TO-WIT: HIGH KNOWN
The morning of the oral argument I woke up early, two a.m. early. The court would start hearing arguments at ten, but I already knew my case was way down on the list. I didn’t expect to argue until close to noon.
So with plenty of time on my hands until then, I pulled out the file and yet again reviewed my argument. I really didn’t need to do it, this argument would be short and sweet. I think my need to review the file one more time was to make sure I was sure.
As usual, I was representing a poor, misbegotten plaintiff and as almost always, defense counsel was a colleague on the clock of some filthy rich insurance company. She had, of course, filed preliminary objections to my complaint, that sort of colleague always does, and while such filings are typically meretricious, evidencing a greater knowledge of hourly billing than of law, such was not the case in this instance. Her argument, much to my initial dismay, had merit, big time merit, but I have intentionally used the past tense verb here because that was no longer so. About four months ago, after she had fled the preliminary objections, an appellate court reversed the long-standing line of cases upon which her preliminary objections were based, and I had complete confidence my opponent had no knowledge of it. That being so, my argument, mirabile dictu, would easily carry the day.
Oh, oh, oh, is there anything more glorious in all of the practice of law than knowing you know something that your opponent does not know, and that what you know will bring both defeat and humiliation to your opponent? Sometimes I don’t know which of the two I prefer. Well, that’s not really true, I know exactly which one I prefer.
I arrived at the courtroom early that morning, and I took a seat in the back where I began to rehearse the introductory remarks of my coupe de gras.
“May it please the court, the line of cases my esteemed colleague relies upon was reversed by the appellate court four months ago.”
No, that was no good, I could not get the word “esteemed” out.
“Your Honor, opposing counsel is a schnook.” Yeah, that was better.
As I sat and waited for the case to be called, I found myself drifting off into an assortment of fantastical reveries to augment my pending conquest. How lovely would it have been to have a spittoon at hand, so that no sooner had the word “schnook” cleared my lips than I could have unerringly let fly a wad of tobacco juice and spittle, the resultant taunting chime of wad striking brass punctuating the depth and breadth of my triumph.
My lack of attention was soon enough diverted back into reality when I heard the tipstaff call my case. Opposing counsel and I both took our respective places at our respective counsel’s tables.
Her presentation was very detailed, reciting every case in her brief, some twice, but not mentioning at all that her citations were no longer good law.
I was both brief and assured. I cited the court to the recent decision and then sat down, fait accompli. It felt good.
“Your Honor,” my opponent said quickly rising, “I am aware of the decision my esteemed colleague has cited, but it came from a three-judge panel. Quite honestly, I am a bit surprised he is unaware that yesterday the court en banc reversed that decision, thus validating my argument. I have a copy of the decision right here.” She then glanced sideways at me with the exact same withering, gloating smile I have been trying to catalyze for years.
Oh, oh, oh, is there anything more horrifying in all of the practice of law…..
© 2022, S. Sponte, Esq.