I can just imagine Chris's public defenders face, being given a file wider than the girth of his own dick, he flips it to the bio and sees "Christine Chandler" next to a picture that is quite clearly a tub of lard who just hasn't had a hair cut in years and marching into a small, sterile room and being presented with a fat, stupid motherfucker who smells like sweat, cat piss and BO, and before he even gets the chance to introduce himself, Chris yells "I need to go home! I need my THINGS!".
It isn't Chris who needs the GoFundMe at this point. That public defender has to go home every night and tell his wife to fill the tub with tabasco and tomato juice and burn his suit.