathed and hated our servitude to men.  Our bodies have been used over several millenia in war as trophies, in battle as a refuge, in fights as resting places, in anger as punching bags, in trade as booty, in booty as objects...  With blood, tear, and our lives, slowly over thousands of years, we have finally achieved freedom, over our bodies, our heads, our thoughts and our actions.  

Why are we sitting in judgment of our sisters?   You think she is dumb?  How is she dumb?  She is on the front page of every magazine, and has made a fortune and is living a life grander and larger than many of us can imagine.  She has done so by having business savvy.   How is that wrong?  How is it wrong for her to have claimed her body, her mind and her intelligence to create an empire?  Why is it OK for VOGUE, HARPER'S BAZAAR, W, GLAMOUR or other fashion magazines to use and abuse and take advantage of models to make millions?  But it is NOT ok for KIM to use her own assets to create an empire?  

Isn’t the whole definition of empowerment the ACTUAL ability and power to do as one wishes to do?  It may not be what you and I may do, but we, as women, do not have the luxury to sit in judgment of those amongst us who have chosen to live by their own standards.  PERSONAL FREEDOM & LIBERTY are the cornerstones of our constitutional Republic.   Do not curtail your sister’s rights… by doing so, you are implicitly allowing others to curtail YOURS and Mine.  … 

Such cannot be.

Stepping off the Pulpit
Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
Copyright 11-13-2014

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles, Las Vegas




Tuesday, November 11, 2014

The gift from Hell.

"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!! Why don't you drop out of law school now, while you're ahead of the game.  You'll be more successful at a truck driving school, than you ever will be as an attorney".

I sat at the Dean's office, peeling the skin around my nails until they were bleeding, shaking my right knee nervously, and biting my lip to stop my self from throwing up.  The tirade was relentless.  I can't remember what else he said.  He was evil incarnate, sitting in a wheelchair, spewing venom...  The words that i do remember have managed to etch themselves in every nook and cranny of my brain and have repeated themselves in my head a million times since that fateful Spring day in 1989.  Every time I came face to face with a challenge and i thought i was going to lose, every time i prevailed and survived; every time i got knocked out of the game, and pulled myself up by the bootstraps and got back in the game, in my head, in my mind, in the deepest crevices of my fears, i came face to face with the words of Dean Gordon Schaber.

 "Can't you read the writing on the wall?  Can't you see the law is not for you?"

 How could a wheelchair bound old man facing death be so heartless?? "YOU'LL NEVER PASS THE BAR... no one will ever give YOU a job".  He hissed like a snake with spit flying all over the room.

And thus, this is how, Dean Gordon Schaber of McGeorge School of Law, in the spring of 1989 told me to get the fuck out of McGeorge Law School and move on with my life, because in his esteemed mind, i was NEVER going to pass the Bar, i was never going to become a lawyer, and no one was ever going to give me a job.  A month before the end of my second year, discouraged, kicked down and beaten to the ground, bloodied up and humiliated like a rape victim on the side of the road, suicidal and heavily loaded up by student debt, i dropped out of McGeorge School of Law.

Twenty-five years have passed.  You see, Dean Gordon Schaber, I went back to law school at night while i worked at the Los Angeles County District Attorney's Office.  You see, you sexist racist piece of whatever, in my darkest hour, Justice Bernard Jefferson, the first black man to graduate Harvard Law School and the author of the Evidence Benchbook, lifted me from the ground, shook the dirt off of me, wrapped me up in a security blanket, and gave me the courage to overcome my obstacles.

You see, I did pass the bar.  I did become an attorney.  and you know what?  i don't need anyone to give me a job, I GIVE jobs.  And over the last 25 years, hundreds of chapters have written themselves.  I have touched thousands of lives, and in the process of going through victory and defeat with my clients, i have been forged like iron, sharpened, polished and hardened.

 Countless times, the night before a huge hearing, when a person's life and future was resting in my hands, i have woken up, silently screaming, drenched in sweat with my heart pounding, having just fallen out from an airplane, or fallen into a precipice, or having been lost in an airless capsule in deep space... the only words that ever echo, repeatedly are: "The law is not for you".... There is a part of me that wants to damn the soul of Gordon Schaber to eternal hell.  And yet, there is a part of me that celebrates that absolute and utter moment of failure, defeat, and humiliation.  

So why take the pen, and regurgitate the most painful part of my past?  why today?  why now?  Why look back when i am now flying like an Eagle, the wingspan of my practice spreading itself from Coast to Coast?  You see Dean Gordon Schaber... while you were like the black hole and represented nothing but evil ... I, on the other hand, have become the candle that lights a thousand other candles.  Someday, perhaps a lot sooner than later, i will finally write my stories... but for now, i sit at my desk, staring at an envelope that just arrived, with a hundred Thank You notes from a local high school.

And all i did was to stand in front of them... look them in the eye and say:  "Don't let anyone EVER stand in front of YOUR dreams.  Don't EVER turn your back on YOURself.  and To Thine Ownself Be True"...

You see, Dean Gordon Schaber, you tried to beat me to the ground, because you were a beaten man, and while you were sinking deeper into the hell that has now become your eternal resting place, I, on the other hand, elevate and empower those i touch, and raise them to the arches of the heavens.


CDAK, Uncollected Writings. 
Lines, Rhymes and Internal Monologues: 2014
November 11, 2014

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
Los Angeles