The ironing board is out.  First time have used one for anything but dinner napkins in decades.  Have no choice.  The black jumpsuit am going to wear is super wrinkled.  Turn it inside out and press.  Not perfect but it will do.  Throw on with white jacket.  Add puffy coat.  Walk out the hotel door and get hit with a blast of frigid wind that about turns my hair straight.

Last night after 11, JHB sent us his additional deposition designations.   He wrote out the line and page numbers on a yellow pad.  Took photos of the pad.  And sent them to us.  Earlier yesterday he had told the court they could total maybe 30 lines.  Not even close.  They are so voluminous that they eclipse our designations. 

As we begin the day JHB tells the court he wants reconsideration of the order allowing the Belize officer’s testimony.  And rehashes everything all over again.  The only thing keeping me from being totally angry, is the spectacle of his faux country lawyer’s outfit. 

Eleven years ago, I had a birthday party bash.  Rented Century Ballroom on top of Capitol Hill.  Inside it looked like a scene from the Rocky Horror Picture show.  Faded dark red velvet and a massive wooden dance floor.  The theme was disco 70s and no one was allowed in without a costume.  Paul Stritmatter our senior partner, had a collection of plaid polyester suits that he had saved from that era.    Several of the members of the firm dressed up in these suits including Paul.  We had a rollicking good time.

When my eyes alight upon JHB am taken directly back to the memory of that costume party.  He has outdone himself.  So much better than yesterday’s humble look.  Casual kaki pants with double stitching down the legs so it is absolutely clear they are not slacks.  Blue shirt.  But the masterpiece is his jacket.  It may not be polyester. But still - full out disco brown plaid.  All topped off with a shiny golden paisley tie that does not match anything.  Bravo! I say to myself.  Worthy of an Oscar for best costume design. This will keep me entertained for the rest of the day.

The third panel walks in.  We all stick to our same scripts.  A few jurors are removed because they know the plaintiff family and would not be able to be fair.  Between each break, JHB and I wrestle in front of the judge.  Deposition objection retread.  But other things happen too.  Like for instance JHB’s expert had a heart attack on Monday and he wants him to be able to testify remotely.  Now you’d think that I would be compassionate and agreeable.  But no.  I tell the court that if JHB had acted like a grown up and talked to me as a grown up maybe we could have worked this out.  But I object to motion by ambush.  Plus we had previously brought such a motion for our own witnesses and he opposed it.

Then I request that the Court instruct the defense not to refer to the decedent by his nickname which would be disrespectful.  Instead if defendant wants she can call him Mr. Mc, or My Husband, or My Uncle her choice.   Oh there are some furious body movements that I can see out the corner of my eye even though the podium almost completely blocks defendant from my sight.  Can feel the burst of anger that emanates from her.  JHB feigns naivety as the court agrees that the respectful title should be used.

As we begin packing up for lunch Judge K chuckles and says for at least the third time (once each day) – you know in the old days attorneys would really go at it but nowadays things are usually so much more civilized.  But… and he looks at the two of us.  And I fill in his thought:  we go at it pretty good.

In the afternoon we meet with a few jurors privately.  One knows a witness of ours and trusts him very much.  JHB wants her off and I argue against it.  Judge K let’s her go.  As I am taking some papers over to the clerk, there is some discussion going on in court.  It appears that when that juror was let go she passed the defendant in the hall and defendant had words with her.  The jury coordinator saw it and has raised it with the court.  Judge K tells defendant she is not to talk to the jurors.   But that is not good enough I say.  Yesterday she spoke to them during voir dire and now she does this.  Clearly something stronger needs to be said.  So Judge K tells her that he is instructing her not to speak to any juror and if she does so again she will be held in contempt.  An excellent moment.

We pick the final jury – 12 plus 4 alternates who know they are alternates.  They leave.  Judge asks:  anything else.  And JHB goes back to whining about being misled about the depositions which were not perpetuation depositions but were allowed to be used at trial due to unavailability of the witnesses in Belize.    It is just too much.  I am juvenile and make snarky comments.  The judge doesn’t seem to mind.  JHB keeps saying:  she’s trying to bait me and I’m not going go for that.  But he does.

Tomorrow the judge is out for the morning.  We will go straight into openings in the afternoon.

 Photo: My shadow as I snap the pretty side of the courthouse.