The scene of the crime.

As I said yesterday, we spent the weekend smack in the middle of the 137,000 acres of forest that were devastated by the Hayman Fire two years ago. This was the first time I'd visited the burn area since the summer of 2002, when I was down there to look at the fire's point of origin. Because I served on the defense team for the woman accused of starting the fire, the woman who eventually pled guilty to lesser charges and is now serving a federal prison term.

It was a strange feeling to be surrounded by the barren landscape left in the fire's wake. As we drove along the backroads, I could imagine the fire's path as it swept through the trees and underbrush, then found itself halted at various points by human intervention or dearth of fuel before it changed course to cut its devastating swathe elsewhere. At the same time, I saw visible evidence of fire's important role in the forest's natural cycle. Bit by bit, fresh grass is sprouting, wildflowers are blooming, and baby trees are poking their perky branches out of the charred soil. Human restoration efforts are vigorous and ongoing, but nature is running its own course, and the nutrient-laden ash is already doing its part to sustain a new generation of forest life.

Still, I know that the fire cost many people in that area homes and barns and cabins and lots and lots of money. While we in Denver sucked smoky air for days on end, the South Platte locals were living in schoolhouses and churches and friends' places while they waited to see whether their lives would emerge whole when the fire finally stopped burning. So I expect that plenty of folks there hold some antipathy in their hearts towards my former client (though many of her neighbors and colleagues and others in the area remained staunchly and vocally supportive of her throughout the criminal proceedings).

My face was on television almost weekly for the latter half of 2002 and the first part of 2003, and my picture (though usually not my name) popped up in the papers with disturbing regularity. So although my role in the case was relatively minor, I was still a little anxious that someone might recognize me and make the connection. This particular client was one of my favorites, the case was complicated and emotional and fascinating, and I certainly am not embarrassed or ashamed of my involvement in it. But still, traipsing about the area like a happy tourist, I felt a bit like an international jewel thief browsing at Tiffany's.