How does a law abiding, hard working, respected professional designer, suddenly find herself in proverbial depths of despair; ordered by a judge to pay in excess of $40,000 to those who stole copyright protected materials?
Pursuing justice without a legal advocate is a brutally unkind exercise.
Hiring legal counsel is not an option.
I am jumping in to this blog mid-stride of a very agonizing and enduring chapter of my life.
I have recently recognized that the kindness and compassion I've nurtured my entire life is in fact a liability in litigation.
Though it seems so obvious to me now, it has taken me almost 4 years to identify that the most valued skill in the sport of adversarial legal wrangling is unabashed bullying.
Herein lies the greatest of moral and ethical dilemmas.
Do I permit my adversarial foes to plunge their fatal blow or do I adopt their ferociousness?
It is Thursday January 19th, 2017 9:50 and I am on the 5th floor of the Halifax Law Courts, waiting in the Appeal court lobby with a rather substantial group of well heeled 'suits'.
This is the third time I have been on this Appeal Court's docket.
The flock of impressively appointed barristers are mingling in the lobby, appearing refreshed, primped, and enthusiastic. I walk through, foolishly and sincerely extending kind nods, with nary an acknowledgement.
I am pretty certain that no one else on this floor spent the last half hour circling around the block seeking a parking space which did not require more than the 3 dollars I had in my pocket.
I am pretty certain my lack of membership was pretty obvious.
I notice JC, counsel for one of the respondents in the matter for which I am present. He greets another lawyer, perhaps a stand in counsel for the second respondent in ‘my’ case.
I nodded, however, didn’t get so much as a grunt from either of them.
The crowd sways toward the courtroom as the sheriff unlocks the court room door.
As I near the door, I alone am directed to the side to submit to security screening.
I am told to remove my outer clothes, empty my pockets, and surrender my armful of books and documents. My ratty, recycled binders are each leafed and investigated for threatening contents.
I have a sheriff's metal detector hovering over my crotch while the flock of esteemed lawyers file past and glance at the contents of my security tray.
My out turned pockets produced my lucky penny, paper clips, and other sundry contents but still the detector insisted that something threatening remained in my pocket.
While I alone, am thoroughly scrutinized, the chasm between "them" and "us" expands exponentially.
As I watch my carefully orchestrated binders get disheveled, I grow progressively more anxious.
It wasn’t until I drew the sheriff's attention to the rivets in my pockets that I was entitled to recover my possessions and enter the public gallery of the court.
I wait dutifully in the gallery for my matter to be called so that I may enter the domain of the lawyers so that I may ‘present’ my position.
As I sit and am mid-drop of my pile of books on the floor, the Justice began to explain that the Motion I filed seeking permission to submit an affidavit describing my experience in the lower court should be filed a month hence as provisional evidence along with my Factum.
This was contrary to what the 700+ pages of the Civil Procedure Rules describes and what the respondent's counsel's reactions concurred, but that is irrelevant. The decisions of the Appeal Court Chambers Judge trumps (almost) all else.
This was not bad news, it was just an extremely frustrating use of precious resources.
Days of preparation, hundreds of miles of travel, overnight accommodations for respondent’s counsel, conceivably amounting to several thousands of dollars, all of which could become my burden of costs if the Appeal is not successful.
Unfortunately I have become all too familiar with this tormenting psychological state.
Pursuing justice without a legal advocate is a brutally unkind exercise.
Hiring legal counsel is not an option.
I am jumping in to this blog mid-stride of a very agonizing and enduring chapter of my life.
I have recently recognized that the kindness and compassion I've nurtured my entire life is in fact a liability in litigation.
Though it seems so obvious to me now, it has taken me almost 4 years to identify that the most valued skill in the sport of adversarial legal wrangling is unabashed bullying.
Herein lies the greatest of moral and ethical dilemmas.
Do I permit my adversarial foes to plunge their fatal blow or do I adopt their ferociousness?
It is Thursday January 19th, 2017 9:50 and I am on the 5th floor of the Halifax Law Courts, waiting in the Appeal court lobby with a rather substantial group of well heeled 'suits'.
- This Nova Scotia Court of Appeal weekly event facilitates relatively uncomplicated issues which arise in the course of preparing matters which are on track to be Appealed.
- Within 'the Chambers" there is a single judge, (though not always the same judge), who determines scheduling and the appropriateness of the advanced Motions.
- Either an Appellant or a Respondent initiates these hearings and all parties typically participate. Much footwork and paperwork precedes each of these Motions.
- There is no knowing if there will be just 1 or multiple matters being heard at this weekly roll call. All matters are scheduled for Thursday at 10 am.
This is the third time I have been on this Appeal Court's docket.
The flock of impressively appointed barristers are mingling in the lobby, appearing refreshed, primped, and enthusiastic. I walk through, foolishly and sincerely extending kind nods, with nary an acknowledgement.
I am pretty certain that no one else on this floor spent the last half hour circling around the block seeking a parking space which did not require more than the 3 dollars I had in my pocket.
I am pretty certain my lack of membership was pretty obvious.
I notice JC, counsel for one of the respondents in the matter for which I am present. He greets another lawyer, perhaps a stand in counsel for the second respondent in ‘my’ case.
I nodded, however, didn’t get so much as a grunt from either of them.
The crowd sways toward the courtroom as the sheriff unlocks the court room door.
As I near the door, I alone am directed to the side to submit to security screening.
I am told to remove my outer clothes, empty my pockets, and surrender my armful of books and documents. My ratty, recycled binders are each leafed and investigated for threatening contents.
I have a sheriff's metal detector hovering over my crotch while the flock of esteemed lawyers file past and glance at the contents of my security tray.
My out turned pockets produced my lucky penny, paper clips, and other sundry contents but still the detector insisted that something threatening remained in my pocket.
While I alone, am thoroughly scrutinized, the chasm between "them" and "us" expands exponentially.
As I watch my carefully orchestrated binders get disheveled, I grow progressively more anxious.
It wasn’t until I drew the sheriff's attention to the rivets in my pockets that I was entitled to recover my possessions and enter the public gallery of the court.
I wait dutifully in the gallery for my matter to be called so that I may enter the domain of the lawyers so that I may ‘present’ my position.
As I sit and am mid-drop of my pile of books on the floor, the Justice began to explain that the Motion I filed seeking permission to submit an affidavit describing my experience in the lower court should be filed a month hence as provisional evidence along with my Factum.
This was contrary to what the 700+ pages of the Civil Procedure Rules describes and what the respondent's counsel's reactions concurred, but that is irrelevant. The decisions of the Appeal Court Chambers Judge trumps (almost) all else.
This was not bad news, it was just an extremely frustrating use of precious resources.
Days of preparation, hundreds of miles of travel, overnight accommodations for respondent’s counsel, conceivably amounting to several thousands of dollars, all of which could become my burden of costs if the Appeal is not successful.
Unfortunately I have become all too familiar with this tormenting psychological state.