Law360 reported Wednesday that budget cuts are crippling the California state court system. Not that this is really news. Between court closures, job cuts, “no-host” court reporters, furloughs, getting regular, reasonable and reliable access to justice has become very difficult in California state court. And, it’s only anticipated to get worse. The article suggests that, in June, the Los Angeles Superior Court will experience a reduction to 25% fewer courtrooms. Apparently “all of the 16,000 personal injury cases are going to be divided among three judges.”

Really? How can any judge manage a docket of over 5,000 cases?

“Experts,” the article says, believe that plaintiffs will increasingly resort (gasp!) to filing their cases in federal district court. I know this is possible with employment actions where there are both state and federal remedies. But will this become a more appealing alternative to filing in state court and waiting as the case winds through that crumbling court system? I’m not so sure.

I’ve encountered a lot of practitioners on the plaintiff side who will do almost anything to stay out of federal court. I’m not suggesting that this is because these lawyers can’t, by putting in the effort, get up to speed and comply with the stringent federal procedural requirements. It’s more circular. Lawyers who have historically shied away from a federal practice seem less comfortable with the Federal Rules of Evidence or Civil Procedure, which leads them to choose state court, which perpetuates their discomfort with the federal rules and procedures, and on and on, ad infinitum. Could the clogged California state system get so bad that these lawyers overcome this bias against federal court?

There are at least two other reasons I don’t expect plaintiffs to rush into the federal courthouse. First, unanimous agreement among the jurors is required for a verdict in federal court. (FRCP 48) In California state court, only 9 of 12, or three-quarters of the jury, must agree to reach a verdict for the plaintiff. (CCP §613) This means a lot of wiggle room in the state system and absolutely no wiggle room in the federal system.

As I’ve noted, there’s also the question of where jurors are drawn from. In the Los Angeles Superior Court, the jurors will come from Los Angeles county, and typically a smaller judicial district closer to the courthouse. Thus, a case in the Santa Monica courthouse will get jurors with different socioeconomic, ethnic and educational backgrounds from a case pending in the downtown LA courthouse. The federal district courts, however, draw from the entire Northern, Southern, Eastern or Central districts, each of which is a broader conglomeration of separate communities. On the defense side, we often believe this tends to dull the anti-corporate bias which might be prevalent in any one community.

Finally, I cannot attest to the accuracy of this premise–but it has been my experience with federal district court judges that they at least seem more conservative and less pro-plaintiff. At the very least, they pay closer attention to the procedural rules and have less tolerance for blatantly sloppy lawyering. While I can’t control much once a case or issue is in the hands of a judge or jury, I can ABSOLUTELY control whether the lawyering is sloppy. Not everyone is so eager to please.

So, while I’m confident the crisis in the California state court system will have repercussions and practice-changing consequences (such as reserving a date for summary judgment when you answer the complaint!), I’m not inclined to think there will be any kind of stampede to the federal courthouse. Just a hunch.

It is no exaggeration to say that I learn something (or many things) from every mediation or settlement conference I attend. I recently traveled to Fresno to attend a settlement conference before a talented and hard-working USDC magistrate judge. During the conference he made a point that had escaped me before, but hopefully never will again.

First some background. This was an employment discrimination case in which the plaintiff alleged harassment, retaliation and constructive discharge, which would require her to prove that her working conditions were so intolerable that a reasonable person in the plaintiff’s position would literally have had no choice but to quit.

Early in the settlement conference, the judge met briefly with the lawyers and parties altogether. He employed an interesting, but effective approach. He spent a bit of time talking about the parties’ respective cases, focusing on each side’s weaknesses. After a few minutes of this, he said “here’s where I see the range,” and proceeded to give us a bracket.* The bottom of the bracket was well above where my client, the defendant, was prepared to negotiate so early in the settlement conference. However, the top of the bracket was well below where we knew (from prior discussions with her counsel) plaintiff was interested in beginning negotiations. Thus, both sides were equally unhappy. The judge concluded this introductory session by excusing us to meet separately with our clients. If both parties were interested in negotiating within the judge’s bracket, we should return after lunch and continue the settlement conference. If either party was not willing to begin in the bracket, we were instructed to so advise the judge’s clerk and we would be excused for the day.

What I liked about this approach was how it cut through a lot of preliminary posturing. While I would not recommend it for a paid mediator, it was effective coming from a USDC magistrate judge. Both parties reluctantly agreed to negotiate within the bracket and, several hours later, we settled the case.

One of the things the judge pointed out when he was apprising plaintiff and her lawyer of weaknesses he perceived in her case related to where the jury venire would be drawn from if we did not settle. Had the case been pending in state court, jurors would have been drawn solely from Fresno county, which apparently enjoys a healthy mixture of middle and lower middle class jurors owing to a university and, if not thriving, at least sustaining local agriculture-based economy.

But, because we were in the Eastern District federal court, our jurors would be drawn, not only from Fresno county, but also from several surrounding counties. The judge pointed out that jurors from many of these surrounding counties will have been struggling financially since before the recession. Jobs are scarce. Many of these jurors, the judge said, will not be particularly sympathetic to the notion that any person who was lucky enough to have a job would voluntarily chose to leave, regardless how bad the conditions were.

Whether this hit home for plaintiff or her lawyer I don’t know. But I thought it was a pretty powerful point. Forum shopping is nothing new and our opponent had unsuccessfully fought pretty hard against our removal of the case from state to federal court. But, if you find you’re in a venue in which the jurors are not going to easily receive your client’s theory or conduct, it’s important to factor this into your strategy and presentation.

How do you figure out if you’re up against this kind of “region bias” on any particular issue? I had spent some time looking at census statistics for Fresno, thinking I was gaining some understanding about our potential jurors, completely overlooking the fact that a district court draws from outside the county. There’s your answer, though. Find out definitively where jurors for your courthouse will be drawn from and analyze that entire region. A better approach, though, might be to retain local counsel (always a good idea, in my view, if the case warrants the cost and you can find reliable local counsel).

Whatever you do, it’s critical to find out where your jurors will hail from, and be perceptive to possible “region bias” issues that could impact your client’s success at trial.

*Of his “throw out a bracket” approach the judge said he would normally never “just put a number out there,” but he was pressed for time that day, as he had meetings and a hearing he had to fit in around our settlement conference. Ironically, throwing out the bracket was probably the most intelligent thing the judge did all day.

I was really impressed by a recent post at Philly Law Blog, in which Jordan Rushie discusses a humbling experience he had early in his law practice. What was so great about the post (and I highly recommend it, as well as the blog generally) was Rushie’s brave willingness to expose the kind of judgmentally-impoverished immaturity most of us have when we first start out. I bet many of us who have graduated into our second, third or fourth decade of practice could, if we were brave enough and our memory was up to it, recall an instance where we used similarly poor judgment.

I can’t speak for doctors or other professionals, but I know the first couple of years practicing law can be a challenging time. I think it stems largely from the following: when we start out (1) we’ve invested 3 years and a pile of money to get a degree which suggests we know what we were doing; (2) our employers and/or clients hire and (hopefully) pay us because we’re supposed to know what we’re doing; (3) the professional and ethical obligations imposed on us are premised on the assumption that we know what we’re doing, BUT (4) we don’t really know what we’re doing. When we get into a situation we’re unprepared to handle, we want so badly not to admit or show that we don’t know what to do, we often punt. While it works sometimes, other times punting can get us into a predicament that’s embarrassing, or worse.

This is compounded by opposing counsel who, if they have any experience at all, will figure out pretty quick that we are brand new and don’t really know what we’re doing. Some will exploit this.

My first deposition was a classic example. I was a first year lawyer, working at an insurance defense firm. While not nearly as prestigious (or well-paying) as BigLaw firms, starting your career representing insured clients in a variety of cases has tremendous value as a training exercise. While you’re not litigating Apple vs. Samsung, you generally get the chance to take depositions, argue motions, handle arbitrations, mediations and settlement conferences–in short, lawyering–from your very first day.

I had sat through a couple of depositions taken by partners in the firm–because God knows you’re not taught deposition skills in law school–and then let loose to take my first deposition of a third-party witness in a fender-bender case. It was so hokey, I think we took the depo at the witness’s home. In any event, I got there first and waited on the doorstep for my opponent to arrive. She did, and seemed friendly enough at first. She had a harried appearance, in her mid-late 40s. I must have looked really green, because pretty early in the conversation she asked “Is this your first deposition?” What was I going to do? Lie? Get offended? Tell her it was none of her business?

The court reporter arrived and swore in the witness. I did fine through the admonitions. But once I started getting to the meat of the testimony my opponent quickly adopted this habit of interjecting, either when she thought my question wasn’t clear or good enough, or to “clear something up” after the witness responded. She never objected to my questions, just went through and “fixed” them as we went along. Of course she fixed them in a way that rendered useless any testimony that might have been useful to my client. I remember thinking at the time that this didn’t seem right, that it wasn’t how the depositions I’d watched had gone, but I didn’t have the balls (at the time) to shut her up.

In the end the transcript of the deposition was pretty useless for purposes of my client’s defense. But it wasn’t the end of the world. If the carrier paid $8,900 to settle the case instead of $8,500 because we didn’t have a great third-party witness deposition to use at trial, it didn’t seem to bother the partner who’d sent me on the depo. He just laughed when I talked to him about it. He said, “Next time, tell her it’s your dime and she’ll get her turn.”

It’s interesting that our law school evidence classes teach us the mechanics of the rules of evidence, however, (if my memory serves) we’re not given much guidance on how to decide whether, assuming a question is objectionable, it is a good idea to object during trial. It is true that the rules of evidence have application outside the context of a jury trial, and in fact it can be years before a lawyer actually has to make the decision whether to raise an objection at trial. But the question whether it makes strategic sense to object in the presence of the jury merits some analysis.

I consulted Professor McElhaney and, as expected, he had wisdom to impart. In Litigation, he articulates rules for when to object. I’ll list the first five here.

Rule One: Wait for a Reason

Only object when you have a good reason to object, and this means that “it advances your theory of the case.” Id. at 211. McElhaney reminds us that jurors resent objections. Why? Because they understand the point of an objection is to keep information from them, keep them in the dark. Assuming your objection is sustained, the jury will most likely understand that you have succeeded in an attempt to keep a piece of information from them. It must have been important information, or else why would you have made the effort to object–at least that’s how the jurors will think.

Rule Two; Don’t Object When It Will Help Your Opponent

I’ll confess that applying this second rule, obvious as it seems, may be challenging. This is because I’m not sure it will always be clear how my objection will help my opponent. Professor McElhaney gives two examples. In the first example, your opponent is leading a witness because so much time has passed that her memory has become fuzzy. You could object to the leading questions, but McElhaney points out that leading questions send a message that the witness cannot be trusted to remember properly, so your opponent’s leading questions may not be helping his cause, and the objection, sustained or not, will likely lead your opponent to improve the witness’s credibility by asking fewer leading questions.

In his second example, your opponent is fumbling through trying to lay a foundation for a business record. If you object, it “may help educate him so he will do a better job with other business records that are much more damaging.” Id. at 212. Let him fumble.

Rule Three: Only Object When Your Objection Deserves to be Sustained

The subtle message sent to the jury if you make objections that are overruled is that you are not especially fit to guide them out of the “swamp” of trial. McElhaney is careful, however, not to suggest you limit objections to only those circumstances in which they will be sustained, but rather only those instances in which they deserve to be sustained. “There are times when you simply must make your record, knowing the trial judge will overrule your objection.” Id.

Rule Four: Object Outside The Jury’s Presence If Possible

McElhaney is careful to distinguish outside the jury’s presence, from outside the jury’s hearing. Jurors hate sidebar conferences.

Rule Five: Object Promptly

This also makes sense. But he also gives an example of where an opponent exaggerates or fabrics a fact during his closing argument. He suggests it could make sense to wait, not object, and instead comment upon the fabricated or exaggerated fact during your rebuttal.

One point McElhaney makes really rings true for me on the subject of objecting during trial: “you have a limited good-will account with the judge and jury at the start of the trial. Everything you do in the trial affects that account. You are always making deposits and withdrawals. . . . [A]n objection looks like you are trying to keep something from the judge and jury, so it usually counts as a withdrawal.” Id. at 211.

Every once in a while I get a glimpse into the way another lawyer or firm practices their craft and I have something like an epiphany. I realize there’s a vastly better way to do something, and it makes me want to kick myself because I didn’t realize it sooner. I was privy this week to some work product from a lawyer representing a co-defendant and I had one of these moments.

By way of background, I have long despised the practice of summarizing depositions. When I finish taking a deposition, the last thing I want to immediately do is revisit the details. I’m not sure why, but I usually just want to get on with my life. Then, the next day–which is the very latest possible time that you should try to summarize a deposition from notes and memory–I’m even less interested in summarizing a depo. Not only do I just hate doing it, I’ve actually given the issue a bit of thought and concluded that, in most instances, it does not bring a lot of value to have someone bill several hundred dollars an hour to “summarize” anything, deposition testimony included. That’s why when I am engaged by a client that does not require a summary, I usually keep the reporting of the event to two sentences or less. Later, as we near trial, I find a sensibly written* page/line index is useful if there is a 5% or greater chance the witness will be called to testify. But a summary of what I just heard has always seemed like a painful waste of time.

Well, like I said, I’ve had an epiphany and changed my mind. The summaries I learned to write as a young associate were these kind of narratives: what kind of witness did they make and what did they say. The summary that made me change my tune had 3 distinguishing characteristics.

First, the “summary” part was in bullet, not narrative, form. It wasn’t a long, time-consuming rumination about what kind of witness the deponent will likely make at trial because she has excessive facial hair, or tends to drool, or whatever. Instead, it was punchy and to-the-point. Something like: “Retired nurse. Late 60s. Smart. Detail-oriented.” The information conveyed by the deponent was described this way, too. It probably took the lawyer 10-15 minutes to lay out these details, maybe less if he dictated it.

The second component was how to deal with the witness if she testifies at trial. In this instance, it was a witness of whom we are theoretically afraid. So the lawyer laid out 2-3 points that distinguishes what she said from the facts of our case, and an additional point about how some of what she said is subject to exclusion as hearsay. The real genius of this approach is that it might trigger follow-up that could be missed otherwise. For example, if the witness went out on a limb about something that could easily be proven wrong by a photograph or a subpoenaed record, you should note this and go ahead and assign the follow-up (at least in a perfect world).

Finally, the third component of the summary was a short opinion about the impact of the testimony. It could be as brief as “Problematic for our defense because . . . .” Or something more detailed, if time and inclination permits. The point is that it’s something that could be dictated or written in a half hour or less at the end of the day before you tuck yourself into that first 12 oz. vodka martini.

Because this format is shorter, tighter and more user-friendly, the recipient of the summary will probably be grateful, too. I can tell you my best writing never found its way into a deposition summary–I save that for you, my loyal readers.

And while we’re on the topic of what to do when you’ve completed the deposition, another is to immediately draft written follow-up discovery, or at least make a to-do list of the additional work that needs doing. Most of the time a witness–at least an important one–will open a door that you hadn’t really considered before. Follow up here is critical and, like the details of a dream, easily forgotten if not at least noted right away.

*A sensibly written page/line deposition index is something I might cover in another post, if I run out of marginally interesting things to write about. I know I’m pushing the envelope with this post about deposition summaries, which is why I included the racy picture.

Every one of us carries a measure of optimism whenever we decide to undertake something. Undoubtedly owing to a cluster of deep-seated personality defects, I find I often see a glass as half empty. I don’t begrudge this aspect of my personality; it tends to make me a conservative investor and a boring gambler.

Most successful plaintiff lawyers I’ve worked with, however, seem more often than not to be glass half-full types. Let me clarify what I mean for the benefit of any readers who aren’t familiar with the American system of jurisprudence. I’m referring specifically to lawyers who agree to take on clients and cases on a contingency basis. Under these circumstances, a lawyer agrees to represent a client or clients in a lawsuit without any fees unless and until there is some recovery, by settlement or judgment. There is always an investment of the lawyer’s time and often the lawyer also agrees to advance the costs of litigation against the chance of recovery. If the case or claim is successful, the lawyer is reimbursed the costs she advanced and she also receives an agreed upon percentage of the recovery.

It’s not difficult to see how one would have to be something of an optimist to take any case on contingency, though a better quality case against a deeper-pocketed defendant tends to reduce the risk. In fact, some of the wealthiest practicing lawyers earned their fortunes through contingency fee litigation.

Not long ago, I handled a case against someone so optimistic about his client’s case that he was literally “drunk” on his own Kool Aid. So drunk, in fact, that he didn’t sober up until after he lost the trial and his client hired another lawyer to represent her in her appeal. It wasn’t that his client had a drop dead loser of a case. The case actually had some sexy facts; the kind of facts that can make jurors rock back and forth in their seats with interest. Things could have gone the other way, and he could have won. But it wasn’t that good of a case, and he could have and should have tried earnestly to settle before rolling the dice with the jury. He was just too buzzed to see the glaring weaknesses or put a realistic settlement value on the case. He never got within a range in which it made the remotest sense for my clients to make any serious offer–so they didn’t.

I recognize the counter-argument can seem compelling. After all, some of the biggest jury verdicts came out of situations in which David took on Goliath and prevailed against all odds. And I’ve already admitted I tend to see the glass a half empty. But what set my “drunkard” opponent apart from another, wiser lawyer was his steadfast refusal to give any weight to the opinions of two separate neutrals (a mediator he had selected and a USDC Magistrate Judge sitting as a settlement officer), who both told him he was being ridiculous in his expectations and wrong on a pretty important issue of the law.

Is it possible to be a “sober” optimist? Sure. One way is to pay attention if multiple neutrals (including one you selected) suggest you’re off the mark. Of course, neutrals may not always be truly neutral, even when you’re paying them to (i.e., when they’re leaning on you in a mediation). Another approach is to submit your facts and arguments, including what you expect the other side will say, to a mock jury–even a cheap one like I described here. I’ve also known lots of lawyers (even really skilled ones) who will ask every colleague they know what they think about a set of facts, just to see if they’re missing something. There’s nothing wrong with this, as long as you don’t inadvertently waive the attorney-client privilege.

One final thought: being a “drunk” optimist is fine: (1) as long as you’re gambling only with your own time or money; or (2) just like elective surgery, if you fully inform the client of all circumstances, including the risks (or likelihood) of walking away with nothing, and the client understands and is just as eager to roll the dice, then by all means roll the dice.

Experienced lawyers speak about trying to learn something from every case you handle. This is valuable advice, and something most of us probably do without really thinking about it. But I’ve found it more valuable and interesting to try to learn at least one thing each from at least most lawyers I come across in the course of my practice. In many ways our professional education only begins in earnest after we finish law school, pass the bar and start plying our trade. I was fortunate to have a great mentor during these formative first years, but I recognize the reality that not every new lawyer is going to bond with a mentor.

In an odd way, however, every lawyer we encounter in our practice can act as a mentor of sorts and, if we’re perceptive, can open our eyes and help shape us into better lawyers. Let me offer a couple of illustrations. Let’s first take a positive example. Some years back, my partner and I defended a catastrophic product liability case against an older aviation lawyer. This guy, who is now retired, was quite literally a trial legend. He was sharper in his early 80s than most of us at our peak. Our case together resolved pretty early on, but I still had an opportunity to share an almost empty courtroom with him one morning while we waited for our judge to rule in chambers on an ex parte application.

What did I take away from the experience? Probably more than I realize, but what struck me at the time, and has stuck with me since, was the way in which he interacted with the courtroom clerk and bailiff. We’ve all seen how lawyers parade into courts and treat the courtroom staff with . . . let’s call it indifference, or sometimes worse. We litigators often see clerks and bailiffs as impediments to what we’re trying to accomplish. I know at my worst moments I’ve done it. But I saw how my opponent’s manner was different. When he spoke with the clerk and bailiff he engaged them. From his attention and questions, it was obvious he had a genuine interest in their backgrounds, their interests and families. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine he would take a similar interest during voir dire in the prospective jurors who would decide his client’s case.

We all know people who are have this kind interpersonal curiosity—they’re often very successful, as politicians, leaders—or trial lawyers. Why are they so successful? Because being interested—genuinely interested—is the first step in creating a bond, which involves trust. And the ability to garner trust can be among a trial lawyer’s greatest strengths.

Not every lawyer we encounter is worthy of emulation, and that can be a valuable learning experience, too. And we don’t learn only from seasoned lawyers, newbies who have a trait or style can help shape us, if we’re paying attention. In particular I’m thinking of a young associate I came up against a while back. I previously wrote about this guy. On the surface, he had a lot going for him. He seemed intelligent, charming and had scored a job working for an LA-based “Nader Raider” automotive product liability lawyer who boasted a string of six and seven-figure trial verdicts.

It wasn’t too long, however, before it became clear to everyone on our side of the fence that this associate had something of a . . . reckless relationship with the truth. Not only did he make calculated and blatant misrepresentations to our judge, but every telephone call or conversation with him was followed by a letter purportedly “confirming” several things that were either not discussed or never agreed upon. From this lawyer I learned how precious is a lawyer’s reputation for honesty. It is an undeserved gift; one that we must never squander.

Sometimes the way an opponent practices forces us to confront our intuitions about whether something is ethical or appropriate. We learn from this, too. For example, I am presently litigating a civil case against a pretty seasoned lawyer who spent the first half of his 35+ years practicing criminal law. There are numerous “independent” witnesses in our case—witnesses who would not be expected to have any inherent bias in favor of one side or the other. We’ve just wrapped up a long string of depositions, including several such independent witnesses. During these depositions, it has become clear that my opponent has gone out and met in person with every single witness in anticipation of their deposition. In some cases he literally spent hours with them preparing for their deposition.

Undoubtedly, readers will have different views on whether this is appropriate. There is another party in our case and its lawyers are adamant that our opponent’s behavior is the worst kind of slimy. And I’ll admit that my initial reaction was not positive. But after serious reflection, I’ve come around to think it’s not necessarily inappropriate, and could in fact be a prudent thing to do in some circumstances. It obviously leaves the witnesses somewhat vulnerable to cross-examination (“Now, how long did you spend with Mr. So & So preparing for your deposition today?”). On the other hand, my opponent knew before we went on the record what the witness was planning to say, and he could tailor his examination to capitalize on positive aspects, while anticipating and diffusing negative testimony.

I realized, too, that while this kind of interaction with independent witnesses might seem unusual in civil litigation (it is more common to interview witnesses through the medium of a third-party investigator), it is the most natural thing in the world in criminal law, where my opponent cut his teeth. After all, depositions and other prior testimony are rarely available in criminal trials; an interview is often the only way to know what a witness will say before he/she takes the stand. So, while I try to learn something (or a bunch of things) from every case, I also make it a point to try to keep my eyes open and learn something from every lawyer I’m up against.

I’ve discussed here and here the wonderful primer on trial advocacy Lee Horton gifted to me before he retired. In his discussion on opening statements, he says this:

“In making our opening statement, don’t try to be something you are not. While it helps, you do not have to be a great orator to give an effective opening statement. Practice giving your opening statement until you can closely track your written statement with only a few strategic notes. Emphasize the key points with voice inflection and, where appropriate, by the use of an exhibit, reading a small portion of a deposition, showing a video excerpt or drawing a diagram. Most importantly, be sincere and to the point. If the jury finds you make your points and sit down, they will listen to you because they will grow to expect that the points you make will be important.”

I find this to be solid advice for two reasons. First it acknowledges a truth: that many trial lawyers are not naturally gifted speakers. We obviously come to the profession from a variety of backgrounds, some of which might have included training and/or practice in public speaking. But many of us had only minimal training and experience in persuasively presenting information to an audience of 6-12 before we passed the bar.

The good news is you don’t have to have been born with the gifts of a Cicero, a Churchill or a Kennedy to effectively try and win cases. What is important is that you present the information in a way that both engenders trust and permits the audience–the jury–to follow along.

The other reason Horton’s advice is so valuable is because it highlights how we gain trust from jurors by making only the most important points each time we speak. There’s only a limited window that most of us will pay attention and follow a lecture. Don’t squander that window of time with facts that are not crucial to winning your case. As Horton notes, if you follow this practice from the start, the jury will trust you not to waste their time and attention. Again, “they will listen to you because they will grow to expect that the points you make will be important.”

Big revelation: I was never a model associate. Despite my present willingness to freely dispense advice on how to make your career all that it can be, I was pretty consumed as a young lawyer with setting and adhering to strict boundaries and trying to maintain a work-life balance. While I was relatively efficient with my time and regularly achieved solid results, I never set any records for billing massive hours or being the earliest to arrive or the last to leave the office. My stats were underwhelming, at best.

I recognize now that, in my preoccupation with boundaries and balance, I was just delaying the inevitable realization that ours is just not a profession that conforms well to individual desires for boundaries and balance. We’re in a service industry, and we’re forever beholden to both clients and courts. Both are demanding. Without either, we’re sunk.

Although it’s technically possible to “skate by” as a young lawyer like I often did, there comes a time when reality catches up to you. Once you develop your own clients and cases, you suddenly realize there is no longer a safety net–the buck stops with you. You’re no longer worried about disappointing a partner with the quality of your research or writing in a memo or a brief. Instead, you’re worried about losing the case or the client, or both.

I’ve spent the past decade or so learning to adjust to this new reality. It was harsh at first, a little bit like my experience as a Southern Californian visiting Alaska in January for depositions. But I’ve evolved and actually developed some strategies to cope with the sturm und drang that is inevitable in an active litigation practice.

Recognize It’s Cyclic

The first step I’ve found useful is to be objective and recognize that, for most of us, episodes or periods of extreme stress tend to be cyclic. There will be demanding times and slow times. When I find I’m in a particularly demanding period, I remind myself that this will at some point pass and life will return to normal. At least my practice is cyclic and I know there will come a time when I’m slow again and hungry for excitement. If you are reading this and shaking your head, “no, there’s never a break,” then I think you might need to take a look at changing how you manage your professional life. Seriously.

Communicate With Those Close To You

I’ve only had the experience of being married to another lawyer. But if your spouse or significant other is not a lawyer (or even if they, too, practice) it can be challenging for them to comprehend the extreme stress we experience when we are preparing for trial, or are in trial, or are just too friggin’ busy. Communication can be key to making it through these periods. Even if you bore your family to death describing what you’re working on, they will appreciate being included and better understand the challenges you’re facing and the stress you’re under.

Get Outside And Get Some Exercise

Speaking for myself, the first thing that seems to happen when I go into “lockdown” mode is that I forget all about exercise or diet. I tend to be chained to my desk and I give in and eat a lot of crap I generally avoid when I’m more in balance. If I don’t actively force myself to get outside, I’ll pass several days sitting at my desk, only venturing outdoors long enough to get to and from my office or pick up lunch or dinner. Really unhealthy! I’ve learned, however, if I set my iPhone alarm to go off at 3 in the afternoon, I can force myself to leave the office and walk for at least a half hour. This not only provides a break with some mild exercise, it reminds me there is a world outside  that hasn’t stopped spinning just because I got busy. This small slice of exercise, daylight and reality can be refreshing and helps me not to be so irritable about being so busy.

Look On The Bright Side

Although I’m stressed and missing my family and chained to a desk getting fat, I actually find that our profession is most exciting and rewarding to me when I’m either in trial or getting ready for a trial. There’s something about this time, when a case is (hopefully) starting to really come together and make sense and we are nearing the point of no return that I find stimulating. I try to appreciate these times and, again, remind myself it’s all cyclic and before too long things will slow down and return to “normal.”

(I so wanted to accompany this post with a still photo from the scene in Training Day in which Denzel Washington, wielding a sawed-off shotgun, tells Ethan Hawke’s character, “You know I’m surgical with this bitch!” Sadly, I couldn’t find a good still from that scene, so I used this lame stock photo instead.)

I’m a big proponent of serving written discovery that is “surgical,” that is, as narrowly drawn to fit the facts of the case as I can make it. Why? First, because I am a lawyer, my time is expensive. I don’t like to waste my client’s money writing discovery that is not likely to yield anything of value. But it’s not just that.

Drafting and serving unfocused and overly broad discovery will lead, in most instances, only to objections (“Overbroad!”) and, even if there are substantive responses, chances are they’ll be weak and of little value. As I’ve earlier written, you and your client should almost always “go to the mat” if necessary to obtain complete discovery responses. This means time spent reviewing the crappy objections and responses, writing one of those spectacularly painful “meet and confer” letters, getting a spectacularly painful letter in response, possibly writing another and/or having an unpleasant telephone call, followed by a motion which you may or may not win because the discovery was crappy and overly broad in the first place. All of this is time-consuming and, therefore, expensive for your client. In most jurisdictions, moreover, the court has discretion to force the party who loses a discovery motion (which could be you) to pay the other side’s attorney’s fees. Ouch!

A second reason I try to make my discovery surgical relates to how I want to be viewed by my opponent. While there are certain times when, for strategic reasons, I want my opponent to view me as unsophisticated and/or unprepared, I usually desire to instill the opposition impression. Nothing shows I haven’t a clue more clearly than 100 unfocused interrogatories, most of which skirt the real issues in the case. On the other hand, well drafted discovery shows not only that you know how to practice law, but also that you know what facts will win or lose the case. If your opponent happens also to know what she is doing, she will take you more seriously throughout the case, including at important times like when you are mediating or discussing settlement. If, on the other hand, your opponent is a lawyer who has gotten in over his head, recognizing that you know what you are doing will make him that much more eager to resolve the case before trial. Fear of submitting a case to judge or jury can be huge leverage.

So that’s my spiel for why it makes sense to serve surgical discovery. What about the how? A couple of ideas. First, it should be no big mystery at the discovery stage what the major theories of liability or defenses will be. I recognize we often refine theories and defenses based upon what we learn in discovery, but the complaint and answer at least frame the case in a general way. I like to take the jury instructions for the theories and defenses and draft discovery that seeks facts (and documentary evidence) that will support or defeat each element of a cause of action or defense. I recognize this isn’t revolutionary, but it works.

In addition, I like to involve at least some of the expert witnesses who will ultimately consult and, potentially, testify on behalf of my client as early as I can in the case. By meeting with these experts earlier than later, I can understand the technical issues likely to be in dispute. I may involve the expert in drafting discovery requests that are likely to yield meaningful information. I recognize that involving an expert early in the case can be costly. On the other hand, early expert involvement can ultimately save your client money in lots of different ways, starting with drafting useful cost-effective discovery, and including explaining earlier than later how the case you and your client thinks is so good actually sucks on a technical level.

So, go on, be surgical with that . . . er . . . interrogatory.

I asked several top Southern California mediators I know personally or by reputation to share their best “tip” for success at mediation. In exchange for their labors, I promised the prestige and notoriety of being featured on this humble but aspiring blog. Several neutrals cheerfully responded and provided some great tips. The following are the best 6 responses I received:

Jeff Kichaven (www.jeffkichaven.com): “Prepare, prepare, prepare.  Get your brief to the mediator a week before the mediation.  Give the mediator time to read it, think about it, read it again, and call you to discuss it.  That phone call – 10 to 20 minutes at most – can be the most important time in the whole mediation process.   Be sure to discuss:  (1) What are your biggest challenges in the mediation?  (2)  What are your expectations of the mediator?  (3)  What should the mediator know about the personalities of the participants?  (4)  Is an Opening Joint Session a good idea?  And, (5), What should happen if you or the mediator think that the other has a “blind spot” or just doesn’t get something?  The answers can vary widely from case to case!  Once the mediator knows your thinking on these subjects, he can prepare for the “people issues” as thoroughly as he can prepare for the legal and factual issues.  The mediation will be specially designed to meet your needs, and the needs of your client, in this particular case.   This kind of preparation will help get the mediation off on the right foot, and almost always lead to greater client satisfaction with the result, with the process, and with your performance as counsel.”

Mark Loeterman (www.mlmediation.com): “Information translates into power, both in litigation and at mediation. The careful use of information is an integral part of your bargaining strategy. At the outset, it is important to plan what information you need to obtain from, and provide to, the other side so the parties can have a meaningful negotiation. Lawyers are guarded about the information they reveal. They fear giving up some advantage or losing the opportunity to surprise an unsuspecting witness. Here are some practical steps for handling information most effectively. First, solve the information gap. Ask the other side questions that are designed to buttress your position or better evaluate risks. Next, consider offering discreet information which shows strength and confidence in your case, such as an analysis of damages or a case citation that supports a decisive legal principle. On the other hand, negotiators must understand how they can protect their most important and sensitive information. If you want to learn how to perfect these “blocking” skills, simply watch a politician being interviewed. Adroit politicians use a range of techniques to avoid answering even probing questions. Information is a valuable commodity. Thoughtfully timing and presenting select pieces can yield significant concessions from your adversary. The mediator can arrange an exchange of information that is orderly and reciprocal, and can clarify the positions being taken, assuring that no party feels vulnerable and manipulated by a one-way disclosure.”

Michelle A. Reinglass (www.reinglassadr.com): “Some parties have difficulty giving up their lawsuit. If asked, “Are you ready to settle and put it behind you?” they may answer “yes”, but their actions belie that. The plaintiff may have difficult letting go of the one thing that has kept him/her going-the chance to get redemption, or revenge. The defendant may not want to let go because of the fear of looking weak, or setting precedent (despite promises of strict confidentiality with “teeth” for a breach). Fortunately most cases do settle, but for those that can’t, I follow them until the “end”, which is too often predictable. So, how can a party going to mediation wean themselves away from the lawsuit? First is getting reality checks about the merit, value & risks of their position. For most that will require “processing” to reach that understanding. Second, is seeing the positive picture of their life without the lawsuit as a major part of it, draining (more like “sucking out”) their energy and good health. It helps to focus on their positive goals beyond “revenge”, giving themselves their own redemption, not relying on someone else such as a judge or jury, to give it to them, which will often be disappointing; or focusing on getting a job, or performing better in their personal and business lives, or putting their energy back into running their business without employees distracted by depositions , “gossip”, or their own fears. I have often said that litigation is negative energy. I enjoy mediating for the opportunity to bring people and businesses back into the positive energy of life, rather than the drain of a lawsuit.”

Jan Frankel Schau (www.schaumediation.com): “Be prepared to be flexible. You can’t map out your strategy until you know what or who is driving the conflict, what path will work best for an exchange of communication and until the necessary emotion and anger and disappointment is expressed–to somebody–even if indirectly to the other side of the dispute.”

Mike O’Callahan (www.mocadr.com): “My single best tip for a successful mediation is for counsel to budget and make time and properly prepare for a pre-mediation call with the mediator. The call is independent for each party involved in the litigation and lets them know you have read their brief and you can question specific areas without the posturing that some lawyers feel they must do in front of their clients. Too many times counsel submit their briefs less than 5 days before and throw something together at the last-minute or they send a 160 page brief the night before the mediation. Either way the brief is not very useful. An opportunity missed to educate the mediator by counsel. The mediator has to be proactive and make sure the parties know there is a deadline for the briefs to be submitted that will allow the mediator time to review before the pre-mediation call. The call can then be used to determine what, if any, settlement discussions have taken place and the potential range of exposure for the parties before they walk in the door for the mediation. Also, it allows the mediator to ask for supplemental information before the mediation and focus on common ground to form a global resolution at the mediation.”

Hon. Michael A. Latin (ret.) ([email protected]): “The mediation, though designed to bring the parties together, is still part of an adversarial process. Therefore, appear fully armed and loaded with all of your ammunition. Bring all of your critical reports, documents, deposition transcripts, and even a critical witness if necessary. Remember, that while you have been living with this case for a year or more, the mediator has very little concrete information when the mediation begins. Often, the two sides give completely opposite versions of the state of the evidence on the same issue. One side may be more truthful than the other or there may be information gaps that prevent one or more parties from making a fair evaluation of their case. If the mediator doesn’t have anything tangible in front of him or her to evaluate the relative strengths of the parties’ positions or representations, resolution becomes problematic – particularly where one side is either incorrect or misrepresenting facts. Give the mediator the tools to flush out those issues during the mediation by bringing everything you have in your possession that may refute misrepresented or contested facts. This includes documents and information that has not yet been turned over. Your opponent cannot evaluate those things about which he or she is unaware. I have had several cases that have settled because one side, which had information about which the opponent was unaware, decided to share the information at mediation. Appear with all your ammunition!”

Even though you tuned in to hear from experienced mediators, I’ll add my own three cents. First, I completely agree with the suggestions that counsel take advantage of the opportunity to have a meaningful pre-mediation call with the neutral. This can be HUGE. Second, if there is a way to create and communicate to the opposition the illusion that you are fully prepared to start trial tomorrow, this can create leverage. (Obviously this is not possible in a pre-suit mediation, and difficult if there’s no joint session.) Third, unless and until you really know and trust the mediator (or settlement conference judge/magistrate), I would resist requests to prematurely share your final, bottom line offer or demand. The neutral’s top priority is to reach a compromise, not to act in your client’s best interests (that’s your job); unless you know from experience you can trust his or her promise to keep your final number confidential, I wouldn’t risk sharing it.

From Day One it is hammered into the head of every lawyer headed for trial: Ask Only Leading Questions. But is this truly gospel?

McElhaney, quoting Mauet and others, doesn’t think so. Not only does the repetition of “Isn’t it true that . . .” become tedious and tiring, it limits the examiner’s ability to expose the witness as a braggart or someone giving well-rehearsed testimony.

He also offers an excellent illustration of a circumstance in which use of non-leading questions can actually produce a more powerful result. He describes a lawyer trying a medical malpractice case involving a brain-damaged newborn. At deposition, the doctor was asked who had the duty in the particular hospital to resuscitate a child who wasn’t breathing: the doctor, nurse, anesthesiologist–who? The doctor responded: “We really don’t have any rules. It’s kind of a grab bag.” (McElhaney, Litigation, 183.)

McElhaney points out that the lawyer could have covered the while point during cross-examination at trial with one leading question:

“Q.  Doctor, you really don’t have any rules for who is in charge of infant resuscitation. It’s kind of a ‘grab bag,’ isn’t it?

A.  I guess so.”  (Id.)

Instead, he advocates a series of questions calculated to make the admission and use of the unfortunate term “grab bag” more powerful.

“Doctor, explain the hospital’s rules about who has the duty to resuscitate a newborn child who is not breathing.

(The doctor tries to sugarcoat it a little.)

A.  Well, of course, it’s a concern that everybody has, so there is not exactly a precise set of guidelines.

Q.  Pardon me, Doctor, but we’ve talked about this before?

A.  Yes.

Q.  And that’s not what you told me then, is it?

A.  No.

Q.  What did you tell me then?

A.  It’s kind of a grab bag.

Q.  A ‘grab bag’?

A.  Yes.” (Id.)

Something McElhaney does not highlight, but I think is hugely important, is that, because of the doctor’s prior deposition testimony, the examiner never lost control of the witness. Regardless how the doctor may have tried to squirm around and potentially offer a new hierarchy of responsibility for resuscitating a child (perhaps he had misspoken in his deposition and, on reflection, concluded that the duty falls to the anesthesiologist), the examiner had crisp prior deposition testimony available to keep the doctor in line.

“Ask only leading questions” is definitely one of the ten commandments of cross-examination, but it’s a rule that can be broken when the examination is handled carefully and where the resulting testimony is expected to be more powerful.