First Thing We Do Is Kill All the Lawyers—Except That One. That One Pleases Me

Blair Sibley is tall, trim, soft-spoken. He likes to play bagpipes and indoor soccer. He's friendly and personable.

With all the scandal and ruckus of the past week, it seems sensible to talk to him in quiet, in person. His letterhead lists a K Street address, the 1600 block, just up from the White House.

It's in a big office building of the type that his father, Harper Sibley Jr., one of the richer and more powerful developers in Florida, builds in Miami. You punch the elevator button, and when it stops, you expect the glory wall and the fresh-cut flowers and the attractive-but-not-too receptionist with the Scandinavian accent and the dawning realization that the Persian rug beneath your feet retails at more than your net salary for last year.

Instead, you find that the K Street offices for Montgomery Blair Sibley, Chartered, are in what amounts to a broom closet in the landlord's office.

It's next to the mailroom and the women running the building's switchboard. The one who tells you that Sibley's not in wears a T-shirt that appears to read, “Where's my SUGAR DADDY?”

…His most prominent client of the moment is an alleged madam who is said to possess the names of 10,000 Washington clients, some of whom are alleged to be high-profile, he is also a busy, busy lawyer …

Something is amiss here, and we haven't even gotten to the part where he sued the U.S. Supreme Court for treason (twice!), asking for $1 million in damages. Or that he spent 77 days in a Miami jail for refusing to pay child support. Or that Maryland has stopped him from running a law office in the state. Or that federal prosecutors in Palfrey's case say Sibley's filings are so ignorant of basic legal tenets that they are “almost incoherent.”

All of this is bad, because it also means we haven't even mentioned “Big Pimping Pappy” yet.

I don't want to like him, but I can't help myself. Litigious, misogynistic, he's the son of power, practicing law until the empire is his—and yet, he's a friend of the working girl. And I can't stay mad at guys like that.

Don't judge.