LAWYERS are supposed to be great debaters. After all, theirs is a career that demands they be articulate.
Yet, step into any courtroom and you will find that very few in the legal profession are clear or concise.
For example, I often see the accused in the dock whispering anxiously to his lawyer.
In one instance, instead of telling the court that his client had decided to plead guilty, the lawyer turned to the judge and declared that his client "intends to take a certain course of action".
The accused, already wracked by anxiety about the grim fate that awaited him, was now thrown into even more confusion trying to decipher what his lawyer had told the court.
Perhaps, it's bad luck for a lawyer to use the "guilty" word?
Of course, there are some lawyers who are truly eloquent, clear and unambiguous in court. But for every such gifted advocate, there are a dozen lawyers and deputy public prosecutors (DPP) who appear to suffer from linguistic lapses unbecoming to the profession.
These are the ones who hide behind legal jargon at the first opportunity - and end up with their feet in their mouths.
As the following examples could prove embarrassing to these "learned friends"; no names will be mentioned.
Recently in the High Court, a deputy public prosecutor asked a policewoman: "So pursuant to the question, you answered the question?"
The sergeant looked totally dumbfounded, probably thinking that "pursuant" was something police officers did when a suspect tries to run away.
All the DPP wanted to know was whether the police witness had answered the question the defence lawyer had asked her earlier.
A lawyer, with the exalted rank of Senior Counsel, told me that lawyers should make their questions easy to understand.
"Confusing your own witnesses is no way to win a case," he said, getting his point across with hardly any effort.
But confusing one and all in court happens all too frequently.
A few hours in court will reveal that lawyers never apologise but merely "stand corrected" when a judge ticks them off.
And the situation becomes laughable when a lawyer or DPP imagines himself as a character in a popular television legal drama, spitting out questions relentlessly. Sometimes so rapidly that their brains are left sputtering behind.
Here's an example from a murder trial some months ago. Imagine the DPP hardly pausing between questions until the judge brings it all to a screeching halt.
DPP: Now, at this stage, you said you heard the victim shout. What did she shout?
Witness: She shouted ‘Ah’.
DPP: Very loudly?
Witness: Yes
DPP: Was she screaming?
Judge: Hold on. What is the difference between shouting loudly and screaming?
DPP: Yes, Your Honour, I will not go there then.
In another murder case, the DPP, also on a roll, asked the witness a series of increasingly irrelevant questions.
When he asked about the exact size of the flat the accused person stayed in, the judge had obviously had enough.
"So, now you want to buy the flat?" he asked sarcastically.
If irrelevant questions are not bad enough, there are also the frequent court cliches such as "If it pleases the court", "If I may" or its alternative: "With the court's permission".
These expressions may be part of court etiquette, but I sense that some judges are clearly piqued by the endless repetition. So much so that after one too many "if I mays", a judge exclaimed: "Of course you may if it helps your client's case."
And when arguing appeals against convictions or sentences, DPPs are famous for repeating that the learned trial judge had "carefully and accurately considered the facts of the case".
The frequent mouthing of such words always leaves me wondering if any learned judge would consider the facts in any other way.
For crying out loud, stop saying the obvious; there might be less hot air leading to less global warming!
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http://www.weareallprecious.com/messageboards/showthread.php?p=7850351#post7850351 Otis Shimko



