On Dec. 21, in the afternoon sunshine that passes for winter in Phoenix, several hundred well-dressed protesters—most of them lawyers—gathered on the Maricopa County courthouse plaza.
Summoned by an e-mail from a local lawyer, they brought handmade signs that were quaint by protest standards: “Rule of Law!” “Free Judges/Free People.”
Holding handouts, they recited the oath they gave when joining the bar, their voices rising for the last section: “I will not counsel or maintain any suit or proceeding that shall appear to me to be without merit or to be unjust.”
The immediate cause of their concern was a charge of bribery filed against a local superior court judge. Announced in vague terms at a news conference some days earlier, the charge was brought without indictment by the local prosecutor, Maricopa County Attorney Andrew Thomas.
But the criminal complaint against Judge Gary Donahoe was the last straw for these Phoenix-area lawyers, who had watched hardball politics overpower Maricopa’s courts.
The day after the protest, Yavapai County Attorney Sheila Polk, whose offices had been drawn into the mess in Maricopa, wrote in the Arizona Republic: “I can no longer sit by quietly and watch from a distance. ... I am conservative and passionately believe in limited government, not the totalitarianism that is spreading before my eyes.”
Alongside Thomas, at the center of all this, is Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the 77-year-old lawman whose caustic and controversial approach to crime and criminals has earned him the moniker “America’s toughest sheriff.” To the glee of Maricopa County voters, “Sheriff Joe” has become nationally famous for his “tent city” jail, chain gang labor and very public inmate marches designed to humiliate—featuring pink handcuffs and pink underwear.