There are a number of posts around the practical blawgosphere this week about dealing with judges and prosecutors who are rude, offensive, overreaching, whatever, here (Bennett), here (Katz) and here (Matlock).  Bennett has the best quote, 

             As Paladin said, “Never draw in anger. It slows the hand.”

While I share his fascination with Paladin, he knows a lot more about the show than I do. 

I learned an important lesson about a decade ago from a great old time Bronx judge, Danny Sullivan.  Danny was one of the real judges, not one of the kiddie judges who need to buy their robes one size too big in case they grow.  Danny knew what end was up, and neither side was going to bulldoze him.  He feared nothing, as he had nothing to fear.  And to make matters worse, he was just a good man.

I was lead counsel in a big case before Danny.  It was a little daunting, as there were plenty of defendants and some had retained some very well known, and older, lawyers than me.  These lawyers didn’t know me, and there were rumblings that one of the big shots should take the lead rather than some young turk (hard to believe now that there was a time that I was considered a young turk). 

But I told them that I had it under control, and to sit back, get paid and let me do the work.  They seemed to be just fine with that. 

The ADA was a nasty will person, prematurely bald and with a tendency for his voice to rise 2 octaves when he got excited (which was often).  He was a weasel.  He was intent on winning, and he would happily connive to achieve that goal.  He’s now a defense lawyer and he asked me (after he left the DA’s office) if it was ethical to pay the hot dog guy outside the courtroom to refer him clients.  I told him “absolutely”, knowing that the hot dog guy was getting vig from at least a dozen former prosecutors already, and was making a killing off these idiots.  I know, me bad, but I couldn’t help myself from joining in the joke.

So, to impress my renown co-counsel, and to beat the living daylights out of this smarmy prosecutor, I whipped out one of my greatest motions, a 127 page wiretap motion that was (if I can brag a moment) nearly perfect, in a week.  Everyone’s head spun, especially my nemesis.

A month after arraignment, we were all back in court to argue the motion before Danny.  I did my thing, in a cool, detailed, professional manner.  And then the ADA did his, voice climbing and raising claims that were false, outrageous and deceptive.  As soon as he took a breadth, I jumped back into the fray, but this time louder, faster and with anger.

Danny put up his hand, pretended to need something from his clerk, then waved us up to the bench.  He looked at me and said, “When you started, you were smoooooooooth.  Don’t give it away.”

We returned to our tables and now, calmly and with a voice slightly softer than everyone else, I picked apart the significant points made by my adversary and announced that his other points were simply unworthy of further comment. 

The message was clear.  Don’t let someone else make you lose your cool.  Once that happens, they control you.  Over the years, I’ve used this lesson well.  The louder, angrier, crazier things got, whether because it was the judge or prosecutor, the calmer I became.  The softer, more dulcet my tone.  The slower my speech.  When their faces were contorted in anger, mine bore a calm demeanor, often with just the slightest hint of a peaceful smile.  Like Paladin, I would not draw in anger.

It has an extraordinary affect.  The judge or prosecutor is red-faced and out of control.  I am serene, in total control of myself and, ultimately, the courtroom.  By their loss of control, they have ceded it to me.  Try this and see it for yourself.

In the past, I’ve posted about the impact of strategic silence.  There are times when you need to express anger or outrage, and the failure to do so sends a message that something that is facially outrageous doesn’t really matter that much to you.  But when these times come, they too must be deliberate on your part and not a knee-jerk reaction because of what someone else said.  At the lawyer, you must be in control of everything that comes out of your mouth.  You are responsible for your actions and reactions, and if you let your conduct be dictated by someone else, then they control you. 

Danny passed away some years ago.  I went to his funeral, the only time I’ve ever done so with a judge with whom I didn’t have a personal relationship outside of court.  It was my way of letting him know how much I appreciated his lesson.