By Aaron Reiss
By Angelica Leicht
By Dianna Wray
By Aaron Reiss
By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
By Jeff Balke
By Angelica Leicht
When deciding how to punish a person convicted of a crime, judges can study testimony, hear from both sides' lawyers and put years of legal experience to use.
Or they can ask their ten-year-old kid. And if the kid says to slam the guy, then slam the guy. That's what 208th District Judge Denise Collins did, according to one defense attorney.
Court papers filed in Austin outline a bizarre scenario.
Collins had the case of Matthew Dobrenich, who pleaded guilty to indecency with a child and faced a maximum sentence of 20 years. Since Dobrenich had no prior criminal history, says an attorney who's handled similar cases, he likely would have gotten a light sentence, perhaps even deferred adjudication with counseling (like former KPRC-AM host Jon Matthews). Instead, he got 15 years.
In a sworn affidavit, defense attorney David A. Jones says he heard rumors that Collins, in chatting with other lawyers, mentioned discussing the case with her son the day of sentencing in 2001. After the attorney notified the court he'd be filing a motion on the incident, the affidavit says, Collins called him.
"The judge said that she was driving to court with her son that morning and that the PSI [Pre-Sentence Investigation] folder was laying between them," the affidavit says. "She said her son began reading the PSI...[and] that she went on to discuss the merits of the case."
Collins told her son that she had to sentence Dobrenich; the son said the defendant "should get 35 years for what he did," the affidavit states.
An unsworn affidavit by James Stafford, one of the lawyers involved in the original chat, said Collins had been talking about how kids these days are more serious and that her son had wanted a punishment "greater than what she thought the facts deserved." But the name of the defendant was not mentioned, Stafford said, and there was nothing to indicate her son had influenced any action.
Stafford didn't sign the affidavit, though, and in a later e-mail (also an exhibit in the file) claimed Jones wanted "to embarrass [Collins] politically." Jones called that claim "outrageous" in a court document.
In her own filings, Collins wrote that she based her sentencing solely on the law and the facts of the case.
Jones is still trying to have Collins removed from the case, according to the file, but he isn't having much luck.
Maybe he should try to get the kid to represent his client.
Just about every publication in America other than Model Railroad News had a piece on the suicide of gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson.
We can't let the event pass without noting Thompson's recent loving description of our fair city, written for Rolling Stone after the first Bush-Kerry debate in 2004:
"Houston is a cruel and crazy town on a filthy river in East Texas with no zoning laws and a culture of sex, money and violence. It's a shabby sprawling metropolis ruled by brazen women, crooked cops and super-rich pan-sexual cowboys who live by the code of the West -- which can mean just about anything you need it to mean, in a pinch."
Well, yeah -- but we have light rail.
Gee, no wonder they said the good doctor was slipping in his old age.
And Goliath Is Down! Goliath Is Down!
"When I got my name, I was all excited -- 'I can run my directory! I can run my directory!' " he says, and as he does it's hard not to bring to mind the sheer heart-pounding thrill of Steve Martin discovering "The new phone books are here!" in The Jerk.
Alas, Nelson's visionary plan to launch an online business directory serving the suburb of The Woodlands soon ran afoul of the powers-that-be in that same planned community. They -- The Woodlands Land Development Company, L.P. -- sued him for trademark infringement in federal court.
Undaunted, Nelson penned a plea for help on his site: "I make $6 an hour. I don't have tens of thousands of dollars to defend my freedom," he wrote. Touched, local lawyer Dave O'Neil took his case pro bono.
Nelson refused what O'Neil called "countless" settlement offers. "I haven't tried a lawsuit yet where we didn't have a chance of losing, and [Nelson] embraced that chance of losing at every turn and just wanted to see it through to the end," O'Neil says. "They spent about $130,000 pre-trial on shooting at him."
But the Hollywood story wasn't over. On February 15, a jury sided with Nelson. He won...well, he won the right to keep using the Web site address, an address from which he hasn't made a ton of money so far: He has about 250 advertisers but hasn't charged them in case he lost the suit and had to fork over profits.
"He just duked it out to the very end, and I've just got a lot of admiration," O'Neil says.
(Nelson didn't return our calls, apparently peeved we didn't write about him after interviewing him when the suit was filed a year ago. Or maybe the victory went to his head.)