I meant to post about this all week, and the shelf-life is near expiration, so here goes. The other night on “60 Minutes” there was a disturbing piece on how the FBI has been testifying in homicide cases for years that they could identify bullets not by their ballistics but by their metal properties. For example, they could say a mangled-beyond-recognition bullet came from a specific lot, or even box, of bullets. It turns out the FBI was just flat wrong. The science was a joke. And, some unknown number of people were sent to prison based on evidence that didn’t exist. “60 Minutes” purported to find one such poor soul who’d been in jail for something like 20 years. But none of that is really what I’m getting at.

In the course of reporting the story, “60 Minutes” found a lawyer who represented a partner of the (allegedly) wrongly convicted man. The lawyer said that he knew for a fact that the state had sent the wrong man to prison because his client had explained to him in glowing and persuasive detail that he himself was responsible for the murder. The lawyer said nothing, even though according to his own testimony he knew the court was imprisoning the wrong man for the rest of his natural life. He never even counseled his own client to confess. He waited twenty years to say anything at all (after his client died), and when he finally did say something the judge didn’t pursue the information. Rather he ordered the lawyer investigated by the state bar for ethics violations.

Now, while I’m sure this is a familiar dilemma to law students, ethics experts and fans of countless courtroom dramas it continues to amaze me how cavalier we are about the fact that “ethics” and “morality” can be at sharp loggerheads. Yes, yes, yes: I understand all the arguments, platitudes and clichés about how we need to keep the system viable by maintaining trust between lawyers and their clients. But it’s fascinating to me how we’re willing to dismiss the fact that what this lawyer did was morally repugnant even if it was ethically “necessary.” He consigned a man to life in prison (and had no idea that this bullet-science thing would ever promise reprieve) because his trade guild’s code of ethics said he should stay quiet. Those ethics have some good arguments in their favor. But legal ethics are often little more than a job-protection racket. We all know there are plenty of examples of that sort of thing. And this is just one more. If I were wrongly imprisoned for life and there was a person who knew the truth but refused to testify because he’d lose his job, I wouldn’t care much at all — whether he was a doctor, plumber or lawyer. “So lose your job, this is my life,” would be my response.