Alex Landon : He Looks Nonconformist, but Head of New Indigent Defense Office Knows the System

By JENIFER WARREN

March 8, 1987 12 AM PT

Times Staff Writer

When Alex Landon stands before a jury on behalf of a client, he typifies the distinguished sartorial style of a well-heeled defense attorney. His three-piece suit is neatly pressed, his shirt the Oxford, button-down variety, his loafers new and shiny.

Landon’s courtroom demeanor is conservative as well, marked by respectful “Yes, your honors” and polite salutations to jurors.

But then there’s the ponytail.

The thick brown tress, which dangles obtrusively down between Landon’s narrow shoulder blades, might seem a gamble for a criminal defense attorney seeking favorable verdicts in conservative San Diego. If nothing else, it’s a curiosity, a relic from another era that could prove irksome to a given judge or juror.

There is no evidence, however, that Landon has paid a price for his unconventional coiffure. Indeed, in the 15 years since he was admitted to the California bar, Landon has built a rock-solid reputation as one of the most dedicated and resourceful defense attorneys in the San Diego legal community.

Recently, Landon’s talents were recognized when he was hired to launch the county’s new program for providing lawyers to indigents accused of crimes. The quasi-public “community defenders office” was approved in concept by the San Diego County Board of Supervisors last year and will replace the existing system of contracting with private lawyers sometime this summer.

As executive director, the 40-year-old Landon will guide a staff of more than 160 attorneys expected to handle most of the estimated 30,000 cases annually that involve defendants who cannot afford their own legal counsel.

He also will be under intense pressure to inject a sense of order and consistency to a county public defender system that has been under attack for its spiraling costs--they have tripled since 1978--and denounced for providing inadequate representation to its low-income clients.

Those who know Landon say he is the ideal man for the job. Colleagues in both the defense and prosecutorial camps praise him as uncommonly adroit, knowledgeable and, above all, deeply committed to a criminal defendant’s Sixth Amendment right to quality legal representation--regardless of his ability to pay.

“I don’t think we could have found a person better suited for this job if we’d done a national search,” said noted defense attorney Peter Hughes, who served on the blue-ribbon commission that recommended creation of the new community defender program.

“Alex has got a really good personality for having to deal with the inherent tensions involved with this job, which is to try to serve an enormous demand in terms of representing all the indigents in the San Diego court system and to balance that with the desire of the taxpayers and supervisors to keep costs down.”

“If there was ever a no-win situation,” Hughes said, “this is it.”

Landon, a thin, soft-spoken man, says he is ready for the challenge.

“I go into it with my eyes open,” he said in an interview recently, barely visible over the two-foot-high stacks of files and volumes that blanket his desk at Defenders Inc., a nonprofit law firm that has the county’s largest contract for indigent defense.

“It’s an exciting opportunity because, for the first time in San Diego County, we will have the resources to really impact the system and ensure we get quality legal representation for indigent defendants. That will be very rewarding.”

Landon also noted that, while it will be tough to balance the often-conflicting goals of providing quality defense and keeping the budget down, he does not believe cost control should be overemphasized.

“I think it was Supervisor (George) Bailey who said that we don’t question the district attorney’s need to have money to hire people to prosecute defendants,” Landon said, “so why should we question the defense? I think if we’re truly to have an adversary system and if we’re truly to respect the right that even if a person is poor they should not be deprived of a proper defense, then we have to recognize that it does cost some money to provide these services.”

In today’s era of victims’ rights, with politicians and voters clamoring for death penalty convictions, Alexander Lewis Landon’s views on criminal justice may seem to be out of vogue.

Ask him about the nation’s crime problem, for example, and he will discuss at length his stubbornly held view that the war is being fought all wrong.

“If you’re looking to the criminal justice system to solve the crime problem,” Landon says, “you’re looking to the wrong place. Because you already have a problem once a person is involved in our system. In order to address the crime problem, we have to look to the reasons people get involved in crime in the first place.”

Landon uses his “leaky faucet theory” to illustrate his criticism of the currently popular approach of cracking down on criminals and imposing tougher sentences in hopes of making society safer.

“We’re just shoving more and more buckets under the faucet rather than trying to fix the leak,” Landon said. “We’re just treading water, putting Band-Aids on a cancerous sore. It’s very frustrating and I’d like to see us look at this as a wider picture.”

Landon finds it particularly odd that society “is willing to spend millions and millions to incarcerate someone who shows antisocial behavior, but will not pay that money on the front end for programs and support services that might prevent that behavior in the first place.”

While most prosecutors doubtless have conflicting views, numerous deputy district attorneys interviewed recently said they nonetheless respect Landon for his commitment and skills as a trial lawyer.

“I kind of like him,” said Deputy Dist. Atty. James Pippin, who once tried a murder case against Landon. “He works hard, he’s never misled me and he’s competent. And it’s always easier to try a lawsuit against someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Allan J. Preckel, who heads the district attorney’s special operations unit, also praised Landon as a “professional who is a very able and staunch advocate of the defense viewpoint.” Preckel, however, echoed the views of other prosecutors who termed Landon an “obstructionist” whose thoroughness in terms of pretrial motions and other maneuvers tends to slow criminal proceedings.

“Any strong advocate of the defense camp, Alex included, is given to what prosecutors term obstructionism, because oftentimes delays and obfuscation benefit their client more than the so-called pursuit of truth would,” Preckel said. “When defense attorneys use an inexhaustible storehouse of motions in pretrial proceedings to delay things to the advantage of their client, it gets frustrating. Because we all know that once the evidence comes out . . . the death knell will be heard.”

Municipal Judge Frederic Link had a similar observation.

“As much as I like Alex, he has a tendency to get on your nerves because he never leaves a stone unturned,” Link said. “A lot of prosecutors find his habit of taking a long time to handle certain pieces of evidence aggravating.”

In particular, prosecutors have lamented Landon’s long series of pretrial motions in the ongoing case of David A. Lucas, who faces the death penalty on multiple murder charges.

Landon responds by saying he’s just doing his job.

“They’re trying to kill my client,” he said. “They’re trying to extract the most severe penalty society has. The least I can do for Mr. Lucas is to turn every page, look under every stone to make sure his rights are protected.”

A native of Los Angeles, Landon grew up in Hollywood, the son of a father who worked in advertising and a mother who taught piano. Landon said he knew early that his future lay in law because of his desire to help people and devote himself to upholding the tenets of the Bill of Rights.

He majored in political science at San Fernando Valley State College--now Cal State Northridge--and moved south to attend the University of San Diego in 1968. In 1972, he set up private practice in San Diego and made his first appearance in the city’s halls of justice--complete with the ponytail, which wasn’t so out of the ordinary back then.

From the beginning, Landon’s heart guided him toward indigent defense.

“It is the person who is poor, uneducated, doesn’t have a job and doesn’t have much family or community support who really needs help,” he said. “What many people seem to forget, particularly with opinions being what they are today, is that many of these (defendants) are victims too, of family problems, society or whatever.”

One such defendant was Charles Colbert, a young man charged with murder and facing the death penalty in the late 1970s. In the penalty phase of the case, which numerous acquaintances of Landon’s cite as proof of his admirable abilities, the defense attorney called the victim’s father as a witness.

The man testified that he was personally opposed to capital punishment and did not want to see another young person lose his life. Colbert was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Landon’s dedication to protecting the rights of low-income defendants is visible in other cases as well. In 1973, he handled a lawsuit that forced the placement of law libraries in the downtown County Jail and in honor camps. In 1977, he filed perhaps his most famo1970479212attacking overcrowded conditions in the downtown jail.

“Because of his very strong convictions, Alex took on Sheriff (John) Duffy and the entire county administration and managed to convince a very conservative judge that the jail was overcrowded and action was needed,” said Louis Katz, a veteran defense attorney and a mentor of Landon’s. “He may look like a nonconformist, but he works very well within the system.”

The decision, handed down by Superior Court Judge James L. Focht in 1980, declared that the conditions constituted “cruel and unusual punishment” and ordered the county to limit the jail population.

“Alex is a guy who puts his money where his mouth is, so to speak, and takes on cases because he really believes in the issues at stake,” said defense attorney Richard Boesen, a USD colleague of Landon’s who also does indigent defense work. “He is one of the last freedom fighters for justice.”

In 1982, Landon decided to leave private practice to become executive director of Defenders Inc., a nonprofit firm with a staff of 38 lawyers that has the county’s largest contract for indigent defense. Since then, his focus has been exclusively on indigent work. He and others view it as a fitting prelude to his new role as “community defender.”

“I’m very pleased with his appointment because Alex has always been very concerned about the standards of representation,” said Superior Court Judge Napoleon Jones, who attended law school with Landon and helped him found USD’s first legal clinic for low-income residents in Linda Vista. “He is deeply committed and will be an inspiration for anyone who works for him.”

Landon’s new job is viewed as a full-time administrative position, and if there has been any concern expressed about his ability to handle the post, it focuses on his representation of Lucas, a heavy burden in and of itself. Landon says he will not withdraw from the case but concedes that it will “be tough and undoubtedly eat up what little free time I have.”

He doesn’t seem to have much.

When he’s not running Defenders, Landon, who lives with his wife, psychologist Nancy Greene, in a condominium on Mt. Soledad in La Jolla, is active in one of a slew of organizations and legal fraternities. Or chaperoning a parolee from the California Youth Authority. Or meeting with an ex-offender as part of a group that matches attorneys with recently released inmates. Or teaching sentencing and corrections at USD.

Or playing video games.

“Well, when I do have a spare moment, I like to indulge in video games,” Landon admitted, rather sheepishly. “First it was PacMan, then Donkey Kong, and now there’s this new one. Roller Marble Madness, I think it is. There’s a place called Funland down on Broadway near the courthouse.”

Landon said the games, like his interest in tennis and professional spectator sports, provide “a release” that he hopes will prevent him from “burning out.”

According to Superior Court Judge Richard Huffman, who called Landon “bright and hard-working,” the defense attorney is also a connoisseur of fine chocolate. “But somehow, he never seems to get fat, and I’ll never forgive him for that,” Huffman said.

As for the ponytail, Landon says he wears it not only out of “personal preference” but because it’s “a symbol” designed to “make me remember where I’ve been.”

“The first year I was in San Diego, as a law student, I was stopped (by police) three times for no other reason than that I had long hair,” he recalled. “So wearing my hair this way, and occasionally having someone mention it, is a way of remembering those times, remembering that people criticized or were prejudiced against me because of my appearance.”

Moreover, Landon believes it’s a positive feature for his clients because it sets him apart from the “scary Establishment” and “breaks down barriers.” Landon said his ponytail also is helpful in jury selection. He asks all prospective jurors if they feel there is anything wrong with his appearance.

“I get a real good idea about their perspectives when they comment on (my hair),” he said.

For most of Landon’s colleagues in the courthouses around the county, the ponytail is a familiar sight that goes all but unnoticed today. But at least one--Municipal Judge Link--is out to get the thing.

“I once offered him $100 for that ponytail because I want to hang it on my wall,” Link said. “Now that he’s got this hot new job, I’ll up the ante to $200.”

When told of the offer, Landon’s response was swift: “Tell him: ‘No deal.’