Challenge 2

What will I remember most about my junior year? Mock Trial, for sure. I had a really good year but the Mock Trial bond just clicked. This was my first year as a lawyer and we had a lot of hardships, loosing members left and right, not to mention Mr Cook going to India a month before our season started. The memory I hold strongest in my mind, however, is not quite the happy one I would hope for. It was the first match of the qualifying rounds: New Paltz as the defense, Highland the prosecution. We walked in there completely memorized. Sadie had her opening down smooth and well-delivered. Colleen was all set to give her closing off the bat, working only from notes she took during the trial. All of us had our directs and crosses memorized by points rather than questions. It's fair to say we felt pretty good walking into the court house. Even the daunting metal detector and tiny cramp elevator could not quell our excitement. There was a nervous buzz under the excitement. After all, we had heard that Highland was very dramatic this year- the very quality we were lacking on. So we walked into the court room, took our seats and waited. Highland arrived as well as the audience. Several minutes later the judge entered. The room surged to its feet and he-who-will-not-be-named (mainly because I cannot spell his name) took his seat at head of the court.

"Let us proceed."

The Highland opening lawyer walked up carrying a binder, reading off his -or her? I don't remember- opening in a moderate tone. He -let's just stick with he- was okay, but not the powerhouse of drama we were fearing. As the trial moved on Colleen, Sadie and I discovered that not only were out opponents not the presence we had been worried about, but their questions and knowledge of the rules had us objecting at almost every word. And that is where things started to go down hill. Now, what exactly was going through the judge's mind, I can't say, but he started to get aggravated. Did he think we were being bullies? I'm not sure. But whatever it was, he continued to grow impatient with the objections.

By the second half of the trial, we knew we had won. They had made almost no points, gotten objected to so much what points they did make were entirely muddled, and looked helpless at the onslaught of polite, "objection your honor"s coming at them. We walked up there and directed our witnesses, got objected to a few times, argued eloquently- in my biased opinion- and all-in-all proved out points. I remember being worried because I had signed up to clean up after Foreign Language Night for French Club and the trial was three and a half hours in. I would not be getting back in time. Nor would I be getting my crepe I had been looking forward to all day.

At last the trial was over. Colleen had delivered her close in her usual amazing way and the judge went into his chambers to work out the scores. So there we sat, exchanging polite words with out opponents and speaking among ourselves. In the drawer at our table, we found a rubber band, words written in careful capital letters, green pen on the tan rubber.

"Here students argue their points semi-eloquently."

The judge returned. He gave the typical, "you're all winners" speech before announcing the victory...of the prosecution. Of Highland. There was visceral shock in the room for a moment. Mechanically the New Paltz Mock Trial team stood up and shook hands with the Highland team, congratulating them and wishing them luck in counties. Mentally wishing them horrible pain in regionals. Later we found out that the judge from the other tournament (two were running that night) had come in for the last hour, her own work done. She told Mr Cook that she was certain we had won. As did Mr Simonson, our Lawyer adviser, and another judge who worked in the county court house. It was all we could do to get to the buses. Mute with the sheer weight of what had just happened, the team crowded into the narrow elevator. The Highland team knew better than try to go down with us. They would wait for the next one or just take the stairs.

The rest of the night dissolved into a blur. Between rantings, anger, death threats, more anger and more death threats, we got back to the high school, retreating to the sanctum of our homes. The only silver lining was a sympathy card to get ice cream from my parents, but even that didn't really help. Even now I feel my throat getting tight with anger at that judge and his ridiculous decision. The worst part was that we looked at the scores later and it was a one point difference. He tied everything the exact same except for professionalism.

Professionalism!

The guidelines of professionalism are courtesy, zealous advocacy of the law, and knowledge of the rules. Yet the judge rationalized (while backing to his car trying to escape) that we were too mean. Too mean? In a courtroom? It still just blows me away.

Anyway, that is my strongest memory from junior year. Clearly a biased account, but, for me at least, all too true.