Trial Diary Day 8: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder trial
It’s the end of the day. Driving back to the hotel. On the phone with best friend Shellie. Trying to explain what trial is like. And the only word that does it justice is – war. It is war Shellie. In all my years of trying cases, I have never been in a trial like this. Where the defense attorney and I literally detest each other. And it is all playing out in front of the jury. Because the judge is not restraining us at all. JHB is a bully of the highest order. And many years ago my mother taught me what to do about bullies.
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Trial Diary Day 7: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
Rain fell last night. The sun has risen. Look through the window over the top of Fatburger. It is a sparkling cool but beautiful blue day in George, Washington.
Today am wearing a flouncy flowered skirt topped with a beige jacket. Hair ruthlessly clipped back. When I was in college one of my favorite tv characters was Veronica Hamel who played an attorney in The Hill Street Blues. I don’t know if there had been a female attorney before on tv – but she was iconic. She had black longer hair which was not stick straight and she wore it clipped back simply. When I pull my hair back it’s like channeling her.
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Hammer Time: Responding to an obnoxious defense lawyer letter
It’s Friday afternoon. Hmmmm. What sounds like something fun to do. Why - how about respond to an obnoxious defense lawyer letter. Notice the operative word here. Not what do I have to do. Or what am I angry about. But what’s an upbeat way to end the week.
There is something super satisfying about fencing with a ponderously grumpy opponent.
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Trial Diary Day 6: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
We had trial day 5 on Friday – a day when we should have been able to work on other cases or prep for trial. From 9 to 3:45. Furhad stayed with JHB in Grant County but I had driven home. At least trial for me mercifully was via Webex in the comfort of lululemon with nala at my side. It was nothing but aggravating and did not deserve its own trial diary entry with one notable exception.
In this era of being respectful of other people’s pronouns, the court, JHB and Furhad all decided to not be able to know how to address me.
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The nonsense of requiring us to hire someone to video a zoom deposition.
In a case where 100s of depositions need to be taken, we asked the City of Seattle and King County to agree that instead of hiring a videographer plus a court reporter for each zoom deposition. That we be allowed to push the record button during the zoom session.
Predictably the answer was(a shocked): oh no! No no no. Pushing the zoom button will just not do.
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Trial Diary Day 4: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
m 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.
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Trial Diary Day 3: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
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.
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Trial Diary Day 2: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
Grant County has a beautiful old courthouse façade set back on a majestic green lawn. But it is not where superior court is. No. If you enter via those pretty portals you have a winding path to follow. First you have to walk to the end of the hall. Down the stairs. Go outside. Across a cement patio. To a separate soulless block of a building with no windows. That is where we are trying cases. And so I enter through that ugly back entrance properly today.
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Trial Diary Day 1: McNamara v. Nessl civil murder case
March 7, 2022
Trial Day 1
Wake up in gray hotel room. There’s a text from Furhad - our first year associate who will help me in trial. He’s going to the courthouse and leaving at 8.
Smile. The doors won’t be open then but okay. Send him text – telling him so and that I’ll be there at 8:45.
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Deposition hell: dealing with the poorly mentored defense baby lawyer
My consistently biggest irritation is the defense lawyer who wastes time for the sake of the billable hour. The typical arena for this involves inefficient taking of depositions. What could be done in an hour - takes four. Or worse - the deposition isn’t needed at all. Add to this the specter of the brand new defense attorney who has not been properly mentored. And it is enough to drive me absolutely wild.
There is a defense firm that I don’t particularly like. It has a problem retaining associates. This means there is a constant stream of new JDs going in and out of there. Two weeks ago, they sic’d one on me.
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Saturday before trial out of town
7:50 wake up
8:00 don’t get up
9:00 get up
9:15 pull out computer and sit down to begin
9:20 don’t begin
9:25 make microwave breakfast
9:30 eat breakfast. Skim news
9:40 pull out computer to begin
9:45 don’t begin
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The Year Lani Guinier Came to Town
The year was 2008 and I was president of the state trial lawyers association then called WSTLA (now WSAJ). Every year the president had the honor of presiding over the law day dinner. A formal sit down event filled with lawyers and judges.
I had attended many such events over the years and particularly enjoyed the inspiration offered by the key note speaker. One of my favorites was Morris Dees - of the Southern Poverty Law Center. Who told stories of civilly prosecuting white supremacists and then bankrupting their organizations. He gave me chills.
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Dear Grandma - thoughts on your legacy
Dear Grandma.
I only knew you through my mom who lost you when she was 14. She idolized you. I spent many hours looking at the handful of photos she had of you. Starting with the one where you stood next to Gong Gong on you marriage day. You never smiled in your pictures. I wouldn’t have either if my marriage had been arranged.
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Happy covid holiday - solitary style
Last night was rough. Spend three hours looking up everything that possibly exists about omicron, isolation, transmission, and dying. Lie in the tub for two hours. Which is a world record. As I head for bed, think: well maybe this is my last night on earth. May not wake up tomorrow.
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The story of my incredible immune system, 2 vaccines and a booster.
Wake up happy. Have been back in Seattle 4 days after 10 spent in Manhattan. Went to a Bach concert at Lincoln Center. Saw Wicked on Broadway. Two movies at the theater up the street. Italian dinner with my neighbors. Ran around Central Park every morning before work. Bliss.
We’ve finished our year end work for the firm partnership. I’ve given the great news to all the associates. Will finish up telling staff today. But first - off to cookie decorating with my daughter’s family. Can’t wait to see them. Sniffle. Ignore it.
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Ugly racist targets Ed after the Charleena Lyles settlement is announced
When you champion a Black mother of 4 who is shot and killed by the police in her own home. When the City agrees to pay $3.5 M after 4 years of litigation. And even though you practice in Seattle and feel safe to be a person of color as you fight these battles. There is an ugly reality that cannot be escaped.
Shortly after our firm’s press conference - which I led and Ed spoke at with great eloquence and passion. A wretched racist - who spat with venom as he ranted - left a message on Ed’s phone…
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Side eyes and the importance of our trial lawyer faces
aving an expressive face does not have to be a disaster.
But when I was a young lawyer, I had not quite figured out how to control it. And this got me into trouble.
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Back to the city: A trial lawyer transition
6:30 Look at clock on phone with one eye. 30 more minutes to go.
7:00 Look at it again. Make bargain with self for ten more minutes
7:10 Get up. Am surrounded by the zen beauty of the cedar walls in the cabin. All is silent.
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Reclaiming the merit of "pain and suffering"
I’m running with Nala. Up near Kerry Park. The “Sleepless in Seattle” vantage point. We are a little late. Trying to get in run before heading to airport. To Austin TX to visit Noelle and JonJon for the weekend. Turn up a street to go a shorter route than usual. Nala’s leash hooks on a truck bumper. She jerks one way. I jerk the other. Down I go. Slow motion. Watch as my right knee jags to the left and back to the right. Fortunately I run slow.
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The child who is now a man.
There used to be a club called Mr. Lucky that was directly across the street from the sonics arena at the Seattle Center. On April 19, 2004, at 2 am when the club emptied out into the parking a large fight broke out involving two dozen people. Security more or less let them go at it.
Phuon Mensaveng was a 24 year old father no bigger than I. He was in the melee. A tall bodybuilder type took a four foot metal pipe and swung it as had as he could at Phoun’s face, knocking him to the ground. As Phuon lay dying, people began to kick him. It was ugly. Hideous.
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