6 Trial Lawyer • Winter 2024 By Rian Peck OTLA Guardian “It doesn’t matter how many times you get knocked down. All that matters is that you get up one more time than you were knocked down.” — Roy T. Bennett There’s one fight scene in Yellowstone that often comes to mind when I think about what it feels like to be a civil rights lawyer. For those who haven’t watched the fictional show, Yellowstone centers on an old Montana ranching family and the (often morally bankrupt) measures they take to maintain power and control over their land. To solidify their unified stance against outside enemies, they uphold strict rules for those who work and live on the ranch. Rip, the ranch foreman, enforces one of those rules, “There’s no fighting on this ranch. You want to fight somebody, you come fight me.” In Season 4, Rip’s second-hand man, Lloyd, finds himself jilted when his love interest shucks him off in favor of a younger ranch hand, Walker. After several episodes of Walker rubbing it in Lloyd’s face, Lloyd loses sight of the rule and stabs Walker in a fit of rage. The next day, Rip takes both men to the bullpen and has the other ranch hands and day workers crowd around. He forces Lloyd and Walker to take turns trading blows until only one man is left standing. The two spar for over an hour. But Lloyd, fueled with the stubbornness of a cowboy and the indignity of a broken heart, “has got no quit in him.” Bloodied and swollen, Lloyd stands bowlegged and proud as his much younger opponent lies in the dirt, defeated. When Rip enters the bullpen, Lloyd assumes it’s to congratulate him for his win. Rip walks up to Lloyd, hugs him, and tells him he loves him. He then rears back and punches Lloyd three more times, sending Lloyd to his knees. Lloyd — bless his soul — then stands back up, nurses his wounds and broken ego, and gets back to work on the ranch. In the bullpen In civil rights cases — and especially in police misconduct cases — the government’s attorneys can often feel like the Walker to our Lloyd. Just like the younger and stronger Walker, the government brings to the bullpen a team of attorneys, unlimited resources and, most often, the benefit of years of legal precedent that has eroded civil liberties and allowed police to break the rules with impunity. Civil rights lawyers, if they have any chance, must be like Lloyd — we must have “no quit” in us. But even in those times when we remain the last ones standing in a knockdown, drag out fight, judges can walk into the bullpen, just like Rip, and deliver a few more blows just for good measure. The question for us then is whether we can find it within ourselves to stand back up and fight the next fight. In a case down in Medford, OTLA members Alicia LeDuc Montgomery and Michelle Burrows1 have done just that. Their client, John Malaer, is paraplegic and uses a motorized wheelchair. He is suing the City of Medford, Jackson County and several law enforcement officers in federal court for wrongfully arresting him after his wheelchair battery died, and he was left stranded on a public sidewalk. Rather than taking him home or calling him a cab, officers taunted and jeered at him and then arrested him for disorderly conduct. Once they arrived at the Jackson County jail, Medford police officers looked on as sheriff’s deputies shoved Malaer’s head between his legs and slapped him across the face. Later, sheriff’s deputies would Rian Peck A Cowboy Approach to Motions to Compel I’ve Got No Quit In Me:
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