May it please the Court.

Last night, I tossed and turned all night playing over and over in my head the 10th Circuit argument I was scheduled to present today. I must have slept a little, because I woke with a start from a dream in which I'd stood up in front of the court, opened my mouth, and gazed in horror as absolutely nothing came out. When I left for the office this morning at 7:15, I was groggy, bleary-eyed, and frantically practicing my opening.

I arrived at the courthouse and was flattered when the clerk's staff greeted me cheerfully and presented me with the infrared amplification system, supposedly all prepped and ready. Then we went upstairs to test the sytem. Suddenly, I was pinching myself to make sure I was, in fact, awake, dressed (to impress), and standing in the actual courtroom in which I was to actually argue just a few minutes hence. Because nothing - other than some crackling interference - was coming out of the headset.

The court technician immediately brought up a second headset, but this one also failed to produce anything more than a bit of static. He fiddled with the infrared panels up above the judges' bench, but still . . . nothing. With ten minutes to go before the session began, I realized I'd have to argue the case un-amplified.

The court staff was concerned and apologetic. They assured me they would alert the judges to the problem and if I couldn't hear well enough to argue we'd figure out "something." Fortunately, my argument was docketed in the smallest, most acoustic-friendly of the 10th Circuit's four courtrooms, so I figured I'd be able to see and hear the judges well enough to survive. Still, I was nervous, distracted, and fighting back tears as I sat down to await the judges' entrance.

The two arguments preceding mine passed much too quickly, and I began to shake as the time for my appearance drew closer (in the interests of full disclosure, I should admit that I always start shaking a few minutes before oral argument). But when I finally reached the podium, the presiding judge gave me a warm smile, indicating they were aware of and concerned about the accommodations problem. I relaxed a little and started my pitch.

And actually completed my entire opening schpiel, and the next few points, and the point after that - all without a peep from the bench. At this point, I entered a whole new waking nightmare. In addition to being afraid I wouldn't be able to hear the judges' questions, I started to worry that they would never even ask me a question I'd have to try to hear. Finally - FINALLY - one of the judges threw me a helpful bone, and I was able to make a nice little point underscoring the strength of my case. After barely six of my allotted fifteen minutes, I sat down.

Then began the worst part of the experience: because I was facing my opponent's back, I could barely understand a word he said. I'm sure I looked comical leaning halfway over the counsel table, straining to catch the gist of his argument, and I was afraid to blink for fear of missing something crucial. But lucky for me, the panel seemed to be leaning my way, and the judges triple-teamed the government lawyer with one hostile question after another. Because I could see the judges' faces, I was able to understand most of their questions and could anticipate much of what my opponent likely said in reponse.

When I stood back up for rebuttal, I apologized to the judges that I'd been unable to hear most of the appellee's argument, and asked them to let me know if I overlooked a point on which they wanted a response. One of the judges responded that it was the court, not me, who should be apologizing for the technological malfunction. This made me and everyone else in the courtroom laugh, and I certainly appreciated the understanding.

This time around, they had more questions for me (several of which I had to ask them to repeat), and seemed to be engaged in the case and supportive of my position. My colleagues who came to watch said I'd picked up on exactly the points in my opponent's argument that warranted rebuttal, though I had to admit I'd guessed at those based on the panel's questions.

When I finally walked out of the courtroom, I nearly collapsed under the weight of pent-up anxiety. I'd held it together through the argument and managed to stay poised, keep my argument on track, and not get flustered when I couldn't hear, but doing so had taken every available ounce of my physical and mental energy. Coupled with the fatigue flowing from my sleepless night, I was ready to sink into a sleepy pile on the courthouse steps.

Somehow, I made it back to work. Then, rather than diving headfirst into the huge brief I need to finish, I took a long lunch break for yoga, which boosted my energy and helped me release the morning's residual stress. On my return to the office, I found a voice mail from the courtroom deputy apologizing for the technological difficulties and commending me on doing a "fabulous" job despite the problem. I appreciated the message, and I have to hope that my inability to hear didn't compromise my ability to advocate effectively on my client's behalf.

After all, his trial attorney (as was discussed during argument today) was a crackhead who entered inpatient drug rehab just days before the trial. At this stage in the proceedings, he needs and deserves a lawyer who's operating at full strength.

Comments

[UCL]

You're to be congratulated for running into a huge amount of unfair and unexpected hurdles that were thrown your way, and overcoming all of them to still get the job done. What separates great lawyers from the mediocre is the ability to not get flustered when chaos erupts. (I realize you may have FELT flustered inside as you share with us, but on the outside you clearly appeared in control and able to do the best you could with the circumstances imposed upon you).

[TPB, Esq.]

Bravo! Awesome. By the way, this "shaking" you mentioned must be a trend (as is appellate arguments; in the past week I've had two). My right hand usually shakes for an hour after oral argument.

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