Welcome to St. Clair County, the Animal House of justice.
This is where we initiate the newa4 guy with a weekend at the hunting lodge. Damn. Woke up and he was dead. Drugs? What drugs?
This is where we don't forget our buddies. We borrow their tools, handle drug charges against them and par-TAY with them in our "Bad is my middle name" T-shirts.
This is where probation officers fetch heroin for us.
This is where we get liquored up at the Rams games and crash into people.
This is where urinating into bar ice bins and having sex while driving are part of the frat boy culture.
And if you think these are isolated events, or just one poor drug-addled individual who led another to a bad choice, that there isn't a culture behind all of this, then ask yourself why the feds are involved. Ask why the chief circuit judge, a former prosecutor, didn't get wind of or seem to care enough about the circumstances surrounding another judge's death to question whether more than 500 criminal cases should remain on a potential addict's docket for more than two months. Now the chief judge's son is representing a defendant in the same federal drug case.
As ugly as the morning after has become, we expect it will get worse. And despite decades of some lawyers bragging they owned judges, and some politicians dealing judgeships like crack, we still hope there are a few Milton Whartons out there who cling to the simple ethic that justice should be blind -- not stupid.