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| Robed and ready with my partner Sarah Peel. |
Last week I finished my moot. Dreaded or beloved, the moot
is key element of the Ludlow 1L experience. The moot is a simulated courtroom
assignment where we are assigned to role play a party in an appeal case and
must argue in front of a panel of judges. The exercise is intended to give
students a taste of litigation and the courtroom. I have come to learn in
school that not all lawyers must appear in court nor in fact are most disputes
resolved in a courtroom given barriers to the justice system, mainly the
expense. It also helps students decide if they wish to take an optional moot
course in upper years.
Hearsay suggests that most Canadian law schools assign the
moot in second year when students have a better handle of the legal labyrinth
but not UNB. Each year, 1Ls cobble together their mere six months of legal
education in an effort to come off like
The Good Wife. <momentary pause in
respect of Alicia Florik>
It is important to state that the moot is only one portion
of a half credit course called Fundamentals of Advocacy which apparently few
employers consider heavily given the comparative importance of substantive
courses such as Criminal, Contracts and Property Law. Upper year students
repeatedly advised my class not to become consumed with the moot at the expense
of other classes. However, given the type A over achiever personality profile
of most law students, the moot might as well be the bar exam. It’s all or
nothing with these people, and admittedly myself at times Okay, most of the
time. Okay, okay, all of the time.
Working with partners of our choice, 1Ls were assigned to
represent a party (respondent or appellant) in an appeal case in January. All
civil litigation cases (a dispute between two private parties), they covered
various areas of law. My partner, Sarah Peel, and I were delighted with a
property case where a dispute arose between two friends over a contest prize.
Specifically, the case was modelled after Tim Horton’s
annual Roll up the Rim contest where a guy buys two coffees for him and his
friend and the friend’s cup wins her $250,000. They attempt to divide the prize
but cannot settle on a fair split. So, the greedy pair head to court, both
arguing for the full value of the prize. The trial judge found in our client’s
favour but the purchaser isn’t having it; thus the appeal.
Prep
Stare decisis is the name of the game in Canada’s legal
system so Sarah and I got to work uncovering cases that replicated the facts of
our case by pouring through sophisticated databases of jurisprudence (fancy
word for cases upon cases upon cases). My first surprise was how many disputes
over contests and lottery wins end up in court because at least one if not both
parties were blinded by greed and unable to resolve the dispute independently. We
also worked collaboratively with our opponents to broaden our research efforts.
The four of us were guided by two bright and animated second-year coaches
assigned to us by the
Law Students' Society.
As we prepared for the actual moot, I was fairly relaxed.
Years of working in public relations and on air interviews assured me that I
could do this. PR tactics such as preparing key messages, knowing my audience
and staying calm all came back to me. My coaches advised us to treat the appeal
court as a sort of conversation. “No problem,” I thought to myself. I’m great
at conversations. I’m a solid listener. And over the years, I’ve become pretty
good at tough conversations like disciplining an employee or negotiating a
salary.
Practice
Bahahahaha. Cut to my practice bench where we rehearse the
moot in front of upper year students who enjoy preying on 1Ls. The practice
included all the same formalities of the actual moot which immediately gave me
a shot of angst. As the respondents, we argue second and I had the
benefit/hardship of watching our opponents get a royal walloping from the judges
who constantly interrupted their planned remarks with questions of
clarification, hypotheticals and legal principles.
Witnessing the slaughter, I became terrified. Properly
terrified. I could feel my face warming, my mouth dry and my hands tremble. I
didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of my upper year peers but was
pretty certain that was the scenario that was about to unfold. As our opponents
wrapped their arguments, I sought some reassurance from my partner whose calm and reason I admire. “I’m scared” I wrote on a piece
of paper. “Me too” she responded. Oi.
Up I went to the podium and stuttered through my opening
comments. Then came the first question from a judge. My coaches’ advice – be
brief and on topic – occurred to me and I answered the question succinctly. Then came
another. And another. And another. Tough ones that made me think though nothing
was coming to me. As I fidgeted at the podium, I could feel my armpits getting
sweaty. “Oh gross,” I thought to myself.
Fully rattled, I clung to the words of my prepared remarks
like a life preserver. The thought of establishing eye contact with the judges went
right out the window as I read verbatim from my notes. Then came another
question. This time, not tough but completely over my head. It might as well
have been posed in Swahili.
My immediate response: laughter. Full on, unadulterated laughter.
I looked at five sombre faces – three belonging to the judges and two belonging
to my coaches – and quickly stopped. This in turn made the situation that much
funnier which then caused another burst of “hahahahas.” Then I got stone cold
serious and attempted an answer.
The practice bench achieved what it was supposed to: lessons
to learn from. And my list was long but one key theme emerged: be respectful of
the court. Apparently, appeal court’s conversational tone still means counsel
needs to do a fair share of grovelling.
Performance
Ten days of moots kicked off on February 21 and the first
group got a royal spanking by the judges. Rumours of an abusive and insulting
judge who caused doubt, angst and even tears among the student counsellors
before him quickly spread through the 1L class (as most scuttlebutt does given
UNB’s small size). This put most 1Ls on edge; myself included.
When our moot day came, I suited up, received a pep talk
from the coaches and stepped into the classroom-turned-courtroom. Thankfully, our
judges included an inquisitive but respectful professor, an astute third year
law student and a sharp lawyer whose demeanour and humour reminded me of Nathan
Lane. Again, given the speaking order, my partner and I had the benefit of
observing the line of questioning our opponents had to tackle.
The questions lobbed our way tested our preparation and reasoning.
The judges asked my position on several convoluted scenarios which mimicked our
case. One was about the reasonableness of someone keeping the porcelain tea cup
used to hold their tea when hosted in a friend’s home. I tried to distinguish
the scenario from the case at bar and couldn’t help thinking how much I’d
rather be enjoying tea at a friend’s in that moment even though I don’t
particularly care for tea! But as the questioning and testing continued, it
became rather fun and I found myself at ease.
The judges later recessed
and returned to deliver their decision: both parties were to split the prize
money and neither would receive costs (the reimbursement of legal fees). So,
everyone won!
Afterwards, the judges met
with us in a lounge to offer their constructive feedback which was largely
positive. I was told my confidence and speaking style was good (yay!) but some
of my answers lacked substance (woops!).
I’m trusting that the
substance will develop over time. In the meantime, I find myself on the fence as to whether
I will take another moot course.
