Imperfect Justice_ Prosecuting Casey Anthony - Jeff Ashton [97]
Baez was raised in New York City by a single mother. They later moved to South Florida, where he attended high school but dropped out in the ninth grade. At age seventeen, he was married with a child. Then he got his GED, joined the U.S. Navy in 1986, and was stationed in Norfolk, Virginia, for three years. After leaving the service, he attended Miami Dade Community College and the University of South Florida and went to law school at St. Thomas University School of Law in Miami.
As the press reported it, after he was denied admission to the Bar, he tried a few unsuccessful business ventures, including two online bikini businesses, Bon Bon Bikinis and Brazilian-Bikinis.com. He also worked in some paralegal/investigator role with the Miami-Dade Police Department. Given his limited experience in the courtroom prior to this case, I figured that paralegal/investigator role was where he got the exaggerated trial experience he had listed on his law firm’s website when he began representing Casey.
Some people go into law because they are fascinated by some aspect of the profession and love the law. For others it’s the complexity of the tax code, the chance to command a courtroom with their eloquence, or a passion to help the helpless that draws them to the law. Some people go into the profession as a business decision. I always figured Jose was in the latter group. Just as if he was selling the bikinis in his previous career, he was a consummate salesman—I have to give him that.
That said, he was not the first attorney I’ve met whom I would describe as I have just described Jose. There’s nothing wrong with being in this job for the money or the spotlight—plenty of people are and I’ve worked with a lot of them. There are many lawyers whom I’ve done battle with in court, but when we step out of the courtroom, we are friends. Baez was not one of them—not because I disagreed with the cause he was championing but because I disagreed with the manner in which he went about doing it.
Part of the obligation of any good attorney is to advocate for his client no matter how unpopular that cause may be. Many times that requires an attorney to passionately argue his or her client’s innocence even when the attorney may not subjectively believe it. I have no respect for a lawyer who would do any less. Between lawyers, though, honesty is key. Outside the courtroom, a lawyer’s word should mean something both to other lawyers and to the public in general. Even if you’re on opposing sides, you can’t work with someone you don’t trust.
In my dealings with Jose, though, he sometimes seemed recklessly unconcerned about the accuracy of what he was saying, frequently filing motions he had not adequately investigated and that were not true. The word I always use in describing Jose is smarmy: somebody who is slick, underhanded, and doesn’t shoot straight.
I tried to like him in the beginning, but every time I saw him in the media I found the appearance unethical and unprofessional. Our rules caution attorneys to avoid statements that have a likelihood of affecting potential jurors and, in fact, make it an offense subject to punishment. Unfortunately, it is a rule that, in my opinion, is rarely enforced as it should be. That is one of the reasons why we requested a gag order early in the case, which sadly was denied.
The discovery of Caylee’s body put more of a spotlight on this already sensational case, giving more opportunities for Jose to thrust himself in front of the camera. Suddenly the stakes, already huge, grew even bigger—for everyone on both sides. We knew it, and so did the defense.
PRIOR TO THE DISCOVERY OF the remains, a handful of lawyers had been involved with the case but nothing extraordinary—mostly Jose and a couple of associates. Adam Gabriel and Jose Garcia