But the American Civil Liberties Union, along with groups and attorneys based in Michigan, filed a lawsuit in Detroit in January 2006 saying that the government's surveillance program was unconstitutional and interfered with their jobs.

U.S. District Judge Anna Diggs Taylor in Detroit ruled in favor of the plaintiffs last August. The U.S. Justice Department then appealed the case to the Sixth Circuit Appeals Court.

Kary Moss, head of the Michigan branch of the American Civil Liberties Union, said "it's a really unfortunate decision."

She said that one of the reasons the plaintiffs had difficulty proving they were being adversely affected was that the government has kept information about the wiretapping program a secret. Moss said they are considering appealing the decision to the U.S. Supreme Court.

Dawud Walid, head of the Michigan branch of the Council on American Islamic Relations, one of the co-plaintiffs, said: "It's a shame that the court overturned the decision... what the executive branch was doing was unconstitutional."

"Two minds were set on murder," assistant U.S. attorney Linda Barr told jurors Thursday in closing arguments. "Two fingers were on the trigger of that gun on May 13, 2005, and two people must be held accountable."

Bradford has admitted shooting the doctor in the side of the head after his wife pulled over on the turnpike south of Cleveland, supposedly to let her husband take the wheel.

The federal jury also convicted Moonda of interstate stalking and two counts of using or carrying a firearm in the commission of a violent crime.

As U.S. District Judge David D. Dowd Jr. read the four guilty verdicts, Moonda went from holding back tears, to shaking her head to quietly sobbing, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Jurors deliberated for eight hours over two days after more than two weeks of testimony.

Moonda's defense was that Bradford, a convicted drug dealer, robbed and killed the doctor in a steroid-fueled rage. Defense attorney Roger Synenberg told jurors that if they believed Bradford, then his client came up with the worst plan to murder a husband.

Bradford testified that on the day of the shooting, he followed the couple as they left their home in Hermitage, Pa., near the Ohio state line, and pulled in behind them when Donna Moonda stopped their Jaguar along the turnpike. He said he ran to the passenger side of the car and shot the doctor.

Other key evidence cited by prosecutors were a series of phone calls and text messages between Bradford and Moonda the day of the killing, up until she and her husband left on their trip.

Prosecutors pointed to Moonda's description of the shooter being the same height as her husband, 5-foot-3, as more evidence of her deceit. But Synenberg explained that the 5-foot-10 Bradford may have appeared shorter because he was leaning down looking into the car when he shot the doctor in the temple.

Moonda's attorney said in his closing argument that the doctor still had a pulse when paramedics arrived because his wife, a nurse anesthetist, had performed CPR. Synenberg said that action was proof of her innocence.

Bradford, of Monaca, Pa., met Donna Moonda in drug rehab, according to court records. He has pleaded guilty to interstate stalking and a gun charge and is expected to receive a 17 1/2-year sentence.

Sainz is scheduled to be sentenced Aug. 16 in Superior Court, and will likely face 15 years to life in prison.

While it was unclear how the head trauma occurred, the baby also suffered from bleeding from the eyes, which is common when a baby is shaken vigorously, said Deputy District Attorney Stephen Foley.

"Whether the baby was hit against a wall, or just shook, we don't know," he said.

Sainz's baby was brought to an area hospital on Dec. 29 in a "non-responsive, labored breathing state," according to a police statement, and died at another hospital on Jan. 1.

Cellular signals often have difficulty penetrating massive steel high-rise buildings. But in Washington's downtown, matters are worse because of height restrictions that force builders to add multiple basement floors.

One law firm knew that a new headquarters facility near the White House might pose problems for 500 lawyers and staffers using wireless handhelds, so it commissioned a site survey before the headquarters was finished. The survey found that cellular signals would probably be poor, especially in a new law library three stories underground.

"Indoor cellular coverage is a real problem in D.C., and we're one of the few tenants to get to a solution," said Rodney Carson, director of administration for the Washington headquarters of Kirkpatrick & Lockhart Preston Gates Ellis LLP (K&L Gates). "The cellular phone companies have not been real forthcoming in solving these problems."

Indeed, two hotels operated by Marriott International at the Grand Lakes resort in Orlando had to install special indoor antennas to boost cellular signals for guests, several years after the hotels opened.

Carson's law firm started researching the indoor cellular problem in early 2006 and by April had finished installing a system to boost cellular signals for both T-Mobile USA Inc., provider of Research In Motion Ltd.'s BlackBerry service, and Verizon Wireless, the carrier that the majority of cellular voice users at the law firm rely upon, Carson said.

Carson asked Glasgow Group Inc., a Washington-based telecommunications consultancy, to recommend vendors of equipment to boost the cellular signals, and the law firm eventually chose LGC Wireless Inc. San Jose-based LGC installed a system of cables, three communications hubs and 24 remote antennas as the new 11-story high-rise building was completed.

The LGC InterReach Unison system cost K&L Gates about $80,000. The law firm also paid T-Mobile about $20,000 to install a mini base station, and it paid Verizon about $50,000 for a rooftop antenna.

At the Marriott hotels in Orlando, Mobile Access Networks Inc. in Vienna, Va., installed special distributed antennas to handle cellular and Wi-Fi, and the total of all the related costs topped $2 million. InnerWireless Inc. in Richardson, Texas, also competes in the market for in-building wireless systems, according to a spokesman for LGC.

Carson said today that the cellular signals now work well, even three stories underground in the law library, where about 60 people work. "We had all sorts of complaints about the signal at our older building, and with three floors underground, we knew we faced life safety issues, and needed some sort of solution," Carson said.

"Now we get rave reviews from users as well as clients and attorneys from other firms who can get a signal but say they can't get their phones to work at their own offices," he said.

K&L Gates also has Wi-Fi service throughout its new building, but a decision to add voice over the Wi-Fi has been delayed as IT staff consider security issues, Carson said.

Carson said he realizes that the costs for the project were much less because the work was done during construction and not afterward, as was the case at the Marriott hotels in Orlando.

Having reliable indoor cellular access is going to prove to be a sound decision, Carson added. "That's especially true because everybody has gotten more reliant on handhelds," he said.

In response to the crisis, more than 2,700 law students traveled to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, on trips a bit reminiscent of the famous civil rights freedom rides. The students do just about everything but appear in court, including interviewing defendants and collecting evidence. Public defenders from different parts of the country took sabbaticals from their day jobs to come down as well. But however welcome, this is as effective as washing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, say New Orleans public defenders. Eventually, you'll clean up the mess, but a mop could take care of the problem a whole lot faster. The law firms are far stronger and richer than anyone else in the legal world. Why aren't they helping the Bayou's criminal-defense bar recover?

To be fair, big law has done a lot for the region. Firms donated thousands of hours to the legal rebuilding effort, sending lawyers down to help with FEMA appeals, small-business recovery, and Road Home grants. The Mississippi Center for Justice, a Jackson-based nonprofit founded in 2003, convinced 19 law firms to donate 8,100 hours last year, adding up to a value of $3 million.*

Most of this work, however, has been on civil matters. Generally, it makes sense for law firms to concentrate on helping with civil suits, because criminal defendants have a constitutional right to representation. Remember Gideon? The 1963 Supreme Court case ordered states to pay for attorneys for poor people accused of crimes, making pro bono work on their behalf relatively superfluous. The flip side of state-funded defense, however, is that when it fails, firms aren't prepared to help pick up the pieces. For poor litigants in New Orleans, that often means waiting months in jail before even meeting a lawyer.

It's the systems firms use to efficiently donate legal hours that hold them back from effectively helping criminal litigants. The idea of an organized firm pro bono program started gathering steam about 15 years ago. In 1993, the American Bar Association revised its Rule of Professional Conduct to describe donating 50 hours of free legal work a year as a "professional responsibility." The Pro Bono Institute at Georgetown University Law Center challenges firms to donate either 100 hours per attorney or an amount of time equal to 5 percent of the firm's total billable hours. More than 150 large firms have signed off on the standard.

That doesn't mean they meet it: According to the American Lawyer's 2006 pro bono survey, only about 37 percent of law firm attorneys at the 200 biggest firms did at least 20 hours of work last year. Still, even if the firms miss their pro bono goals, most consider setting them good for business. A strong pro bono program is a recruiting hook for top law students and junior lawyers, who give more weight to pro bono in deciding where to work than they used to. Industry publications, like the American Lawyer's A-List, include pro bono in their ranking criteria for firms.

Today, at most big firms, pro bono works like a well-oiled machine. Many have pro bono coordinators or partners working full time to vet projects and match them with the appropriate lawyers. The firms generally expect the public interest providers to present packaged, clear projects with a set scope and time frame. Firms will go far for the most desirable cases. As the Wall Street Journal recently reported (subscription required), some donate money, office space, or clerical help to nonprofits in return for the first crack at interesting legal matters. Lawyers Without Borders Inc. requires an upfront donation of $7,500 a year before it gives firms access to the best cases.

But if the cases don't fit the traditional format, firms won't touch them. And firms generally feel most comfortable doing the kind of work they know best. Hand them a real-estate dispute, small-business negotiation, or intellectual property problem, and they'll come at it with a flurry of paper and army of suits. But dealing with drug charges, petty thefts, and assaults? Not so much. Also, it takes lawyers to get lawyers. Even in the midst of legal chaos, firms want a fully developed plan of action. If a firm is going to take on a criminal case, in a district with different laws, it wants assurance that its lawyers will be heavily supervised. No firm likes a malpractice suit. And no lawyer wants to give any client—whether paying or not—bad legal advice.

But just as the fire department doesn't create a spreadsheet while the house goes down in flames, in New Orleans, there's no legal master plan and almost no one to oversee the volunteer defense lawyers. Orleans Parish lost almost all of its public defenders after Katrina, plummeting from about 40 to fewer than 10. In 2006, a Department of Justice report obtained by the Los Angeles Times recommended 70 full-time public defenders. With the city in a perpetual state of legal panic, no one has time to package up projects for firms. Also, since it takes weeks to learn how to navigate the dysfunctional system, volunteers ideally need to stay for several months. Firms are willing to send down lawyers for a week or two, but they won't give up a client-serving body for months on end.

In other cities with more developed pro bono infrastructures, nonprofit middlemen negotiate this kind of culture clash. For example, nonprofit groups like New York Lawyers for the Public Interest coordinated much of the legal response after 9/11. But in the Gulf Coast, there's no one to play mediator and no great pro bono force to spearhead a shift from civil to criminal work.

So, what can a Creole-loving firm do? Taking the small cases may be tough for firms, but challenging the entire system wouldn't be. Firms are great at impact litigation. Be it a suit against a city, state, or large public institution, firms have pushed the law forward in amazing ways through large-scale litigation. They can do the same in New Orleans. The current system raises some serious constitutional questions. For starters, poor litigants get no representation between the time bail is set and weeks later when the district attorney's office decides whether it will take the case to trial. Public defenders are funded largely by court fees—money paid by the indigent defendants themselves when they're convicted. Two New Orleans criminal court judges found the funding system unconstitutional, but the case has yet to be presented before the Supreme Court.

Another way firms could help: They can fund a New Orleans pro bono coordinator, in the way that they regularly sponsor public interest fellowships. The coordinator could work full time packaging the projects and rallying the law firm troops. The firms could get projects suited to them, and the city's defense lawyers could spend their time doing their jobs. The cavalry, it seems, might just need a good scout.

John Farnham's manager Glenn Wheatley has pleaded guilty to three tax-related charges.

The 59-year-old admitted not declaring his $256,000 income from Farnham's Talk of the Town Tour.

The court heard Wheatley paid it into a Swiss-based tax minimisation scheme that is now under investigation as part of the Australian Crime Commission's Operation Wickenby.

Wheatley has also pleaded guilty to avoiding his tax obligations as promoter of a 2003 Kostya Tszyu boxing match.

Wheatley told the court he was deeply ashamed of his actions.

He added he was angry he has become the public face of Operation Wickenby because of a leak, despite promises from authorities that his case would be kept confidential until today.