His Honor

I slipped into a ridiculous black robe, opened the door, and strolled into a hushed courtroom whose inhabitants -- somewhat alarmingly -- jumped to their feet as soon as I entered. Avoiding tripping over my robe and falling flat on my face, I made my way to the front, climbed up to the judge's bench, and intoned, in a voice that I hoped sounded authoritative, "Please be seated."

In front of me, at the counsel benches, I observed four youthful "attorneys," with faces incongruously unlined and not yet disfigured with cynicism, smiling up at me with hopeful eagerness.

Yes, here I was in the King County Courthouse, berobed and befuddled on a sunny Saturday afternoon, presiding over one of several trials concurrently under way in various courtrooms -- part of a regional mock trial competition.

I enjoy contact with enthusiastic law school students. I have frequently presided over appellate moot court competitions, where the students argue the legal issues of an appeal and my job is to interrupt their prepared arguments and ask them questions they hadn't anticipated. But this was, so far as I can recall, the first time I had judged a mock trial. The rhythm is different.

I've spent my career posing objections to my opponent's questions. I found it enlightening, and interesting, to find myself on the judicial side of the objections. Each witness has been called to, in a sense, tell a story. Like the jury, the judge gets absorbed in the story. Or he becomes bored and lets his mind wander. In either case, counsel's objection brings him swiftly back to the matter at hand.

Nothing would be more embarrassing, I would think, than hearing an objection and realizing that you don't recall the question to which the objection is being posed. But there counsel are, standing in front of you, staring at you and waiting for your ruling. All you can do is buy time by asking the attorney to explain his objection, and perhaps give his opponent a chance to respond. By that time, with a little luck you've been able to piece together the problem and arrive at a decision.

Actually, the novelty and fascination of presiding over a short (a bit over two hours) trial was sufficient that I was never caught unaware, never let my mind drift off. (But I can see the dangers of narcolepsy that might lurk if I had been hearing boring testimony, day after day, in a tedious trial.) Whether the students' objections were well-founded or not, it was fun to observe their thought processes -- and these law school student "attorneys" were quite bright. Fortunately, the evidentiary rules -- at least the ones apt to apply at this level of practice -- are sufficiently well-engrained in my mind that my rulings came quickly and without much hesitation.

The mock trial left me with a couple of impressions: (1) These law school students presented their cases better than many "experienced attorneys" I've faced in real trials; and (2) the power of being a judge is absolutely intoxicating.

As I posted on my Facebook page (with privacy controls fully in place), it's really quite irritating that in all these years, the Governor has never possessed the wisdom and basic good sense to call and suggest that she appoint me to the bench.

I would have accepted before the words were out of her mouth.
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Photo: Stock photo of high school mock trial.