| Nate Krissoff, and many others.
Then-lance corporal Edwardo J. Lopez was my first defense client when I was assigned to trial defense back in April 2006. Captain Winchell, then the Senior Defense Counsel, who would be leaving the Marine Corps in May, gave me Lopez's file. Lopez, an 0311 rifleman with Second Battalion, Third Marines (2/3 – "two-three"), was being charged with a single "112-alpha" spec (Article 112a, Uniform Code of Military Justice, "wrongful use of controlled substance") at a special court-martial, where maximum confinement would be one year, and the conviction equivalent to a federal conviction. Specifically, he had tested positive on a urinalysis for valium. It would be a easy "summary court board waiver" deal – if the marine agreed to plea guilty at summary court-martial -- where the maximum confinement time was 30 days, and the conviction would remain a note in the marine's military record and not follow him into his civilian life – in addition to waiving his right to an "administrative separation board" (essentially the Marine Corps' way of firing marines, but providing the marine the right to appear before a 3-member panel to argue their case and appropriate characterization of service if discharged), the convening authority would withdraw the charge against Lopez at the special court-martial. Lopez insisted he was innocent. The only way he could have "popped positive," Lopez told me, was from the pills that another Marine, Lance Corporal Machado, gave him on the plane. They were literally on the plane sitting on the tarmac, in Afghanistan, about to return home from deployment. Lopez told me that he had photos of him and other Marines playing in the snow outside the plane before they left, and that the cold from the snow had actually made his knees stiff and sore. His knees had already gotten progressively sore while deployed in Afghanistan, humping up and down mountains in combat gear on patrol. Lopez said that Machado was sitting next to him on the plane, and had turned to offer him some pills from a bottle, saying "Here, take these. It'll help you go to sleep." He asked Machado what the pills were, and Machado had told him that they were painkillers, so Lopez figured they would help the pain in his knees as well, and took two of them. Maybe I was too new to the game, but I believed Lopez. He seemed like a good kid to me. I wanted to contest the case. Captain Winchell thought otherwise, and made the comment to Lopez that "new defense counsel may want to get some courtroom experience, but a summary board waiver is a good deal for you." Lopez still hesitated. He didn't want to waive his right to an administrative separations board. He was worried that he would be separated from the Marine Corps, even after serving his sentence. "Sir," he emphasized to me, "I want to be able to go back on the next deployment with my platoon." That was really all Lopez wanted. He was willing to serve time and plea guilty, but he could not imagine leaving, or being left behind by, his buddies for the next deployment, to Iraq, in October 2006. I talked to Lopez's staff non-commissioned officer (SNCO), his platoon sergeant, staff sergeant Rauda. SSgt Rauda supported Lopez, and thought he was a good marine, too. But SSgt Rauda also told me that "Lopez, he hung around too much with those other guys who all popped," including Palomares, aka, "candyman" (Palomares was eventually found not guilty at trial for distribution, but pled guilty to wrongful use of valium). Lopez was torn. He asked me to call his mother to better explain to her what was going on. He described his mother as his best friend. I remembered the 630 area code for DuPage Country, Illinois, a Chicago suburb, since I had gone to the University of Illinois. And I remember Martha Lopez asking me, "Lieutenant Lee, how long have you been doing this?" LCpl Lopez pled guilty without having to waive his right to an administrative separation board. Even while serving time in the brig, I would receive phone calls from Lopez. "Sir, have you heard anything about my adsep board?" "Is the command going to try and separate me?" All Lopez wanted, was to return to his platoon. He could not imagine leaving, or being left behind, by his buddies. One day, I received a message on my answering machine. It was Lopez again. "Hey Sir, I've gotten out of the brig. They're not separating me! I just want to come by your office and drop off paperwork they gave me. Just so you can make sure." The battalion commanding officer had, in fact, recommended that Lopez not be administratively separated. Lopez had not waived his right to appear before a board, but given the C.O.'s recommendation, that would no longer be necessary. 2/3 was taking Lopez to Iraq. I did not see Lopez when he came by to drop off the papers with the C.O.'s recommendation. I called him afterwards, just to tell him that everything looked "good to go," and to wish him "good luck." I didn't think of Lopez much after that. I became detailed defense counsel to many more Marines, and the names and faces began to blur. I stopped believing what many of them said to me, and their proclamations of innocence. Sometimes, I felt that I was playing a dual role – holding their hands as their defense counsel, but at the same time, trying to smack sense into the young knuckleheads as an officer. Names and faces began to blur. So it was, too, perhaps, with the growing list of KIA's in the "Global War Against Terrorism," as Joseph Stalin once put it – "one death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic." I suspected this Stalinism to be mostly true for the majority of the American population, where less than two percent of the population carries nearly all of our nation's burden in fighting the war. We put yellow "support our troops" bumper stickers on our cars, but for the most part, our everyday concerns revolve around something like the last episode of Grey's Anatomy. Most of us are simply too far removed from the fight for it to really mean anything, when it isn't actually our own father, our own brother, our own sister, our own children deployed in harms way ... Even myself – clicking on the "breaking headlines" link on the Honolulu Advertiser's online webpage. I knew the word that Iraqi snipers had begun targeting officers. They had shot and killed 2ndLt Josh Booth a week earlier. But even though we were fellow officers, I never knew Josh personally. To me, he had a name, but not a face. It was with more of a passing curiosity, perhaps, than genuine concern, that I wondered if another insurgent sniper had killed a marine officer. I knew that my roommate from Basic School, had just returned from Ramadi. I knew that Lt Nguyen, who had in fact had been shot by a sniper a few weeks earlier, was lucky and now rehabbing stateside at Bethesda Medical. Then I read the short blurb to the "breaking news." Posted at 9:24 a.m., Tuesday, October 24, 2006 Kane`ohe Bay Marine killed in Iraq Advertiser Staff The Department of Defense announced today the death of a Kane`ohe Bay Marine killed in Iraq. Pvt. Edwardo J. Lopez, 21, of Aurora, Ill., died Oct. 19 while conducting combat operations in Al Anbar province, Iraq. He was assigned to 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division, III Marine Expeditionary Force, Kane`ohe Bay, Hawai`i. Edwardo J. Lopez. Aurora, Ill. 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment. Then I remembered not just the name, but also the face. And I remembered stories about Marines playing in the snow while waiting for their flight back home after a 6 month deployment. And I remembered the voice of a concerned mother, and the awkwardness of possibly informing her of just how inexperienced her son's detailed counsel was. And I remembered how the most important thing for a young marine was, in the end, to be there with his fellow marines. I am often asked how, as defense counsel, I can stand to oftentimes counsel, advise, and represent the young Marines that seem to habitually get into trouble again, and again. Perhaps it has to do with my definition of what it is to be a hero. A hero is not a perfect person. A hero will have his or her flaws, shortcomings, and failings. Or we would have no heroes, only saints. Instead, the defining essence of a hero is an extraordinary commitment to extraordinary sacrifice. Lopez had that commitment – and on 19 October 2006, six thousand five hundred miles from home, all of twenty-one years old, he sacrificed his life. |
