trial

My old man is a lawyer.  He's out of town today because he had to appear in Federal Appeals Court.  When I was little, I didn't know much about what my dad actually did in court or what the process was like.  I imagined a court room, crowded and noisy.  A hush would fall over the assembled when the doors opened and my pop walked in.  People would clear the aisle for him, shuffling into their seats as they watched him approach the bench.  He would greet the waiting jury with a dignified nod and the opposing team of lawyers would shuffle papers nervously.  Before sitting, he would remove a single yellow legal pad from his briefcase and set it before him on the table.  The paper would return to his briefcase untouched after the proceedings, his mind too sharp to need to take notes.  The judge's gavel would fall and the trial would begin.  The other lawyers would make their arguments hastily, often referring to the messy scribbles before them.  They'd lose their place and mutter and yell and stutter and berate the jury in an attempt at coercion.  Dad would stand calmly and speak slowly, making each juror feel as if they'd known and trusted him for years.  Some would later offer him puppies and large trays of cold cuts out of sheer admiration.  His witnesses would be called and my dad would weave an intricate but clear truth from their testimonies.  The opposition's witnesses would be systematically destroyed by my father's sharp wit.  Many would leave the stand soaked with tears.  A few would break down and confess not only to the crime in question, but also to several other unsolved atrocities from years passed.  There would be no need for closing arguments or jury deliberation.  Police officers would march in and take the bad guy straight to jail, where other prisoners would beat him senselessly for his crimes.  My old man would stride out of the courtroom as the crowd either erupted in applause or watched him in awed silence.  Then he'd go to lunch and eat a steak as big as my torso.  Without vegetables.

3 Responses to “trial”

  1. # Anonymous Craig

    So, is that how it actually is?  

  2. # Anonymous JoeFuel

    Craig beat me to my joke. Darn him  

  3. # Anonymous kiddingmyselfanonymous

    Just exactly like that. At least up to "My old man is a lawyer". After that, . . . in my dreams.  

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