TO-WIT: MOOT POINT
At firstI wasn't interested. "Nah," I told my long time friend and colleague who had called to ask me, "I really don't want to do it."
"You know," he said, "you'll get a free lunch." "I'd like to help you out," I lied, "but..." "And you'll get an hour of CLE credit."
"I'll be there."
And so it was that I agreed - although I think "coerced" more aptly describes it - to serve as a juror for a local Moot Court Competition. I had fallen a few credits short of my annual CLE requirement t h i s year and I was scrambling to make up the deficit. Serving as a moot court juror seemed less taxing than the more traditional classroom-like offerings, and as an added bonus, I wouldn't have to remember a thing.
Each year a number of colleagues offer to coach teams of high school students in the National Moot Court Competition, sort of like a legal little league, but some take it far too seriously. A few years ago, a lawyer-coach verbally assaulted a student viciously for botching a hearsay objection. Crushed by the onslaught, the poor kid abandoned his dream of being a lawyer and instead went on to medical school where, to his great relief, he never had to think again.
At the appointed time, I walked into the courtroom and took my place in the jury box. And what a jury it was too, comprised of all the best lawyers in town and me. It soon became obvious that this was a mock murder case and immediately I could hear grousing from the entire panel. We'd all been hoping for a sex crime.
One of our local judges was presiding and as soon as she took the bench and said "Counselor, you may begin," I knew she intended to give this experience all the solemnity of a real trial. Otherwise she might simply have said "You, the kid with the purple hair, get started."
The opening statements were presented pretty well. The prosecutor introduced herself to the judge, the jury, the spectators, instructed us to not form any opinions until all facts were in and then took her seat. A hush f e l l over the courtroom and persisted until Judge called her up to the bench and suggested that she might want to also include in her opening
statement a few facts about the case. Gee, so far it was just like a real trial. Having sought and received permission to open following the Prosecutor's statement, defense counsel laid out his version of the facts succinctly and effectively and then sat down. Immediately from the rear of the courtroom, some pon poms appeared, a cheer went up, and a bevy of mixed gender cheerleaders, each wearing a large "D" on t h e i r white V-neck sweaters, stormed to the jury box chanting "Inky dinky, inky dinky, one, two, three, do the justice thing and set defendant free. Yaaay Team." They threw confetti into the air, one of them did a back flip and then they all dashed back to their seats. I made a mental note to give that gambit a try during my next medical malpractice case. Sure, it may not help much, but the way things are, nothing could hurt.
When the Prosecutor asked her first witness his name, all three members of the defense team, as i f driven by some hidden clock mechanism, rose in unison. "I object to the question," one said. " It's a leading question," another stated. “And, 'according to the case of Cockamamy V . Balderdash," said the third, " it calls for a hearsay conclusion in violation of the
parole evidence rule, the rule against perpetuities and the Rule in Shelley's Case." Then they all sat down in unison, and I swear I could hear a cuckoo clock door slam shut.
Each of us on the jury drew a sharp breath. Wow! An incomprehensible and t o t a l l y bogus objection, laden with inapplicable authority and uttered with such sincerity as to be almost plausible. These kids were good.
Parry, thrust, parry, thrust, feint, bob, weave, that's pretty much how it went. It played out as if it had been scripted, an automaton of a trial, a rendition of a trial by kids at play. But if nothing they were prepared, and that, more than anything, gave it away as an amateur performance.
In the jury room we were asked to rate each team by points. "I didn't understand the defense's objection to the testimony of the forensic expert that no proper groundwork had been laid," one juror asked. "No one does," replied another, "that's the whole point of the objection."
So we picked a winner, had lunch and I got my much needed CLE credit. Perhaps best of all, I thoroughly enjoyed making fun of someone else's legal work, even if they were only students. I helped these kids hone their skills and they in turn did the same for me, and really, wasn't that the whole point?
© 2006, S. Sponte, Esq.