That's pretty much what's up. I had an eventful week in court. Some good, some bad, some ridiculous. I got a new paying divorce client this week, so that's good. My observations from today's session of domestic violence court (my second appearance in it this week) is that no matter how long someone's been practicing law, they can still be a crappy trial lawyer and fail, hard, at the rules of evidence.
I remember my very first hearing. It was on a property issue in a divorce case. I had documents to introduce as evidence. And I laid my ground work with my witness, and showed the documents to the other attorney, and used them in my witness's testimony... and then forgot to move the court to enter the evidence into the record as an exhibit. Ugh! Fortunately, my judge gently reminded me of this, and my evidence was admitted. But I still felt like a dumbass. It was an amateur mistake. However, that's to be expected. I'd been practicing law for like 10 minutes. Sure haven't made that mistake again, and bet I never will!
When you've been practicing law for, well, probably since "law" was invented, like Grandpa today, you should know, for instance, what hearsay is. Or what's relevant to the proceedings. Or that your client can't print medical information off of WebMD and read it into the record. Or that photographs are admissible if your witness testifies that they are a fair and accurate representation of the subject matter (you don't need the photographer there if you have a witness to lay that groundwork). The other attorney was just as bad. She won, but she was terrible. She never objects to any of the stupid crap the other side is doing. The guy's reading his testimony off of a (lengthy!) document. He's testifying to conversations he had with multiple people out of court, which were very prejudicial and very much not admissible. The judge finally shuts him down on the hearsay and the medical testimony, without objections from the other attorney (probably because she was sick of hearing him talk). And then she has to coach the other attorney into laying her groundwork to get the photographs admitted. Their hearing went on for over an hour. Then, in true Kentucky fashion, they spend about ten minutes arguing about basketball tickets. (We actually have a supreme court case that addresses the issue of season tickets in divorcing spouses. I'm surprised we don't have a statute. It's that important.) It was the worst hearing I've ever seen, and that includes 1L trial advocacy. And the guy was possibly one of the worst witnesses I've ever seen, and that was not just because of his attorney. For such a long hearing, he never managed to say anything helpful, in fact, managed to hurt himself more. He had a decent argument to make in his defense, but he never got there, and they did not have the evidence to support it. Granted, for domestic violence hearings, the standard is a preponderance of the evidence, so he probably would have lost anyway, but I hope the guy gets better counsel for his criminal trial, or he'll definitely have a basis for an appeal when he gets convicted.
Anyway, beyond that, I've had lots to do this week with grant-writing and covering the clinic cases, and my own stuff, ugh. Busy. We had our ultrasound on Monday, and fortunately there is no fetus fail this time. Other than our fetus fails to have a penis. Another girl. Everyone always says "Oh, I don't care what we're having as long as it's healthy." Whatever. I really wanted a son. I know I shouldn't be disappointed and just be extremely grateful that, this time, there's nothing wrong. Whenever I imagined myself as a mother, I always pictured sons, not daughters. Not that there's anything wrong with girls, girls are obviously awesome, but I would have liked a son. Oh well. Clearly the Y chromosome is dying off among our group of friends, who all have girls. Only a couple of my friends have boys. We just did a group picture for Easter, six little girls in little Easter dresses. We've talked about trying again for a third, but that just means we'll have three girls. And then someday we'll have three teenage girls. And then I will have to move into a mental institution, whew. Anyway, hopefully Cora will like having a little sister. The day before the ultrasound, she said she wanted a little sister. Then when we told her it was a girl, she was upset and said she wanted a brother instead. (I think ultimately she'll prefer a little sister.)