We Don’t Spend Three Years in Law School For Nothing
The extended entry has a rare glimpse into the big-time lawyering we do here in Los Angeles.
It was the end of a long day in preliminary hearing court. We were finishing a hearing that normally would have taken about 15 minutes, but actually took almost an hour and a half, because the defense attorney had chosen to do an unusually detailed cross-examination.
When it came time for argument, the judge’s patience had clearly worn a bit thin. I decided that, no matter how long-winded the defense attorney’s legal argument was, I would make sure that my response was crisp, short, and to the point.
What follows is from the actual court transcript. (Mr. Price is the defense attorney; I am Mr. Frey.) You can be the judge of how well I achieved my goal of brevity:
You can see that the argument was successful; the motion to dismiss was denied. And the next day the judge told me it was one of the best arguments she had ever heard.
I think you should have said, “I know you are but what am I?”
Imagine some law clerk of the future stumbling across THAT in thirty years.
Comment by j.d. — 6/14/2005 @ 9:48 pm
The soul of wit….
Now if you can condense future interests into something so brief, I’ll be eternally grateful.
Comment by Christopher Cross — 6/14/2005 @ 11:21 pm
That property woman for Bar/bri was the worst lecturer ever.
Comment by Angry Clam — 6/14/2005 @ 11:24 pm
Remind me to try that down in Division 30 next week
Comment by Nick — 6/15/2005 @ 1:02 am
I didn’t know you were an attorney.
But it shows.
Comment by The Commissar — 6/15/2005 @ 6:23 am
Too bad it wasn’t on “court TV”. I’m sure the expressions on the faces of the defense lawyer and the defendent would have made it to the “Highlights of the Week”.
I do like the comment the defense lawyer made, but in my experience as a witness and as a juror, it is more in that direction that the comment should be aimed, but in that instance the judge would need to concur. (Really, my one time on a jury the defense attorney clearly obscured the truth, I almost raised my hand to tell the judge, “Sir, he just lied.”, but I figured that was not how things were usually done. (The trick almost worked, too. I am in favor of some test of critical thinking skills to enable a person to be a juror. I don’t care if one can read or not, but to know when someone is telling you 2+2=5 on the afternoon in question is another thing…)
MD in Philly
Comment by MD in Philly — 6/15/2005 @ 8:05 am
Having the guts to shut up
Knowing when to shut up takes excellent judgment, confidence in oneself, and confidence in the judge or jury before whom one is arguing. But when one has those qualities and the guts to apply them, it’s sublime . And the judges are genuinely grateful.
Trackback by BeldarBlog — 6/15/2005 @ 9:06 am
Clam,
So you didn’t like the singing BarBri lectures?
Comment by Christopher Cross — 6/15/2005 @ 2:28 pm
I would have taken six more words to make the same point. You win!
Comment by HT — 6/15/2005 @ 10:17 pm
That is absolutely the best rebuttal ever. I bet the courtroom staff loved it, too. Bless you. You would be adored here and that remark would become legendary.
Comment by Peggy — 6/16/2005 @ 7:05 am
Classic. Many legal writers could learn some tips from this one as well.
Comment by Justin Levine — 6/16/2005 @ 4:10 pm
My partner has on his wall 2 framed pages, one being his “Brief in Opposition to Plaintiff’s Motion for Reconsideration” and the second the Court’s Order Denying Plaintiff’s Motion. The Brief says, in toto–”They must be kidding.” The Order says: “Plaintiff’s Motion is denied for the reasons stated in Defendant’s Brief.”
Comment by Sklein11 — 6/27/2005 @ 9:49 am
Sklein11,
That beats my story hands down. I love it!
Comment by Patterico — 6/27/2005 @ 4:00 pm