I'm a veteran trial lawyer. I've been both a prosecutor and a criminal defense lawyer. Between those two jobs, I've tried hundreds of cases in the courts of this state. I've been qualified as an expert in conducting homicide trials and trained other lawyers to analyze forensic evidence.
And a couple of weeks ago, I lost in Dog Court.
During the tail end of the summer, while I was doing some construction on my deck, my dog Millie ran out through a temporary hole in the fence surrounding my yard, and tangled with a woman walking her black lab. In the ensuing scuffle, my dog bit her black lab. I rushed out and grabbed Millie, apologizing profusely to the woman who was screaming at me like I'd personally bitten her dog. I tried to calm her down. I offered to pay any vet bills -- which I ultimately did. She was inconsolable.
Two days later, I found a uniformed animal control officer knocking on my door. I'd been reported. In addition to citing me for allowing my dog to run loose, the stone-faced officer informed me that he'd decided to classify Millie as a "Level II Dangerous Dog." I'd never heard of such a thing. But, as I soon learned, a dog classified as Level II has to remain in a six-sided enclosure -- meaning the enclosure must include a floor and ceiling -- whenever outside, even when confined to my backyard behind the now-repaired fence.
Looking into Millie's big, brown, bad-dog eyes, this made me sad. It also made me mad. Prior to the bite, I'd seen the woman try to kick my dog. Millie was just defending herself. How was this fair?
Then I remembered -- I'm a lawyer!
I found out that I had a right to a hearing in front of the Municipal Hearing Officer. Perfect. I spent nights studying the municipal animal code (title 17, for those who are curious), and plotting my legal strategy. I interviewed witnesses. I demanded discovery from the animal control officer -- copies of his report, witness statements and any evidence he collected. I assembled a "trial notebook" -- just as I would for a murder trial -- with all of the reports and statements tabbed and highlighted, and marked my exhibits. I was ready.
I'm told these hearings usually take less than an hour. Mine took three. We ran into other people's timeslots. For all of my pretensions of plotting a scathing cross-examination of the black lab's owner, the hearing devolved into two neighbors bickering over minutiae. Here are some highlights from the Municipal Hearing Officer's description of the testimony:
"A lot of time was spent on the record outlining the different perspectives of (angry dog owner) and Ms. McDannel as to who was positioned exactly where and when...."
"The parties bickered about the exact conversation which occurred post-incident regarding vet visits, paying for bills and other information."
"Both (angry dog owner) and Ms. McDannel seemed very vested in discrediting each other's version of events."
At the end of the hearing, I made my closing argument and the hearing officer told us she would mail out a written decision within 20 days. A week later, I found it in my mailbox. The decision was fourteen pages long, single-spaced. Taxpayers of Anchorage, you are getting your money's worth from the Municipal Hearing Office. I eagerly flipped through the pages, anticipating that my professional advocacy had triumphed, only to discover the ugly truth: I'd lost.
In the aftermath of my defeat, I find myself haunted by uncomfortable questions. The first is one of pride. How can I reveal to any of my colleagues that I lost in Dog Court -- that I was bested, not by opposing counsel, but by an animal control officer who spent most of the hearing regarding me, dressed in my best lawyering suit, as if I was mentally unhinged?
The second is more philosophical. Have I become "that lawyer?" The one who fights every parking ticket, who uses her skills of persuasion to bully the washing machine repair guy about his service fee?
But perhaps the most important question is: where do I file my appeal?
Marcelle McDannel is a criminal defense lawyer, animal lover and passionate defender of bad dogs.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, e-mail commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.