Vermont Bar Journal, Vol. 40, No. 2 Spring 2014, Vol. 40, No. 1 | Page 32

A Lawyer’s Gratitude all of us when we’re struggling in life, and are criticized. You believe in yourself—you believe in your cause. You are a trial lawyer. I am thankful to the judge who allowed me to treat my own expert as a hostile witness (to allow for leading questions) because the expert had developed Alzheimer’s Disease shortly before trial but had submitted a twenty-page disclosure letter to the defendants when he was of sounder mind. I’m thankful to every judge who took his time to help me, to the judges who listened to me and showed me respect, to those who showed my clients respect. Any judge can judge. All of us, in fact, do it too freely. Those who make a difference—those I am thankful to have worked with—are the ones who make every effort to make the process a fair one. They listen to you. They let you know that they understand your position. They are patient. They show you respect. They help you on your path to becoming a better attorney. They remember how difficult it is to walk the tightrope of a courtroom. Ironically, the donning of a judge’s robe uncovers the character of the person who wears it. Whether or not his experience on the way to judgeship has enlightened him is far less important than where and how and why he shines what light he has. 5. Fear and Uncertainty You have done your best. Your client, the Pope, could not have been more persuasive. It’s almost as if the cardinals’ testimony was overkill. Yet there you stand, watching for favorable eye contact with just one 32 of the jurors (even if only the one wearing the habit) as they march into the courtroom to deliver the verdict … and you are trembling. I’m not thankful for the times I trembled, but I am thankful for the times I could resist the shaking of my body, forcing myself to keep in mind that I had met my obligations. I had done my best; the rest was out of my control—a lesson from the serenity prayer … and from the courtroom. A trial lawyer who is unafraid is most likely a trial lawyer who is unprepared. I never tried a case when I wasn’t afraid. You need to remember: when you start to sweat, when your body shakes, when your heart pounds, when every part of you wishes you were somewhere else, look out—courage has a chance to be born. I was afraid that my discovery might be inadequate. I was afraid that a deposition might give away more than I got. I was afraid when I met with insurance adjusters and/or opposing attorneys that I would appear unprepared or unconfident. I was afraid of the law, that I might have missed a critical statute or case. I was afraid of voir dire—not only that I might fail to ask the right questions, but that I would have no idea how to interpret the answers to the questions I did ask. I was afraid of my opening statement, that I might overstate my case, forget to say all that I had intended to say or, worst of all, not convey powerfully that I believed in my client. I was afraid that my direct examinations would leave it for the jury to seek out what I had assumed would be obvious to them. I was afraid that my cross-examinations would be more fire than light, making the witness more likable, THE VERMONT BAR JOURNAL • SPRING 2014 and myself less. I was afraid that my closing arguments—my final opportunity to persuade—would not reflect that I was a lawyer to be respected and trusted, that I believed in the justice of my client’s cause, that there were good reasons for my belief, and that those reasons merited the passion in my argument. I was afraid the jurors might not feel as strongly as I did. Fear can cripple, and I acknowledge that it stopped me from doing things I wish I had, but in the end its name is on every favorable verdict I earned, and it was with me—so often—to encourage me to prepare more. The fearful may suffer, but the overconfident fail. I am thankful for all that my fears forced me to do, and my fear-driven success as a trial lawyer serves as a reminder today, in life, that the best goals are most often the most difficult, and what’s most difficult is usually most feared. Appreciate your fear in the courtroom and in life. It may well mean that you’ve set your goals high, and that you’re on the right path to reaching them. ____________________ Gareth Caldbeck, Esq., was a trial lawyer with Caldbeck & Schweitzer, P.C., in Shelburne, Vermont, and a former president of the Vermont Chapter of ABOTA (American Board of Trial Advocates). He currently resides in Naples, Florida. He may be reached at [email protected]. ____________________ I’ve chosen to use the male reference only to avoid the cumbersome he/she, etc. Everything I say applies as well to “her.” 2 William Butler Yeats, preliminary poem, in 2 The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats (1908). 1 www.vtbar.org