Logic Puzzle, Anyone?

I don't know if this ever made it into Annaka's weekly puzzles, since I missed quite a few of them, but a classmate shared it with me today, and I thought it was a good challenge. (That's what we do for fun in law school, sit around and solve logic puzzles together.)

Ol' Blue Eyes
A group of people with assorted eye colors live on an island. They are all perfect logicians -- if a conclusion can be logically deduced, they will do it instantly. No one knows the color of their eyes. Every night at midnight, a ferry stops at the island. If anyone has figured out the color of their own eyes, they must leave the island that midnight. Everyone can see everyone else at all times and keeps a count of the number of people they see with each eye color (excluding themselves), but they cannot otherwise communicate. Everyone on the island knows all the rules in this paragraph.

On this island there are 100 blue-eyed people, 100 brown-eyed people, and the Guru (she happens to have green eyes). So any given blue-eyed person can see 100 people with brown eyes and 99 people with blue eyes (and one with green), but that does not tell him his own eye color; as far as he knows the totals could be 101 brown and 99 blue. Or 100 brown, 99 blue, and he could have red eyes.

The Guru is allowed to speak once (let's say at noon), on one day in all their endless years on the island. Standing before the islanders, she says the following:

"I can see someone who has blue eyes."

Who leaves the island, and on what night?

There are no mirrors or reflecting surfaces, nothing dumb. It is not a trick question, and the answer is logical. It doesn't depend on tricky wording or anyone lying or guessing, and it doesn't involve people doing something silly like creating a sign language or doing genetics. The Guru is not making eye contact with anyone in particular; she's simply saying "I count at least one blue-eyed person on this island who isn't me."

Know Chuck Bartowski, c/o '02?

The last few days, I've gotten a head cold, gotten into a bike accident, and gotten my fiancée back, all the while trying to finish a 12-page memo on the implications of the Unruh Civil Rights Act on a synagogue that discriminated against a mentally disabled girl. (I said it didn't apply, in case you were wondering.)

The cold wasn't too bad, but because of it, I spent my evenings sleeping rather than finishing my paper, which meant that by the time Gina got here, I pretty much had to write the whole time.

The good news is, the paper is done, I'm feeling better, and Gina is still here for another month! She's doing an externship down in San Jose and will be alternating between my place and Andrew's. For those in the Bay Area, we'll get together soon at my place, a combo housewarming/Gina reunion. And I finally have a couch!

As for the bike accident, the first thing that popped into my head was tort stuff. I decided I could've sued the lady, but all I got was some road rash on my left hand, so it wasn't worth it. She turned in front of me to park, forcing me to slam on the brakes and tumble forward. Don't worry, Mom, I wear a helmet. And now I wear gloves, too.

Now that the paper is handed in, I can relax a bit, just in time for the season premier of Heroes! I thought it started at 8pm, but this new show, Chuck, was playing instead. I was going to change the channel when the lead character said he went to Stanford... five years ago. Class of '02! Well that was enough to get me to watch the show, and I actually liked it, except for the fact that Chuck was the equivalent of a Best Buy Geek Squad employee, making $11 an hour. I guess the television Stanford sheepskin just isn't what it used to be. The last television Stanford graduates were Survivor champion and Surgeon General.

Heroes is on, time to go. Whoa, it's Ned Ryerson! BING!

Damn that Socrates

Five weeks in, and I finally got my first cold call. I shouldn't have been as nervous as I was, but it was Criminal Law, and the professor is one of those intimidating young brilliant types who speaks a mile a minute, all the quicker for you to realize how impressive she is. And that's without even knowing her background: Harvard Law Review, Ames Moot Court champion, DC Circuit judge clerk, etc. Now a prof at Boalt... and only five years older than me. There's a reason they have her do the demo lecture for prospective students. She's a badass.

But boy does she love the Socratic method, and unlike my other profs, she doesn't ask softball questions, or take pity on you and move onto someone else if she senses that you're struggling with the material. She waits. And she sticks with you for a good ten minutes.

So when she called my name, I started to sweat. And she gave me time to sweat, too: "After we do a quick review, Mr. Kim will be walking us through People v. Marrero." Damn.

I guess she saw through my clever strategy of periodically volunteering thoughts to the discussion in order to avoid having to do so under duress at a later time. We all get the dreaded call some day. Like those green dudes in Toy Story. Except they all thought it was a good thing. Okay, more like the clones in The Island. Damn it, they all thought it was a good thing, too. Somebody help me out here.

Put in perspective, it's a pretty ridiculous thing to get worked up about. I mean, I never had problems dealing with angry clients who blamed me for product changes that cost them millions of dollars. Although I guess I couldn't tell my prof to f*** off the way I'd tell the folks from Chase or Travelocity (as taught to me by my mentor Dave). It always helped to have that at my disposal.

Part of the problem was the build-up that it had gotten. My friends would keep reminding me that I had yet to be called in any class while most of them had been called multiple times. Imagine having a no-hitter going, and after each inning, your teammates come up to you and say, "Did you notice you haven't given up a hit yet?" It had turned into a distraction, like Stanford's 26-0 start in '04.

Now that I've gone through the experience, I honestly don't remember much about it, but it feels good to finally have gotten it out of the way. One thing I can say with confidence is that I'll never forget People v. Marrero. It'll always hold a special place in my heart (assuming I still have one after a career in law). For those of you planning to use the "I misunderstood the statute" defense in your criminal futures, time to come up with an alternative plan. Don't worry, I'll help you.

War of the Worlds! Where they're trapped in the robots, and every once in a while a tube would come down and suck one of 'em up for fuel. Yeah, it's like that.

And They Are Undisputed

I got a new assignment this morning in Criminal Law: write an opening statement for the prosecution in a murder case. This is what I came up with:

The facts of the case are these: At midnight on August 6th, the defendants went into the barracks room of their platoon-mate, PFC William Santiago. They woke him up, tied his arms and legs with rope, and forced a rag into his throat. A few minutes later, a chemical reaction in Santiago's body called lactic acidosis caused his lungs to begin bleeding. He drowned in his own blood and was pronounced dead at 32 minutes past midnight.

These are the facts of the case, and they are undisputed. That's right. The story I just told you is the exact same story you're going to hear from Corporal Dawson, and it's the exact same story you're going to hear from Private Downey. Furthermore, the Government will also demonstrate that the defendants soaked the rag with poison, and entered Santiago's room with motive and intent to kill.

Now, Lt. Kaffee is gonna try to pull off a little magic act. He's gonna try a little misdirection. He's going to astonish you with stories of rituals and dazzle you with official sounding terms like Code Red. He might even cut into a few officers for you. He'll have no evidence, mind you, none. But it's gonna be entertaining. And when we get to the end, all the magic in the world will not have been able to divert your attention from the fact that Willy Santiago is dead, and Dawson and Downey killed him. These are the facts of the case, and they are undisputed.

I'm pretty sure my professor will be wowed. Doesn't fit the facts of my case at all, but with writing like that, who cares? Plus it saved me time so I could blog.

Last week I had to play the part of legislator and write a statute criminalizing bad students. It was pretty easy; I just had to think back to my college days. As they say, write what you know. Plagiarizing from movies was not included, by the way.

This weekend I completed the next set of exercises on proper Bluebook citation form for my research and writing class. This stuff drives most people crazy, but I love it. It appeals to my meticulous sensibility. Italicize commas within case names, but not following them. Include a space between abbreviations unless they are single letters or ordinals. Abbreviate names in 10.2.1(c) and T6, unless the cite is in a textual sentence. Hehe, good stuff. Right in my wheelhouse.

Next week I have to write a memo on the scope of the term "business establishment" in the context of the Unruh Civil Rights Act, citing cases from the California Supreme Court or Court of Appeal. As we were reviewing some of the cases together in class, it was pretty sad when the prof asked if any of us remembered a particular one from the late 90s, and I was the only one to raise my hand (Remember the gay kid who wanted to be a scout leader? None of my classmates did...). Being the old guy will be a recurring theme in my posts.

So I have a fair amount of schoolwork these days, but the real preparation for my future career is happening in my day to day management of FC Hang, my fantasy football team. Sure, when I'm General Manager for a professional sports team, I'll have to deal with contracts and arbitration and such, so my classes aren't completely useless. But it's still mostly about talent evaluation. I figure with a law degree from Boalt and a few Markinson Cups to my name, I'll have owners knocking down my door in three years. Preferably hockey teams, because I want my day with the Stanley Cup.

Of course if Bob Bowlsby's had enough by then, I'm ready to jump in for him, too. I'll pull a Ted Leland and hire Hubert and Drew as Harbaugh's O and D Coordinators, and Scott to replace Trent Johnson (let 'em run!). Gerald can be in charge of watching over Michelle Wie.