Defending People

the tao of criminal-defense trial lawyering

Book Review: Your Witness

Richard “Race­horse” Haynes is the only per­son I know who has a nick­name for his nick­name. He’s “Race­horse” to the world and “Race” (or just “Richard”) to the his “broth­ers and sis­ters of the bar”.

I men­tion Richard because there are a very few lawyers — and Richard is one of them — whose tales a lawyer (no mat­ter how smart, highly trained, tal­ented, and expe­ri­enced) will and should lis­ten to for as long as they are around and will­ing to talk.

Then there are the rest of us. It will sur­prise no reader of this blog that trial lawyers love to talk about them­selves. At any con­tin­u­ing legal edu­ca­tion pro­gram you’ll hear a string of war sto­ries from the lectern, and more at the bar after­wards. Most of these sto­ries are bear­able in small doses. The bear­a­bil­ity of the sto­ries varies with the tal­ent of the teller, the qual­ity of the sto­ries, and of course the qual­ity of the Scotch.

Sup­pose that you gave a trial lawyer three hun­dred pages to fill. Chances are that she’d fill them with accounts show­ing her bril­liance — most trial lawyers are dri­ven by ego and the need to prove some­thing to someone.

But the best war sto­ries are those that didn’t turn out well for the teller. We’d much rather hear some­one tell about how he fought the good fight and got his butt kicked any­way, than hear about how he did every­thing right. If you were at the bar with another lawyer and he could talk about noth­ing but his own bril­liance, you’d be mak­ing your excuses within min­utes. It might make good mar­ket­ing (maybe not), but it doesn’t make good nar­ra­tive. Three hun­dred pages of self-aggrandizement wouldn’t make for a very good read.

Sup­pose, instead, that you gave fifty lawyers an aver­age of six pages each, and asked them to write about a sin­gle topic, the most dif­fi­cult trial advo­cacy skill: cross-examination. You’d wind up with bear­able chunks of self-aggrandizement from those lawyers with­out the back­bone for self-deprecation (and there­fore for wis­dom) as well as too-short chunks of wis­dom from those lawyers with­out a weak­ness for self-aggrandizement. You’d have to try to strike a del­i­cate bal­ance because what is bear­able blus­ter once or twice can quickly become too much.

And that pretty well describes “Your Wit­ness: Lessons on Cross-Examination”: an attempt to strike a del­i­cate bal­ance. A beau­ti­fully laid-out book with lots of white space, Your Wit­ness is a col­lec­tion of arti­cles (50 of them) about cross-examination by “great Chicago trial lawyers”. It’s ded­i­cated “To all those who enjoy a good court­room story”, and there are cer­tainly enough good court­room sto­ries to make it worth the trial lawyer’s time. There are also sev­eral sto­ries that no amount of single-malt could pos­si­bly redeem.

Con­trast this (the voice of R. Eugene Pin­cham from Chap­ter 4):

How to cross-examine? The basics are the same in every court­room I have been in over the past 50 years.

Well, first of all, you must rec­og­nize that law school and your law degree and your law license have made a fool of you. You begin to think that you’re the smartest per­son in the court­room — that’s what your law license and your law degree do to you.

.…

I have my wife come to court with me when I’m try­ing a case. I know that these big-time lawyers don’t do that, but I ain’t that big a time. Why? Because as a lawyer, you can’t see every­thing. Even a law degree doesn’t give you the abil­ity to see behind your­self. My wife sits in the court­room in an incon­spic­u­ous spot and she’s the eyes in the back of my head, and I can tell you, I have won many a case because of some­thing you saw or some­thing she said to me about a juror that I didn’t see. She will cri­tique me when we recess, when we go out in the hall. She doesn’t tell me how much she loves me because I know that already. Instead, she tells me how I am mess­ing up.

To this (writ­ten by Robert W. Tarun, in chap­ter 6):

Cross-examination is the great­est chal­lenge a trial lawyer faces. it is pre­pared for as if a sci­ence and per­formed as an art. Above all, cross-examination must serve one of two over­rid­ing trial objec­tives: either prov­ing one’s case and the­ory or weak­en­ing or dis­prov­ing the case and the­ory of an oppo­nent. If a cross-examination will not fur­ther one of these objec­tives, there is no need to take on the witness.

.…

At this point I finally con­ceded to the judge that Fuller had been destroyed in the jury’s eyes. It had hap­pened because I was watch­ing Fuller’s body lan­guage and lis­ten­ing to his hur­ried stac­cato admis­sions dur­ing cross-examination. It was the result of thor­ough prepa­ra­tion — but prob­a­bly more impor­tantly, care­ful watch­ing and listening.

Now, y’all know that I’m a big pro­po­nent of lis­ten­ing as a trial skill, but tell me: is there one of those two guys whom you’d like to hear more from, and another whose eye you’re going to avoid catch­ing when he walks into the bar?

There’s some­thing in the book for every­one: great tales from the real deal (includ­ing Terry Mac­Carthy), empty talk from for­mer pros­e­cu­tors (Scott Turow notes in the fore­word that “Cross-examination, along with clos­ing argu­ment, is the high art of trial, and pros­e­cu­tors, gen­er­ally speak­ing are not experts”) talk­ing about the mum­mery that passes for cross-examination in cases in which nobody’s free­dom is at stake, lots of lawyers of all stripes brag­ging about their prowess, and a lit­tle bit of Chicago legal history.

For all my grous­ing about the ass­hat­tery in the book, I did read it straight through — both the gold and the dross had me crav­ing more gold. And I often found gold in sur­pris­ing places: the out­stand­ing les­son of the book for me came from civil lit­i­ga­tor Peter C. John’s chap­ter 13, on “jury ego”. Cross-examination can’t be learned from a book, so the best a book can do is paint a pic­ture in broad strokes of dif­fer­ent issues and philoso­phies in cross-examination. This, Your Wit­ness does admirably.

Windy Pun­dit asked last month about who to hire for a (hypo­thet­i­cal) crim­i­nal case in Chicago. In Your Wit­ness many of the writ­ers give glimpses of their per­son­al­i­ties; it might be a good place for Windy to start. Who else is the book for? Trial lawyers who are will­ing to improve their craft — they will find enough nuggets of cross-examination wis­dom to make the book worth the read — and any­one who enjoys hear­ing lawyers talk about themselves.

I’m afraid the sec­ond group is prob­a­bly even smaller than the first.

(A pub­li­cist sent me a review copy of the book. Scott Green­field and I are appar­ently on the same mail­ing list. And what blog­ger / trial lawyer can resist a free book? Here’s his review.)

“Your Wit­ness: Lessons on Cross-Examination” (Law Bul­letin Pub­lish­ing Company)

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About The Author

Mark Bennett got his letter of marque from the Supreme Court of Texas in May 1995. He is famous for having no sense of humor when it comes to totalitarianism.

Comments

2 Responses to “Book Review: Your Witness”

  1. Windypundit says:

    Oh yeah, if I ever need a seri­ous lawyer—criminal or otherwise—I’ll prob­a­bly start my search in this book’s table of contents.

    (And thank you for the clar­i­fy­ing “hypothetical.”)

  2. Clint Davidson says:

    As an appren­tice cross exam­iner, I’m learn­ing that I tend to rush things and miss some oppor­tu­ni­ties as a result. That’s one thing I observed Race­horse does NOT do. He takes his time and in doing so, he appears to be in con­trol of the exam­i­na­tion and of his witness.

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