Endings and New Beginnings....

Today was my last day as a full-time employee at the Prosecutor's Office.

Most people nearing retirement have the luxury of slowly winding down their careers, anticipating their future life with a combination of wistfulness and excitement. For me, though, the last few weeks passed by in a blur. I had two major cases to prepare---an evidentiary hearing on a big murder case today, and a state Supreme Court argument next week---and had to confront and overcome a paperwork snafu at the retirement office. Taken together, everything kept me hopping---and the last few weeks have raced by.

This morning, I had to get to work early for my evidentiary hearing: the judge wanted to begin promptly at 8:30. I'd prepared carefully for the hearing---it involves some rather questionable psychiatric testimony by a doctor renowned for questionable and highly convenient opinions---and came to court armed and ready. Then, the judge did something unexpected, unwarranted, and highly illegal: he closed the hearing to the public---and even ejected the victim's family, who had a state constitutional right to be there, from this courtroom. I slogged my way through much of the hearing on the doctor's "home turf"---mostly scientific background testimony, laying the basis for challenging the admissibility and relevance of his testimony---and was just starting to zero in on my own turf: the facts of the case, and the factual weaknesses in the doctor's testimony---when the judge announced that he had to leave. The case is scheduled to reconvene on April 24th---and the press and legal communities are buzzing with the judge's actions. It should be interesting...but will give us some additional time to plan our attack. And, in addition, it will give some sense of continuity.

Decompressing after the hearing, Bob Agacinski took me to lunch at the Old Shillaleh, to celebrate my impending retirement.

Ironically...I also got to attend a wedding! Eric Doeh, a bright young prosecutor who's moved on to better things with the US Attorney's Office, was getting married in the courtroom of his old Judge---Tim Kenny, who was another colleague at the Office in days past. It added a touch of poetry to the day...bringing a new beginning, as well as a close to a chapter of my life that I'll always treasure. But it also showed how life is more a series of circles than a line...and that it's constantly changing, supplanting the old with birth and renewal.

Late in the day, after everyone had left, I took a final walk around the place...and then a trip to a local bar, where there was a gathering planned as a celebration for the new retirees. I joined them for a time, before heading home...and beginning the next chapter of my life.

How things will go remains a mystery, locked away in the misty future, to be revealed in due course. But though wistfulness tugs at my heart, in the end I find myself at peace...and excited by the chance to begin this new chapter while I'm still young enough to look to the future with anticipation.

JEFFREY CAMINSKY, a veteran public prosecutor in Detroit, Michigan, specializes in the appellate practice of criminal law and writes on a wide range of topics. His books include the science fiction adventure novel The Star Dancers, the exciting second volume in the Guardians of Peace-tm series, The Sonnets of William Shakespeare, and the acclaimed Referee’s Survival Guide, a book on soccer officiating. All are published by New Alexandria Press, and are available on Amazon, as well as directly from the publisher.

Goodbye, Jimbo

I visited Detroit Police Headquarters at 1300 Beaubien today, after lunch with my friend, Bob Agacinski at the Old Shilellagh---the bar in downtown Detroit where we pay off most of our bets, the ones we use to give us an excuse to go out to lunch. It was the first time I'd been back to the Police Gym since July 1st. I came to clean out my locker...and to say a last goodbye.

Bob and I have been running buddies for almost thirty years, dating from 1980---when I was a new prosecutor and he, having been around for several years before that, was one of the young "old veterans." We've each gone on to a measure of professional and personal success together---Bob as a crackerjack trial prosecutor, me as a somewhat well-regarded appellate lawyer. But somehow, we always seemed to make time to exercise together.

At least, until last July 1st.

There was a third member of our team. Jim Metz was a funny, mischievous, and charming member of the office who, upon rejoining the Office after a stint as a private lawyer, started running with us. We'd try to go every day. )Well, every day we couldn't think up an excuse). And between the three of us, we usually managed one person's worth of gumption...which was enough to guilt all three of us into going. We preferred the police gym for a couple of reasons: it was dirty, which cut down on the crowds, and meant we wouldn't have to share the running track with any real athletes; and it was free. More importantly, it was an excuse to sit around and talk, while trying to work up the ambition to start jogging---about life, love, politics, and anything that happend to pique our interest. And, for nearly twenty years, we managed to keep each other healthy, happy, and reasonably fit.

July 1st started out like any other run: we sat; stretched; talked...and, reluctantly got onto the track to run.

This time, though, the run lasted less than half a mile. Jim collapsed as he rounded a turn in the track, and died as we tried to save him.

Today was the first time I'd returned to the gym since that day. In many respects, I was probably putting it off...knowing that to clean out my locker meant that Jim was really gone, and that we'd simply have to move on. So, I stuffed my gear into three plastic bags and left.

But before leaving, I went back up to the running track, one last time. It looks just the same: the track was still dusty and old; the basketball courts, crinkled and wavy from the water dripping down from the leaking roof, still lay unused. And the stairs still creak when you climb them.

I rounded the track once, pausing at the spot where Jim breathed his last. And then, I left.

Bob and I are planning on resuming our exercise program...at the downtown YMCA, right after the first of the year. It's a lush, well-run facility---without grime, without crystalized drippings from the leaking water pipes, and with a reliable supply of hot water for the showers. Life, after all, must go on.

But, it won't be the same.