How To Hook Up In Indiana

An Indiana judge and attorney is facing disciplinary charges over accusations she had a sexual relationship with a client during their prison meetings. Looks like somebody has been reading our 10 Things To Say To a Client You Are Sleeping With.

Lisa Traylor-Wolff, a senior judge who works part-time filing in for trial court judges, also was appointed to represent a Scott Wampler, 26, after he was convicted on felony charges. While representing the client on appeal, Traylor-Wolff began romantic relationship with the inmate while he was being held at the Miami Correctional Facility. The inappropriate conduct occurred in an attorney-client visitation room at the prison, where they were observed by correction officers.

So I’m guessing the trial was appointed but the appeal was pro bono. Seriously, does every girl love the bad boy? I mean this guy was facing 40 years in prison. This isn’t some simple traffic court where you might be able to develop a relationship after he serves a few days in the clink. This guy is basically Prison Mike looking at 40 years of gruel sandwiches and gruel omelets.  I understand why Traylor-Wolff might want to give him some over the pants action like they are playing seven minutes in heaven but still, I don’t get how this happened. Granted my attorney/client prison meeting knowledge comes from Arrested Development but I think every prison applies the ‘No Touching!’ rule. Maybe I should start doing criminal law or at least consider doing some sort of crime that will get me 40 years and a little minx appointed for me.

P.S. Speaking of Indiana… this Craigslist Missed Connections map has been floating around the interwebs this week:

Indiana . . . “At Home”? How the fudge do you have a missed connection at your house? You had the love of your life at your abode and you don’t know their name or how to contact them? Umm just wait until they come over next week and ask them out. I would expect this out of Florida but I not you Indiana. Going to have to keep an eye on you Hoosiers . . . whatever the hell that means.

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