I stopped there. When I have clients charged with serious crimes that involve the use of violence, and in particular when I have clients charged with homicide, I never ask them to tell me the truth.

I prefer them to decide. Knowing the whole truth can be a double-edged sword.

Knowing exactly what happened (and therefore also if the client is guilty) helps you get a clearer picture of the territory in which you will have to move. It helps you avoid dangerous topics, arguments that could suddenly be turned against you; it allows you to concentrate on the weak points of the prosecution case without unwittingly turning them into strong, decisive points – as happens when the defence is badly thought out and the defence counsel isn’t very good.70

Knowing exactly what happened does, however, have some not insignificant disadvantages from a psychological point of view. If the defendant is guilty and tells you so, this complicates how acceptable (to yourself) your choices as a defender are. For some, doing your best – even if respecting the rules – to obtain the acquittal of a defendant who has committed a brutal murder, a nasty armed robbery, an act of extortion, a rape, is the source of more than a slight sense of unease, which may backfire on you and have an impact on the efficacy of the defence.

Fortunately, in the majority of cases, clients spare you the bother of confronting this ethical dilemma. Usually they lie, even to their lawyers, perhaps because they’re conscious of the risks that might derive from an excess of truth. In this way, they simplify things and make our lives less complicated from a moral point of view. For those of us who have morals.

“I didn’t kill Gaglione. The whole thing’s ridiculous, and I want you to know that I didn’t kill him. And I don’t want you to answer me like the other lawyer.”

“What did the other lawyer say?”

“The thing is, I only talked to him twice. Which I think is odd, if someone’s supposed to be defending you on a murder charge.”

Yes, it was odd. More than odd – downright wrong. But it accorded with Costamagna’s professional style, with the ideology that shone through his way of working and which he flaunted like a manifesto. What he felt for his clients (regardless of how good he’d been at defending them) was the contempt typical of many good lawyers. The clients, especially those guilty of serious crimes and coming from the underclass, were mainly opportunities for personal gain and, at the same time, opportunities to satisfy his own ego.71

I’m defending you because I want to show that I’m the best. Let’s be quite clear about this: I couldn’t care less what happens to you.