Trial Cross of a defense neurosurgeon: using paper cups, water and a raincoat

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Prologue: Plaintiff had back surgery.  She had returned to work only just the past week, when she was hit hard by a bad driver.  Ultimately she needed a second surgery due to the crash.  The bad driver admitted fault and her company paid.  But she didn't have enough insurance.  So our client, Ms. P made a claim under her Underinsured Motorist Policy.  Which is what you are supposed to do.  Allstate, her insurance company, required her to sue them as that is what the UIM policy says has to happen.  Ms. P sued Allstate.  Then went thru Mandatory Arbitration.  But Allstate didn't like the verdict so they appealed it and forced a jury trial.  Their main witness was Dr. Blue, a retired neurosurgeon.  During the direct exam, he tells the jury that Ms. P's additional problems after the crash, are related to her pre-existing conditions that had been mildly strained.  He says her second surgery wasn't related to the crash.

This is my trial diary excerpt from March 2013.

As direct winds down, I’m thinking wow.  He’s really good.  And then it is time for cross.

Us lawyers spend a lot of time preparing for cross, thinking about cross,  going to classes to learn about cross, and basically obsessing about cross and scaring ourselves to death over the prospect.  But here is the truth.  There is no one perfect way to do cross that works on all expert witnesses.  There is no magic bullet that will work every time.  Did I read his report in advance – yes.  Did I read a few depositions he had given before yes (thanks Ben Wells).  Did I make some notes – yes.  Do I know the chapter approach – yes.  Do I know the rules approach – yes.  Have I gone to reptile – yes.

But in truth, I do not know what I’m going to do in cross until Jodi sits down and it is my turn.  Being able to be in the moment.  Not focusing on obscure minutiae.   Being able to figure out how the message can be conveyed to the jury as quickly and powerfully as possible.  This is what is needed in cross.  At least for me.

So I sit there as Jodi [defense lawyer] returns to her seat and this is what am thinking. 

WWDDDD.  What Would Drop Dead Diva Do.  (See the prior blog).   This is no joke.  This is very serious.   Love the way she sashays up to the witness and comes up with a spur of the moment perfect cross that wins the entire case.  Because it is just so perfect.   Just takes her a few questions.  Never involves going back and rehashing everything on her terms.  Never boring.  And you are always cheering when she’s done.

I don’t want Dr. B to talk any longer than absolutely essential.  He is too good.  Want him gone.

So instead of talking about the almost million dollars he’s made in the past three years working 15 to 20 hours a week almost entirely for insurance companies, I start off with something completely different.  (Though we do talk about the big bucks a bit later).  I start where Jodi leaves off – destroying our causation.

I need a demonstrative aid.  Have been looking around courtroom.  Thinking through the tissue box and am pretty sure that is where am going to go.  And then something better strikes me.  Literally as am walking up to the bar.

Turn around.  Get my rain coat off chair.  Get three empty paper cups from our table.  Fill one cup with water.  Spread coat on top of the bar below the witness.  Place the cups on them.  And say hello.

Without being mean to him, lighting into him, or picking at him, this is how we begin.

Pour a little water into one cup and hold it up.

Dr. this cup is a vertebrae and I’ve filled it with fluid.  He corrects me because I meant to say it was a disc.  Oh silly me you are right (as usual).  Yes, this is a disc filled with fluid.  Now let’s assume this is a perfect disc of a young person under the age of 35 who has no degenerative disc disease.  If I subject this disc to trauma…and here I try to rip it.  But it is a tough little sucker and I can’t. 

Nick the clerk hands me scissors.  I make a teeny cut, hold it up again.  And rip it all the way to the bottom.  The water drops onto my coat. 

So in this case, is it fair to say that the sole cause of the disc tearing is the trauma I just caused.

Dr. B says yes.  Inside he’s thinking, is she just playing dumb or is she…

I hold up the second cup and pour in some water.  Make a cut at the top with Nick’s scissors.

Now, Dr. this time the disc is that of a person like you or I.  Over the age of 35 with degenerative disc disease (ddd – hey same initials as DDD – no wonder this is going to work!).  Do you follow me and he says yes. 

I rip the cup to the bottom and the water falls onto my coat.

Am I correct that even though the disc was already torn a little bit from ddd, it could still be injured further if subjected to trauma.  He agrees.

I hold up the third and final cup.  Make a cut at the top.

Now Dr.  again this is a disc with DDD.  I then rip the cup most but not quite all of the way.  The water does not fall out.

If a person has ddd that has led to a preexisting partial tear that isn’t causing the fluid to leak out, but a few months or in this case six months later, the tear finally gives way…and then I rip the cup the rest of the way and the water splashes to join the rest of the lake on my coat.  Does that mean that the trauma had nothing to do with causing that big tear.

He doesn’t quite get it so I have to do it again, a little better this time. 

He has to agree with what I’m saying.    Because after all, the proof is on the torn up cups and my poor coat. 

I finish with cross.  We take a break.  And Jodi spends the time with him figuring out how to poo poo all this.

When the jury comes back, the redirect is well rehearsed.  Jody and Dr. J do a fine mockery of my little misguided attempt at an exhibition.  Confident they have shamed me to pieces.  Yet, on recross, instead of shying away from it.  Well, I think WWDDDD.  Pick up my sodden coat.   Sashay back up there.  Plop it back on the bar.  Redo cup number three all over again.  And again, he has to agree.

There are a few more things that happen.  Text Cristina who has come to watch:  Did that work.  She texts back:  I think so. You probably saved the whole case there. 

Here is the transcript of Dr. Blue's cross, redirect and recross, along with my little comments:  

JamesBlueMDtrialcross.pdf

Say hi to my daughter: the tale of a grumpy Allstate lawyer

snoco.jpgThis is an excerpt from my trial diary day 3.  In most car crash cases, the jury is never told about insurance.  This old rule makes no sense in our current world.  This case is brought against Allstate for failure to pay an underinsured motorist claim (UIM).  The person who hit M did not have enough insurance. They paid what they had.  Now M seeks to recover the balance from her own UIM coverage.  Allstate has a "sue us" clause in their policy.  This means, if they don't agree to pay the UIM claim, they force their own insureds to file a lawsuit.  This is what happens here.

I tell Judge D that we need the Allstate adjuster to go on before the neurosurgeon they've hired, James Blue.  Plus he’s retired anyway so what’s the big hurry. Jodi (the Allstate lawyer) protests but up goes Tracey Smith (the adjuster) and boy is she unhappy.  Jodi objects to every single question asked.   Except what is your name.  Tracey is Miss Smarty Pants one moment and clueless the next.  At one point, ask her how many UIM claims she handles at any one time.  She smirks back: “one.”  Sweetly lob it back, well then within a single year.  To which she replies 200.  

We break in the middle of this scintillating testimony for lunch.   Cristina has come to visit (and bring me a cookie).  We are back in court waiting for the judge and Cristina takes a picture of me to post on her instagram.  We are teasing each other about this.  I turn to Jodi and introduce her sweetly to Cristina.  In response Jodi actually cuts her eyes at and barks at my girl.  Says don’t take any picture of me.  Cristina reassures her that she only took a picture of me because of my cute red jacket.   Jodi swivels away.  Snap just like that.  Which frankly is unprecedented.  Even in the heat of battle, every single defense attorney I can ever remember introducing to my kids, has always been gracious to them.

Jury files in.  Complete my apparent torture of Tracey Smith.  Watch with a Mona Lisa smile.  As she spits and scratches.  All twisted up on my delicate hook.

Photo:  Cristina's instagram post which clearly does not have Jodi in it.

The tale of the blasted brace - a trial diary story

blasted brace.jpgPrologue:  Failure to Mitigate is a legal defense.  The charge here, is the injured person made herself worse by not following doctors orders.

We break for lunch.

I’m out in the hall.  Meeting the parade of C’s own health care providers that Nick is calling to testify in the defense case against her. 

At 1:00 a prisoner in shackles is marched in.  The courtroom fills.  Cristina comes out to the hall about half an hour later.  She looks flustered.  What happened.  I’d told her to stay and watch as it would be interesting.

Well, it is apparently a bit brutal.  A sentencing hearing.  The guy beat his girlfriend with a metal pipe.  First fracturing her hands and wrists as she held them up to shield her head; then fracturing her skull.  She’s alive so it isn’t a murder charge.

Judge W comes rushing out to go take a break before we resume.  Looks just as upset as Cristina.  Says – I gave him the maximum possible sentence 28 years.  And strides out the door.

The prisoner comes through next.  Flanked by five officers.  Apparently he assaulted someone in jail.  Not a nice fellow.  Followed out of the courtroom by the woman and her family.  All crying.

We start trial about 20 minutes late.

Nick is calling a physician’s assistant and three physical therapists.   It is never a good sign when the defense calls the plaintiff’s own treating providers.  Here, the reason is that C was told she needed to wear a large brace on her left leg to assist with foot drop and hyperextension of the knee.  But she never followed through.  Over and over again they tried to get her to do it.  But she didn’t.  Plus he wants to pull out paragraphs here and there to show how good she was performing on certain tests.

That is his goal.  And that is what he does.  But the story isn’t over.  Because we get to cross.  Which doesn’t mean that we are trying to impeach or contradict these witness.  Au contraire.

Witness number one: the physician’s assistant.  Nick trots him through carefully selected portions of his medical records.  Gets him to admit C didn’t wear her brace. 

Cross time.  I am fiddling with the video (to show some speech therapy).  Get tangled in cords.  Realize I need the speaker.  And apparently begin to drive Nick nuts.  I then pull out exhibit 30, the famous brace.  Objection.  Overruled.  I decide to put it on.  Need a chair.  Am boxed in.  As I try to figure out what to do, Nick offers me his chair.  Why thank you Mr. Scarpelli.   Sit down.  Take off my shoes.  This takes a while because I have little ankle straps.   Begin to strap on the brace.   The jurors stand up.  Smiling.  Trying to get a good look at what I'm doing.

Limp over to the PA witness, but he’s not real familiar with how this contraption is going to work.  Says I should ask the physical therapist.  Good idea.

Limp back to chair. Take off brace.  Ask the court for permission to publish it to the jury.  Nick objects.  Argues - waste of time.  What he’s really saying is – are you freakin’ kidding me, this woman drives me crazy.  Objection overruled.  The jury passes it around as I slowly buckle my shoes back on.

Witness number two:  the first physical therapist.  Nick takes her through the paragraphs of her chart.  Gets her to say C didn’t follow through with her brace.

Cross time.   I am showing her a video of C walking two months ago.  She comes up to the tv.  Uses my pointer.  (Did I tell you that I misplaced my pointer, but Anne pulled one off an old boom box.  It is duct taped.  The judge loves it and always makes a comment about the old chevy it must have come from).   The therapist points at C’s moving image with it.  This brings to life the problem we’ve heard described and pretended to understand.  But really haven’t until now.   I look at her with a smile and ask what size shoe she wears.   Perfect!

Basically I can hear a groan or snort or some sort of gasp for air from Nick’s direction. 

Can you put this brace on and show the jury how it works.

Sure she says. 

But before she can put it on, Nick loses it.  A major meltdown moment.   In a loud voice he accuses me of wasting time and basically of being a bad lawyer.

This is of course the moment that I’ve been waiting for.  Never thinking it would actually come.  Because lawyers know that no matter how much we may argue, we must always be professional.  Especially in front of a judge, clerk, 14 jurors, 3 lawyers, 1 paralegal, 1 tech guy, my daughter, and several other observers.

Apparently I’ve gotten under Nick’s skin.

When Nick is done berating me, I ask with limpid eyes, in a sweet, soft, hurt voice: why are you being so mean to me, I’ve been nothing but nice to you.  

This does not calm him down.

Judge W and the jurors would surely like to break out the popcorn.

He objects to having the therapist put on the brace.  I respond in the same soft, sweet puzzled voice.  But Mr. Scarpelli, the last witness said I should ask this question of PT and that’s what I’m doing.  Objection overruled.

The witness puts on the brace.  The jury stands up to look.  Just like they did for me.  And learns something new.

 Photo:  Nick unsuccessfully objecting to my cross demonstration with the blasted brace.

Don't worry be happy

DSCN2930.JPGTrial day 3

The jury expects trial lawyers to be jerks.  So it doesn’t really bother them when a lawyer goes for the jugular.  In fact,  have a confession to make.  Have gone for the jugular many times before.  Mostly in the past.  But every once in a while it just feels too good to resist.  Have talked to jurors later who have said they were cheering me on as I ripped into the other side.  Trial can be a spectator sport.

So as observe Adam (the defense lawyer) from my Pollyanna haze of serenity, am not for one minute thinking that if the jury doesn’t like him then we win. 

Even so, I take extraordinary delight each time he steps into poo poo.    Yesterday my favorite moment was when Judge E sustained the objection as Adam tried to improperly impeach Dr. McE by reading to him from his own deposition.  Adam didn’t get why he couldn’t do that.  The judge realized Adam was not being belligerent but was truly obtuse.   Patiently explained to him (in front of the jury) that first the witness had to give an answer that was inconsistent with deposition testimony; then he could impeach him with the document.    Oh.  Said Adam. 

Well, today comes the second lesson from Judge E and it is even better (from my perspective).

Adam is crossing a mom who volunteers at the school and is friends with Ms. Sh.   She has straight blonde hair, clear blue eyes and is cute as can be.  On direct, we are talking about how competitive it is to be chosen as room parent in kindergarten on the Sammamish plateau (a high end suburb).  Because there is such a high parent participation rate.  How she and Mrs. Sh cheered their kids at various sporting events.  And other such darling topics. 

Now remember, Adam comes from the school of thought that you cross everyone as hard as possible as a matter of principle.  So he tries to whack her.  Here’s the question that starts him down a path of personal doom:   If Dr. H testified that blah blah blah, then how can you say, blah blah blah.

Objection.

Sustained.

Adam pauses.  Blinks.  Can’t quite figure out what to do.  So instead begins to ask the same question again.

Judge E says, counsel I sustained the objection.

But… says Adam.  And he begins to argue with the court.  Actually interrupts the judge.

I’m sitting still as can be in my roller chair.  Cheering loudly in my mind.  Go Adam Go!  

You know what’s coming.  You know what happens when you get in the face of a judge presiding over a jury trial.  You know.  I know.  And soon Adam will know.

COUNSEL!  Oh so stern.  Judge E has a deep booming voice to begin with.  It is now being used with full effect.  I HAVE MADE MY RULING.  YOUR QUESTION IS IMPROPER!

The room literally rings with the melody of Judge E’s castigation.

Nala is an alpha female.  So undersized for her breed, that people still think she’s a puppy.  When I run her around the neighborhood, I have to bribe her not to charge after every dog we pass.  Chihuahua or Lab.  It doesn’t matter how big they are.  She is the alpha.  A few months ago, a german shepherd was off leash.  It rushed us.  Nala froze.    She then tried to hide behind me but wasn’t quick enough before that bad boy jumped her.  I pushed him off her and ultimately skin was not broken.  But the rest of the day, Nala was subdued.  Ashamed most likely.  Conscious that her alpha-ness was only in her own mind.

This is what happens to Adam.  His aggressiveness is trimmed down a few notches for the rest of the afternoon.

All in all, today, the jury hears a total of three lay witnesses, two long doctor video depositions, and we have started on the direct of the husband.

An hour after court ends, am running down the hill from my house to pick up Nala.  The sun is shining.  Am letting my brain wander wherever it wants.  And it hits me.

This is the first time in a couple of years, where I haven’t been obsessing and worrying about the jury.  Have chosen to be positive Pollyanna.   Committed completely to positivity, sweetness and light.    We will do this as good as we can, as true as we can, and that’s it.   

There is this little song I wrote

I hope you learn it note for note

Like good little children

Don't worry, be happy

Listen to what I say

In your life expect some trouble

But when you worry

You make it double

Don't worry, be happy......

Don't worry don't do it, be happy

Put a smile on your face

Don't bring everybody down like this

Don't worry, it will soon pass

Whatever it is

Don't worry, be happy

Song By  Bobby McFerrin

This entry is derived from an excerpt in my trial diary of Sept. 2012.

Photo:  "Aunt Sally" the skeleton in Judge Erlich's courtroom

 

The trial diary that almost wasn't

P5020384.JPGI first tried a MIST case (Minor Impact Soft Tissue) fifteen years ago. Glenn Phillips (he of the billboard/tv/bus/cab advertising fame) was the defense lawyer.

I was going to be speaking in the country’s first “How to Hammer Allstate” seminar conceived by my then law partner Pat LePley. So I needed a sample case. One of my existing clients was involved in a zero property damage car strike. I took it on to see what Allstate would do. They hired Glenn, his associate, a biomechanic expert and an orthopedic surgeon who wrote a 35 page report. Our side had a chiro who had never testified before even in deposition. And the husband (a Boeing engineer) to counter the defense biomechanic. Well, we beat the zero offer. And got over a grand in sanctions because Allstate refused to admit fault until the first day of trial. My love affair with MIST cases was born.

SCREEEEAATCHHHHHHHHH! (Old fashioned record comes to a jagged ear splitting halt).

The Stritmatter law firm where I work is one of the most prestigious in the region. We are known for handling huge, giant, big damage cases. And yet… And yet, I still try MIST cases. Proudly.

Here is where the struggle comes in and the reason why this diary was almost not written.

Because “great” trial lawyers win gigantic verdicts. They don’t win more than zero in a MIST case. Right?

Let’s be real and honest.

Look at our Trial News magazines. Look at the books by top lawyers that we read. Do we as a profession trumpet our wins and losses of MIST cases. No. We don’t. Other than the occasional surprising win, we silently bear the lowball settlements, the demoralizing losses.

Many lawyers will hang up the phone if someone calls asking for representation in a MIST case. Even though we know that people are truly injured in low speed collisions all the time. Jurors easily buy into the insurance companies' "no crash no cash" defense. And usually disregard what the injured person and their doctors have to say.

I am part of a law firm. I owe them my fealty. My actions reflect on them. If I take on a MIST case and lose it, I impact the reputation of the firm. Because if great lawyers get great big results. Then by logic poor low/defense results means poor lawyers. Right?

Our braggadocio based trial lawyer culture is eating away at our souls. We don’t take small cases to trial because we worry that we will lose and be seen as losers. We only talk about our wins because we can build up our reputations and get more and better cases. Our fear of being branded as a member of the trial lawyer caste that handles small cases, has made it easy for the insurance industry to offer peanuts to those who deserve so much more.

There is another factor involved. A bit more selfish. We’re still being real right?

I am a trial lawyer. I want to grow as a trial lawyer. Good big cases settle. About once every three years, an opportunity comes around where I can try a fantastic big case. So what happens in between. Do I go to trial college. Do I read more books.

Heck no.

I try cases. Small, big, supposedly too tough to win - anything I can sink my teeth into. I will try it. Even when it is a case that is like the one starting tomorrow. A case that seems impossible to win. And may well be.

This diary was almost not written, because I worried that my firm should not suffer loss of reputation from my writing about trying an uphill MIST case. The fact that it is being written is a testament to their strength and belief in me. And to the cause of right to jury trial that we stand for.

This entry is derived from an excerpt in my trial diary of Sept. 2012.

Photo: the best picture of vehicle damage in the case. Thank goodness the finger shows us where to look.

 

Whoops there she goes ...a trial diary excerpt

DSCN2866.JPGTrial day 3.

Swim to consciousness through Nyquil fog.  Can almost breathe through both nostrils.  But there is a weight on my body.  The left over pall from yesterday. 

The tooth brush whirls.  Do not feel like full-speed-ahead-charge!-Karen on the White Stallion.  Somberly put on black combat uniform and head back out into the desert.

In the hall outside the courtroom there’s a desk area.  The clients are with their two children.  This has been planned because the sitters could only cover for two days.  They are cute blue eyed little sweethearts.  Drawing pictures of houses with crayons.  I’ve offered for them to hang out in my hotel room.  They can play in the pool and watch tv.  The parents will switch off as each other testifies. First the kids want to see the courtroom.

Court starts up.  Judge A asks if there is any other matter.  I say, your honor, I would like to introduce my client's children.  They will be out in the hall but wanted to come and see what a courtroom is like.  Judge A breaks into a big smile and greets each child.   She is kind and sweet.   How old are you she asks.  The five year old holds up one hand, waves all her fingers and giggles.  The little boy bounces up with shiny eyes and grins that he’s ten.

Barely a second passes.  Frowning the defense lawyer, Keley, announces she needs to register an objection to the children being in the courtroom.  That she has children too, but a courtroom is no place for them.  She doesn’t want them distracting the jury or acting inappropriately and causing disturbances.  She’s really probably thinking that we intend to parade them in front of the jury.  I guess to get them to like us more.  Which they absolutely wouldn’t.  Like us more that is.

Judge A pauses.  In a level voice says the courthouse is open to the public and she won’t impose additional restrictions on this family.  She leaves the bench to wait for the jury.  The children and mom leave.  I lean over to Kelley and hiss in a voice choking with fury:  that was absolutely inappropriate, unnecessary and rude.  The judge comes back in (probably catches me call Kelley rude) and we begin.

Now I didn’t tell you this, but yesterday, Kelley accused me of violating a motion in limine and asked the judge to caution me (which she did).  During opening I apologized for being a bit under the weather, not my usual perky self and didn’t want them to feel this was a reflection on my belief in my client’s case.  The MIL says we are not to express our personal beliefs as to the merits of the case.  Kelley is so petty about this, that it  takes my breath away.  With a sigh, Judge A says technically it does violate the MIL.  I can tell she chalks this up to big bad city lawyer cut throat positioning. I know this because she  says so.   I don’t like to be clumped together with Kelley on this.  But I am.

Back to today.  Kelley’s negative trial karma is going to catch up with her. 

We finish the plaintiff expert physician's testimony.  Then recess.  Judge A calls us into chambers.  I’m thinking – uh oh, did we lose another juror (yesterday we lost the alternate on condition that if we lost another we would go to a jury of 11).

We sit down.  The judge closes the door.   Then absolutely royally in no uncertain terms rips into Kelley for her comments about the kids.   This may well be the single most eloquent powerful dressing down of a lawyer I have ever seen in chambers.  Judge A is brilliant.  In that moment I love her.  My eyes well and overflow.   I can’t help it.    She is championing the moral outrage that coursed through my body when Kelley rained on the little children’s parade.  Judge A hands me her tissue box.  Kelley says she apologizes, that she has kids too and that’s why she raised the issue in the first place.  Then her voice falters and she sheds a tear and also is given a tissue.  I feel no sympathy for her.  Not that I don’t like her.  In all of our interactions outside of the courtroom she is really one of my favorite defense lawyers.  No nonsense, straight and true.  But she is willing to risk collateral damage when she goes for the jugular during trial.  The way she disrespected the family was really crappy and wrong.

We are ushered back outside, the judge and jury on our heels.  The plaintiff is on the stand and it is back to business. 

The rest of the day is summed up like this.  Yahoo!!! 

I wish you could have seen the plaintiff testify.  I wish you could have seen Kelley’s awful cross.  I wish you could have seen the wife make my eyes water just a teeny little bit.  That perfect place where nothing overflows. 

We rest.  Defense calls a five minute witness who adds absolutely nothing.  Court adjourns.

But wait.  It is not quite over.

We must come back to do instructions after the arraignment calendar.  An hour later at 5:00 we are back in court.  (Note:  this will take us two hours.  Judge A really goes above and beyond).  The judge has gone to take off her robe.   I have my laptop and ipad out with each set of instructions.  Kelley is shuffling piles of papers getting set up.

 Crash!!!!! Bang!!!! Hahaha. 

I turn around. Whaaaaaaaat!

Kelley is lying on the ground on her back.  Half way back to the spectator bar. Roller chair sidewise.  Three foot long elegant legs sticking in the air.  She rolls over and springs up.  Jokingly asks me to represent her.

I smile and laugh with her.   I really do like her. I do.  I really do. 

But inside, am thinking. 

Poetic justice strikes again.

Photo:  Judge A's courtroom in Wenatchee, WA