Legal Studies Forum
Volume 24, Numbers 3 & 4 (2000)
reprinted by permission Legal Studies Forum
CATSKILLS ON COURT STREET
JEREMY GILMAN
Trial day in a Brooklyn courtroom on
a steamy July Thursday. Two-car pileup on Ocean Parkway.
Nothing major, but everyone complained
of stiff backs, sore necks, aching shoulders, loss of consortium–all the
fakeable stuff.
The plaintiff, a guy named Alvarado,
claimed he was slowing down to turn left on Courtelyou Road at 3:20 a.m.
on a Saturday night when defendant’s car came out of nowhere and slammed
him in the rear.
The defendant, Ping Hsiang, said Alvarado
stopped short.
A bilingual shoving match ensued, license
numbers were exchanged, and lawyers called.
Alvarado sued first; Hsiang counterclaimed;
settlement talks went nowhere and the case went to trial, the Honorable
Angelo DiPrezio presiding.
A jury was impanelled; your typical
Brooklyn mix. Three women, three men, four skin colors, five accents, six
versions of God: the kind of global hodgepodge that exists nowhere but
New York. It was a jury of everyone’s peers. A jury of immigrants. Restless.
Sweating.
The majesty of the process took over.
Judge DiPrezio glowered and sneered;
a Roman face in a flowing black cape. The court reporter sat erectly, fingers
poised over keys. Opposing counsel scribbled on legal pads while Alvarado
and Hsiang fidgeted in their seats. The bailiff shielded the Judge. The
jury was awake.
The trial was about to begin.
Plaintiff’s lawyer rose from his chair
and approached the podium.
The room stopped.
“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Milton
Gluck and I represent the Plaintiff, Hector Ruiz Alvarado, in this lawsuit.
Does this thing work?” he asked, tapping the microphone. “Can you hear
me back there?”
The bailiff nodded.
“Good. O.K. As I was saying, I’m Milton
Gluck of Gluck & Speilvogel right here in Brooklyn. We represent the
sick and injured, which from
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the looks of you includes all of you, so you may want to jot down my
name and give me a call when we’re done with this case.”
Judge DiPrezio raised an eyebrow. “Counselor,”
he said, “this is a trial, not a TV ad. Get on with your opening.”
“Yes, Your Honor, of course, my opening.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was telling you my name. It’s Milton Gluck. As
in the past tense of Glick. Today, you glick. Yesterday, you glucked. A
lot of people ask me, What the hell does Gluck mean? I tell them it’s the
sound a chicken makes when it gargles.”
The Paki juror laughed.
“What,” Gluck continued, “you think
I’m kidding? Listen to your chicken next time it gargles. Don’t take him
for granted. You’ll see I’m telling you the truth. Which reminds me, who
here would know the truth if they heard it?”
No one answered.
“Who would know a lie if they heard
it?”
More silence.
“That’s what I like, an intelligent
jury. You’re mental giants, all of you. I’m glad you’re on the case. This
is a simple case, so maybe there’s a chance you’ll understand it. A slim
chance. Actually, looking at your faces, I take that back. There’s no chance.
Just kidding. You’re the best looking jury I’ve ever seen, really, a super,
super group. I’ve got to hand it to you . . .”
“Counselor?”
“Yes, Judge?”
“Your opening?”
“Do you like it?”
“I’m waiting for it to begin.”
“You hear that, ladies and gentlemen?
Judge DiPrezio is waiting for me to start my opening statement. That’s
the beauty of our justice system, folks. It has a beginning, a middle,
and an end. An up and a down. An in and an out. A yin and a yang. It’s
like a tennis ball . . .”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
“ – without the felt. A highway with
no guardrails. A briefcase with no handle. Just look at my client. Look
at him. He’s a broken man. A good man, but a broken man. A good broken
man. Or is it broken good man? Whatever. He’s good. Good for nothing. Look
at his nose. It was broken in three places that fateful night in May of
1996. I didn’t even know a nose had three places until I met this man.
Where he was coming from or going to that fateful night is irrelevant.
Besides, you wouldn’t want to know. So what if he’s a pimp? And I’m sure
you’ll hear
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from my worthy opponent that Mr. Alvarado has two felony convictions
to his credit, including one for selling amphetamines to a minor. Forgive
me for saying this, ladies and gentlemen, but that’s irrelevant, too. And
do you know why it’s irrelevant? Do you? Look at you. You wouldn’t
know relevance if it plotzed in front of you on the street. Just listen
to me before you doze off, that’s all I ask. Try to think for once
in your lives. You’re jurors now, you’re not bums anymore. At least not
until the trial’s over. Then you can go back to being bums. My son’s a
bum. He’s thirty-four years old. The other day he says to me, he goes,
Pop, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I tell him, Move out
of the house and get a job, then we’ll figure it out. He makes me
sick. Just like you. Look at you. I’ve seen livelier faces on mummies.
You look like you’ve been constipated for a month, except for that guy
in the back over there, the one with the fez. He looks like he’s got the
runs. What can I do to persuade you to find for my client? How can I taint
your independence? I’d offer you bribes but that might wake up the Judge.
You need motivation? Just look at Judge DiPrezio over here. This man holds
the world record for sleeping through the most trials.”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
“I’m telling you, ladies and gentlemen,
he was made for the law. Why, if he weren’t a judge, he’d probably be a
defendant somewhere. He knew he wanted to be a judge the moment he was
released from reform school. And my opposing counsel, Herbie Molloy? Let
me put it to you this way, he gets thirsty whenever the Judge says the
word sidebar. Herbie handles a lot of drunk driving cases because he can
relate to his clients. See that book next to him? It’s a flask. Last time
Herbie was sober he was in a coma. Finally, a quick comment about Ping
Hsiang, the guy who hit my client. The guy’s got opium written all over
him. If your son or daughter’s a dope addict, you’ve got him to thank for
it.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Mr. Gluck, would you please
confine your opening statement to the specific issues presented in this
case?”
“I would, Your Honor, if I knew what
they were. You’ve been a great jury, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy the
rest of the trial. Goodnight!”
“It’s still morning, Mr. Gluck.”
“Whatever.”
“Mr. Molloy,” the Judge said. “Opening
statement?”
Molloy nods and approaches the podium.
“Thank you, Your Honor. And thank you,
ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Before I begin my opening, how about
a nice round of applause for Milt Gluck? Come on, Milt Gluck, everybody!
All right. That was a
[465]
great opening, Milt. Really great. It grated on my nerves, that’s how
great it was. I’ve heard better openings in the trauma unit. I would have
puked on my shoes if I hadn’t already done so earlier in the day. Your
Honor, before I start my opening, may I have three minutes to warm up the
jury?”
“Any objection, Mr. Gluck?”
“If Herbie Molloy wants it, I object
to it.”
“Very well. I’ll grant your motion,
Mr. Molloy. You have three minutes to warm up the jury. Will you need a
laugh track, counselor?”
“No, Your Honor. That won’t be necessary.
All the jury has to do is look at your bailiff if it wants a good laugh.
Rocco LoTutsio, ladies and gentlemen, Judge DiPrezio’s bailiff!
Let’s hear it for Rocco, a great bailiff and a true renaissance man. First
bookie in the City to become a bailiff, folks. Way to go, Rocky. Rocco
became a bailiff when he couldn’t find a job as a hit man. Racket sports
don’t mean squash and tennis to this guy, you know what I’m saying? Know
the best way to get on Rocky’s good side? Pay your debts on time. Most
bailiffs help keep order in the courtroom? Rocco enforces it. He doesn’t
have a brother. He’s got a brotherhood. After Rocco retires from the court
he’s going into the witness protection program. Rocco doesn’t only swear
in witnesses, he tampers with them. I’m gonna lay off Rocco for now, but
do me a favor, would you Rock?”
“What’s that Hoib?”
“Fix those parking tickets I was telling
you about, would you?”
“You got it.”
“Great. I promise I’ll pay your fee.
Just don’t tell the Judge, O.K.? He’ll want a piece of the action. Rocco
LoTutsio, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give him a nice big hand!
You’re beautiful, Rocco. I mean it. Yeah! The Rock of Ages, right
here in this courtroom! The Rock of Gibraltar! Come on, folks, give
him a nice big round of applause!”
The jury applauded.
“All right, then, thank you. You’re
beautiful, every single one of you. You’re great. Yeah!”
The jury continued to applaud, and the
Korean and Hasidic jurors gave him a standing ovation.
“O.K., O.K. Thank you . . . Thanks a
lot. Woo! You’re beautiful! Yeah! O.K., let’s talk car accident,
shall we? Rear-ender. A vehicular kick in the butt on Ocean Parkway. That’s
what we’re here for, right? That’s why we’re wasting our time here today.
Because some schnook named Alvarado claims that some schmuck named Hsiang
tapped his fender at the intersection of Ocean Parkway and Courtelyou Road
after
[466]
a night of booze and broads. Give me a break. Who are we kidding here?
Just who the hell are we kidding? Thank you.”
“Very well,” Judge DiPrezio said. “Plaintiff
may call his first witness. Mr. Gluck?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. For my first
witness, I’d like to call you, Your Honor.”
“Very well,” the Judge said. “Please
swear me in, bailiff.”
Judge DiPrezio stepped off the bench
and into the witness box. Rocco swore him in.
“Do you swear that the testimony you’re
about to give will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,
so help you God?”
“Depends on what I say.”
“You may be seated.”
“Thank you, Judge,” Gluck said. “Now
remember, you’re under oath, so you can’t lie. I know that may be difficult
for you, but you’ll have to be honest with me. O.K.?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Please. And if you feel the urge to
lie, just tell me, will you do that for me?”
“I feel it right now.”
“Do you need to take a break?”
“No, just give me a few seconds and
it’ll pass. All right, I’m ready.”
“Good. We’ll move quickly. Judge DiPrezio,
I’m going to ask you to assume that my client, the Plaintiff, was driving
a vehicle one night when he was struck in the rear by Defendant’s vehicle.
I’m also going to ask you to assume that the Defendant’s first name is
Ping and that he’s a heroin trafficker who’s here on a fake visa. Finally,
I’ll ask you to assume that my client, Mr. Alvarado, just saved your grandchildren
from a hostage situation and that he lost all of his toes in the process.
Now, tell me, Judge, did Mr. Alvarado cause this car accident, or was it
that terrorist Ping?”
“Objection,” Molloy said. “You forgot
to mention that Ping won a Pulitzer Prize for sports journalism in 1987
and is a direct descendent of Martin Van Buren.”
“Sustained,” Rocco grunted. “Answer
the question.”
“Well,” the Judge said, “given all those
factors, I’d have to say that I can’t tell who caused the accident.”
“Exactly,” Gluck said, banging the podium.
“You cannot, as you sit here today, wearing that robe and those shoes and
the same underwear you’ve been wearing all week, tell this jury that my
client, Mr. Hector Ruiz Alvarado, stopped short that fateful night and
caused the accident for which he’s suing Mr. Ping Pong; isn’t that right,
Judge?”
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“That’s right. I cannot.”
“Thank you,” Gluck said. “I rest my
case.”
“Mr. Molloy? Do you wish to cross-examine
me?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I do.”
“Very well.”
“Thank you. But before I begin, Judge,
can I have one more minute to warm up the jury?”
“What do you think, Rocco?” the Judge
asked.
“Toity seconds,” Rocco grunted.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Molloy said.
“And thank you, too, Rocco. Toity seconds is very generous. As you can
tell, ladies and gentlemen, Rocco is a true math wiz. I once asked him
to add toity and toity and he said it was toity two. The only thing he
knows how to count is interest. Compounded hourly. I once needed an extra
buck for the subway and made the mistake of asking Rocco for a loan. Next
day he made my mortgage my house. I figure it’ll take me two years to pay
him off. The interest alone is greater than the national debt. But Rocco’s
a charitable guy, he really is. He spends his spare time protecting storeowners
from his cousins. It’s cheap; costs them only ninety percent of their weekly
revenues. Just think of it, for a nominal fee Rocco’s goombahs won’t break
you legs. That’s good of you, Rocky. Real thoughtful. About as thoughtful
as a radiation leak. And talk about thoughtful, this guy Alvarado here?
I had a videotape of him selling cocaine to preschoolers. Unfortunately,
I lost it on my way to court this morning.”
“Time’s up,” Rocco said.
“Thanks, Rocky. How much do I owe you?
Rocco LoTutsio, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hear it for him again!”
Rocco waved while the jury applauded.
“All right, then,” Molloy continued.
“Let’s move on. Remember, Judge DiPrezio, you’re still under oath, O.K.?”
“O.K.”
“That means you can’t lie yet.”
“Will you tell me when I can?”
“Absolutely. And do me a favor, all
right? Talk coherently. We got a jury here. Now, tell us, Judge, do you
know the Plaintiff, Hector Ruiz Alvarado?”
“No.
“And what about the Defendant, Ping
Hsiang. Do you know him?”
“No, but I saw his latest movie.”
“You mean Little Women with Liam
Neeson and Emma Thompson?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“In which Ping played the littlest woman?”
[468]
“Exactly.”
“Tell me, Judge,” Molloy whispered,
“did you cry when Ping’s character was stranded in the sanitary sewer?”
“A little, yes.”
“Did you root for him to get out?”
“I did.”
“So is it safe to say, Judge, that you’re
biased in my client’s favor?”
“A little bit, yes.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
“You may step down,” Rocco snorted.
Judge DiPrezio returned to the bench.
“Mr. Molloy, any other witnesses?”
“Only one more, Judge. Your Honor, I’d
like to call that white, middle-aged, female juror in the back row toward
the left as my final witness.”
“Any objections, Mr. Gluck?”
“I’m not paying attention, Judge.”
“Very well, Mr. Molloy. You may call
her.”
The woman approached the witness box.
Rocco administered the oath. The Judge told her to be seated.
“Good morning,” Molloy said. “Would
you state your name, please?”
“Colleen Kirkpatrick.”
“Tell us a little bit about yourself,
Ms. Kirkpatrick. Did you have a drink before coming to court today?”
“I – ”
“What’d you have, bourbon and tonic,
hold the tonic?”
“No, just Scotch.”
“Thank you. Ms. Kirkpatrick, given your
obvious mental deficit, do you consider yourself qualified to serve on
this jury?”
“I do.”
“So do I. Welcome to the panel. Did
you happen to bring any whiskey with you, by chance?”
“No, sorry.”
“Well, next time remember to, you treasonous
harlot. You may step down now. Now get outta here. Move! Colleen Kirkpatrick,
everyone! All right! Isn’t she great? Your Honor, Mr. Gluck and I now
jointly request the Court’s permission to sing the jury a song.”
“Very well, counselors. What would you
like to sing?”
“The Laverne and Shirley theme song,”
Gluck said.
“If you insist. Hit it, lawyers.”
“We’re gonna make it . . . Give us
any chance, we’ll take it, Read us any rule, we’ll break it, We’re gonna
make our dreams come true–”
[469]
“Wait, wait,” Judge DiPrezio cried, waving
them down, “hold on a second. How about Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard?
Can you do that?”
“What do you say, Milt?”
“Let’s give it a whirl.”
“Mama pyjama rolled outta bed, she ran
to the po-lice station, When the cop found out, he began to shout, he started
the investigation. It’s against the law, it was against the law, what the
mama saaawwww –”
“All right, all right” the Judge said,
“enough already, enough already. That was horrible. Ladies and gentlemen,
let’s hear it for counsel of record! Milt Gluck and Herbie Molloy!
Come on, let’s give them a nice big round of applause.”
The jury gave them a standing ovation.
The Arab juror whistled, then high-fived the Filipino standing beside him.
“You sounded like a slaughterhouse,
guys, I just want you to know that. Anything else, counselors?”
“Your Honor,” Molloy said, “it gives
us great pleasure to tell you that we both rest our cases. This trial’s
over!”
The jury rose and applauded wildly.
Alvarado and Hsiang joined in. Judge DiPrezio descended from the bench
and he, Rocco and the lawyers joined hands and bowed twice in unison to
the jury. Then they waved, turned, and marched out of the courtroom, arm
in arm, while the jury and litigants continued to cheer.
The foreman then rose and announced
the jury’s verdict: “We, the jury, having been thoroughly entertained in
this proceeding, do hereby find in favor of the Plaintiff, Hector Ruiz
Alvarado, in the sum of seven hundred sixty-four dollars and twenty-seven
cents, which we will deem to be fully paid if the Defendant, Ping Hsiang,
apologizes nicely and sincerely to Mr. Alvarado.”
“I’m sorry,” Hsiang said.
“No problem,” Alvarado responded.
The two then shook hands and everyone
cleared out of the courtroom.
That evening, a janitor stopped by to
clean up, then turned out the lights and locked up the door for the night.
A fraud trial was scheduled to begin
at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.
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* Litigation Partner, Cleveland, Ohio law firm. [Editor’s
Note: Jeremy Gilman’s first published story, “The Real World School of
Law,” orginally published in New England Review, was nominated for
a Pushcart Prize and reprinted in 24 LEGAL STUD.
F. 20 (2000). “Light Banter: The Faculty at Lunch” appeared in 24 LEGAL
STUD. F. 343 (2000)]. |
