Christian compassion isn't something you learn in law school or get by reading legal journals, according to Christine Rodriguez, an attorney who works in the Los Angeles County Public Defender's Office. But that's what she tries to practice every day, along with delivering good legal advise, as she juggles a daunting caseload.

"At night I pray for not only the strength to be able to do my job well, but in order to comfort my clients," says the 29-year-old Culver City woman. "Not just tell them legally what they need to know, but to offer them some sort of comfort to console them for whatever they might be going through pending the outcome of their case.

"That's definitely not something they teach you in law school," she points out, chuckling. "That's definitely not something they teach you in training. I mean, they teach you, obviously, to be articulate, educated and understanding towards your client, and to listen. But they don't really teach you from a religious standpoint to be comforting."

Rodriguez's job would likely make an agnostic pray.

On any given day, the pile of open files on her desk ranges from 80 to 100 cases. Because she's only been working in the public defender's office for two years, they're all misdemeanors --- everything from run-of-the-mill traffic violations like DUIs (Driving Under the Influence) to petty theft and prostitution.

But the most interesting cases, like domestic violence and assaults, are called "wobblers" because they're very similar to felonies, except the injury involved isn't as severe. She averages about one trial a month, with the rest of her time taken up interviewing witnesses, contacting other attorneys, filing motions and fulfilling other legal duties as an officer of the court.

Like every neophyte public defender who works for the county, she started off doing preliminary hearings downtown under the watchful eyes of senior "PDs" before moving up the ladder to her first branch assignment in Compton. During trials, which usually last two to three days, she often works 12-hour shifts. But even when she's not knee-deep in a trial, she often logs 10-hour days.

Like a mill
Frustrations as well as long hours come with the job. Rodriguez says at times the criminal justice system seems more like a mill trying to process as many people as quickly as possible.

"Justice on any day can depend largely on what district attorney you have, what judge is on the bench," she reports. "And I think that's why the public at large tends to be frustrated with the judicial system."

A lack of resources for her clients, especially the mentally ill, is another frustration. After their day or two in court, most wind up back on the street, where they're likely to go off their medications and commit more crimes.

She says the poor also face their own post-conviction dilemma. When judges find out they can't pay to enroll in anger-management classes or community service projects, they're likely to say, "OK, you can just do jail time," according to the pubic defender.

"I think right now --- and for the last 30 years --- our society just tends to criminalize more," she says. "Like they think that's the solution because it's much harder to educate and pour resources into solving social problems. Unfortunately, people find it easier to put people in custody, and just away, away."

So with all these frustrations plus a humongous caseload, why isn't Rodriguez a basket case herself?

She credits the solid support system at her Compton office. In stressful times, she talks to her veteran supervisors, who have been public defenders for 10 or 20 years. Almost from day one, they've become her real life heroes.

She is inspired by their intellect and what they've accomplished, their work ethnic and energy, and their generosity in advising young lawyers like herself. She admires them for having a "higher focus" in their occupation than just wanting to make more money in private practice as high-priced trial lawyers.

But there's another reason Christine Rodriguez stays in one of the nation's largest and busiest public defender offices. She's doing what her Catholic school teachers at St. Augustine Elementary and Notre Dame Academy always stressed: Make sure your life's work has value.

Joys of job
"No matter what area of law you practice, I think to a certain degree you're giving back, hopefully," she observes. "But every day I can say that. Or at least, I was the one person who was nice to somebody while they're in custody."

She adds, "So almost in a selfish way, it makes you feel really good," smiling. "I've kind of gotten addicted to that."

Rodriguez, however, admits she sometimes represents clients she doesn't particularly like. Often, it's not because of the crime they're accused of committing, but their attitude that public defenders are really "public pretenders," who don't work hard enough for their clients.

When this happens, she says, it just offers another opportunity to put her faith into practice, by showing these cynical individuals that everyone isn't out to get them. At times, an amiable face or reassuring voice does the trick.

"The joys of my job are I really love the clients," she points out. "You get to meet and help people that probably in any other profession you just wouldn't meet. And I like the combination of legal-social worker-friend aspect of the job.

"Obviously, you don't build personal relationships with every single person," she notes. "But over the course of your representation, sometimes you get to know their family members and a little bit about how they grew up. And it's a joy to me because it makes the job more than just the legal thing, as much as I love that part."

The public defender pauses, but then her eyes light up.

"When you're dealing with clients who are facing loss of freedom, it's a very scary experience," she says. "And right now our society is so tough on crime that a lot of the resources go to the prosecution side.

"There has to be an opposite side to that because people's rights, their civil liberties, are getting violated. So there has to be somebody who's fighting to prevent that."

Editor's note: "The Faith in Our Lives" is a series spotlighting Catholics in various walks of life, and how they connect faith with what they do.