...or a scientist proves him wrong.
I have indeed been proven wrong.* Never in court, though. Then again, the one criminal defendant I had was pleading guilty so he could get into rehab, so no lying was involved.
Funny story: in fact, he was brutally honest, and when asked to make a statement by the Court, he pointed out that the drug he was charged with doing was not, in fact, the drug he did. The prosecutor who had drafted the indictment had written down the wrong one- one with a very similar name.
(BTW, this was my first EVER criminal case, working as a volunteer in the Public Defender's office, and I was nervous as hell. So my mentor had given me a script to work from.)
This would have been reversible error- the guy could have walked- but he REALLY wanted into rehab (and that program in particular). So they corrected it, and the NEXT judge (aware of the situation) looked up the drug in his PDR. The
redrafting prosecutor had combined the first part of the actual drug with the second part of the drug from the first indictment, resulting in my guy being charged with possession of a drug that did not exist.
So it got redrafted again, this time, the DA going letter. by. letter. to ensure he got it right. And after that, the case went to a THIRD judge.
Judge #3 was pissed off. Because it was a
*rainy*
day, most of his morning docket simply didn't show up. So now his afternoon docket was overloaded.
A veteran attorney (who happened to be a little person) who had OBVIOUSLY practiced many years before this judge sauntered in, "Where am I in the order, Judge?"
"You can be
LAST if you don't shut up!" he then called our case, saying of it "Ooohhhh, THIS one- this is the most screwed up case I've seen in all my years as a judge...
*grumblerantgrumblegripe*"
It was at this point I discovered my script was missing, and my nerves got in the driver's seat.
I sweated. I stammered. I forgot procedure (and the DA was prompting me for my lines sotto voce). My knees wobbled. I had to lean on the stand. But I got through it...ish. As we were near the end, my client, standing next to me in his Texas Prisoners' orange jumper, patted me on the back and shoulder (in cuffs) said "Its OK, buddy- we're gonna get through this!!!"
When the accused is the one giving the pep talk to the attorney, you know you simply don't belong in criminal court. That was my LAST criminal case.
Still: I got my intended result- he could get into rehab.
* Usually as in : "That is SO
wrong, dude!"