Page 11 Spring/Summer 2017 pened to be a federal judge, perched on the penultimate rung. And above him, the tree branches loomed large and thick. It would’ve been a tough job for someone half his age. Suddenly, I was pretty worried. And I didn’t like my options. I couldn’t ask him to come down from there any more than I could’ve told him not to go up in the first place. Not to someone like Judge Real, and not in his own house, anyway. But my mind was running and my adrenaline pumping. All I could think about — in addition to his falling and hurting himself — was how in the world I would ac- count for that afterward to his family, or the world. So I held onto that ladder as best I could and braced myself to break his fall or do whatever else. But you know what? I didn’t need to worry. The Judge climbed that ladder to the top, stood firmly at its crest, and starting mowing down branches like nobody’s business. Before I knew it, I was getting covered down there with leaves and branches. At some point, he came down to take a break, and I offered to go a round. He didn’t go up again after that, and that was the end of it. But boy, what a moment that was. And I have to tell you, I was astonished by that. I really couldn’t believe he did some- thing like that at his age, and there was nev- er a moment while he was up there that he seemed unsteady or precarious. The whole thing just blew me away. But then the Judge is impressive in a lot of ways. I remember a patent case we had that went to trial. It was a difficult, esoteric case, and the jurors had a hard time following (Continued from page 10) Celebrating 50Years on the Federal Bench along or even trying to. I found my own thoughts wandering, and I was supposed to be the apprentice law clerk. The Judge, how- ever, actively presided over the trial and lobbed incisive questions from the bench. In the fog of a dry witness examination, he would get the testimony moving again with a series of short, focused questions. The longer I practice, the more I’m impressed by that case and how the Judge exerted the same energy and attention that one might sum- mon in, say, a bank robbery. Speaking of bank robberies, I remember one of those went to trial, too. The defendant was a middle-aged man who’d walked into a bank and passed a note. It was, like many bank robberies, a nonviolent act of turmoil and desperation. The guy had lost his job, his wife had left him, and his life was falling apart. So he went and robbed a bank. No gun or other alarming facts, just a guy with a note. It was sad and pitiable. He got caught, and now he was looking at a serious term of imprisonment under the federal sen- tencing guidelines. There was no jury this time, and the case was tried to the court. I do recall the evi- dence was sufficient to convict the man, but then I wasn’t the trier of fact, though I’m not sure I would’ve come out differently if I was. Well, the Judge acquitted him. I’m not say- ing the evidence was overwhelming, but there was plenty of room to convict if he wanted to. Although I’ve never asked the Judge about it, I believe it was a pure, un- sung display of mercy and judgment by a judge whom no one would characterize as easy or soft. Mind you, the law of federal sentencing was in a state of upheaval at the time. The Supreme Court had just declared the guidelines to be advisory, not mandato- ry, but there was a lot of commotion about it, and the dust hadn’t settled like it has since. Sometimes, the Judge disagreed with me, (Continued on page 18) “Speaking of bank robberies . . .”