Real Estate Attorneys
Real estate transactions may call for a real estate attorney. But, what should you look for when choosing someone that will represent your best interests and needs to the fullest? Some states mandate the use of a lawyer in a real estate transaction. Such states include Georgia, Massachusetts, and South Carolina. Not all real estate issues are the same so when narrowing down the search for a real estate attorney pay attention to the specialized focus of a practice. For instance, one attorney may specialize in residential where another one may work exclusively with commercial or landlord-tenants. It’s also a good idea to distinguish what type of lawyer you need. An attorney who focuses on contracts and transactions is known as a transactional lawyer. Whereas an attorney who specializes in handling lawsuits is referred to as a litigator. Just because a real estate attorney may advertise that they specialize in real estate law, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they are the best person for the job. Just as you would interview a real estate professional before listing your home, it’s important to vet carefully an attorney before hiring them. Here are the top 5 questions to ask when interviewing real estate attorneys: How long have you been practicing? If the transaction is complicated, then you will most likely want someone who has a great deal of experience. What experience do you have in the real estate law field? The answers to this will vary. But ideally, you want to know where they graduated from, how many similar cases they have handled, etc. How will my case be handled? The worst thing to do is enlist the services of an attorney only to find out that they aren’t the ones actually working on your case. Watch for other individuals that may help in the case that may not be licensed. Alternatively, a paralegal or junior attorney could also be assigned to the case. What costs are involved? Fee schedules will vary from one lawyer to the next and it’s best to know a ballpark figure going in rather than being surprised with a massive bill later on. On average, an hourly fee may range anywhere between $150 to $500+. Some firms may also require a retainer up front before taking the case. This is not that uncommon. Can you provide me with references? In the interview process, it never hurts to ask for references to see what others thought of the lawyer. Doing your homework on an attorney before hiring can save you headaches in the end as a good lawyer is worth their weight in gold. Aside from a personal interview, you can also turn to online resources to find additional information on attorneys. You can find attorney’s listed under the state bar association and there are also a wide variety of lawyer referral services. A Google search will also turn up some results as well. Researching online will involve checking out the attorney websites to learn more about their credentials and specialties. When conducting your search for a real estate attorney make sure that there is no conflict of interest with them representing you. Once you have narrowed down the field to just one attorney, then a retainer agreement or engagement letter is typically provided to you which will outline in writing what to expect regarding fees and services to be provided. It’s important that you fully understand the terms of this document as ‘lawyer language’ can be confusing. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask them as the only dumb question is one not asked.
The Foot Soldiers of Our Constitution
One wishes there were more such citizens.’ — Romila Thapar Who is Teesta Setalvad? For the Hindu Right, she is a dangerous impediment to India’s onward march to ‘glory.’ This is the story of the real Teesta – inheritor of the best and most progressive traditions of India’s struggle for freedom, a ceaseless and courageous fighter for justice. In these moving memoirs, she speaks of the influence of her grandfather and father; her early career as a journalist; her coming to political maturity during the horrific violence in Mumbai after the demolition of the Babri Masjid in the winter of 1992-93; her own trajectory as an activist with fellow traveler, Javed; and, of course, her role during and after the post-Godhra violence in Gujarat. This is a stirring, inspiring tale of determination, courage, fortitude and an unshakeable commitment to constitutional principles. ‘Teesta has a distinguished lineage. Her grandfather, Motilal Setalvad, was India’s first Attorney General; his son Atul (Teesta’s father) was a leading Senior Advocate in the Bombay High Court. Each of them gave shape to our constitutional law. But Teesta carved out a separate niche for herself – as a worthy footsoldier of the Constitution.’ — Fali S. Nariman ‘A crusader in the cause of justice and human rights, Teesta’s life is a saga of small and big battles fought by a person with firm conviction and strong determination. She has proved herself more than a match to her detractors and persecutors however high placed they may be.’ — Justice P.B. Sawant ‘Teesta Setalvad is a woman of courage and deep convictions. This book is a testimony to her spirit and grit.’ — Mallika Sarabhai ‘The Gujarat riots produced, at one end, Modi, and at another end, Teesta. The story of her life is necessary reading for those who engage with the Indian sociopolitical system.’ — Kancha Ilaiah Shepherd ‘The scoundrel times in which we live, where the fascists and the powerful rule supreme, hers is the voice of sanity and compassion.
How I Said the Worst Thing Imaginable to the Worst Lawyer
Fungus was a lawyer in Reno. Of sorts. By which I mean he had a law office where he took money from desperate clients, tried fruitlessly to improve his golf game, and vented spleen onto every female within venting distance. He went through 14 legal secretaries in nine years before he hired me. One lasted five years, matching his nastiness with her own (I liked her). One only lasted through lunch. Fungus took her to a casino buffet where he ate his weight in shrimp, then hit on her. She blanched, went silent, went back to the office, and went away. Fungus was cheap. He once presented a fellow attorney with a Christmas gift of his wife’s inedible ravioli and then presented him with an invoice. He was also the first Holocaust denier I ever met. Fungus generally spent Fridays out of office, which was a relief until he returned at 3:30 to make certain no one left before five. One way to make certain I complied was to demand the mail be walked up to the corner mailbox at exactly 5 o’clock and no earlier, in case he had something last minute to mail out. This 5 o’clock rule presented a unique challenge since the mailman picked up the mail at exactly 5 o’clock, and the mailbox was one block up from the office, across a very busy downtown street. I was expected to leave the office at 5 pm, walk to the mailbox and arrive there at 5 pm, before the mailman did. I started leaving five minutes early, so I could drop off the mail before the mailman picked it up. Fungus spotted me one day, slammed the office door open and shouted across the traffic, demanding what the fuck I thought I was doing? I told him. He called me several names and slammed the door closed. I mailed the mail, went home, vented to my husband, laughed, then had a great weekend. Fungus had a weekend-long migraine. Jose was the last straw. Mentally challenged, further damaged by a car accident (the case), he understood little English. Fungus hated pro bono work, and because it wasn’t lucrative for him, he never did it. When he’d see Jose approaching through the heavily tinted office windows, he’d buzz me: I’m not in. Get rid of him. Jose was big, angry, and confused. He scared me and I felt sorry for him. He would ask, “Mr. Dan: he’s worked on my case?” and I’d have to say Mr. Dan hadn’t prepared anything yet, and no, he wasn’t right around the corner, cowering in his office. Until the day Jose came in angry. At me. Because Fungus had told him that I refused to do the work Fungus had directed me to do on Jose’s case. That was it for me. I told Jose everything: that Fungus was in the office every time Jose came, that he was lying to Jose, that he had never given me work to do on Jose’s case, and that he was right around the corner, cowering in that office. I pointed to the unlocked office door. Then I went home. Unfortunately, Fungus was there the next day. At 18 months, I took a vacation. It was my first job with paid two-week vacation and I fully expected that when I gave Fungus my check to sign (I prepared my own payroll) he would shout that it was an unpaid vacation. When I gave him the check, he snarled, “I can’t sign this.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because you only get one week. You weren’t supposed to be gone for two weeks, and I’m sure as hell not going to pay you for two.” I had no response to that one. I was so blindsided I just stood there with my arms folded, glaring, completely unable to move. Which he took as a challenge. He signed the check so hard he carved his name into the desk blotter below. “Consider it a severance check,” he bellowed. But I was so angry that I didn’t leave. I un-fired myself. I kept coming in and worked two more weeks before Fungus officially fired me while calling me names. Quietly, directly, I said, “You’re a joke.” He said, “So are you.” Fungus must’ve been great in court. There was another exchange I don’t remember. But do I remember what I said last. “You’re a — “ and called him the worst thing you can call a woman. Being called anything a woman might be called was unbearable for Fungus. He turned purple. He went into a complete door slamming, screaming rage. I laughed at him, left for good, and drove directly to the bank with my check. It was a Friday, 5 o’clock. Quitting time.
