By Jim Rambo
O
nce in a while, judges get too heir big for their ody pants. And there’s nobody else but lawyers who can rein them in. It must be vedone subtly, but assertively. And it must also be accomplished in a manner that borders on contempt but never oss that thaat crosses that border. Cross sed to put border and, as my dad used he India ans!” it, “Your ass belongs to the Indians!” A judge called me into an office conference during a break in a trial before another judge. I was late in getting back to the trial. The jury had been waiting and, although I made the office conference judge aware of my time constraints, he made no effort to finish quickly. When I returned to the courtroom, I knew I would have to explain myself. The trial judge was more than reasonable about such matters almost always….almost. I was asked to remain standing and was subjected to an extended criticism of my lack of professionalism. The defense was
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El Ojo del Lago March 2010
lovinng loving it. Finallyy, when Finally, my back ssi side was sufficiently ggnawed on, I was afforded the opportunity to apologize. Instead, I launched into my own defense, citing the other judges’ disregard of my plea to expedite the conference. I even suggested that one of the judges on the court should apologize to me for not communicating with each other. That was unnecessary and it spoiled my otherwise inspired defense. The judge harrumphed and warned me to “never let it happen again.” I decided to take him at his word. Sort of. Jim Liguori was defense counsel that day. Jim was known to pull stunts