Public defenders serve underdogs

Rebecca Wade almost defied the odds.

“Everyone always told me I would be a lawyer,” she said. “I told everyone they were wrong.”

Currently she is one of four attorneys working for Public Defender Lorie O’Donnell in Fauquier and Rappahannock counties.

That makes sense. After all, both of Wade’s parents are lawyers.

Instead of following in their footsteps, Wade initially planned to devote her life to helping people in impoverished countries on the other side of the world.

“I was interested in economic and social development of third world countries. It’s something I started in high school – I volunteered while traveling abroad over the summer. I [also did] summer jobs in college.”

Wade loved traveling and thought she wanted to build water systems in rural Africa.

In the end, the Alexandria, Va., native’s desire for stability and a permanent place to call home won out.

She attended law school at the University of Richmond. There she developed a new passion for public defense work.

“I wanted to litigate death penalty cases,” she said.

While awaiting the results of the bar exam, she “applied to different public defender’s offices, finding openings were few and far between.”

“I heard there was an opening here, and I knew about Warrenton through a high school friend,” Wade said. “I figured I would come check it out.”

The decision paid off. She landed a temporary position pending the outcome of the bar exam.

That was almost four years ago, and Wade, now a full-fledged assistant public defender, still enjoys her job.

“I know so many people who don’t like their jobs, but I really enjoy it. It is fun. I like being the devil’s advocate,” she said.

That’s not to say the job doesn’t have its down side, and Wade is candid about the frustrating aspects of her work.

Even though the prosecution must always prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt, there’s inherent bias against most defendants, Wade said.

Most people think a defendant wouldn’t have been arrested and be in court unless he or she did something wrong, she said.

Moreover, prosecutors benefit from having full access to all the materials, such as police reports, witness statements and evidence, necessary to build their case, while public defenders often have to start from scratch, Wade said.

While prosecutors look at cases in absolutes — guilt versus innocence — public defenders take a different approach, according to Wade.

“People always ask how I can defend someone that I know is guilty — but guilt isn’t as black and white as everyone thinks it is,” she said. “Even if someone is guilty, it doesn’t necessarily mean they should get the harshest punishment.”

Assistant Public Defender Mark D. Bailey agrees.

“Every situation is different and you have to evaluate each one on its own merits,” he said. “Each person deserves to be defended.”

Like Wade, Bailey’s been with the public defenders office in Warrenton for only a few years. And like his co-worker, he is thoroughly enjoying it.

“I like the meat of the law in a sense — especially trial work,” he said. “I don’t think I could ever sit behind a desk and do law from that perspective.”

He knows from experience. He already tried the corporate route, beginning his career with a title company in downtown Washington, D.C.

Even before that, the lure of criminal defense work beckoned.

He did an internship with a criminal defense firm in Fairfax. Before that, he did an extern-ship in law school.

His new job reunited him with law school classmate Kevin Gerrity.

“I applied to public defender’s offices all around and got a response from Ms. [Lori] O’Donnell,” Bailey said. “I didn’t know Kevin was working here. I found out after I was coming down and interviewing.”

Now in his fifth year with the public defenders office, Gerrity holds the title of senior assistant public defender.

As such, he’s had his share of memorable cases, but said he isn’t comfortable talking about just one or two.

Over all, there’s not that much violent crime in Fauquier, he said. But the public defense team handles a myriad of offenses.

“The biggest issues are drugs, larceny, DUIs and assault and battery,” he said.

“Most of the cases are worked out. We are not there to rehabilitate,” he said. “We are the best defense possible. I like the way the system works in this county.”

Like his colleagues, Gerrity enjoys court and trials.

“I couldn’t imagine sitting behind a desk,” the Marshall resident said. “I think what we do is important. Public defender’s offices provide far better service than counties that just [provide] court-appointed attorneys.”

For Deputy Public Defender Amanda Zadrozny, the job is all about making a difference.

Armed with a firm belief that “everyone should get a fair shake,” Zadrozny went to law school “with the sole purpose of becoming a public defender.”

She knew she definitely found her calling while doing an internship with the public defenders office in Nashville Tenn., but when it came time to get a job, the Manassas native wanted something a little closer to home.

When she heard there was an opening in Fauquier, more than seven years ago, she jumped at the chance to apply. Needless to say, she got the job, and the rest is history.

“There’s definitely monotony to any job. Here you tend to have the same kind of cases — the difference is the people and what brought them to this point,” Zadrozny said.

On a “typical day,” Zadrozny comes in, grabs her files, runs up to one of the county’s three courthouses for bond hearings, trials or preliminary hearings.

The afternoon is devoted to visiting with clients, either at the office or at the Fauquier County Adult Detention Center. At the end of the day, Zadrozny returns to the office to return emails and phone calls.

“There’s usually someone here between 8 a.m. and 6 or 6:15 p.m.,” she said. “Technically the office is open from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., but there’s no way you can do the work that needs to be done in a 40-hour work week.”