Last call
Part 4
by Kristen Lombardi
No doubt, without reorganization, legal-aid lawyers in Massachusetts would now
be in dire straits. Offices would likely resemble fading programs elsewhere,
like in the South, where Legal Services has crumbled under the weight of
federal actions.
North Mississippi Rural Legal Services, for example, receives 97 percent of
its funding from Washington. Covering half the state, NMRLS had to close six of
its 11 field offices and lay off a third of its staff last year. The agency
receives less money, but the area's poor population and its problems haven't
decreased. NMRLS must now pursue fewer court cases and handle only divorces
involving children.
Although reorganization circumvents such a scenario, not many legal-service
advocates in Worcester are ready to count blessings. Cynicism abounds over the
potential for brighter days -- for good reason. Conservatives have again
singled out Legal Services as an unruly spender, and the House Appropriations
Committee has budgeted $141 million for the agency in fiscal 1998 (a $142
million cut). Supporters expect moderates to provide level-funding, but either
way, Legal Services' future remains uncertain.
Even if the state keeps up its support of legal aid, legal experts predict
MJP's services will invariably be adopted by other legal-services agencies.
After all, more people can be helped over the phone than in person. Answers,
guidance, and referrals can be delivered in a matter of minutes, whereas
attorneys who handle cases spend countless hours negotiating settlements, or
building strong arguments for court.
"As money shrinks, we need to figure out how else to serve people. The legal
hotline is an efficient way to do this," says Waldfogel.
More people may call MJP today and get help up front, but no matter how rosy
a picture supporters try to paint, one thing remains undeniable -- phone
consultation is not the same as traditional legal representation.
"You cannot equate the phone with an attorney at your side," says Jonathan
Finklestein, MJP's board president. He sees MJP as better at addressing those
problems which can be dealt with over the phone, but he adds, "Legal
hotlines don't provide equal access. You can see the disparity between haves
and have-nots growing already."
The hotline trend has prompted loyal supporters to take a critical look at
the
reorganization. Ideologues like Allard say legal-aid attorneys shouldn't be
confined to a room "just giving advice over the phone all day." On the
contrary, she says, supporters need to view hotlines as new pieces of the
puzzle, not as an "overriding virtue."
It won't take long for those who tout the benefits of having two agencies to
realize the drawbacks, contends Bellow. With two organizations, the current
system naturally sucks up more money in overhead and administrative costs --
there are two facilities and two staffs.
Perhaps more important, however, the reorganization has severed intake and
referrals from the larger picture. If these methods remain disconnected from a
fuller range of services, the impact of legal counseling will diminish, Bellow
predicts. Although MJP and LACCM talk of collaboration, the agencies will
likely become entrenched in their missions, causing their relations to be
strained. This could result in lost cases, inappropriate referrals, and general
inefficiency, Bellow adds.
Even if MJP and LACCM were able to avoid such outcomes, there have always
been
too many poor people in need of more than advice. Not all of Worcester's poor
need litigation work, for sure. Instead, they need guidance through a confusing
justice system, or guarantees against an ending like Marjorie's -- a court
resolution that ultimately couldn't be fulfilled.
"It would be a great loss if telephone consultation became the aspiration of
legal assistance," warns Bellow. Were that to happen, the city's poor would be
hard-pressed to find real access to justice, let alone equal access.
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