Guilt-Edged

All who know him agree Fabbri is equally generous with his clients. "He was a 'soft touch,' to use an old expression," Zotos, his partner, wrote to Judge Stiehl. "Scores of clients never received a bill. Hundreds paid for a fraction of the services rendered." (To view a sampling of the letters written to U.S. District Court Judge William Stiehl on Fabbri's behalf, click here.)

Salsa pulsing from the stereo of his plush Volkswagen Phaeton, Fabbri is chipper on the drive to the federal courthouse in St. Louis on November 2. Tanned though he appears, however, the lawyer has dropped sixteen pounds over the past three weeks.

"I am definitely not scared," he says. "I've had a lot of anxiety, but I've never been scared, and I'm not scared now.

"I did look up my [prison] register number, though: 07769-025," he adds. "That's what I am. Might as well accept it."

Two weeks later Fabbri will learn that he is to report to the minimum-security Federal Prison Camp at Leavenworth Penitentiary in Kansas on December 14. But for the time being he's a free man – and, as he says, a licensed attorney.

Also for the time being.

A week earlier the Missouri Bar Association filed a motion to disbar him. If the justices of the Missouri Supreme Court accept the bar association's recommendation, Fabbri will not be eligible to retake the bar exam for seven years after he leaves prison, by which time he'll be nearly 70.

Fabbri had worked until 9:30 p.m. the previous evening on a statement for the client he's meeting in court today, a 22-year-old woman who's to be sentenced for bank robbery. Pleased with the deal he secured for the woman, Fabbri takes a seat in the courtroom of U.S. District Court Judge Rodney Sippel to await their turn. He pops a few scraps of paper in his mouth, a nervous habit he's had for as long as he can remember.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Thomas Mehan is surprised Fabbri has come without his partner.

"You're not going to say anything, are you?" asks Mehan.

"Just a few words," replies Fabbri.

Mehan: "Are you kidding me?"

Fabbri: "Aw, Tom, you know me. It's my last gasp. Got to."

Judge Sippel, it turns out, is also perplexed. When Fabbri approaches the bench, the judge peppers the attorney from the bench with questions about the status of his disbarment proceedings.

"Your Honor, what I am sure of is I'm licensed to practice," Fabbri interrupts.

Sippel erupts. "I'm sorry, I'm speaking!" the judge bellows.

For the next ten minutes, Fabbri, Mehan and Sippel spar in the sparsely populated courtroom. Mehan asserts that the U.S. Attorney's Office doesn't want Fabbri flying solo on any cases, for fear his clients might later question his competence. Fabbri argues that his client is well aware of his situation and wants to stick with him.

"I'm a licensed attorney," he repeats. "I'm not here as a matter of convenience. I'm not here as a matter of pride – or, shall we say, unreflective concern. I have concern for my client."

Sippel postpones the sentencing. "I want to make sure that she has the best representation she can get," the judge concludes.

Fabbri walks back to his client. She presses her palm on his arm. "Are you all right?" she asks.

"Only if you are," he replies.

Not until November 20 will Fabbri learn that the Missouri Supreme Court has disbarred him. But he knows that his dismissal at the hands of Judge Sippel likely marked his last courtroom appearance as a practicing attorney.

"It wasn't a bang," he'll say more than once over the next few hours, as he replays what he knew would probably be his last formal appearance as a practicing lawyer.

"But it wasn't a whimper, either."