Lawyers Aren't People

Learning about the law tends to endow one with a massive superiority complex. Of course, most of us are riding an arrogant streak going into law school, which it generally reinforces. We don't necessarily feel superior when we look to our law peers, but when dealing with those untrained in the law, its really hard not to feel like Zeus with a thunderbolt. Your uncle asks "When your pants fall down in public, can you sue the pants company for causing you emotional distress?" You look at him and say "No, you schmuck." Then glare at him like an insolent child until he whimpers away.

Now, most of us probably don't actually say those things (I'm looking at everyone but you, Mad Dog), but even feeling the urge to say them kinda makes us bad people. Same thing with dealing with a client (or defendants, in my case) who feel the need to give you their entire frickin' life story when asked to spell their last name. We deal with legal matters; we listen for a few certain things of legal significance, and every extraneous word out of their mouth is doused with gasoline and dropped in the burn pile. So it takes a great deal of patience to learn how to deal with people. I hesitate to say "common" people or "lay" people; I'd call them "real" people, because what the hell have we done? We haven't been anywhere, we haven't done anything. We've read some books, we've listened to some crackpots, and now we are the collective shit. I try to remember these things if at all possible.

Then I get handed a pro se appellate brief, and I'm asked to begin crafting a response. Every bit of humility I try grasping to goes right out the window, and the thunderbolts start flying. Seriously, it took me an hour to read this thing - probably 40 pages long - because I had to pause for outbursts of laughter, as well as jotting down the particularly ingenious (read: bafflingly nonsensical) arguments. Quite a few of the words used are so advanced, they don't even exist yet. You tell me, what is "vertitude?" Also, what does it mean to "perservorate?" Apparently it's pretty compelling, because after using it once, the guy comes back to it, and describes one of the judge's actions with the adverb "perservoratively." I thought maybe this was a fictional outgrowth of "perservere" for a moment, but no, contextually that really wouldn't work.

Then there's the legalese. Holy mother of god, this had me rolling on the floor. Think of the worst attempts by a lay person of using inflated legalese you've ever heard, and then picture a 40 page brief containing nothing but this type of crap. He refers to phone calls as "telephonic verbalizations;" he always uses "necessitates" and "utilizes" rather than "needs" or "uses;" he always goes the extra mile and throws in extra syllables, even if the word no longer makes sense in context, and even if it is, in fact, no longer a word. Some other choice phrases -- "...that he had indeed per his own admission intentionally earlier varied his speed..." "Such unprovable misinformation he had initially formfit into his written rendition..." and "Translating such a visual cartographic diagram into a written paradigm will require extrapolation." (I like this one - much more loftier than saying "the picture will require explanation.")

I'd imagine the Court of Appeals has to enjoy wading through all the nonsense while trying to find actual legal argument, because I know I sure did. In fact, this was the guy's second submission. As in, the court rejected his first one, asked him to write a new brief that conforms to the rules of appellate briefs, and this is his revised version. I'm told his first one was even worse. Basically, his argument is an extremely slanted retelling of the facts, where he depicts the police officer as a liar, and the other witness as a liar, and asks the court to dismiss the case. Well, there are any number of things wrong with that, including a) appellate courts don't make factual findings, b) appellate courts don't judge credibility of witnesses, c) the second witness didn't even testify, because the case was so strong they didn't need him, d) the court wouldn't simply dismiss the case. There are any number of technical problems with the brief, not to mention the fact that there are simply zero legal arguments, with zero citations to actual legal authority.

So rather than drafting a response, I drafted a motion to dismiss, or alternatively forcing him to submit a new one that complies with...oh, let's say, ANY of the guidelines. My motion points out all of the problems with his brief, and why we can't legitimately be asked to form a response. I tried to temper the thunderbolts; the motion could really have been much harsher than it turned out. I was really tempted to use Easterbrook's line "Ten weasels are no more persuasive than one," but I left it out. (Well...I left it in a paragraph I didn't use; Eric is the lead attorney on the case, and knowing him, this line might end up in the final version anyway.)

I don't mean to knock pro se appellants. They have the right to have their cases heard just as much as anybody. And sometimes they have legitimate reasons for being unrepresented. But there are reasons we have guidelines that everyone is supposed to follow, including pro se appellants. Attempting to snow the Court of Appeals is a waste of everyone's time. The bottom line is, if you're an idiot, you're still going to sound like an idiot, no matter what length of words you use.

In this type of situation, I'd almost feel okay using the phrase, "Now, I'm not trying to sound superior - - I just am..."