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I've written before about my beliefs on professional responsibility. My view on these matters is no secret. I believe that if you find yourself in hot water with the professional-responsibility program, the best approach is to take full responsibility, sincerely apologize in words and deed, and explain why—and the steps taken to ensure—the mistake won't happen again. Or in the more-colloquial manner I state the principle: "I f***ed up. I'm sorry. Here's why it won't happen again." Standard disclaimer: don't take this as legal advice. God help you if you take anything on this blog as legal advice. That said, you can take this as life advice.
The problem for a lot of lawyers that find themselves involved in professional-responsibility matters, whether represented or not, is that they seem to view the professional-responsibility case like any other matter to be defended. Professional responsibility is a different animal. In most cases, admitting fault (except tactically) is an act that, legend has it, causes lawyers to feel physical pain. But in the professional-responsibility context, it's often necessary. A clue lies in the word "responsibility." We want lawyers to take responsibility for their errors in judgment. It's one of the most important things that helps ensure the public's faith in the legal profession. In other words, when the public knows that a lawyer is willing to admit to an error and make it right that's reassuring. On the other hand, when a lawyer does something wrong and tries to pretend it didn't happen or justify the behavior with hollow excuses, that's troubling. When a lawyer tries to cover up wrongdoing, that's the worst. As the phrase made famous during the Watergate scandal goes, "It's not the crime. It's the cover-up." (Fun fact: The Watergate scandal is widely credited as the seminal event that established legal ethics in the United States.)
I don't mean to be on a soapbox today. But I do think this is important. Because lawyers make mistakes, we have to take responsibility for those mistakes, even if it hurts—perhaps especially when it hurts. Now, I acknowledge there are lawyers out there who have never made a mistake: They've been admitted to the bar for about 30 minutes and have just opened their first file as a licensed attorney. Some of us made mistakes before we became attorneys, myself included. And in that situation, the same take-full-responsibility approach—again, in my not-to-be-attributed-to-SCOV-Law-its-affiliates-or-its-employees opinion—is best.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
One published entry order this week on—you guessed it—professional responsibility. Respondent is currently the Addison County State's Attorney. In January, she was charged with a DUI. She wrote an email to top law enforcement brass stating that she would no longer meet with officers because she "no longer felt safe" around law enforcement. Respondent went on medical leave and, through counsel, issued a press release explaining that she'd return to work when she felt "fully grounded" and "up to the task."
Disciplinary counsel requested respondent respond to the DUI charge and how it related to her current fitness to practice law. Disciplinary counsel also requested that respondent provide a copy of the press release and discuss "the reasons/causes, nature and expected duration of [her] medical leave."
Through counsel, respondent provided a copy of the press release and a response to the DUI charge. She did not, however, discuss the medical-leave piece. Disciplinary counsel asked again for the details of the medical leave, especially as to how it related to whether she was "physically or mentally incapacitated from practicing law." Counsel responded that respondent was going to return to work "soon" and that they weren't going to allow disciplinary counsel to review her medical records or speak with her treaters because respondent was physically and mentally fit to practice law. Disciplinary counsel warned respondent's counsel on a Monday that he might seek to suspend respondent's license if she didn't cooperate with his investigation. That Friday, with no further response from respondent's counsel, disciplinary counsel filed a motion for an interim suspension of respondent's license to practice law.
SCOV has original jurisdiction of such a motion. It's important to note what this kind of proceeding is not. It's not a determination on the merits. It's not a determination that disciplinary counsel should have unfettered access to medical and mental-health records. What it is, is a determination that disciplinary counsel has a good reason for investigating respondent's current fitness to practice law—here the press release provided the basis—and that respondent has a duty to cooperate in the investigation. Here, disciplinary counsel argues—and SCOV agrees—that respondent's refusal to cooperate places the public at risk. Because of that lack of cooperation, disciplinary counsel can't determine what steps, if any, need to be taken to protect the public. And so, SCOV orders respondent's license suspended immediately on an interim basis. In re Vekos, 2024 VT 18 (mem.)
Look, I'm far from some kind of legal-ethics expert. I only occasionally represent other attorneys in professional-responsibility proceedings. Most of my experience in this area of law comes from having a lot of hard lessons stemming from a misspent youth, having to explain my past during the character-and-fitness process myself, and having some insightful mentors to help me along the way. And I hope my comments don't come across as critical of respondent's approach to the disciplinary process here. That's not the intent. Nobody is perfect and that's kind of the point. You don't have to be. I would never recommend that a falsely accused person take responsibility for a false accusation. But when you make an honest mistake, look for the lesson and take the lumps. I can't guarantee it, but it usually seems to turn out a lot less painful in the end.
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