I know, I know, prostitution is still technically illegal. So is marijuana. But let's be serious. If you're young and stupid and like rock and/or roll and/or hip and/or hop, it's okay to light up a "doobie." And if you're a refined white man of means with a cufflink collection, fashion-forward socks, and a Rolodex of dudes who are on wife number three and Lexus number four, you're entitled to stick your dick wherever you want if you've paid fair market value for the privilege. It's as American as buying GE stock and golfing at a club where minorities are rarer than holes in one.
In any event, former SMU dean John Attanasio was arrested recently on vague prostitution-related charges. Remember that everyone is innocent until proven guilty (or, you know, forced to plead with a chandelier of Damocles's knives hanging over one's head by a single thread). I know in modern media times, we're like a digital lynch mob, but I'm going to take the high road and assume that - just like Paul Pless - he's innocent and was framed or duped by some fraudulent scheme.
After all, no sophisticated consumer could get caught picking up a hooker, right?
Here's a hypothetical that explains how many of these things might happen with an upstanding law dean:
FEMALE: Oh! Hi, law dean!
DEAN: Hello, future empress of dynastic legal change.
FEMALE: Oh, you! I prefer guillotine in the coming doctrinal revolution.
DEAN: I would love to accept you in my school, which is a spring training ground for legal shortstops who want to turn two and then hit a triple in the bottom half.
FEMALE: That sounds great! Can I pay you full tuition so you can teach me to be an eloquent flamethrower of jurisprudential burns in the arid courtroom climate?
DEAN: Perhaps. I can't help but notice you're practically naked standing on this street corner. You can't be a pioneering trailblazer leading the wagons of justice wearing lingerie.
FEMALE: I know!
DEAN: Let me make you a deal. If you come to my law school, I'll give you a scholarship of half-off so you can start being a courtroom Eskimo building persuasive igloos with ice blocks of truth and diversity.
DEAN: $20k a year, an excellent price to become a walking blowjob of sublime justice wearing the immortal lipstick of Constitutionality.
POLICE: Up against the wall, everyone!
FEMALE: Oh, I wish I were already a legal lyricist crafting the grand libretto in the opera of truth! Mr. Law Dean, O capeless crusader, use your magical powers!
DEAN: Shut up, ho, I'm calling a friend who knows what he's doing.
I have no idea what happened with the former SMU dean and the above is wildly made-up, but making stuff up and presenting it as some version of the truth is a tradition we in the legal industry hold quite dear.