UPDATE: I got my second wind this morning after 3 double shots of espresso. My daughter packed my espresso machine for me so I made them in the bathroom of The Reston, Virginia Beach. It just so happens to be 2 blocks from the scene of the accident.
A calm came over as soon as I left for court. My wife said she was praying for me. The judge does not know what he is doing. He means well, but he is brand new and did not try cases like this when he was a lawyer. The other lawyer is a snake, and a son of a bitch. He blatantly tries to ingratiate himself into the good graces of the jury, but in a manner that it is sickenly obvious.
In his cross-examination of people he makes an ass of himself. For instance, my client claims that she has headaches, neck and back aches, but that she has a job (a dog walker) and is trying to go to college. Yet in the cross of the client’s sister he dramatically whips out photos of her–gasp–sitting down on a bench in San Francisco, and another of her–gasp–sitting on the a horse on a carousel. On redirect I asked the sister if her sister was too sick to sit down, for instance at the dinner table (she sat next to me all day). No, she can sit. Can she sit on the toilet? Yes. Can she sit in an airplane? Yes. Is she too sick to sit on a bench in San Fran? No. She giggle a little after that.
The sister, the father, and the client all cried during testimony (client has not testified yet, she just cried at what they said). This could get ugly if the jury does not like my client and her family. I always tell my clients not to cry. I told this client, and her family, but alas they did not follow my advice.
It’s 8:00 pm EST and I am going to drink myself into oblivion so that I can wake up at 3:00 a.m. to get unprepared for tomorrow. Cheers mates!
I was up until 11:00 p.m last night. I set the wakeup call for 4:15 a.m. this morning, but woke up 45 minutes before t hen. I worried for the next thirty, and finally gave up efforts to sleep. I am groggy, sleep deprived, and terribly unprepared. I have pleadings and doctor’s notes and hospital bills and handwritten notes strewn all over the room. My opening statement is not even finalized yet.
I want to get in my car and drive the other way. EVEN if I make it through the first day, tomorrow is likely to snowball me over because I am not ready for tomorrow. Three of my doctors are scheduled to testify tomorrow and I am not ready for any of them, yet. I have to try the case all day and then meet one of them at 7:30 pm tonight.
I feel like Paul Newman’s character in “The Verdict.” My opponent probably had a nice meal with his wife, a fine wine, and then retired early as his associates and paralegals finished the few final preparations for him. I hate practicing law. I hate myself for never being prepared. I hate life…