My First Tort: A cautionary tale of conversion

It was the summer of '94. I played baseball almost every day on the field next to my apartment in the shadow of Romney Stadium. When I wasn't playing baseball, I was riding my bike or playing with Jurassic park action figures in the swamp under the willow with friends (and picking the leeches off later). One thing that I will never forget from that summer was being grounded for about a month for making a big mistake. That mistake just happens to be my first intentional tort.

Tort law is a tradition that we Americans brought with us from our cousins across the pond. A tort in its most basic form is a civil wrong. It comes from a french word that means "twisted." There are six intentional torts. The ones you have probably heard of are battery, assault, and trespass. One that you may have heard in passing is conversion to chattels--that's the one that I committed.

Perhaps contrary to popular belief, there are some things in law that fit with common sense. Conversion is one of those. The idea is that if someone takes something that is yours and disposes of it as she pleases, she is liable to the true owner for the market value of that thing. The principle is probably best explained through my tortious past.

Our little apartment complex was occupied by young families going to school so there were alot of kids running around all the time. Me and another friend LOVED to jump off of swings. It was the bomb. Our little playground had a swingset with two swings, a slide, and a little teeter-totter (which seem to have disappeared from playgrounds--maybe from torts suits...). There was a fence to keep kids away (unsuccessfully I might add) from the canal on the other side. On a warm summer day just after a PB&H lunch, I went out with my buddy to swing jump. Attention spans being as they are at that age, we probably played on the swings for about twenty minutes before the object of our conversion caught my eye.

After a particularly high jump, I rolled after landing and while brushing sand from my stomach, I saw a bit of pinkish something poking out of the sand. As it took shape in my mind, I recognized the leg of my sister's favorite plaything: a Barbie doll (see heart). Let me just say that there is something innately boyish about hating dolls, especially barbies. As I pulled the doll out of the sand, that burning desire to destroy it grew within me. I held it up to my friend who promptly left his swing to look at my find.

There was no discussion about what was to be done with it. We were boys. Boys that played baseball everyday and did cub scouts. Boys that hated taking showers. Boys that needed to break things. With my eight year old senses, I had a sneaking suspicion that what we were about to do with this object of girly attention was wrong, but my friend and my boyish tendencies unfortunately won out. In all fairness, we looked around to see if anyone had left it. Nobody had been to the park in a while (which for us was a half hour). The doll looked pretty banged up and was clearly buried on purpose.

What did matter is that we popped off all the arms and legs and then (logically) spun the remaining doll by its platinum-blond hair and took turns spinning it and then throwing it in the air. After we had thrown it against the slide a few times and thrown at high as possible, we realized that there wasn't much else to do with it. As we had no access to fire or a high enough power magnifying glass to do any real damage, we tossed gave the barbie doll one last spin and hucked it over the fence (see lightning bolt).

I got caught. Apparently some little girl (see orange star) was bawling and her older brothers told on me. Her oldest brother happened to be my nemesis (we later had two fights- in one he threw a baseball bat at me and the other turned out more in my favor). the girl's parents talked to my parents and they worked out justice. They claimed that it was some kind of special edition barbie and my parents ended up giving them twenty bucks for it. I ended up having to work it off. It didn't make sense then, but it does now.

 By destroying something that wasn't mine, even though we assumed that park toys are fair game, I converted her chattel (personal property) by treating it as if it were my own. She was able to recover thanks to the parental justice system and I think my parents helped me understand that tortious behavior doesn't really pay off. And that is the story of my first tort.

Don't be that person that...

Looks at distracting things during class

Everyone behind you can see what you are looking at. It is pretty difficult for others to focus on torts when anime and modern art are moving around on your screen. Hulu--don't even think about it. You are paying too much money to be messing around on stuff like that in class. I am not the boss of you, but if you care at all about your classmates, you will entertain yourself elsewhere.

Makes up his own hypos

When a professor creates a hypothetical situation, she has a purpose in doing so. The professor has thought about the logical progression of the class period and uses her hypo as a teaching tool. When a student creates a hypo, it is to probe the weird parts of the law and his own personal curiosity. Rarely will a student-created hypo do any good. They distract the professor and confuse other students. If you want to work on your own hypos to study and take them to the professor on your own time, by all means do it. Your hypo may clear up something that the professor will address in class. If you are dying to ask your question, just write it down. This will be a great lesson in patience. You will also have more friends than you would otherwise. Nobody likes these people.

Just some advice. Take it and I promise that you will appreciate it later. Leave it and you may not know the difference, but your colleagues most definitely will.

Cheers

I just know I am going to get called on first...

I couldn't get that out of my mind all day Monday. I had heard and read plenty about the socratic method that so terrifies law students. Everyone said that it is scary, but not to worry about it. Problem is--I worry. I would like to say that I am an average worrier, but that's probably not true.

So I get to criminal law and head to back right of center from the professor's point of view. I pull out my book and a pen and try to look as inconspicuous as possible. The professor comes in, everyone gets a bit more quiet (which didn't last the week) and she begins the class. After a brief introduction, professor Davidson asked a question--and waited for someone to answer. "The next one will be a cold call," I thought. Nope. Not once did she try to scare us into submission. "The next class," I thought. Not really. I did apparently nod my head which prompted the professor to ask me about Article III of the Constitution. Still, not scary. And it actually wasn't in at all intimidating. Apparently not all professors are intent on striking fear into the heart of their pupils. Who'd a thunk?

Second day of class- how hard could this be? Reading done, checked the E&E, talked about it with classmates. I was feeling pretty good. The only new class on my schedule was Torts. To not break with custom, I take a back seat just to the right of center from the professor's prospective. There are about 80 other students in the auditorium. The professor comes in explains the basics, but with a twist. He explains that he doesn't like to arbitrarily call on people and that he prefers a more democratic method of deciding who gets called on first. So he presents the option of alphabetical order. Not. Cool.

Tangent.

Adams. As a kid, it was cool being at the front of the line. There was one year that Aaker made me second and another that Abbot did the same. The worst moment of my front-lined-ness was when my fourth grade teacher thought that reverse alphabetical order was a good idea; it wasn't. All this popped through my brain. And then one more thought crept in- "Lee, you were the first on the list at orientation."

And before I knew it, "Mr. Adams," booms the professor, "What were the facts of the Prosser v. Keeton hypothetical?" A cold sweat pops up on my forehead and I turn to the case. "Prosser owned a watch, which went miss-"

"Ok, stop looking at your book. Pretend that I am the judge. You will get no respect if you have your head buried in papers when you speak to a judge. We need to start practice today. This is a conversation. Continue, Mr. Adams."

I just smile and continue relating the facts of the case. My answer is apparently been sufficient.

"And what is Judge Allen's reasoning?"

"He focuses on who had rightful title to the watch."

"So what kind of reasoning is he using?"

Panic. I know this. Book. Can't find it. Lee, you are in law school., think. Justice! Of course it's justice- "A sense of justice."

"No. Anyone else?"

Shame. Someone else answers the question. I look down at my book and see that the next judge focused on justice.

"And Mr. Adams, do you agree?"

"I do."

"Thank you Mr. Adams. Ms. Am..."

Phew. I made it. And it wasn't half bad. I think I can do this.

Orientation (for me)

Name tag- check. Orientation packet- check. Orange juice for breakfast because I am nervous- double check.

Orientation is a great time. Administrators and honored speakers pump you up and scare you to death about the next three years. You get to take care of administrative stuff like parking passes, student IDs, and the like. My favorite part is meeting people. I met probably fifty people that first day, only to realize the next day that I most likely wouldn't have class with any of them until next year. It's really too bad, because every person I met was super intelligent, had a very unique background, or shared both traits.

After the speeches, we had the opportunity to meet with two legal professionals that graduated from Willamette. We had an attorney that works at a private firm that handles mostly IP work and the honorable judge Angel Lopez in the Multnomah County Circuit Court (Portland's county). We discussed ethics and professionalism. I was very impressed by both lawyers and their view of the system. I was very interested in judge Lopez's insight into criminal law. I always thought that ethics were more of a solid code than an issue for discussion,but I was wrong. Welcome to law school, Lee.

With the day over after lunch, I headed home. Before starting orientation, I spent almost a straight week getting everything in place for school per the advice of Law School Confidential and a number of other prep books. I highly recommend LSC as a primary source, but not as an exclusive source for your guide to law school. Up to this point, it has been spot on concerning the experience. So with nothing better to do, I sat down and did my Civil Procedure homework. As an English major, fifty pages was about an hour read depending on the book. When I saw twenty pages, I did a double-take. "That's it?" I thought. Two hours later I realized that I was definitely beginning law school. I also realized that I had some serious back pain.

I had opted for a cheap stacking office chair because it resembled a library chair and I didn't ever recall having a problem with them as an undergrad. Now that I think of it, I also don't recall studying in four-hour blocks a couple times a day. Needless to say, I took it back to Office Depot and got a comfortable, well-supported chair that fits my desk (a folding dining table) perfectly. It has casters, so to prevent damage to the carpet, I grabbed a couple sturdy doormats from Walmart because those plastic floor protectors are way too expensive.

Thursday and Friday, we got an intro to legal study from our Legal Research and Writing (LRW) professor. The people in that class will not only be the same for the remainder of the year, but for every class as 1Ls. Time to make friends. We have a great mix of people and I am really excited to work with them. Luckily I found Chris, my new study buddy and carpooling partner that lives practically right next to me. Bonus!

That's a wrap for orientation. Let the intellectual beating begin!

Orientation (for you)

This is another one of those blogs that is written by the up and coming of the thousands of law students around the country. My part of the country is the Northwest-- Oregon, to be exact. After graduating from BYU in 2010 and working at Ancestry.com for a year, I decided to come home to my beautifully green, unmistakably open-minded state and get a legal education at Willamette University. If you are from Oregon, you have heard of it. Washington, maybe. California, the same. Otherwise, just know that for a legal career in Oregon, it is in the same market as Lewis and Clark, University of Oregon, and a bit of the University of Washington. As a 1L, I have an inkling of what I want to do in the legal profession, but I will hopefully narrow it down to at most two options by the end of my first year.

As far as my background goes, I am 25 years old. I am the oldest of three kids. I speak Spanish fluently and have a love for almost all things Latino/Hispano/Sudamericano and Spanish. I studied rhetoric and race under the umbrella of an English major and took plenty of political science and Spanish classes along the way. I vacillated on whether to go to law school for a long time. As a self-confident and embarrassingly ignorant freshman in college, I wanted to get a law degree to become a politician. Two years of giving service to others before resuming my formal education helped me realize that there are better ways to help people. Long story short, I have had experiences with attorneys and other legal professionals that convinced me to bite the bullet and here I am, writing a blog to cyberspace and maybe the occasional passer-by.

My hope is to include those things that I want to remember later as well as those that by chance help someone else who decides to sell their soul, in the most positive sense of the phrase, to the law.