Love In The Time Of Apps

by Jay Begler

  Goodwin exploded. “This is ridiculous! You’ve got to prevent all of this phony evidence from coming in.”

  “But how?” asked a cowering Dewars.

  At that moment, Goodwin recalled a term he remembered from a civil trial he had participated in years before, which meant a motion made during a trial. The technical term is a motion “in limine.” Goodwin stammered: “Make a motion in limine.”

  “Where’s limine?”

  Goodwin smacked his head in disgust. “Well, you’re my lawyer. Do you have any suggestions whatsoever?”

  Pablo took four large steps backwards and stood at the door of the pub and spoke solemnly. “As your lawyer, Philip, I have an obligation to do the right thing and to give you the benefit of my best advice. Are you ready for my best advice?”

  “Yes. What is it?

  “Two Latin words.”

  “What are they?”

  “Pro Se.”

  “Pro Se?”

  “Yes, meaning that from here on in you’ll represent yourself. And, to make it easier, I’m giving you my law degree, with my name crossed out and yours put in its place and my copies of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure For Dummies and the Federal Rules of Evidence for Dummies. No charge. I’m going home.” Pablo turned and ran out of the door. Goodwin believed he heard him screaming “Mommy!” as he made his exit.

  On the eve of the trial, Pragat delivered the coup de gras to Goodwin’s prospects by issuing a press release in which it stated that it was “happy to report that we have developed a new algorithm which permits us to give Philip Goodwin zeros in every category. He is the first and only zero in our history and future history.”

  Res Ipsa Loquitur

  Goodwin entered courtroom 501 without an attorney, with no evidence or favorable witnesses, no knowledge of the law or courtroom procedure, except for what he had read in the For Dummies law books he had been given by Pablo. His friends, Schnell and virtually all of SoLo were watching, and praying for a major miracle. Though this troop was rooting for him, within the confines of the courtroom, he was alone, completely unprepared to defend himself and facing one of the most formidable legal teams in the country.

  The Lone Star Lawyers were already in the courtroom, setting up about 50 file cabinets presumably full of trial exhibits. About 20 of the team’s paralegals and young lawyers were utilizing their laptops or scurrying around, taking notes, or making calls on their cell phones. By contrast all he had was a yellow writing pad, not even the full sized legal pad because he was not a lawyer. The Two Sheilas, dressed in black business suits, sat at their attorneys’ table. They had been given, Goodwin noticed with some annoyance, legal sized pads.

  As 10 a.m. approached, the entire Lone Star group began to look at Goodwin’s table quizzically, no doubt wondering why his attorneys were not present. Lazar was pacing back and fourth, but avoided eye contact with Goodwin.

  At exactly 10 a.m., Lazar stood in front of the television camera and said, “Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the premier show of Divorcing With The Stars. Today will be the opening day of Goodwin versus Goodwin and Goodwin. It should come as no surprise that this trial has received about ten times as much pre-trial publicity as the OJ trial. I interviewed the lead attorney for The Sheila earlier and he feels that his case is ironclad and that his team will be one and zero after the trial.

  “I tried phoning Pablo Dewars, also known as the cowardly counsel, but only received a recording that he was at a meeting at the ‘bar.’ As you can all see, Mr. Dewars is not here. Under the circumstances, it appears that Mr. Goodwin will have to defend himself, which seems to be an impossible task. The Judge is taking his seat now. We ready for the kickoff, so to speak.”

  The casual and relaxed demeanor of the Judge from the previous proceeding was gone. “I don’t see any of the Dewars Brothers, but I don’t think it matters, having read Mr. Justice’s cogent and excellent pre-trial memorandum and not having received anything from Mr. Goodwin’s counsel except a letter of apology from him written on a smudged cocktail napkin and full of misspellings. Mr. Goodwin, it looks like your attorney is not here. Do you know of his whereabouts?”

  “No, Your Honor, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m going to be pro se.”

  “Let the record reflect that Mr. Goodwin will be representing himself, and for purposes of this trial his ‘team’ will be called the ‘Pro Se Person.’ Is that name satisfactory?”

  “Well, Your Honor, I’d prefer to be called the “underdog.”

  Justice stood and objected, on the ground that the name would unfairly influence the American Public because everyone loves an underdog, but he was overruled.

  “Let me warn you, Mr. Goodwin, there is an old adage which is true. “The man that represents himself has a fool for a client.”

  “That may be true, Your Honor, but better a fool than an incompetent idiot who charges by the hour.”

  The court and judge erupted with laughter. Goodwin had scored a point, even though Justice objected that his joke was not original. A small cheer went up in the Persona Non Grata bar.

  “Very well. Now are there any preliminary procedural matters?”

  Justice was on his feet. “Just one; it’s the question of to whom we are going to dedicate this trial. As you can see, we have requested that we dedicate this trial to the late great Sydney Maxine who you will hear from later if our witness, America’s foremost medium, can work her magic.”

  “That’s acceptable.”

  With that, two of the Lone Star lawyers unveiled a large portrait of Sydney Maxine, in uniform.

  “Your Honor,” Goodwin said rising to his feet. “I’d like to dedicate this trial to someone, too.”

  Justice stood. “I’m afraid that we must object to this request. As you know, under the local rules of this court, trial dedications must be set forth in the pre-trial memorandums of each of the parties. Since Mr. Goodwin failed to submit a pretrial memorandum, he forfeited his right to do so.”

  “But that’s not fair,” Goodwin half whining replied.

  “Mr. Goodwin, are you invoking the it’s not fair rule?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Mr. Goodwin,” the Judge said sternly, “this is a court of law and more importantly a court of law on television. Don’t guess. Do you intend to rely upon the It’s Not Fair rule or not?”

  Goodwin had no idea that such a rule existed, and while standing he attempted to look at the index for Federal Rules for Dummies.

  “No no, Mr. Goodwin,” the Judge admonished. “No peeking. That’s against the rules. These are the Unwritten Rules, but rules nevertheless. So what’s it to be? Are you invoking the It’s Not Fair rule?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. Objection overruled.”

  A second cheer went up from the bar, which the locals were now calling a “Courts Bar.

  “Wow, Goodwin thought. This is not so hard.”

  “So Mr. Goodwin, who are you dedicating the trial to?”

  Goodwin thought for a moment and then said to himself, “The hell with it. I love her anyway, despite everything.” He said to the Judge, “Yes, I do.”

  The courtroom was completely silent. Everyone in attendance leaned towards Goodwin as if to better hear. “I dedicate this trial, and frankly my life, to Sophie D’Amour, the only woman I ever truly loved and Sophie, if you can hear me out there, I still love you, despite everything.”

  A collective gasp erupted from the courtroom.

  “Do you have a photograph of this Sophie D’Amour? You need a photograph for a dedication. It’s required under section 981 of the unwritten rules.”

  Goodwin wondered how unwritten rules could have sections, but chalked it up to the complexities of the law and continued. “Only this little one, Your Honor,” Goodwin handed the bailiff the photograph taken at the Forties the night he and Sophie met.

  “I’m confused Mr. Goodwin. This appears to be a vintage photograph of some soldier and his attractive swee
theart.”

  “It was taken at the nightclub called the Forties and we were in costume. Look closely and you’ll see it’s me.”

  “Well you make a very attractive couple. And where is Ms. D’Amour now?”

  “Your Honor,” Goodwin said with the genuine sadness, “I wish I knew.”

  “That will do. I assume the television technicians can blow it up.”

  Within seconds of handing up the small photograph it was blown-up and put on an easel.

  “Very well, in the absence of any further procedural matters, let’s get on with it. Mr. Justice, will start with his opening statement.”

  “But Judge. Since I’m the Plaintiff, don’t I go first?”

  Justice rose and replied, “Mr. Goodwin is obviously not familiar with the ‘Ladies First’ rule, Your Honor.”

  “Ah yes,” the Judge replied. “The ladies first rule does apply. Sometimes you can overcome this rule by invoking the size places rule, but since you are taller than your adversaries, Mr. Justice will go first.”

  Justice made a three hour impassioned and brilliant opening statement. His presentation was supplemented by a slide presentation which acted as a homage to the Original Sheila and to the Two Sheilas. Using “Memories” as the background theme music and voice overs by people who loved the Original Sheila and the Two Sheilas, the presentation was incredibly impactful. Goodwin didn’t know why, but he rose to his feet and said, “I object.”

  The Judge was surprised and asked, “On what basis, Mr. Goodwin?” He had no idea of what to say next. The only thing Goodwin could do was tap into all of the law themed television shows and cull out of them objections he had seen. Goodwin blurted out: “Hearsay, calls for speculation, inflammatory, irrelevant, prejudicial, lack of foundation, leading the witness, and irrelevant again.”

  Justice rose and said quietly and with a genuine sigh, “Your Honor.”

  The Judge also sighed and said, “Overruled.” At this moment Goodwin thought to himself, “Real litigation is far more complicated than made for television litigation.” It was, Goodwin thought, a bad sign that by the time Justice completed his opening statement, he felt convinced that the breakup of his marriage was entirely his fault.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” the Judge said, “I think this is a good time to break for lunch. When we come back we’ll resume with Mr. Goodwin’s opening statement.”

  “Your Honor,” Goodwin said, “if it’s okay with the court, I’d just like to sit here alone in the court room to collect my thoughts.”

  Justice said, “No objection.” “Oh,” he continued “with the court’s gracious permission, we are hosting a luncheon buffet for those in the courtroom and we would be delighted if you and your staff could attend.”

  Goodwin was now on the horns of a dilemma. If he objected, the Judge would dislike him. If he didn’t, the Judge would certainly be prejudiced by the luncheon. “Do you have any objection, Mr. Goodwin?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s very fair.”

  “Sorry, you already used the It’s Not Fair Rule and you are only allowed one of those a day.”

  “Can they do that, Your Honor?”

  “Well, neither the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, nor the Federal Rules of Evidence, have anything on lunch. So, I guess they can. Besides, I’d never rule in your favor on this one. I love buffets. Anyway, you’re invited.”

  “Well, I just as soon stay here.”

  “Very well, Mr. Goodwin, but you should have something to eat. Look, you can have my lunch. It’s a combination of beets from Mexico, Argentina, Chile, and Brazil. It’s the new South Beets diet.” Goodwin suppressed his urge to groan at the Judge’s very bad pun, though Justice and his team being experts in the way of the courtroom laughed hysterically. Justice even feigned writing down the joke and said under his breath but loud enough for the judge to hear it, “That’s so funny. I can’t wait to use it in my next bar association speech.”

  “And take this hard-boiled egg. I’m entitled to have that, too, as part of the diet. I’m supposed to lose weight and look younger, but it doesn’t work.”

  “That’s very gracious of you, Your Honor. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m going for a pastrami sandwich at the buffet. And before you eat the egg, cut it in half, and think about it. What do the Original Sheila and the egg have in common?”

  “That’s easy, Your Honor, they’re both hard-boiled.”

  “Not quite, think again.”

  Goodwin sat alone in the courtroom. He was about 30 minutes away from his opening argument and he had no idea whatsoever of what he was going to say or do. He had no files, no evidence and no legal points to rely upon. All he had was a paper plate with a single hard-boiled egg, a plastic knife, and the For Dummies books. He cut the egg in half and stared at it for about 15 minutes. As he sat there he sensed, almost imperceptibly at first, a wisp of perfume, deep and fragrant. He knew who it was without even looking. He turned. Sophie was no more than five feet from him.

  She was crying slightly. “Oh, Philip, I’m so sorry about everything.”

  He wiped away her tears with his hand and kissed her. “I love you, Sophie, despite everything; despite you selling the video of us.”

  “But I never sold the video. Just before the show ended, I told them that the video was not for sale. I went home and destroyed it. You never saw or heard about the video did you? That’s why.”

  He was shocked and delighted. He always assumed the video was sold and shown on television. And then, when he thought about it, he realized what she said was absolutely true. “You’re right. I had turned off the television set just about that time.”

  Goodwin pulled back and looking at Sophie’s protruding stomach asked, “Wow. When is your due date?”

  Sophie began to laugh. “You mean when is our due date? A month or so.”

  Goodwin suddenly felt quite wonderful, deliriously happy. “You know, I’m going to lose everything that I’ve worked for and all my property, but you know what, if that means I can be with you its fine. I don’t care. And, if we have to live in model rooms so be it.”

  “No...No. I’m through with that, almost. Actually, Bloomingdales has hired me.”

  “Really, what are you doing?”

  “I’m arranging for sleepover dates for our model rooms. It’s a great moneymaker for Bloomies. Isn’t that hysterical?”

  Under ordinary circumstances Goodwin would have wrung every scintilla of humor out of what Sophie told him, but all he could say was an exhausted, “That’s good, Sophie.”

  “Gee, you really are in bad shape.”

  “I think I’ve lost my sense of humor. I may even be Hypo-Humoresque.”

  “Let me represent you, Philip.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’m a lawyer; unless you can do better by yourself. Wouldn’t you think I was crazy if I wanted to do a deal on velvet and didn’t use you?”

  “I guess.”

  She laughed. “You guess. You’re such a silly boy.” They kissed lightly and then passionately.

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “The Judge gave me this egg and told me to think what the two halves have in common with the Original Sheila and the Two Sheilas. I think he was trying to help me. I said they were both hard-boiled, but I don’t think it was that.”

  Sophie looked at the egg for a moment and screamed: “OMG! OMG! OMG!”

  “Oh my God?”

  “No OMG, pronounced “omang.” It’s Mongolian for holy yak shit, but a second definition and the one appropriate here is, I think I have an intriguing legal theory to win this case.”

  The Judge, Justice’s legal team, and the Two Sheilas arrived and took their places. The lawyers looked at Sophie and began whispering to each other. “Mr. Goodwin, are you ready to make you’re opening?”

  Goodwin rose from his table. What the hell, he thought. I might as well get this over with.
“Your honor, I’d like to introduce you to Sophie D’Amour, who will be acting as my attorney.”

  The Two Sheilas and their attorneys rose simultaneously and screamed a chorus of, “We object, ject, ject.” Justice said, “Your Honor, as you well know, Mr. Goodwin retaining an attorney at this late date is a clear violation of the unwritten rules of procedure.”

  With an amazing degree of confidence, Sophie walked to Justice’s table took a very large volume off of it called The Federal Rules of Civil Procedure Made Hard (For Lawyers Only) and said to Justice, “Mind if I borrow this? Professional courtesy requires that you say yes.” She walked to the bench and opening up the volume to a specific page, said, “Your Honor, as this court knows and as Mr. Justice should know, the unwritten rules have written footnotes. And if you look at footnote 75.123, you will see that when a party is Pro Se, he can retain a new attorney at any time.”

  “Gosh, she’s wonderful,” Goodwin thought.

  The judge addressed Sophie, “Ms. D’Amour, are you an attorney?”

  “Yes, I am Your Honor. And I am admitted to practice in the Southern District court.”

  “Very well. Objection overruled. You are aware, Ms. D’Amour, that Mr. Goodwin’s agreement stipulates that there shall be no adjournments. You’ll have to go forward, ready or not.”

  “No need for an adjournment. I would like to make a motion for Summary Judgment under Rule 56 of the Federal Rules.”

  As soon as Sophie said this, she could see Justice and his team lean forward, heads bent towards him like cheetahs sensing danger. Justice rose and said, “Your Honor, the local rules and Federal Rules and your own rules make it mandatory for the moving party for a Summary Judgment motion to provide a statement of uncontested material facts.”

  “Your Honor, for purposes of this motion we admit everything said by the Two Sheilas is true.”

  The Judge, aware of television camera, spoke to the television audience. “Okay. Also Mr. Justice, you all waived the rules. For those of you not familiar with this rule and what a Summary Judgment is I’ll explain. Under certain circumstances I can rule in favor of one party to a law suit and not wait for a decision by a jury, if neither side disputes the key facts, what lawyers call the material facts of the case, if I feel that based upon those undisputed facts I can rule as a matter of law in favor of one party. In essence, I can decide the case without a trial. I’ll give you, the television audience, an example. A man sues his wife for divorce because she has blue eyes. The case gets thrown out of court because under New York law, the fact that his wife has blue eyes is not grounds for divorce. So, in this case, I can rule in favor of Mr. Goodwin, if he or his lawyer can show as a matter of law, despite all the facts and evidence, The Sheila doesn’t have a legal leg to stand on.”