⚖️ Closing Arguments
My favorite case is one I haven’t tried yet.
It has very little to do with the client, the facts, or the venue. The client is fantastic and, like most, incredibly deserving of justice after what she’s been through. The facts are horrific and solidly on our side. The venue is a place where I spent lots of time in my formative years.
But the reason it’s my favorite case is because of my co-counsel: my dad.
Time and happenstance conspired to give us this opportunity. Dad is wrapping things up back home and putting the cap on a decades-long legal career, and I was able to pro hac into Maryland purely for the purposes of trying this case with him. It’ll be his last jury trial in Maryland and, ironically, my first.
One of the strange things about getting older is realizing that very little of what you’re doing is “new.” Stranger still, at least in my circumstances, is realizing that my dad likely did the exact same things about thirty years ago. The worries. The excitement. The fear. The ambition. The daily rollercoaster of practicing law is a ride he punched a ticket on long before I could walk.
I’ve learned more lessons from him than I could begin to count- both good and bad. People have a tendency to whitewash lessons from their parents, and I think that’s to their detriment. One of the things I’ve learned as a father is that we’re all just trying to figure it out.
Sure, there’s an abundance of literature out there about how to raise the perfect child, but that doesn’t exist and neither does the parent. There’s no manual that teaches you how to sit through family dinner after losing a massive case. There isn’t a guide that walks you through telling your wife that you’re quitting your job and betting it all on black (more on this later, Ashley is a saint).
In those moments, you can only look to examples, and I’ve been lucky enough to have some really good ones from dad.
He and I practice very different types of law. I’m sure there are things I do that make him cringe, and other things that he just doesn’t understand. But the greatest gift he ever gave me wasn’t confidence or a legal pedigree- it was an appetite.
I can stand up in any courtroom in the world and my pulse doesn’t change. Not because I’m not nervous, I often am, but because he taught me how to channel that feeling into preparation. Into discipline. Into outworking everyone else in the room long before the lights come on.
They say you can’t teach hungry, but he did.
The defense is doing us a favor on this case. Instead of acting reasonably, they’re doing what insurance defense attorneys do: delaying for no reason, hiding evidence, and refusing to follow the rules of civil procedure. All of which increases the likelihood that this case ends up where it belongs- in front of a jury.
Trial work is often very lonely. Late nights, Airbnbs, and one mediocre burger after another. But prepping a case with co-counsel is different. It’s like being back on a team again. It’s a bonding experience that only those who have been through that crucible can understand.
We have miles to go before this case goes to the jury. But you better believe I’ll spend every one of them trying to outwork the old man before it’s showtime. Happy Father’s day, Dad.
Court is in recess- see you next Friday.
