I Promise This Column Has A Point
First Day In Court
Pat Foltz
Issue date: 11/13/07 Section: Features
So last Friday I rose at 6 a.m., showered, shaved, and broke out my good suit. I assembled myself, looked in the mirror, and took a deep breath. Today was the first day I would appear in court and speak before a judge. Best case scenario, I would successfully execute a formality in a divorce proceeding. Worst case, I'm behind bars in a holding cell for contempt of court.
Arguing in court has been a dream of mine. As a pianist and semi-proficient high school athlete, I loved the feeling of a concert or a big game. With all its eyes fixed on you, a crowd watches you perform. Each has its own natural drama. Coming off those experiences, I hoped that a courtroom appearance would create the same rush of adrenaline.
I therefore obtained a Third Year Practice certificate (much less impressive than its sounds) and started work at my current firm in Leesburg, Virginia. For six months I'd worked there, always hoping the chance would arise whereby I would appear in court and start my career. And while I had several great chances to sit second chair in hearings, I never had the chance to speak.
The reason, of course, is very understandable. If accused of a crime, I would never, ever, in a thousand years, consent to have a law student represent me rather than a lawyer. Nor would I in my divorce, my will, or my contracts. Come to think of it, I would never let a law student represent me in any issue that had any meaning at all. Why risk it? And since I wouldn't consent to law student representation, I didn't expect anyone else to either.
Fortunately, the legal system has an outlet: the ore tenus hearing. "Ore Tenus," translated from the Latin, means "impossible to screw up." It's the last stage in a divorce. The parties can formalize the separation, ratify a property agreement, and end the proceeding.
During an ore tenus hearing the lawyer runs his client through basic questions for the record. Then the lawyer verifies those responses with a witness. The proceeding isn't adversarial. Lawyers can lead with their questions, repeat them, and coach their clients on their responses beforehand.
Arguing in court has been a dream of mine. As a pianist and semi-proficient high school athlete, I loved the feeling of a concert or a big game. With all its eyes fixed on you, a crowd watches you perform. Each has its own natural drama. Coming off those experiences, I hoped that a courtroom appearance would create the same rush of adrenaline.
I therefore obtained a Third Year Practice certificate (much less impressive than its sounds) and started work at my current firm in Leesburg, Virginia. For six months I'd worked there, always hoping the chance would arise whereby I would appear in court and start my career. And while I had several great chances to sit second chair in hearings, I never had the chance to speak.
The reason, of course, is very understandable. If accused of a crime, I would never, ever, in a thousand years, consent to have a law student represent me rather than a lawyer. Nor would I in my divorce, my will, or my contracts. Come to think of it, I would never let a law student represent me in any issue that had any meaning at all. Why risk it? And since I wouldn't consent to law student representation, I didn't expect anyone else to either.
Fortunately, the legal system has an outlet: the ore tenus hearing. "Ore Tenus," translated from the Latin, means "impossible to screw up." It's the last stage in a divorce. The parties can formalize the separation, ratify a property agreement, and end the proceeding.
During an ore tenus hearing the lawyer runs his client through basic questions for the record. Then the lawyer verifies those responses with a witness. The proceeding isn't adversarial. Lawyers can lead with their questions, repeat them, and coach their clients on their responses beforehand.
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