Post by Anja on Jun 11, 2006 16:49:40 GMT -5
A homicide prosecutor uses yoga to find and share spiritual peace
Prosecutor David Frankel prepares to stand before a jury by standing on
his head. He practices nonviolence, except when he's trying death-penalty
cases.
He deals with the pain of victims, and sting of defeat at trial by
remembering the Hindu teaching that suffering is an "illusion."
Still, it's a struggle. Frankel prosecutes some of the ugliest homicide
cases in South Florida -- a mentally ill teenager who beat his father to
death with a baseball bat, an elderly man killed when doused with acid, a
man accused of the rape and murder of his own mother-in-law.
But each Wednesday night, Frankel can be found sitting on the floor of a
courthouse conference room, leading a class of yoga students through a
series of stretching and breathing exercises. Frankel says the ancient art
helps him deal with the stress, anger and grief that come with his work.
"Yoga isn't about turning things off and not thinking about it. Yoga is
about trying to find space -- space between those thoughts and who you
are," he later says from his office, where his yoga instructor certificate
is displayed beside his law degree. "I can feel great sorrow, but it
doesn't stop me from doing my job."
Frankel's free yoga class is attended by courthouse employees and lawyers
accustomed to a legal system that, like Frankel, is full of twists and
contradictions.
"He's a very talented guy, both in the courtroom and in yoga," said
capital crimes defense attorney Raag Singhal, who said Frankel is both
intensely devoted to his work and relaxed, his low-key mannerisms out of
step with the stereotypical image of a hard-line prosecutor.
Frankel's love of yoga evolved over his lifetime. He was first inspired in
childhood by a "nutty" grandmother, a vegetarian who was into the
body-bending postures decades before they graced the covers of fitness
magazines and became the exercise du jour of celebrities. Frankel, 45,
says he is from an otherwise normal, Jewish family in North Miami Beach.
As a kid, he politely tolerated his grandmother's kookiness.
His active interest in yoga started in law school. Frankel recalls that
life at the University of Miami became all about getting the right grades
and the right internships. That academic stress, combined with a painful
break-up, caused him to hit rock bottom emotionally. For the physical
benefits, he began practicing yoga with the least competitive group
possible -- a room of 80-year-old women at a local public school.
Yet his philosophical devotion to yoga didn't fully develop until he
became a prosecutor and started working in Broward County's sex crime unit
in the early 1990s. Listening to children testify to what family members
did to them disturbed Frankel to his core.
"I think that's worse than the dead bodies," he said. "That's when I first
began looking at yoga as a spiritual thing. I needed something."
Frankel moved from the sex crimes unit to the career criminal division and
was promoted in 2002 to homicide cases. He now practices Hinduism, but
adds that yoga is "a spiritual pursuit that fits into all religions."
Hinduism is the world's oldest religion, with beliefs that center on
reincarnation and karma. Nonviolence also is a basic tenet, creating a
dilemma for Frankel in death-penalty cases. He wants to fight for justice,
but understands that some see the death penalty as taking it too far.
"I see both sides of the issue," he said. "I know the [judicial] system is
a good one, and I have a role in it. I don't take any personal pride or
ego from it."
On a recent Wednesday, just after 5:15 p.m., Frankel enters a large
conference room in the public defender's office -- normally enemy
territory for an assistant state attorney -- where more than a dozen
people on yoga mats wait. Gone are his usual suit and tie. He wears a
yellow T-shirt, white linen pants rolled up above the ankles, and a pair
of flip-flops.
He says hello, sits cross-legged on the ground and begins reading from an
ancient Hindu scripture. The story is about an impending war, classic good
vs. evil. The benign warrior does not see what good can come from killing
his fellow man, so he asks Krishna, a Hindu god, for advice.
Krishna says that it is honorable for a warrior to fight because that is
his role in life, and that suffering is an "illusion."
"There is neither slayer nor slain," Frankel reads quietly. "You were
never born and you will never die."
It is easy to see that the lawyers in the room identify with the warrior.
Frankel certainly does, later explaining that he struggles with accepting
defeat in the courtroom. It's something he confronts unconventionally
during a case, by pointing out the weaknesses in his prosecution to
juries, a tactic he thinks builds credibility.
"People don't want to front their weaknesses because of fear, because,
'I'll lose, and if I lose, then I'm not a good lawyer," he said. "When you
go back to your office and the phone rings and they say, 'You have a
verdict,' you're walking to court knowing you might get kicked in the
gut."
One of the biggest kicks for Frankel was losing a case in which a former
Miami Dolphin was accused of paying several men to firebomb the house of a
former business associate. The associate, who ran from his burning house
with his wife and three children, was convinced of the ex-player's guilt.
A jury wasn't and let him walk.
"I felt like I had let them down," Frankel said of the family. Despite the
yoga, he admits, he is by no means an expert and still struggles with
things "of this world."
Yoga helped him through a painful divorce. When he isn't working, he likes
to play the guitar and garden around his home in Fort Lauderdale.
In yoga class, Frankel leads the room in a series of backbends, headstands
and poses with exotic names like Cobra, Corpse and Downward Facing Dog.
The soft hum of a vacuum cleaner and janitorial crew in another part of
the building are the only sounds to disturb their meditation. The class
lasts nearly 2 hours.
"It's interesting, having someone who could be your opponent at any given
moment," yoga enthusiast and public defender Anne Lemaster says of
Frankel. "But it's not about what's in the material world. It's about
finding balance. It's an escape."
(source: South Florida Sun-Sentinel)
Prosecutor David Frankel prepares to stand before a jury by standing on
his head. He practices nonviolence, except when he's trying death-penalty
cases.
He deals with the pain of victims, and sting of defeat at trial by
remembering the Hindu teaching that suffering is an "illusion."
Still, it's a struggle. Frankel prosecutes some of the ugliest homicide
cases in South Florida -- a mentally ill teenager who beat his father to
death with a baseball bat, an elderly man killed when doused with acid, a
man accused of the rape and murder of his own mother-in-law.
But each Wednesday night, Frankel can be found sitting on the floor of a
courthouse conference room, leading a class of yoga students through a
series of stretching and breathing exercises. Frankel says the ancient art
helps him deal with the stress, anger and grief that come with his work.
"Yoga isn't about turning things off and not thinking about it. Yoga is
about trying to find space -- space between those thoughts and who you
are," he later says from his office, where his yoga instructor certificate
is displayed beside his law degree. "I can feel great sorrow, but it
doesn't stop me from doing my job."
Frankel's free yoga class is attended by courthouse employees and lawyers
accustomed to a legal system that, like Frankel, is full of twists and
contradictions.
"He's a very talented guy, both in the courtroom and in yoga," said
capital crimes defense attorney Raag Singhal, who said Frankel is both
intensely devoted to his work and relaxed, his low-key mannerisms out of
step with the stereotypical image of a hard-line prosecutor.
Frankel's love of yoga evolved over his lifetime. He was first inspired in
childhood by a "nutty" grandmother, a vegetarian who was into the
body-bending postures decades before they graced the covers of fitness
magazines and became the exercise du jour of celebrities. Frankel, 45,
says he is from an otherwise normal, Jewish family in North Miami Beach.
As a kid, he politely tolerated his grandmother's kookiness.
His active interest in yoga started in law school. Frankel recalls that
life at the University of Miami became all about getting the right grades
and the right internships. That academic stress, combined with a painful
break-up, caused him to hit rock bottom emotionally. For the physical
benefits, he began practicing yoga with the least competitive group
possible -- a room of 80-year-old women at a local public school.
Yet his philosophical devotion to yoga didn't fully develop until he
became a prosecutor and started working in Broward County's sex crime unit
in the early 1990s. Listening to children testify to what family members
did to them disturbed Frankel to his core.
"I think that's worse than the dead bodies," he said. "That's when I first
began looking at yoga as a spiritual thing. I needed something."
Frankel moved from the sex crimes unit to the career criminal division and
was promoted in 2002 to homicide cases. He now practices Hinduism, but
adds that yoga is "a spiritual pursuit that fits into all religions."
Hinduism is the world's oldest religion, with beliefs that center on
reincarnation and karma. Nonviolence also is a basic tenet, creating a
dilemma for Frankel in death-penalty cases. He wants to fight for justice,
but understands that some see the death penalty as taking it too far.
"I see both sides of the issue," he said. "I know the [judicial] system is
a good one, and I have a role in it. I don't take any personal pride or
ego from it."
On a recent Wednesday, just after 5:15 p.m., Frankel enters a large
conference room in the public defender's office -- normally enemy
territory for an assistant state attorney -- where more than a dozen
people on yoga mats wait. Gone are his usual suit and tie. He wears a
yellow T-shirt, white linen pants rolled up above the ankles, and a pair
of flip-flops.
He says hello, sits cross-legged on the ground and begins reading from an
ancient Hindu scripture. The story is about an impending war, classic good
vs. evil. The benign warrior does not see what good can come from killing
his fellow man, so he asks Krishna, a Hindu god, for advice.
Krishna says that it is honorable for a warrior to fight because that is
his role in life, and that suffering is an "illusion."
"There is neither slayer nor slain," Frankel reads quietly. "You were
never born and you will never die."
It is easy to see that the lawyers in the room identify with the warrior.
Frankel certainly does, later explaining that he struggles with accepting
defeat in the courtroom. It's something he confronts unconventionally
during a case, by pointing out the weaknesses in his prosecution to
juries, a tactic he thinks builds credibility.
"People don't want to front their weaknesses because of fear, because,
'I'll lose, and if I lose, then I'm not a good lawyer," he said. "When you
go back to your office and the phone rings and they say, 'You have a
verdict,' you're walking to court knowing you might get kicked in the
gut."
One of the biggest kicks for Frankel was losing a case in which a former
Miami Dolphin was accused of paying several men to firebomb the house of a
former business associate. The associate, who ran from his burning house
with his wife and three children, was convinced of the ex-player's guilt.
A jury wasn't and let him walk.
"I felt like I had let them down," Frankel said of the family. Despite the
yoga, he admits, he is by no means an expert and still struggles with
things "of this world."
Yoga helped him through a painful divorce. When he isn't working, he likes
to play the guitar and garden around his home in Fort Lauderdale.
In yoga class, Frankel leads the room in a series of backbends, headstands
and poses with exotic names like Cobra, Corpse and Downward Facing Dog.
The soft hum of a vacuum cleaner and janitorial crew in another part of
the building are the only sounds to disturb their meditation. The class
lasts nearly 2 hours.
"It's interesting, having someone who could be your opponent at any given
moment," yoga enthusiast and public defender Anne Lemaster says of
Frankel. "But it's not about what's in the material world. It's about
finding balance. It's an escape."
(source: South Florida Sun-Sentinel)