For the Defense

this is relatively short and really engaging. an easy to read piece with something big to think about...

For the Defense
By Richard Pretorius

"The ACLU would defend Jerry Falwell, but he certainly would not defend its work" was the gist of my argument with a close friend more than 20 years ago in a Georgetown bar.
In our college days, when youthful idealism had not been beaten about by the inevitable disappointments of an adult life, I was a liberal's liberal.

If only people cared about the less fortunate more and government programs worked better, the problems of poverty, oppression and racial strife could be solved went my mantra . I was shaped by a divorced mother raising two children on a school teacher's salary and on playgrounds and ball fields where one's ability, not skin color or bank account, was paramount. A scholarship to a private high school, where I met my friend, opened my eyes to the often supercilious world of the elites. I was a Nick Carraway in a world of Tom and Daisy Buchanans.

My friend took a more each-person-for-himself approach to the issues of the day. He was not a callous conservative. But he did not think government programs were the answer. He believed people had the ability to rise above their circumstances with hard work and a little bit of luck.

Of course, my friend's good fortune included having a father who was a surgeon, a mother who was a super-successful real estate broker and brothers and sisters who were close and supportive.

The MacMahons had a townhouse in Georgetown, a farm in Virginia horse country and the ability to provide the children with the best educations and experiences possible. They were also as generous as could be, allowing me to share their home as I tested my idealism when working for the D.C. Public Defenders Service.

If life had a predetermined career track, my friend, with his UVA and Tulane law school degrees, would now be a partner in a corporate firm helping rich companies get richer.
He did dabble in that world for awhile. But today Edward B. MacMahon Jr. has caught the national media's attention in a case as far removed from helping big business as Falwell is from addressing an ACLU convention.

Every time I hear or read about my friend defending the so-called 20th hijacker, I recall those conversations of two decades ago.

Then we could not have imagined a 9/11. Nor could I have thought possible that Ed would one day be appointed to take such a case. Defending the despised did not seem to be part of his life's resume.

I knew Ed would be successful, not solely because of his upbringing and education, but because he had a glowing self-confidence, smarts, charm and Kennedyesque looks that were bound to lead to great things. He was even then a person of substance, style and great gregariousness.

Life does indeed throw surprises. Our youths leave indelible memories of the people whose lives touch ours; reflections that always play a part in how we view each other for decades to come.

As Zacharias Moussaoui's well-dressed, articulate attorney appears on television or is quoted in a newspaper, I think back to the nights at a Shirlington pizza joint drinking beers before we were of legal age, trading arguments and sharing dreams.
Ed, who loved a good story as much as he relished a good time, once garnered the nickname "Divide by 10," meaning many of his great tales had their share of embellishments.

Of course, there can be no exaggerating the serious of the Moussaoui case. Nor the bravery of the lawyers who are fighting for his life, often without their client's blessing.
The only contact I have had with Ed in recent years was via an e-mail in which I said I greatly admired his courage in taking on this case and that I was glad to see he was doing good. He suggested I drop by sometime and have dinner with the family.
So as he talks about the wrongness of seeking the death penalty against a person the government admits killed no one, I reflect on how our two-decade-old bar banter has come full circle.

While I truly miss those late-night chats when all seemed possible, I am extremely proud of the person my friend has become.

Here's to you, Ed. The system fails without your passion and dedication.