Supreme Ambitions by David Lat Read Free Book Online

for rich bitches. I keep it real —I went to McGeorge. You a lawyer too?”
    â€œWell, almost, kind of,” I said, as I frantically tried to recall what I even knew about McGeorge. “I took the bar a few months ago, but I haven’t gotten the results yet, so I’m not yet a lawyer. Right now I’m clerking for a judge.”
    â€œGet the fuck outta here! Me too. Who you clerking for?”
    â€œJudge Stinson? Ninth Circuit?”
    â€œIs that a statement, or a question? Because I’ve heard of the Ninth Circuit. Isn’t that the crazy liberal court that’s always getting smacked down by the Supreme Court?”
    I felt myself blushing. Even though I hadn’t started work yet, I wanted to defend the honor of the court, or at least of my judge.
    â€œMy boss, Judge Stinson, is one of the more conservative judges …”
    â€œYeah, look, you don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Harvetta said. “I’m just clerking for a state judge, not one of those fancy federal judges.”
    â€œFor whom are you clerking?”
    â€œSherwin Lin, California Supreme Court.”
    I didn’t know that much about state court clerkships, but I had a vague recollection of the California Supreme Court using long-term staff lawyers rather than law clerks.
    â€œOh,” I said, trying my best to sound politely confused, “I thought that the California justices didn’t have law clerks?”
    â€œYeah,” Harvetta said, “the Cal Supremes usually roll with permanent staff attorneys. But Lin is trying something new—a mix of staff attorneys and term clerks. His staff attorneys are up in San Fran with everyone else. We’re his first two clerks, working with him here in Pasadena, where he lives. He got permission from the court to keep chambers down here for now because his dad is real old and sick and lives here. It’san experiment. Hope we don’t fuck that shit up for everybody else!”
    My strict Filipina mother did not tolerate profanity, so people who cursed a fair amount—like Jeremy, and definitely like Harvetta—sometimes threw me for a loop. My face must have betrayed my discomfort.
    â€œWhat, is my potty mouth freaking you out, girl? Don’t you worry. I am like the president,” Harvetta said, raising her arms skyward before adopting a markedly different tone, straight out of the evening newscast. “I am extremely talented at calibrating my manner of speaking to my audience. Do you think I obtained a clerkship with the Honorable Sherwin Lin by cursing up a blue streak during the interview?”
    Once again, Harvetta left me speechless. She liked to read law review articles for fun. She could oscillate seamlessly between gangster and grande dame. Who was this bizarre woman?
    â€œSo,” she asked, as I tried to collect my dropped jaw from the pool deck, “where did you go to law school? Some fancy-ass place?”
    â€œUm, Yale?”
    â€œYeah, I figured,” she said, smacking my forearm—surprisingly hard. “Don’t worry, I won’t player-hate. My boss went to Yale, so I have mad respect.”
    That’s right: Harvetta’s judge, Sherwin Lin, was still renowned at Yale for his brilliance. He served as executive editor of the law journal, won a slew of prizes at graduation, and clerked on the D.C. Circuit (of course) followed by the U.S. Supreme Court (of course). He was nominated to the Ninth Circuit before the age of 40, but some of his controversial speeches and academic writings as a UCLA law professor derailed his nomination. After the Republicans successfully filibustered his Ninth Circuit appointment, the governor appointed him to the California Supreme Court.
    Despite (or perhaps because of?) my puzzlement at Harvetta, I wanted to get to know her better. She seemed friendly, beneath the tough-talking veneer, and she was without a doubt an interesting character. We