In this episode of "The Trial Lawyer's Handbook" podcast series, litigation attorney Dan Small emphasizes the vital role of storytelling in trials. Drawing from his experiences in the Hyattsville, Maryland, Magistrate's Court, he shares valuable lessons on how compelling narratives are an essential part of the practice of trial law, beyond mastering court procedures, techniques and legal principles. To illustrate this idea, Mr. Small shares an anecdote of a mother who was pulled over for speeding. After presenting her story, the court discovered that she was hurrying to pick up her sick daughter from school, thus better setting up her case for success.
Listen to more episodes of The Trial Lawyer's Handbook here.
This podcast episode was adapted from Mr. Small's book Lessons Learned from a Life on Trial: Landmark Cases from a Veteran Litigator and What They Can Teach Trial Lawyers.
Podcast Transcript
Dan Small: The second of the three core themes I've been discussing in prior episodes that I learned in the Hyattsville, Maryland, Magistrate's Court, after "know your court," was "tell your story." Far beyond the procedures, the techniques, the legal principles, the essence of going to court — and particularly going to trial — is to tell your story.
As trial lawyers, we're storytellers. We tell the story about an important event in someone's life or business or whatever. I experienced this vividly in Hyattsville five days a week, 50-plus misdemeanor cases a day. Folks would line up and wait patiently to tell me their story. Each defendant had a story, and each told it a little differently. Often the story was just to get some sympathy or to lower the fine or the insurance points, but that was expected. The law should honor differing circumstances, differing motivations and differing lives.
Some of the stories were much more involved, trying to explain what had happened or why, or trying to show that they hadn't violated the law — or at least they hadn't intended to. For example, mom was clocked at 44 mph in a 30 mph zone. But the letter mom brought in from the elementary school confirmed what she had told the police, that the school had asked her to hurry because her daughter had gotten quite sick and was in tears in the school's nurse's office. Shouldn't we take that into consideration?
Or this: There's no excuse for driving while impaired. But if dad lost his job that day and stopped at a bar for the first time in many years because he was too ashamed to go home, can't we listen to his loving family? Please don't pile on.
I remember one woman in particular who was there on a relatively minor traffic violation. I can't remember the details, but it's something where a simple "I'm sorry" would have gotten her out of court quickly with a small fine. But she was determined to show us that she was in the right, and therefore she was determined for her day in court, to go to trial. The police officer's testimony was relatively straightforward and hard to contest, but she got up and made an extraordinary presentation. She told a detailed, sincere story. She brought maps, photos, charts that she had made and all kinds of impressive materials to tell the story with. She put them together carefully, respectfully and thoughtfully.
When she was done, I looked first at the officer who had issued the citation to get his reaction. I never wanted to undercut the officers if I can avoid it. He smiled at me as if to say, "Yes, OK, whatever you want to do is fine." Then I looked up at the magistrate with the same unspoken question and I got the same unspoken reply, "Whatever you want to do is fine." So I thought about it and I moved to dismiss the charge even though the evidence I thought was pretty clear.
The magistrate first complimented the officer for his professionalism and testimony. Then he thanked me for doing a fine job trying the case. It wasn't much of a trial, but I guess I did a fine job. And finally he turned to the defendant and thanked her for taking the matter so seriously, investing so much time and effort in her case, and giving such a clear indication that she understood the law and would not make the same mistake again. Then he granted my motion to dismiss the charge. The defendant — shocked — burst into tears. She went over first to the officer and shook hands, then shook my hand, then thanked the magistrate and assured us all that it would never happen again. We were all quite confident that it wouldn't.
Her story and those of the 50-plus cases a day that we had helped me to understand the importance of storytelling in court. This is real life, not legal fiction. Real life is messy. It comes with details, emotions, complications and an interesting and hopefully compelling story. And every story matters. Don't go into court just to try a case. Go into court to tell your story.
The content of this article is intended to provide a general guide to the subject matter. Specialist advice should be sought about your specific circumstances.
