Trial day 4    

Am sitting in a room that is 8 x 6 ‘.  Lynette the jury coordinator let me in.  My own private cubicle to stay during the lunch hour.  The desk is a cabinet with drawers. I love it all.

We started at 11 this morning because the judge had a conflict.  One hour to argue.  One hour to get frustrated arguing about the same three blasted depositions.

JHB is all over the place.  Yet am not fooled.  He is persistent and dogged and even if he’s wrong that is his schtick.   He complains when I speak without first asking if he’s done.  And yes.  I interrupt him because some of his pauses last a minute.  And because it is all intolerable regurgitation.  And he tells the court he would appreciate if I won’t interrupt him but the court doesn’t tell me not to.  Judge K just tells him to continue.  And as I hear this all for the 10th time, try to find a place of zen and fail.  I give into the joy of rolling my eyes with spectacular force.

It doesn’t matter that I know the rules and have followed them.  It doesn’t matter that I am succinct and eloquent.  It doesn’t matter even that I am correct.  The court has the discretion to make its rulings and when it does there is nothing about how well I performed that means squat.

Judge K stands on his prior rulings.  Our designations come in as we designated and as he so ruled days and weeks ago.  But under CR 32a4 and ER 106 he is going to allow JHB to do additional late designations.  Because there is no way for this to be done pragmatically since the deps have been edited and two of these are our first witnesses, JHB agrees he will read his excerpts in his case in chief versus interrupting our videos.  Small solace.

We break for lunch.  And as I sit here still gnashing my teeth instead of focusing on opening I realize.  Need to diary it quickly and get all of that anger and frustration out of my system.  Done.

1:00 and time for me to leave the cubicle.  Turn the knob.  Whoa.  Am locked in.  Turn it this way.  Then that way.  Wow I say out loud.  On the other side of the door Furhad says – turn the handle all the way.  I am I say.  But something clicks and it opens.  He’s laughing at me.  I deserve it.

We start walking towards the courtroom door on the other side of the hall.  Clients are there.  We go in and start setting up.  Oh!  I say.  Do you have the faux gun.  Yes he does.  It’s in a manilla envelope marked fake gun.  I need you to show me again… I say, and gesture towards C and Furhad to follow me.  We can’t do this in here.  Let’s go find somewhere outside.  But the cubicle is locked.  We have about 5 minutes before showtime.  Come into my office I say, and escort them into the women’s restroom which is a one room affair.  We lock ourselves in and practice shooting me in the back of the head.  It is difficult and I cannot get it right.  Leave.  Return to courtroom.  Get set up.

Step one remove the giant podium.  When I’m behind that thing you can see from my neck up.  It’s no problem for JHB who’s over a foot taller than me.  I want it gone.  F sets up the easel.  Laptop and clicker.  Check.  Jury enters.  Judge K tells them Plaintiff now is going to give opening statement.

This takes about 45 minutes.  Part of the length is because while telling the story I am creating a family tree diagram and a second timeline of the relationship/money diagram.  I do this nice and slowly.  JHB had objected to me using the PPT for anything other than exhibits without words.  So am building the charts.  Which is actually better.  Because it slows the whole process down.  Lets it sink in.  Chart #1 is the family tree. Chart #2 is the financial transfer of wealth from Mr. Mc to Def over the course of their relationship.

Then we get to the night of the incident and what can I say.  The moment seizes me.

Def discovers Mr. Mc on the back of the porch lying there.  But doesn’t call 911.  Instead she lays down and “spoons” him for at least an hour.  This has always struck me as absolutely ridiculous.  As am telling the story it feels that words are not enough. 

Take laptop stand.  Lay it on the courtroom floor.  Am in a lovely new jacket that is the pink mauve color of a hibiscus. Black skirt.  Black and white silk camisole.  Tights and boots.  Don’t give attire a second thought.  Am down on the ground.  But cannot see the jury.  There is a built in first pew that blocks the view.  From the ground say:  your honor permission for the jury to stand up.  He says:…sure.  They stand up.  All their faces peer down at me.  The ones in the back row craning forward.   Demonstrate the spoon.  My chest to his back.  Arm wrapped around him.

We end with Furhad saving the day.  JHB goes next and while he’s at it tosses in everything he can think of to take a swipe at our story.  At one point he begins to tell the jury that his client is presumed innocent.  Catches himself after presumed…  This is not about morality it’s about the facts is his mantra.  Still thinking that if he does not talk about or acknowledge the uncle/niece alleged marriage relationship that it doesn’t matter. Then goes on the offensive.  Claiming J the Plaintiff daughter  has committed perjury in a separate lawsuit (despite sidebar objection the court does not stop him from doing this although JHB says he will use a different word in the future).  And that C the Plaintiff son gave money to the police in Belize to allegedly pay off a debt.  Insinuating that he paid them off.

He is done and Furhad is waiving the MIL at me.  I had not been given a signed copy yet.  But F is paying attention.  The whole money thing was subject to an offer of proof before it could be mentioned.

Take that MIL.  March up to the judge and ask for sidebar.  Wave it around.  Court looks at JHB says: you violated this.  JHB says: well it will come in.  Court says: you violated it.  And turns to me: what do you suggest.  And I say: either you give a curative instruction or allow me rebuttal.  He agrees to rebuttal.

Retake the mic.  Tell jury that claims of alleged bribery are false.  The full story is that Def’s son had been deported from Belize earlier.  $150 was still owing.  And when she did not pay it off when asked, the Plaintiff son who was sitting right next to her at the time did so.

We end with enough time to show our two lay depositions from Belize.  Call it a day.  Get in car.  Begin drive home.  First stop at Conoco for gas and realize can never do that again because it is filing at the rate of a buck every two minutes.  15 minutes later have gotten 8 gallons worth.  On the other hand am able to change into sweat pants and uggs.

 Photo: hotel room trial outfit selfie