But recently Ray secured an achievement rarely seen by even the most experienced of attorneys on the outside: The U.S. Supreme Court agreed to hear arguments in one of his cases.

Legal experts estimate the high court accepts less than 1 percent of the thousands of cases it receives each year. The court's action was even more extraordinary in this instance, because the appeal was drawn up by a prisoner who earns 29 cents an hour and does not even have a college degree, much less a law school education.

"This is basically a once-in-a-lifetime for a good criminal defense attorney, so you can imagine I'm on cloud nine, with my background," the 42-year-old Ray said with a laugh during a recent phone interview from a federal prison in Estill, about 100 miles south of Columbia.

He will not argue the case himself when it comes up in March. Only those admitted to the bar of the U.S. Supreme Court can do that. He will not even be allowed out of prison to attend the hearing.

Ray has been behind bars for much of his adult life for various fraud schemes. A former paralegal on the outside, he is nearing the end of a six-year sentence handed down after he pleaded guilty to various offenses, including passing a bad check for about $285,000 as part of a real estate scheme in Myrtle Beach.

"I just have a real problem with financial institutions, and I'm a self-proclaimed addicted gambler," he said.

As a prison law clerk, Ray files petitions and draws up motions for inmates who ask for his help. He keeps current on legal issues by reading professional journals and has joined several legal associations, including the American Bar Association.

"They're probably not super proud to have me as a member, but I do pay my dues every year," said Ray, who is also trying to complete his undergraduate degree through a correspondence course.

The Connecticut Appeals Court has ruled a 1995 pact struck by two widowed sisters to split each other’s future gambling winnings is still binding despite the fact they no longer speak to one another.

The decision paves the way for a public family feud pitting Theresa Sokaitis, 81, against Rose Bakaysa, 85, over a $500,000 Powerball jackpot Bakaysa hit on June 18, 2005, but doesn’t want to share with her estranged sibling.

Sokaitis is suing Bakaysa for breach of contract. Bakaysa’s attorney, William Sweeney Jr., told the Herald in November Sokaitis is a “gold digger.”

“We’re going to go to trial court and battle it out,” Sokaitis’ Boston attorney, Sean Higgins, said. She was, he said, “extremely excited by the court’s decision. She’s obviously elated for the chance to prove that she is entitled to her share of the money.”

Unlike Massachusetts, a bygone Connecticut law still frowns upon private wagering contracts. However, two appellate judges, in overruling Connecticut Superior Court Judge Patty Pittman’s 2006 summary judgment awarding the money to Bakaysa, found the notarized agreement between the sisters was not induced by the guarantee of hard cash, “but rather their mutual promises to one another to share in any winnings they received.”

Though Connecticut now widely embraces many forms of gambling, Appeals Court Judge William Lavery cast the lone dissenting vote against Sokaitis, stating in written remarks that “money” was the motivation behind the deal. “We must assume that it was the intent of the Legislature to continue to prohibit wagering contracts like the one at issue in this case,” he said.

A court of appeal in October ruled that a jury should determine if Brian Reid has evidence that Google routinely paid smaller bonuses and gave poorer performance reviews to older managers.

On Wednesday, the state high court said it would review that decision.

The Mountain View-based company has denied Reid's allegations but also refuses to say why he was fired. In court documents, the company said Reid was fired when the program he managed was canceled.

Reid sued Google in July 2004, five months after he lost his job as its director of operations.

A Brazilian doctor charged with manslaughter in an immigrant's liposuction death tried to plead guilty Wednesday, but the judge instead set the case for trial after the doctor contradicted prosecutors.

Luiz Carlos Ribeiro appeared in Superior Court to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter in a case that exposed an underground cosmetic surgery network used by Brazilian immigrants.

Prosecutors were giving a standard recitation of the facts they could have proved at trial when Ribeiro, 51, told the judge he didn't agree with many of them, insisting he had a sterile surgical area and the proper resuscitation equipment when he performed the fat-removal surgery on Fabiola DePaula in the basement of a suburban condominium in July 2006.

DePaula, a 24-year-old Brazilian immigrant, died of complications from the surgery, including pulmonary fat emboli, or fat particles in the lungs.

Ribeiro insisted there was nothing that could have saved the woman.

"If I had 100 years, I would swear that I didn't kill anybody because I would never kill," Ribeiro told the judge. "Fabiola's death was sudden. I had no chance to do anything."

Prosecutors say Ribeiro performed liposuction, nose jobs and Botox injections for several years in the Framingham area, mostly for the town's large Brazilian immigrant population.

The procedures were performed on a massage table, under unsanitary conditions and without any emergency oxygen in place, authorities allege.

Judge Wendie Gershengorn scheduled the trial for April 3.

In September, Ribeiro's ex-wife, Ana Maria Miranda Ribeiro, was sentenced to one year in prison when she pleaded guilty to manslaughter and admitted acting as a nurse for her husband.

Luiz Ribeiro was a licensed doctor in his native Brazil, but neither he nor his ex-wife was licensed to practice medicine in the United States, authorities said.

His lawyer, Jeanne Earley, said after the hearing she was stunned the plea was not accepted. She was going to ask for a 2- to 2 1/2-year prison term. Prosecutors had planned to seek 6 to 8 years. He's already served about 18 months since his arrest.

"He's horrified as any doctor would be about the death of somebody. But he is a good doctor, has practiced medicine for many years in Brazil," she said.

Prosecutors said if the procedure had been monitored in a hospital, DePaula's death could have been prevented.

"We are confident that we have a strong case against the defendant and intend to prove that case in court," District Attorney Gerry Leone said in a statement Wednesday.

A panel of the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled there was no basis to John Demjanjuk's challenge of a December 2005 ruling that he could be deported to his native Ukraine or to Germany or Poland.

The government initially claimed Demjanjuk was the notoriously sadistic guard at the Treblinka camp known as "Ivan the Terrible." Officials later concluded that he was not, but a judge ruled in 2002 that documents from World War II prove Demjanjuk was a Nazi guard at various death or forced labor camps.

Demjanjuk, 87, lives in the Cleveland suburb of Seven Hills. He has steadfastly denied that he ever helped the Nazis, arguing that he served in the Soviet Army and was captured by Germany in 1942 and became a prisoner of war.