MyFriend,adrian
criminal law Section
Continuedfrompage26
A few weeks ago, in one last burst
of unchained impulse, Adrian ran to
his room, locked the door and took
his own life. As his mother called to
tell me the news, I was not thinking
of the big fees we sometimes get
from C-suite executives or flashy
headlines or the shot of adrenaline
racing through you when a jury
walks in with the paper. I thought
of a rosewood guitar, a homemade
owl-box, and a set of pirated Johnny
Cash CDs Adrian made for me.
In my hand, I am writing this very
piece with a pen Adrian and his
Dad carved out of something called
“snakewood” (“Paul, I want you to
have this, it’s so f---ing cool”.)
Anyone who is around our
criminal justice system for a
significant time will tell you our
biggest problem is how we deal
with our mentally ill. We didn’t
know what to do with them thirty
years ago, and we still don’t know
what to do with them today. They
are everywhere. They are in our
own family. They are sleeping on
the streets. They are the forgotten
people of our court system.
Sometimes they are us. But if you
pause to see the real person, they
will teach us so much. They will
benefit from your time, and the
fact you cared to listen.
Adrian was many things to
many people — a beloved brother,
son and grandson. He was my
client and my friend. The Adrian
I knew never decked his professor,
never pulled a weapon, never said
a cross word. He was a kind, gentle
soul who was born with a little
more or a little less of something
organic that is determined very
early on in our life. We medicate
these people today. We change
their medication tomorrow. We
up their dose. We lower their
dose, but we don’t really fully
understand. We’re getting better.
In one last episode of impulse,
the Adrian I never knew killed the
one I do. I will miss you my friend.
You were
my “mensch.”
Oh, Adrian …
“that’s a dude I
really admire.” n
Author: Paul M.
Sisco – The
Law Office of
Paul M. Sisco
S E P T - O C T 2 0 2 0
| H C B A L A W Y E R
2 7