1. You say: "Thank you, your honor." Then you think about filing an appeal, if one's appropriate.
2. You file a pleading that says, among other things: "It is sad when a man of your intellectual ability cannot get it
right when your own record does not support your half-baked findings."
Yep. Someone picked #2. Bad idea (here). It was also a bad idea when the same person sent a bottle of wine to the judge to try to deal with the aftermath of the legal wrangling.
My guess--and I don't know this lawyer at all--is that the lawyer started to identify too personally with his client's case. It's not that difficult to make that step from being your client's advocate to feeling as though your client's case is YOUR case and getting too overwrought when things aren't going your way.
There's a fine line between being an impassioned advocate and being someone who's too wrapped up in the case to be able to depersonalize things. I remember being a baby lawyer and having a much-more-seasoned lawyer scream at me during a phone call. I don't remember what the issue was, but I remember asking him why he was yelling at me. As I explained, "This isn't your problem. It's your client's problem. So why are you yelling?" He calmed down, and we worked well together thereafter.
Again: the proper response when you disagree with a court's ruling? "Thank you, your honor."
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
See here. Good writing is part of competence--well, at least decent writing is, and bad writing isn't.
Monday, September 19, 2011
My buddy Phyllis Frye has just published some of her recollections about coming out as transgender (here). Her stories about her isolation in law school are good reading, and not just because they reflect what things were like decades ago.