I’m currently taking Product Liability with professor Bruce Ottley. I’ve already taken Civil Procedure and Remedies with him, and will probably take whatever class he teaches next semester.

Yesterday, in Ottley’s Product Liability class, we went over a case called HAUTER v. ZOGARTS. In it, defendant Zogarts manufactured a product called the “Golfing Gizmo,” a training device used to help golfers improve their swing. “The Gizmo is a simple device consisting of two metal pegs, two cords—one elastic, one cotton—and a regulation golf ball.” To make a long explanation short, the Gizmo works like a slingshot.

Defendant Zogarts advertised the Golfing Gizmo by saying, “COMPLETELY SAFE. BALL WILL NOT HIT PLAYER.” They also put that phrase on the product’s label and on the cover of the product’s instruction booklet.

Well, ball hit player, and player was thirteen-year-old Fred Hauter, who suffered “extreme pain and dizziness,” unconsciousness, and brain damage. The Gizmo left Hauter epileptic.

The court held that defendant Zogarts misrepresented a material fact upon which Plaintiff Hauter relied. In other words, the court ruled for plaintiff Hauter.

Here’s my question to you:

IF YOU WERE REPRESENTING DEFENDANT ZOGARTS, WHAT WOULD YOU ARGUE ON THEIR BEHALF?

Technorati Tags: Product Liability, Defendant, Injury

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Here’s how it went for Bob Odenkirk:

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#1) CONSIDER YOUR SEATING CHART PENMANSHIP
Most professors employ do-it-yourself seating charts, and most professors call on each student only once per semester. If you want to be called on towards the beginning of the semester, write your name in large capital letters and use a felt tip marker. If you want to be called on towards the end of the semester, write in cursive and use a dull pencil. If your last name is Smith, Jones, or Brown, you’ll be called on during the first month no matter how illegibly you write. If your last name has four or more syllables, four or more consecutive consonants, an umlaut, or any sort of clicking sound, don’t bother doing your reading until the last week of class because you won’t be called on until then.

#2) VOLUNTEER YOURSELF
Some professors randomly call on students on some days and ask for volunteers on others. When prepared, always volunteer in these classes. That way, if you ever get called on when you are unprepared, your professor won’t see you as an unprepared student; she’ll see you and a sometimes-unprepared student. Plus, if you volunteer yourself, you might not get called on for the rest of the semester.

#3 PREPARE FOR BEING UNPREPARED
When unprepared for class, the absolute worst thing you can say when called on is, “I’m unprepared,” or “I didn’t do my reading.” If you think law professors appreciate that kind of forthrightness, you are wrong. When law professors call on you, they want to see you perform; they’re preparing you for a courtroom environment in which you’ll be expected to put on a show. Acting as if you’ve done your reading when you haven’t, may be unethical—outright lying about the matter surely is—but in my experience, teachers will forgive whatever you say in class, as long as you said it loudly and with gusto.

Technorati Tags: Classroom Survival, Socratic Method, Getting Called On, Law School Classroom

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My father is a lawyer and he’s been a lawyer for thirty-five years, but I don’t think he’s ever seen the inside of a courtroom. He’s seen courtrooms on TV and in movies, but never in person; he’s a tax attorney and none of his cases ever go to trial. (Over 95% of civil cases settle before trial.)

As best I can tell, my father reads memos for a living. Sometimes he talks on the phone and sometimes he dictates letters for his secretary to type up and send out, but mostly he reads memos. My father has a corner office, so must be a really good memo reader.

Growing up, I assumed all lawyers were trial lawyers. I assumed lawyers went to court every day, mostly to elicit confessions from criminal defendants on the witness stand.

I went into law because I wanted—and still want—to strut into packed courthouses and yell fun things like, “I object!” and “I object to your objection!” and “I’m out of order? You’re out of order! This whole court is out of order!” and “I’ll put the system on trial!”

So you can imagine how excited I was yesterday, when, in my Trial Advocacy I class, I had the opportunity to make my first objection.

“Objection: hearsay!” I shouted, after the student playing the victim in a rape case began to discuss the content of a conversation she had with a police officer regarding the details of the rape.

“Objection overruled,” the professor responded.

Five minutes later, I made a second objection and was overruled a second time.

The professor didn’t explain his over-rulings, and I didn’t make any other objections for the rest of the victim’s testimony.

At the end of class, I realized that making objections is only fun when they’re sustained and that being a trial lawyer is only fun when you win.

My father may never feel the excitement of crushing an opposing witness on the witness stand, but he will also never have to hear a judge say, “Counselor Lax, please let the witness continue,”–it’s not fun.

Technorati Tags: Objection, Objection Overruled, Trial Law, Litigation, Testimony

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