His favorite was from a sea lion who claimed he had already filed documents with the court “pro se,” Latin for “on one’s own behalf,” as many incarcerated people without lawyers are forced to do. we are begging these children to free us! Sincerely, The whales.” We’re also interested in suing for them using our likeness on this postcard. Though it is arguebly a 14th Amendmat claim, as we have not been convicted of anything! We are innocent! Both as a legal matter and as a moral issue. “Counsel, we’d like to retain your services for a class action for an 8th Amendment conditions of confinement claim. The tight black script had misspellings, dropped capital letters and underlined the important words. Its front pictured two young boys with their hands on the glass pane of an orca tank as the whales inside, mouths open and teeth bared, seemed to look straight back at them. One parsed the legal nuances around claims of unjust confinement, debating which constitutional amendment applied to their situation - the one prohibiting cruel and unusual punishment, or the one that protects against being unfairly detained. They often addressed him with the formal “Attorney Strugar,” a greeting that made him laugh because incarcerated people do the same. The cards grew more pointed, carrying the desperate yet informed tone that is common in the letters prisoners send to journalists and lawyers - “jail mail,” as it’s sometimes dubbed. Who, Strugar wondered, was sending them? Someone who knew him? Someone who didn’t? Which scenario was weirder? Part of him didn’t want to know - didn’t want to ruin the game with a good guess. “Dear Matthew, (We hope we can call you that), just a note to say thank you for advancing the rights of non-human animals. We appreciate you,” a beluga whale wrote in red ballpoint pen with loopy, feminine script shortly after the first card arrived.Īnother one from the red-pen writer showed a flock of flamingos under palm trees. You’re an incredible ally to so many, but especially us. “Attorney Strugar - Thank you so much for the defense of us all. Even one from his hometown in Richmond, Va.
The postcards came sporadically, always from different places - New York City, Chicago, Pennsylvania. Whenever one arrived at his Koreatown office, he would call his fellow lawyers in to read it. It was a lighthearted mystery that didn’t seem to end, even during the pandemic. “I don’t want to call it a prank because it feels like almost an art project.”
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