Vol. 30, No. 1 #4 (February 2007). Trial by Fire.

• Author: By Lynn Boak

Wyoming Bar Journal

2007.

Vol. 30, No. 1 #4 (February 2007).

Trial by Fire

WYOMING LAWYERFebruary 2007/Vol. 30, No. 1Trial by FireBy Lynn Boak

In 1980, I was a young lawyer not yet a year out of law school, employed at a stuffy Seventeenth Street law firm in Denver, Colorado. For reasons I did not fathom at the time, Dale Tooley, Denver's exceedingly colorful District Attorney, offered me a job as a deputy district attorney. I quickly accepted, and was to start in March 1980. When I got to the office for my first day, I assumed the day would be taken up with paperwork, introductions, and maybe observing a few courtroom procedures. Dale informed me I needed to be sworn in and asked me which judge I preferred for this task. Taken by surprise, I mentioned Judge Sparr, because I knew his son and had been to their house for Christmas dinner three months prior.

"Very well," said Dale, "I'll drive."

There were immediate sounds of consternation and rolling of eyeballs among the people loitering in Dale's office. These people turned out to be my immediate supervisor, Larry, and a first assistant district attorney named Dick, who was apparently also interested in my swearing-in. I didn't think much of it until we set forth. Dale was seated behind the steering wheel, operating the car, but he was turned toward me; and I was in the back seat! It suddenly occurred to me that my first day on the job might also be my last day on earth. I remember a fleeting feeling of gladness that there were several hospitals nearby, and that some of my closest friends were medical residents at these hospitals.

As we hurtled down East Colfax toward the Courthouse, horns blared. I flung up my arms at least twice, expecting immediate annihilation. Larry had, wisely and probably due to prior exposure to Dale's driving, placed the palms of both hands on the ceiling of the car to brace himself. I later learned that this bracing of oneself was something the police urged passengers to do when they were running "code ten." Dick, in the front seat, occupied himself by periodically grabbing the steering wheel and telling Dale to watch out, although he never raised his voice or screamed, as I would have done. Other drivers, apparently realizing that their lives were at stake, got out of our way and we made it to the courthouse without the demolition derby and...