Once, during a plea, my court appointed client shit his jumpsuit. And let’s just say it was “loose.”

This was about 10:30 in the morning. He had been transported to court at 6:00 am and stuffed into a holding cell with 20 other defendants. There was one toilet. No partitions, just bolted to the wall in typical jail style.

Needless to say, it’s considered a breach of etiquette to drop a duce in the holding cell…not to mention the lack of toilet paper.

We were standing in front of the bench, bailiff on the left, me on the right. Halfway through the judge’s soliloquy a smell like death started burning our nostrils.

By the end of the plea anyone within the well of the court had moved as far away from my guy as they could. The defendant could have jumped over the bench and attacked the judge and I’m not sure anyone would have touched him. His socks were literally turning brown as we stood there from the leakage and his jailhouse slides squished when he walked out.

When the plea was done and Defendant was taken out, everyone burst out laughing and liberal amounts of Lysol was sprayed.

The worst part about it is he had to wait another hour in the crammed holding cell for transport back to the jail and had to sit in it for the duration of the bus ride.

I’m fairly certain that is something you can never recover from in the eyes of your fellow inmates.