"If a doctor were paid this much for a 24-hour shift, they wouldn't do it."

PalmOf the nearly 4,000 lawyers registered in the Balearic Islands, approximately 700—17.5%—are on duty. These are the lawyers who guide, assist, advise, and defend those eligible for free legal aid at any time of day, a right reserved for individuals who meet certain income thresholds and belong to vulnerable groups. All of these lawyers combine their duty counsel with private practice. The 87 to 150 euros they receive for a 24-hour shift in jurisdictions such as gender violence or criminal cases do not allow for full-time dedication. "We are driven by a vocation of service to the public, because it is very poorly paid," confirms Carmen López, Vice Dean of the Balearic Islands Bar Association (ICAIB) and head of the duty counsel service. She herself, with 34 years of experience, practices in criminal and juvenile law. "For me, the experience is very enriching; each case is a challenge," she says about the possibility of defending minors, a branch of law almost exclusively handled by public defenders.

Of all ages

Regarding the myths surrounding public defenders, López refutes the belief that they are "young and unqualified" professionals. "That's not true; some have been practicing their entire lives, and they come in all ages," he adds. As for their training, they are required to have a minimum of three years of experience and, in certain areas, specific studies. "Victims of gender violence, for example, are assisted by highly qualified lawyers with multidisciplinary training provided by the bar association," he explains. In 2024, legal aid broke another record in the Balearic Islands. Of 58,531 cases, 34,211 were handled by public defenders, and 24,320 involved assistance to detainees, equivalent to seven per hour, or 160 per day. Beyond their sense of vocation, the ICAIB (Balearic Islands Bar Association) denounces the "institutional mistreatment and precarious conditions" faced by public defenders: delays in "insufficient" payments from the Ministry of Justice, excessive bureaucracy, and a lack of resources, such as interpreters and expert witnesses, which hinder their work. They demand an expansion of coverage in light of the current obligation to attempt out-of-court settlements. Ultimately, the Procedural Efficiency Law (to reorganize, digitize, and promote mediation and arbitration) requires "financial resources." "Changes are planned, but they aren't being funded," asserts López.

Lola Puertas is aware of all these changes and the precariousness of the situation, but she has never left the public defender's office. "Thirty years ago, when I started practicing, you socialized with your colleagues and exchanged professional ideas because we waited together at the courthouse," she recalls about a now mechanized process.

She always knew she would be part of the public defender's office. "We are staunch defenders of free legal aid. We do very dignified work, which cannot disappear and which demands involvement and commitment," she continues, speaking about one aspect of her duties, among which she values personal growth more than professional development. "The greatest reward you can receive from someone is something as simple as a hug and them saying 'thank you' because they felt well supported and accompanied throughout the process. Money can't buy that. People don't know how the justice system works. They need to understand what's happening and also have someone explain what's going to happen, what will happen, to those who are unfamiliar with it," she explains.

Among her memories is the troubled youth who ended up in prison and called her for all his legal proceedings. "Over time, he told me, 'What would have become of my life without you? I'd be in prison, lost, with no future.' And today he has a normal life," she recounts. These are the satisfactions, although she doesn't ignore the "disappointments" when it hasn't been possible for the judge to rule in favor of her client.

Nearing retirement

Cata Montserrat decided to join the public defender's office "long before I even started law school." She's been doing it for 40 years: "If I look at what I was paid in 1985, I've lost money because, of course, it hasn't kept pace with inflation. If a doctor were paid this much for a 24-hour shift, they wouldn't do it." Furthermore, the shift can extend into another day to also assist someone in court who has already been to the police station. Nearing retirement at 66, she's considering leaving some of the duty rosters (she participates in several) because she has court dates scheduled through 2028. Her book of anecdotes is long: the client who refused to follow her advice and whom she ultimately acquitted; the women victims of gender violence who have thanked her for what they've learned about the law; the daughters of some of them who still congratulate her on special occasions, now grown into grateful women. "There was a client who had a very serious problem. She ended up in a psychiatric hospital, and I was the only person who could visit her. I'm still in touch with her. Empathy and trust are fundamental," she adds. Her colleague, Lola Puertas, a "proud Catalan of mixed Catalan and non-Catalan heritage," hasn't forgotten the day her 88-year-old mother, seeing the arrival of migrants in small boats on television, told her: "Daughter, never stop fighting for them."