Remembering John Prescott

William J. Leahy, Chief Counsel

John Prescott died on January 18, 2001, at the age of 70. To a very significant degree, John's legal career defined the character of the public defender in Massachusetts. His public defender career, from January, 1967, until November, 1990--interrupted only by an ill-advised and quickly reconsidered sojourn at the Norfolk County District Attorney's office--bridged the "old" (Mass. Defenders, 1960-1984) and "new" (CPCS) public defender agencies. John was the very best of the excellent "Mass. Defender" trial lawyers at training, exhorting, encouraging, and backing up the scores of academically talented young lawyers who flocked (as he might have put it) to MDC and CPCS during the course of his career. As head of the Boston trial office for many years, John was a stickler for training exercises as essential to the achievement of courtroom competence; and he was also an extremely smart trial strategist who had the gift of communicating his insights clearly to those much less experienced than he.

On the evening of the 18th, when a group of what one might call "senior" lawyers decided to remember John at Remington's, it became apparent that a host of fine lawyers here today had never met or even known of John. But the contributions this man made to what we do and who we are today are so significant that they must be stated.

John was, first and foremost, totally and ferociously dedicated to his clients; many of whom were among the most allegedly felonious of accused felons. This should not be understood to suggest that John liked every client. It is to say that his defense of their liberty was always passionate, fierce, and loyal. I recall one major trial in which the judge made the mistake of singling out one deliberating juror for questioning as to her impartiality. Moreover, he chose to do so at sidebar, in the presence of her fellow jurors. No one who knew John would have been surprised at the way he lodged his objection to this judicial malfeasance. He jutted his jaw perilously close to the judicial countenance, and barked his objection to the judge's intimidation of the juror. Returning to counsel table, perhaps wondering whether he had exceeded the bounds of professional decorum, John was delighted to see his client greet him effusively, and announce his pleasure that "you were in that [*!#"s] face!" I will never forget John coming back to the office that afternoon; still fuming at the judge, still ecstatic over his client's appreciation.

Sure enough, on the next court day, the juror phoned in "sick." John moved for a mistrial. The judge denied the motion, and petulantly accused John of having intimidated him. History records that John Prescott was right, and the judge egregiously wrong. Read Commonwealth v. Webster, 391 Mass. 271 (1984).

John was a very patient and insightful advisor to inexperienced defenders. He helped me and so many others develop the skill and perhaps more importantly the confidence to take charge in the courtroom. He was the first supervisor in my experience to identify the elusive, often misunderstood quality of "courage" as an essential component of the effective representation of our clients. He meant, of course, not histrionics but steely resolve; not imitation but authenticity. He admired most those who, regardless of personal style, simply would not concede.

Two conversations with John may help to illustrate his qualities. The first took place in the Pemberton Square courthouse lobby just after the sentencing to state prison, following a jury trial, of his client. John was lamenting his inability to produce an acquittal, and recounting the various errors which might lead to reversal on appeal. Then he said something typically direct and heartfelt, which has always stayed with me. He wondered how long he could continue to try serious criminal cases. The problem, he explained, was not the courtroom combat, nor difficult clients, fact-trimming cops, vengeful prosecutors, or bombastic judges. It was, he said, the mothers of his clients: the women who, having poured every ounce of energy into their child's upbringing, could not bear to accept the harshness of the punishment imposed upon conviction. John needed desperately to offer an answer to these women; yet there was none.

The second conversation was when John and I saw each other on Park Street one afternoon some months ago. We exchanged greetings and bits of news, and I asked about John's practice. He told me that due to his impaired hearing, he no longer tried cases. He did not want clients to suffer because their attorney had not correctly understood something said in court; nor did he want to be the object of anyone's pity. In this, the last conversation we would have, I saw both John's unflagging standards and his intense pride.

John Prescott was a complicated man; but this much is simple and true. He fought his hardest for every client. He trained and inspired many public defenders, who today epitomize in their public or private practices his high standards and his fierce commitment to the client's cause. In the history of the defense of the indigent in criminal cases in Massachusetts, John Prescott is a major contributor whose legacy should be acknowledged and remembered.