Defending People

the tao of criminal-defense trial lawyering

Lizards Don’t Laugh.

Per­sonal injury lawyer Paul Luvera has writ­ten about Apply­ing Rep­tile Con­cepts in Trial—describ­ing how plain­tiffs’ lawyers should appeal to jurors’ rep­tile brains.

The rep­tile brain is the core of the human brain, sit­ting right at the top of the spine sur­rounded by the later-developing dog brain and ape brain. The rep­tile brain is a sur­vival engine, con­cerned only with sur­vival: kill, eat, mate, flee. To get through to the rep­tile brain, you show it a threat, a way to mit­i­gate or resolve that threat, and a greater threat that could oth­er­wise result. In the exam­ple of a per­sonal injury trial, says Paul, the plaintiff’s lawyer wants to make the points that:

  1. The defendant’s con­duct threat­ens everyone’s safety;
  2. A proper ver­dict for the plain­tiff will reduce the dan­ger; and
  3. If a proper ver­dict for the plain­tiff is not given, the dan­ger will be increased.

Easy to see how these apply to many crim­i­nal tri­als (at least tri­als involv­ing mala in se, rather than reg­u­la­tory offenses), right? Pros­e­cu­tors use some­thing like it in every jury trial—make the jurors afraid, then give them a way to be safer—though prob­a­bly with­out real­iz­ing that they are appeal­ing to the rep­tile brain.

There is much research and thought being con­ducted into how to win plaintiff’s per­sonal injury tri­als because there is so much per­sonal ben­e­fit to the lawyer in win­ning one of those tri­als. Civil defense lawyers and pros­e­cu­tors aren’t putting as much effort into find­ing new ways to try cases as plaintiff’s lawyers are.

Nor are criminal-defense lawyers—most criminal-defense lawyers are strug­gling to make a com­fort­able liv­ing, and those that aren’t don’t nec­es­sar­ily have the tools or incli­na­tion to spend their free time fig­ur­ing out how to try cases smarter. Some­times we bor­row from the per­sonal injury lawyers who, like us, are rep­re­sent­ing human beings.

Unlike us, though, the per­sonal injury lawyers are fight­ing over a quan­tifi­able form of justice—justice as dollars—and they are on the offen­sive. So often (as, I con­tend, with the Rep­tile Trial) we can’t use their sci­ence to our clients’ benefit.

Not, at least, directly. But if we rec­og­nize that what our adver­saries are doing is (whether con­sciously or not) appeal­ing to the jurors’ rep­tile brains, then we can try to a) make a stronger appeal to the rep­tile brain; or b) dis­en­gage the rep­tile brain, and engage the dog brain or ape brain. Nei­ther is an easy proposition.

First, jurors expect the gov­ern­ment to pro­tect them from peo­ple doing bad things and expect us to try to pro­tect peo­ple doing bad things. So in order to appeal to jurors’ rep­tile brains our­selves we have to reverse these expec­ta­tions. We have to show why the government’s con­duct threat­ens everyone’s safety. While it is often true that the government’s con­duct threat­ens everyone’s free­dom, such an argu­ment is an appeal to the simian brain, and can’t serve to divert the rep­tile brain. It’s less often arguable that the government’s con­duct presents a threat to jurors’ safety. If you can’t get the jury think­ing that they have to pro­tect them­selves and their loved ones from the gov­ern­ment, their rep­tile brains aren’t going to help you.

Sec­ond, evo­lu­tion­ary biol­ogy has given the rep­tile brain veto power over the rest of the brain when there is an immi­nent threat. Until the threat is resolved, the mam­malian and simian parts of the brain—the parts that deal with emo­tion, com­plex social inter­ac­tion, advance planning—don’t get a vote.

For­tu­nately, our higher brains have a mech­a­nism for tak­ing con­trol back from the rep­til­ian brain. We even have a uni­ver­sal sig­nal to tell our fel­low humans when this has been done.

The mech­a­nism is incon­gruity. The rep­tile brain is sim­ple, one-tracked and with­out nuance. It can’t han­dle incon­gruity or sur­prise. When the rep­tile brain encoun­ters some­thing unex­pected, it hands the job off to more com­pli­cated parts of the brain (“okay, mam­malian brain: I’ve never seen one of these before. Should we flee it or mate with it?”).

So the criminal-defense lawyer can destroy the government’s rep­til­ian argu­ment by reveal­ing a sur­prise that doesn’t fit in with the government’s rep­til­ian story (an argu­ment for main­tain­ing Nasty Lit­tle Sur­prises until trial). In the words of trial con­sul­tant Den­nis Elias, “Sus­pend­ing dis­be­lief & cre­at­ing doubt that leads to curios­ity and sur­prise is the art of the crim­i­nal defense attorney.”

And what’s the uni­ver­sal sig­nal that tells us when our lizard brains have handed off to our mam­malian and simian brains? It’s laugh­ter. Accord­ing to both the incon­gruity and relief the­o­ries of laugh­ter, the sur­prise that gets us out of our rep­til­ian brains is a trig­ger for laugh­ter, either because the incon­gru­ous is inher­ently funny or because we are relieved to dis­cover that we are out of dan­ger. Find the sur­prises in the case, and reveal them to the jury, and you can get them using their higher brains. Do it in jury selec­tion, if you can—take some part of the case that the gov­ern­ment ham­mered on in its jury selec­tion, and show the jury why things aren’t as they expect. Make them laugh, and make it a Simian Trial.

Once you’ve got the jury using their more com­plex brains, you want to keep them there. How? Two ideas.

First, the government’s Rep­tile Trial is a Things-That-Go-Bump-In-The-Night Trial. Things that go bump in the night can seem silly in the light of day, and the government’s per­ceived threat can seem silly to the mam­malian brain.

Sec­ond, the rule of Rep­tile Tri­als is “sim­plify, sim­plify, sim­plify.” Since the lizard brain doesn’t deal with com­plex­ity, the rule of Simian Tri­als is the opposite.

Com­plex­ify, com­plex­ify, complexify.

(If you’ve arrived here from Over­lawyered, you might be inter­ested in The Ethics of Pathos, Part I.)

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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

14 Responses to “Lizards Don’t Laugh.”

  1. anna says:

    Mark: Thanks for the thoughts. My Simian brain is really think­ing about them. I like this line of think­ing. I was def­i­nitely up against the boogey man in my last child pornog­ra­phy trial. I Ire­mem­ber that Tony Vitz intro­duced “out­side pres­sures” in his last dui trial. I am won­der­ing how to make this work to get past a judge’s knee jerk reac­tion that he must lock up a young man despite his brain dam­age because he looked at child porn, when this young man will get bru­tal­ized in prison. Anna

  2. Mike Trent says:

    I really enjoyed this post. And I believe it is advice to be fol­lowed, par­tic­u­larly in cases where the “sim­ple truth” of the case seems to be harm­ful to the client. Com­plex­i­ties such as jus­ti­fi­ca­tion, mit­i­ga­tion, and — if noth­ing else — expla­na­tion, can serve to get the higher parts of the jurors’ brains work­ing. You’re spot-on about that, and also about some­how get­ting juries to laugh. Most pros­e­cu­tors are warned early (or learn the hard way) about defense attor­neys who are suc­cess­fully able to blunt a seri­ous case with humor.

    But at the same time, this advice appears to con­flict with some other good advice you’ve given on this blog, that seems even more fun­da­men­tal: Find a truth in the case that helps your client, and force­fully present it to the jury. Make it your own and ride it as far as it will take you. The best and most effec­tive pre­sen­ta­tions of evi­dence are always — and of neces­sity — sim­ple. Jurors can often sense when art­ful argu­ments and intri­cate the­o­ries are sim­ply meant to dis­tract them. When they do, the rep­til­ian brain takes over again with a vengeance and such efforts can seri­ously backfire.

    So, in light of this, do you think it is fair to say that a defense attor­ney going into trial needs to decide, among other things, whether they are fac­ing a “Rep­tile Trial” where the facts are not in their favor (even more so that the norm) and the State will be appeal­ing to the more prim­i­tive rep­til­ian instincts: Mate, flee, or (as you omit­ted) kill. Or is the trial going to be an actual con­test of facts, where there are cer­tain facts, which, if proven, will be dif­fi­cult for the Gov­ern­ment to overcome?

    If the lat­ter is true, “com­plex­i­fy­ing” could prove to be a big mis­take. –Oh, and con­grats for earn­ing a dubi­ous com­par­i­son to NFL announcer-speak by “verb­ify­ing” an adjec­tive. Actu­ally heard one use the word “escapa­bil­ity” the other day. Speak­ing of rep­til­ian brains…

  3. Gideon says:

    Absolutely tremen­dous post. Thank you, Mark.

  4. Dear Mark ~I am grate­ful to you for the time and insight you gave to this post. I have been trou­bled by the rush to appeal to the the “reac­tive brain” while ignor­ing or for­get­ting that folks also have a reflec­tive mind. As an RN, JD and trial con­sul­tant who works on the Plain­tiff (and crim­i­nal defense) side of the aisle, I rec­og­nize that there are many tools and tech­niques avail­able to tell the story of the case in a com­pelling and mas­ter­ful way to con­nect with the decision-maker on an emo­tion­ally mean­ing­ful level. Yet, one of the things that may go miss­ing with an appeal to the more prim­i­tive struc­ture is neglect­ing the com­plex, higher func­tion­ing (dare I say com­pas­sion­ate?) nature of human beings who decide our cases. And, as I was reminded today by an attor­ney headed to trial armed with a com­pelling story: his pas­sion and belief will shine through to the jury. That is his truth. He is rely­ing on an ancient aspect of com­mu­ni­ca­tion taught by Aris­to­tle. I wish him well.

  5. […] lawyers try­ing cases make an appeal to jurors’ “rep­tile brains”? [Defend­ing Peo­ple] P.S. He has further […]

  6. Mark's Dad says:

    From my dog brain: Eat, mate, fleas.

  7. […] the air­port paper­back kiosk to the bored pas­sen­ger. But I would be glad to know more. Here is a pop­u­lar­ren­di­tion of “rep­tile brain” the­ory, as employed by some lawyers in law […]

  8. […] the air­port paper­back kiosk to the bored pas­sen­ger. But I would be glad to know more. Here is a pop­u­lar­ren­di­tion of “rep­tile brain” the­ory, as employed by some lawyers in law […]

  9. Jim Jenkins says:

    Dear Mark,
    I really enjoyed and ben­e­fit­ted from your post. As we dis­cussed on the inter­net a cou­ple months ago, I went to a lec­ture by one of the researchers of the rep­tial­lian brain book for lawyers. I prac­tice pri­mar­ily crim­i­nal defense but I wanted to know what all this “hoopla” was about this book. Jim Fitzger­ald, a great per­sonal injury lawyer, was the speaker. He basi­cally said the book boils down to three rep­til­lian con­cepts when we inter­act with our world: can we eat it? can it eat us? and can we mate with it? I have only taken a cur­sory look through the book at this point in time and would like to add more to this dis­cus­sion when I am more versed in the con­cept. Based upon what lit­tle I know now I think somome of the con­cepts can be used: we, as a soci­ety, need pro­tec­tion from the police who will eat us (eat our client) to meet their own per­spec­tive of what the ends should be if we don’t stop them; we need pro­tec­tion against pros­e­cu­tors who are more con­cerned about win­ning that about jus­tice (eat our client). I agree that most pros­e­cu­tors don’t know (or care much) about how to most effec­tively appeal to the jurors true selves and per­haps their rep­til­lian brain. I will report back after I have read more of the book. Great Post. It’s motivi­at­ing me to read the book over Christ­mas holidays.

  10. […] Lizards Don’t Laugh – O.K. it was writ­ten on Novem­ber 30, not in Decem­ber.  How­ever, I just started this best of the month list and his post is really good. […]

  11. David Ball says:

    Three things: First, there are Rep­til­ian meth­ods for crim­i­nal defense that are effec­tive enough to change the face of crim­i­nal defense prac­tice as effec­tively as they have changed plaintiff’s civil prac­tice.
    .
    Sec­ond: The notion that the Rep­til­ian brain deals only with imme­di­ate threats is dead wrong — ask Karl Rove, who along with insur­ance com­pa­nies and cor­po­ra­tions used Rep­til­ian meth­ods to effec­tively poi­son more than a third of the pop­u­la­tion with respect to civil tri­als (not to men­tion get­ting Bush re-elected) mainly by means of mid-term and long-term Reptilian-level threats. Hitler used the same Rep­til­ian meth­ods — with mid-term threats. It is true that the Rep­til­ian part of the brain does not deal with mid and long-term threats on its own, but it is run­ning the show dur­ing any threat (or any poten­tial sur­vival advan­tage) be it short, medium, or long term. If this were not true, birds would not fly south in win­ter because the threat of no food and freez­ing is — for a bird — long term.

    Third: Laugh­ter does not get any­one out of a Rep­til­ian mode; instead, laugh­ter can be a result some­thing that “pleases” the Rep­til­ian brain by dimin­ish­ing a threat or increas­ing a sur­vival advan­tage. In other words, laugh­ter is a result, not a cause. As for incon­gruity: Incon­gruity is in itself a basic Rep­til­ian threat and thus increases the activ­ity of the Reptile.

    I’m sorry there is so much mis­un­der­stand­ing of how Rep­til­ian advo­cacy works, because a proper under­stand­ing is of ines­timable value. In any event, at least don’t start laugh­ing in trial unless your lia­bil­ity insur­ance is paid up! At most, a very few lawyers might be able to pull it off. Don’t gam­ble on it unless you are some­how cer­tain you are one of them.

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