How Do You Spell Relief?

How Do You Spell Relief?

Photo of the exterior of Hodgin Hall looking West

How Do You Spell Relief?

On a scale of zero to 10, how nauseous are you? That question formed the basis of a UNM-based study of the effects of cannabis consumption on nausea symptoms, ranging from five minutes after consumption to one hour post-cannabis consumption. It showed that using cannabis results in an average symptom improvement of nearly 4 points on a 0-10 scale just moments after consumption, with increasing benefits over time.

Nausea, whether due to food poisoning, gastrointestinal disorders, chemotherapy or a host of other causes, is a common symptom but often difficult to treat. Cannabis has been used to lessen nausea for millennia, although its dosage and effects have been under-researched.

Although its effectiveness for treating chemotherapy-induced nausea is widely recognized, the use of cannabis for nausea remains under-researched in the general population, with no previous studies examining how quickly cannabis relieves nausea or how relief varies with product characteristics.

In a recent study, titled “The Effectiveness of Common Cannabis Products for Treatment of Nausea” published in the Journal of Clinical Gastroenterology, researchers showed that more than 96% of the study sample reported nausea relief within one hour. “Despite increasing clinical concerns regarding cyclical vomiting or hyperemesis syndrome in cannabis users, almost all users experienced relief,” said author Sarah Stith, an assistant professor in the UNM Department of Economics.

The study was based on data from 2,220 cannabis self-administration sessions recorded by 886 people using the Releaf App, a mobile software application designed to help users manage cannabis consumption by allowing them to record real-time changes in symptom intensity. 

The extent of nausea relief experienced by the study sample varied. Flower and concentrates yielded faster and greater relief than edibles or tinctures, while vaping yielded less relief than consuming cannabis via a joint or pipe. 

The study also compared the effects of THC and CBD among consumers of cannabis flower. Coauthor Jacob Vigil, associate professor in the UNM Department of Psychology, explained that “perhaps our most surprising result was that THC, typically associated with recreational use, seemed to improve treatment among consumers of cannabis flower, while our CBD, more commonly associated with medical use, actually seemed to be associated with less symptom relief.”

Photo of marijuana plant being grown and handled

Hello, Dean Lo

Hello, Dean Lo

Photo of the exterior of Hodgin Hall looking West

Hello, Dean Lo

Leo Lo is the new dean of the College of University Libraries and Learning Sciences. 

Lo joins UNM from The Pennsylvania State University, where he was associate dean for Learning, Undergraduate Services and Commonwealth Campuses, overseeing operations at 20 campus libraries throughout Pennsylvania. He also led the strategic planning process of the University Libraries, supported the promotion and tenure process of Penn State library faculty and led the Libraries’ COVID-19 response. 

Provost James Holloway lauded Lo for his “experience, vision and strategy,” as well as his commitment to equity, inclusion and affordability. 

At UNM, Lo will oversee a busy library system that sees 1.5 million visits a year, offers undergraduate and master’s degrees and a doctorate in Organization, Information & Learning Sciences, and houses UNM Press. 

Lo said he is excited about that mix of a university press, degree-granting program and academic library, all housed in one college. 

“I believe there is tremendous potential, and I am looking forward to working with the talented faculty and staff to leverage the strengths of all these units,” Lo said. 

Lo was a first-generation college student and began his career as a Multicultural Studies Librarian at Kansas State University in 2009. He held positions at the University of Alabama and Old Dominion University, before moving to Penn State.

Headshot of Dean Leo Lo

Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

Photo of the exterior of Hodgin Hall looking West

Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

Photovoltaic panels are a tried-and-true way of harnessing the sun’s power and converting it to electricity ­— except when the clouds roll in. In UNM’s Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering, Ph.D. candidate Guillermo Terrén-Serrano and Professor Manel Martínez-Ramón have developed an artificial intelligence algorithm that optimizes the performance of solar power by predicting cloud cover.           

Reducing the randomness of solar energy generation requires knowing when solar radiation availability is going to decrease due to cloud cover. Terrén-Serrano and Martínez-Ramón’s artificial intelligence algorithm learns about cloud patterns and predicts, based on recent cloud movement, the future output of a solar panel. 

The algorithm was trained using cameras and a solar radiation sensor installed on campus at UNM. The camera system was designed by Terrén-Serrano and Martínez-Ramón to follow the sun throughout the day, collecting data on both cloud cover and solar radiation at the same time. The apparatus collects one visual image every 15 seconds and one solar radiation sample every third of a second. 

The researchers plan to launch a website later this year that will allow anyone to see the data from their cameras in real-time. 

“The problem with solar energy is that it is of stochastic nature: it has a random component due to the presence of clouds,” Martínez-Ramón explains. “So, what we want to do is to reduce this randomness and when we know that we’re not going to have enough solar power then we will be prepared to supply this energy with other sources.”

Photo of an array of solar panels facing the sun

Welcome Home, Coach Gonzales: You Can Unpack Your Suitcase Now

Welcome Home, Coach Gonzales: You Can Unpack Your Suitcase Now

Coach Danny Gonzales with a Lobo Football player running in front of him

Welcome Home, Coach Gonzales: You Can Unpack Your Suitcase Now

By Glen Rosales

Chaos and organization were the themes football coach Danny Gonzales (’99 BBA, ’02 MS) kept coming back to as he completed a rookie season completely upended by the COVID pandemic. As he embarks on a second season, hoping quarantines and months-long hotel stays in Nevada are behind him, Gonzales can see the benefit of his team bonding through the dark days of 2020.

Gonzales’ debut with the Lobos — the feel-good story of hometown boy returning to his alma mater — was derailed almost immediately as restrictive public health orders all but curtailed the team’s ability to be competitive.

While other Mountain West schools —and football teams around the country —were going through standard practices under their local public health directives, UNM was permitted only small group settings of five for non-contact instruction and was forced to cancel its season opener at Colorado State and play its “home” game against San José State in California.

“You have to give the kids credit. We kept dangling these carrots in front of them and it was like Lucy from Peanuts — she kept yanking that ball out,” Gonzales said, referencing Charles Schulz’s famous cartoon story line that always ended with Charlie Brown flat on his back after whiffing at the open space where a football used to be.

Unable to practice or play at home, the Lobos headed to the bedroom community of Henderson, Nev., a town they would call home until the season ended with a 2-5 record and not a single game played at home.

“The chaos and organization,” Gonzales said of those uncertain months of August, September, October and November. “You couldn’t have any organization because day to day things seemed to change. At some point those kids had to think, ‘This guy is a liar. Screw this,’ and do something stupid, have a party, because we’re not playing anyway. And they never did. They kept down the path, kept down the path.”

Hotel living certainly was no vacation as players were limited to their rooms except during practices, position meetings and meals. For 42 days.

“Hotel living certainly was no vacation as players were limited to their rooms except during practices, position meetings and meals. For 42 days.”

“Sitting in a hotel room with one roommate was very challenging for (six) weeks,” Gonzales said. “It was a lovely hotel. We had a ballroom for our meeting room, so it was a big ballroom. So, they’d come down and hang out with the coaches. And I mean, I missed my family dearly. That was the hardest part of this whole deal was being away from my wife and kids. But the opportunity to be around the guys and figure out who loves football and who really wants to be good — and the ones that don’t really care about football, and it’s not that important — was very telling.”

New Mexico went on to lose its first five games, but Gonzales remained undiscouraged.

“We’re 0-5, losing to Utah State and me telling them how terrible we were, which I won’t take back because we were. We were coaching them terrible. We were playing terrible,” he said. And then, the Lobos started to win. “The last two games gave them a belief: ‘Everything they asked us to do does work. There is a reason behind this.’ Being the most physical team. Playing through the whistle. Doing all of those things actually works.”

True freshman quarterback Isaiah Chavez threw the game-winning touchdown against Wyoming and came back the next week to lead a victory against Fresno State. The stunning performance from Chavez, a walk-on from Rio Rancho High School who started the season as fifth-string under center, sent New Mexico into the current season with significant optimism.

“Momentum is good. A lot of people think we’re never going to lose again: we’re not that good,” Gonzales said. “We’re better, but we’re not a good football team. We will be a good team. But they definitely have the understanding of what it’s going to take and they’re willing to work. They’re a great group of kids. We’re not the most talented team. I tell them that, too. We out-work people and we can out-physical people and we have enough talent to be competitive.”

That kind of mirrors the way Gonzales, 45, has moved in his football career.

Before committing to football, Gonzales played soccer at Valley High School in Albuquerque. When he broke his leg on the pitch, however, the Viking football coaching staff convinced him to turn to the gridiron full time.

He walked on at UNM as a safety and a punter, eventually earning three letters and the Chuck Cummings Memorial Award, which is given for morale and spirit.Gonzales started his coaching career under another UNM alumnus turned Lobo head coach, Rocky Long. He began as a grad assistant, then became video coordinator before taking on safeties and special teams for three seasons.

Gonzales graduated in 1998 with a bachelor’s degree in business administration and general management and earned a master’s degree in physical education and recreation while he worked for the Athletics Department.

When Long left New Mexico in 2008 and took the position at San Diego State, Gonzales followed along, eventually becoming defensive coordinator for the Aztecs.

Before coming back to Albuquerque, Gonzales left Long’s tutelage to work as defensive coordinator at Arizona State in the PAC-12 Conference.

“To be honest with you, I thought I’d never leave here”

 “To be honest with you, I thought I’d never leave here,” he said “I thought the goal of the plan was to coach here forever. I mean, I grew up in Albuquerque, never left and had the opportunity to have a Division I football job at my home school.”

When that plan was interrupted by Long’s departure, Gonzales was caught off guard and had to regroup, which turned out to be a blessing in the long term.

“I would not have been prepared to have this opportunity had I not left here,” he said.

And now there is no place he would rather be.

“I’m living my dream because we have an opportunity to compete for championships,” he said. “If we didn’t or if that ever changed — the opportunity to compete for championships — then this wouldn’t be the right place.”

That, Gonzales said, was his main concern in returning to New Mexico. “When the whole interview process started, (I’m asking), ‘Are they really in it to be the best team in this league? Because if they’re not, I’m not coming.’”

Gazing across his desk and out at the open horseshoe end of University Stadium, with the gleaming field awaiting the next game and the Sandias peeking out from behind the eastern bleachers, Gonzales knows what he wants to see when he finally gets the chance to see his Lobos down there.

“The three things we told our kids to are effort, attitude and want to. No matter what happens, no matter the situation, no matter what they take away, they can’t take that away from you,” he said. “You decide how hard you’re going to work. You decide what your attitude is going to be — whether it’s going to be crappy or positive. And how bad do you want it? How bad do you want to be good? Those three things, no matter what the situation, they can’t take it from you unless you let them.”

Fierce Defenders

Fierce Defenders

fierce defenders article subjects sitting around a breakfast table smiling at camera

Fierce Defenders: UNM alumnae take on tough legal cases and unpopular clients

by Leslie Linthicum

In the film The Mauritanian, which won Jodie Foster a best supporting actress Golden Globe award this year, Foster plays attorney Nancy Hollander and Shailene Woodley plays attorney Teri Duncan, colleagues at an Albuquerque law firm who take on a habeas corpus case for Mohamedou Salahi, a Bedouin electrical engineer accused of being an Al Qaida recruiter and terror plot mastermind, who was imprisoned and tortured by American soldiers at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Their work led a federal judge to order Salahi released from the government’s “black site” at Guantanamo after being held there without charges for seven years. Salahi stayed imprisoned for another seven years while the government appealed and was finally freed in 2016.

Both received their law degrees from UNM ­­– Hollander in 1978 and Duncan in 2000.

The film tells only a slice of each woman’s distinguished career. Driven to uphold the Constitution even when it’s inconvenient, both have taken on unpopular cases and defended some of the most vilified defendants in the American legal system.

Theresa Duncan

If it weren’t for a few twists of fate, Theresa “Teri” Duncan might have been a prosecutor instead of one of the nation’s most respected defenders of people facing the federal death penalty.

Theresa Duncan wearing a floral print shirt holding a book in her backyard

Teri Duncan is based in Santa Fe but works on appellate cases throughout the nation. Photo: Roberto E. Rosales (’96 BFA, ’14 MA)

After coming to St. John’s College in Santa Fe from Rhode Island, Duncan fell in love with New Mexico and stayed after she graduated from college, working as a grant writer for nonprofits in Santa Fe. She loved helping social causes she cared about but wanted a career that would allow her to more directly make a difference.

She picked law school and enrolled at UNM.

Why law?

“My mother says I came out of the womb arguing,” Duncan says.

It may come a surprise, but Duncan says, “I actually went into law school thinking I would be a prosecutor.” She had volunteered in development for the Santa Fe Rape Crisis Center and was interested in prosecuting as a way of defending people who were the victims of violence.

But the summer after her first year of law school she shadowed a public defender for a few days and found her niche. “From then on,” she says, “I was a hard-core criminal defense lawyer and never looked back.”

Duncan took special interest in the social and psychological underpinnings of criminal behavior, finding insight into the ways childhood trauma is associated with criminal behavior.

“I came to understand that there really are two sides to every story, that people who are charged with criminal offenses have very complicated backgrounds,” she says.

She cites as an example John McCluskey, who was charged with carjacking and murdering a couple traveling in their RV from the Midwest to Colorado. McCluskey was big and tattooed, an escaped convict with a hefty rap sheet when he grabbed the couple.

“When I met him, he presented himself as this dangerous tough guy, consistent with the “monster” the media portrayed him as,” says Duncan, who defended McCluskey against the death penalty. “By the end of the case,” she says, “I understood he was this incredibly complicated, kind and connected human being who was, of course, terribly flawed. There was no excuse for what he did, but I came to understand why he did what he did. People are sometimes surprised to hear this, but I really like my clients.”

With each client, Duncan has gotten a little closer to understanding human nature. It may come as a surprise that spending two decades involved with people accused of grisly murders has brightened Duncan’s outlook.

“I feel better as a human being having reached the conclusion that there is no evil. As Rudolfo Anaya writes in Bless Me, Ultima, there is no such thing as evil, there are just things we don’t understand.”

After law school Duncan clerked for New Mexico Court of Appeals Judge Lynn Pickard and then joined the Public Defender’s Office. She was torn between two job openings – one in the appellate division in Santa Fe and the other in the juvenile division in Albuquerque. When her car broke down and commuting to Albuquerque was off the table, she took the appellate job.

Duncan was still green when the opportunity arose to join the legal team defending Terry Nichols, accused of conspiring with Timothy McVeigh to blow up the federal building in Oklahoma City in 1995 and killing 168 people. In separate trials in federal court, McVeigh was found guilty of murder, conspiracy and using a weapon of mass destruction and was sentenced to death. Nichols, who was not physically in Oklahoma on the day of the bombing, was found guilty of conspiracy and involuntary manslaughter, but spared the death penalty when the jury deadlocked. He was sentenced to life in prison. The state of Oklahoma then charged Nichols with 160 counts of murder and sought the death penalty.

Duncan had just started dating Mark Earnest, a colleague in the Public Defender’s Office who defended capital crimes, when UNM law Prof. Barbara Bergman, who was on Nichols’ defense team, asked Earnest to help her as an investigator and Duncan to help her with writing motions. One of Earnest and Duncan’s first dates had been a trip to the prison in Hobbs to interview a witness in a murder case, so it wasn’t a stretch for the two to pack up and move to Oklahoma for a year and a half to defend a man who was accused of the country’s most deadly domestic terrorist attack.

Even though Nichols had been tried in federal court, the new legal team started over, spending over a year investigating his involvement in the bomb making and spending months in trial. It was a valuable learning experience for Duncan and it solidified the Duncan-Earnest relationship. They married and now own a law practice, Duncan Earnest, in Santa Fe.

Nichols was found guilty of all 160 murder charges, but the jury again deadlocked on the death penalty and he was sentenced to life in prison.

Duncan then joined the law firm now known as Freedman, Boyd, Hollander, Goldberg, Urias & Ward, where she teamed with Hollander when a court ruled that Guantanamo prisoners had rights to legal counsel.

The character in The Mauritanian played by Woodley is named Teri Duncan, but is based on several lawyers on the team. “There were a lot of people working on the case and there was some good drama on the team, so rather than add a whole group of lawyers they consolidated it all into me,” Duncan says.

Duncan speaks French in the movie; she doesn’t in real life. She is portrayed as wide-eyed, innocent and fragile, and in one scene, Hollander fires Duncan when Duncan sees some troubling evidence that disturbs her. 

“The one way I was really naive,” Duncan says, “was in my faith in the federal government. I knew that our government had done horrible, horrible things over the centuries but I was one of those Americans who thought that was all in our past. As we learned about Mohamedou’s case and the black sites, I was shocked. It’s made me a better lawyer because I no longer take the government at its word the way I used to.”

From a filmmaking standpoint, Duncan understands that her character is a relatable foil to Hollander’s strong, almost heroic, persona. “And,” she says, “I think my character personifies the question, ‘How do you represent someone who society sees as a monster?’ My character provides a passageway for the audience to overcome their skepticism, to get to know Mohamedou as a human being and ultimately to care about him and what happened to him.”

She isn’t too worried about the big screen Teri Duncan overshadowing the real-life one.

“I think fortunately that the people who know me, know me,” she says. “A lot of lawyers I’ve worked with over the years say, ‘I loved the movie but that’s not the Teri Duncan I know.’ And of course Shailene Woodley is amazing, so to be able to say you’re played by Shailene Woodley is absolutely fabulous.”

An aspect of The Mauritanian that rings very true, according to Duncan, is the bond she and Hollander forged with Salahi. And Duncan credits the UNM School of Law with helping that along.

“Because of the diversity of UNM’s faculty, students and curriculum I learned the importance of culture and understanding culture in representing people,” Duncan says.

She and Hollander learned about Islam and world history from Salahi’s perspective, connected with him as a person and because of that were able to represent him better.

Knowing and representing Salahi also taught Duncan about compassion.

“He’s such a compassionate human being and so forgiving. Watching him interact with the guards and maintain a sense of dignity and compassion, I became more compassionate,” she says.” It’s challenging to feel self-righteous and entitled when someone like Mohamedou is wrongly imprisoned in Guantanamo, brutally tortured and is still kind and respectful to the people who wronged him.”

Duncan, who decompresses by walking her dogs and hiking in the forest outside Santa Fe, tries cases with literally life and death consequences for her clients.

“It’s a struggle,” she acknowledges. “I’m fortunate to have people in my personal life and my professional life who are supportive of me and who I can reach out to when it feels too heavy. I do have to stay after my mental health. There have been times and there will be times in the future when it almost feels like too much.”

Nancy Hollander

The first time Nancy Hollander got arrested, she was 17, a pre-med freshman at the University of Michigan refusing to move at a sit-in for fair housing at Ann Arbor’s city hall.

Nancy Hollander with Mohamedou Salahi outdoors in a lush, green environment

Nancy Hollander with Mohamedou Salahi. Photo: Courtesy Nancy Hollander

Three years later, she was arrested again during an anti-apartheid sit-in on Wall Street. After graduating from Michigan, Hollander moved to Chicago and was arrested for her third – and last – time while she was taking pictures of police at City Hall during a demonstration.

Since fleeing a chaotic marriage with her toddler son and taking off for Albuquerque with nothing besides their clothes and her cameras, Hollander dropped the idea of becoming a doctor, earned a law degree and has used it for more than 40 years in the defense of civil rights, the rule of law and some famously unpopular criminal defendants.

The theme of her career has been standing up to authority.

“I don’t do well with authority,” Hollander says. She traces her rebellious streak to her parents – her father, a labor organizer in his youth, and her mother, a feminist who rose to be vice president at a major publishing company.

“My mother taught me at a young age to be a feminist,” Hollander says. Growing up in Dallas, Hollander was in elementary school when her mother handed her Henrik Ibsen’s critique of the patriarchy, “A Doll’s House,” and said, “Read this. It will make you a feminist.”

When Hollander landed at Michigan she quickly joined a student activism group that would become a chapter of Students for a Democratic Society and became its president, introducing Malcolm X at a campus event.

When she found herself in Albuquerque, working for the New Mexico Civil Liberties Union and looking for another career, she found her life’s calling in law school.

“The only thing I wanted to do was criminal defense work,” says Hollander. “I never was interested in anything else. I like to say I’ve been fighting the government since I was 17 and got arrested in Ann Arbor, but now sometimes I get paid to do it.”

After 14 months with the Public Defender, Hollander joined what was then Freedman, Boyd and Daniels and quickly became a national name.

She, along with others in the firm, defended Wen Ho Lee, a Los Alamos National Laboratory mechanical engineer who was accused in 1999 of stealing nuclear secrets and giving them to China. After he was held in solitary confinement for nearly a year, the government’s case crumbled and all but one of the charges were dropped in 2000. As part of a settlement, he pled guilty to improper handling of restricted data. The judge overseeing the case apologized to Lee for the way the case had been handled.

That same year, Hollander sued the government on behalf of União do Vegetal, a Brazil-based religious organization with congregations in New Mexico after customs agents seized hoasca tea, which contains a small amount of an illegal hallucinogen. In 2006, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of União do Vegetal, affirming its members’ right to use the tea as a sacrament.

Hollander teamed with Duncan to defend a top official of the Holy Land Foundation, the largest Muslim charity in the country, against federal charges the charity conspired to support Palestinian militant group Hamas.

She and partner Vince Ward (’01 JD) handled Army Private Chelsea Manning’s appeal of her court martial and sentence of 35 years in military prison under the Espionage Act for disclosing thousands of military documents to WikiLeaks, and also represented Manning in her appeal for clemency, which President Obama granted, commuting Manning’s sentence in 2017 after she had spent seven years in prison.

And she and Duncan had earlier, in 2005, teamed to take on the habeas corpus case of Mohamedou Salahi, held in Guantanamo, Cuba, by U.S. authorities under suspicion of terrorism.

Hollander and Duncan traveled frequently to Guantanamo to meet with Salahi and another of their clients, Abd Al-Rahim Al-Nashiri, a Saudi/Yemeni who is alleged to have been the mastermind behind the bombing of the U.S.S. Cole.

In 2010, Hollander wrote an op-ed for the International Herald Tribune titled “A Terrorist Lawyer, and Proud of It,” in which she defended herself and other attorneys who represented those imprisoned at Guantanamo.

While Hollander has grown a thick skin against criticism during her decades defending people accused of horrible crimes, it was the suggestion that lawyers who defend terrorism suspects are disloyal to the country that pushed Hollander to speak out.

“Contrary to recent attacks by those who claim to be supporters of American justice, my defense of people accused of serious and sometimes horrific crimes is not an endorsement of those crimes,” she wrote. “Rather, it is a testament to the strength of my belief in, and commitment to, the American system of justice.”

Hollander now handles al-Nashiri’s cases only in foreign courts including the European Court of Human Rights and the International Criminal Court, which means she no longer travels to Guantanamo.

Nancy Hollander wearing an orange long sleeve button up shirt with Ahmed Salahi, Mohamedou Salahi’s son and her godson

Hollander with Ahmed Salahi, Mohamedou Salahi’s son and her godson.

“For me, she says, “it has been a bit of a blessing. I hated going there. I hated leaving Mohamedou. We’d walk out and we’d hug. I’d start crying. He’d said, ‘No, don’t cry.’ I just hated leaving him there.”

While handling Salahi’s habeas corpus case, Hollander and Duncan also fought to get the memoir he had written while at Guantanamo released so it could be published. “Guantanamo Diary” was published in 2015 and was the basis for the film, The Mauritanian.

Hollander and Duncan negotiated film rights to the book and while it was in development Hollander thought about who might play her if the movie ever came to screen.

“People tell me sometimes that I look like Helen Mirren when my hair’s short,” Hollander says. “Then, all of a sudden it was Jodie (Foster) and I said, ’Wow!’”

Foster’s Hollander character has some aspects taken directly from the real-life Hollander: the bright red fingernails, the fast cars and a curt demeanor.

Other aspects are fiction, notably Foster’s wigs of steel-gray helmet hair and her absence of a sense of humor.

“I’m the first living real person she’s played,” Hollander notes. “She wrote to me and she said (the portrayal) will be some of you and some of me. And it wasn’t an impersonation. I think she’s meaner than I am. I think she’s harsher than I am. (Although some of my friends would disagree with that.) I’ve gotten used to it now because I’ve seen the movie so many times. But it was just an odd feeling to see someone else being me.”

Foster, in an interview with Deadline, the entertainment industry news site, said, “I always say, even though I dress like her in the movie, and we look a little bit alike, the real Nancy is a lot nicer than my Nancy. No, way nicer.”

When the movie was released, Hollander did weeks of Zoom press interviews. She was at home watching the Golden Globes ceremony on TV when Foster won the best supporting actress award.

“And I thought if it hadn’t been for COVID, I’d be somewhere with her in a fancy dress,” Hollander says.

Despite her international acclaim, Hollander still describes herself as “a down-in-the-dirt criminal defense lawyer.”

She moved to New York about three years ago to make international travel more convenient. She sold her condo in Albuquerque and all of her furniture and shipped her BMW to Florida to be inherited by a teenage granddaughter.

“I don’t own anything,” says Hollander, who rents an apartment on the Upper West Side and stays with a friend when she comes to Albuquerque to work and visit her standard poodle Luna, who she co-parents with a friend. She is also perhaps the only woman in Manhattan who comes to Albuquerque to get her hair done, returning for cuts to her longtime stylist Roberto Vasquez.

At 77, Hollander is less of a trial warrior these days.

“I don’t want to have to go to court. Trials are really stressful,” she says. “I’ll do cases – edit briefs, maybe argue some things. I have trouble with the word retirement. I don’t like it.  I like to say that I’m changing. “

Pin It on Pinterest