A Court Reporter's Struggle To Financial Gain

A few years back, I became acquainted with an attorney in the city whose reputation for a hardnosed warrior preceded him. He frequently took an array of strange cases, most of which he litigated without acting as counsel to an insurance carrier. Anytime I'd get assigned to a case he was defending, I always knew I'd be in for an adventure and lots of pages. He was quite unorthodox in his style, because he'd ask questions so out of the ordinary, opposing counsel frequently would object and direct their client not to answer.

I didn't expect things to turn out like this on one case I had for him, but I think the thrill of being in on the action just went to my head. When my office was called to schedule a deposition at the office of John Blank, I didn't sleep the night before. Just remembering the previous case I reported for his office, the tension in the conference room was so thick, you could have cut it with the samurai sword he displayed atop his desk. Every question was so incredibly argumentative and improper, one would think they were being inquisitioned by an AUSA getting ready to hand down a federal indictment. In reality, it was a simple landlord-tenant case, but still, I hung onto every word thinking this guy can't possibly be for real. I mean, how does he win case after case when his client's testimony is so damning? I was about to find out.

The deposition was to begin at 10:15 that morning. An odd start time, if you ask me, but there must have been a reason. I arrived to Mr. Blank's office at a quarter of ten, figuring I'd catch up on some work while I waited. Mr. Blank himself usually thundered into his office in such a dramatic style, often yelling at his receptionist the second he cast a shadow over her desk.

"Lizette, did you call Counsel from Nationwide on the Miller case to discuss settlement?"he'd bellow.

"I left a message an hour ago," she'd assertively shoot back.

"Good. Make sure to hold my calls, unless it's Mr. Brown. I'm expecting to hear from him before we begin this morning's depo."

Then he looked at me as I was in the waiting area. His demeanor unchanged as he glanced me up and down, all I was met with was, "Are you my reporter? Come on. Set up."

I closed my laptop, picked up my bag, and I walked towards conference room B which I nicknamed The War Room since so many of his depositions took place in there almost always errupting into war.

"Oh, yeah, I've worked with you before. Hey, good job you did on that Johnson transcript a few weeks ago," he said.

"Thank you," I answered as I began to assemble my tripod.

Then Mr. Blank closed the door and walked towards me while my head was still down in my bag as I searched for a cable. He told me this case, just like all his other ones, was going to be very complex and that it's important I get every word the witness says since his testimony will make or break his client's case. He instructed me again to hang onto every word and not to interrupt if it gets too fast because he didn't want me to affect the flow of the testimony.

"Just write the word out, or do whatever you do, but don't stop me if a foreign name comes up. And no, I can't spell anything for you now. I don't know what names he's going to mention."

I already didn't like where this was going, but I do have a job to do. I also use AudioSync on Mr. Blank's cases since they tend to go very fast. One time I glanced at the wpm counter at the top left of my screen and saw it in the 350s. I didn't think that was possible because I can't write that fast. Still, the numbers were there for a solid minute.

Oppposing counsel showed up with his client, and Lizette stuck her head into The War Room to let Mr. Blank and me know they were ready to begin when we were. Mr. Blank yelled at her to knock next time she wants to say something, and he scolded her loudly and even laced his comment with a profanity. It was incredibly awkward as she skulked back to her desk with her head aimed at the floor.

"Adam is you name, right?" Mr. Blank inquired.

"Yes, sir." I affirmed.

"Well, as I said before, I worked with you a few times and am familiar with your style. I know you reporters practically rob us for these transcripts, most of which I don't even read anyway. I think you're good, though. Not too many mistakes." he said pompously.

"Actually, Mr. Blank, I don't make any mistakes. I take what I do very seriously and will not certify a transcript unless it's as accurate as I can make it." I repectfully claimed.

"Good. Good. I need you to do something for me. Listen and think about it before you answer, and if you repeat it to anyone I'll deny it and you'll be sorry." he warned.

I suddenly became scared. I don't know why, though. He's a diminutive man with a big mouth. I'm six-two and otherwise very imposing when I'm not slumped behind my writer. Even though I tend to act like a flaming queen around my friends on my personal time, I could kick the crap out of someone like him with very little effort. One karate chop to the thorax, and he'd be in a world of pain.

"This witness is going to try to deny the allegations my client has made, and he's more than likely going to try to pin it on someone else. I need you to be a little creative when taking down his answer to that specfic question I'm going to ask. It probably won't be until well into the afternoon, but I'm sure he's going to testify that his assistant was the one to leave the ladder at the edge of the stairs."

Just as Mr. Blank forewarned, I didn't rush to answer. In fact, I just stared at him like he farted or something else equally disgusting.  Apparently my silence was loud and clear to him. He continued.

"His assistant is out of the country and we can't find him. If you happen to hear something different when he answers, like 'I left the ladder there' it'll help my case tremendously."

All I could do was stare at him. The dryness of my mouth and throat at this point almost guaranteed the first word or sound out of my mouth would be a cough. Again, my silence was louder than I thought, because here was the part that made it worse. Or better, depending on who you ask.

"If he admits he left the ladder there, he'll be conceding liability, and that together with another witness' testimony will help me win summary judgment and hopefully get the case against my client thrown out."

My entire career flashed before my eyes as he spoke. In reality, what he said came out in a matter of 30 seconds, but it felt like 20 minutes.  Thinking back on the plethora of cases I'd taken out of his office, it became clear to me how he emerged the victor most times.

"I've been billing my client about $350 an hour for my services, and since he doesn't have insurance he's been paying me out of his pocket. He stands to lose hundreds of thousands if this makes it to a jury, and he'll appreciate making it go away for a few thousand. Are you with me here, Adam?"

"Go on, Mr. Blank. You've got my attention."

"I figured I would. Will $5,000 ensure you keep an accurate record?"

"It might," I responded. "You're also ordering the transcript daily, right?"

"Of course, Adam. Of course."

With that understanding, Counsel and his client entered the room. My mind was made up that I was doing something that some might consider wrong, but others could call it something else. Hey, I'm not here to draw that line in the sand between good and bad. I'm just here to balance myself on it and dance across to the other side. I swore the witness in and we proceeded. The sound of his voice already irritated me, and I thought he was ugly. Personal attributes shouldn't have mattered, but I psyched myself into thinking I hated this guy and wanted to see him suffer. I almost started letting my disdain for him show, because my exasperated sighs and noticable faces of discontent were blinding to him as I struggled to take down his answers. I even stopped at one point to tell him to speak more clearly without his hand in front of his mouth.

The next three hours oozed by with questions on liability about his accident. The man did make a lousy witness, because his answers were inconsistent and often made no sense grammatically. Mr. Blank stopped the deposition for a short restroom break, and when he left the room, opposing counsel told his client to stay calm, try to listen more carefully to the question before answering, and to stop volunteering so much information. "Otherwise, you're doing fine," he added.

Mr. Blank returned to the room and said he'd only had a handful more questions on liability before proceeding to the damages portion. The next question was the one that I thought would end my career if I dropped it: "Mr. Browne, can you tell me how the ladder involved in your accident ended up at the foot of the stairs?" I got it, every word. Mr. Blank didn't even look in my direction. His face fixated on his yellow legal pad, he awaited the answer we already knew.

"Iggy put it there without realizing," was what he said. My notes reflected "EU/PUT/T-/THR/WOUT/RAELZ/G."

I was astounded that I did that. I surely thought I'd chicken out at the last second. I wondered to myself if this was the reason why Mr. Blank told me not to stop them if any names came up I couldn't spell. I tried to rationalize it in my head a few times that it was an honest mistroke, that "Iggy" became "I." There was no follow-up to the question, nor did Iggy's name come up again. The rest of the day seemed to move along a little faster, and as we flew through damages, my jittery nerves began to settle. I even read back a few questions and answers as the day went along. I felt I was free and clear. As Mr. Blank checked his notes, very few of which were jotted down, he asked one more question: "Mr. Browne, sorry if I asked this already, but who did you say left the A-frame ladder at the top of the staircase?" His counsel objected as asked and answered but said it could be answered again over objection. "It was I," he answered.

"Thank you. I have nothing further at this time," Mr. Blank concluded.

As the Plaintiff and his attorney exited the conference room, Mr. Blank asked me to go back in my notes and read back the question at issue. I showed him on my screen where I'd taken down "I," and he asked to see the steno outline as well.

"I dated a court reporter for a few years and learned a little about how you guys write," he declared.

There it was, page 80, line 13: "EU/PUT/T-/THR/WOUT/RAELZ/G." I mean, I very easily could have amended it during scoping, but Mr. Blank told me this was precisely the answer he needed to make his motion. There had never been an accident report indicating anyone named Iggy, nor had there been any employment records indicating the existence of anyone named Iggy. When I nervously asked about the witness' potential use of an errata sheet or the word of his own counsel hearing something different, Mr. Blank assured me his own notes reflected the witness' testimony to be "I left it there without realizing." It was good enough for him, he quipped. 

"Thank you for your excellent service, Mr. Reporter.  I'm stepping out to grab lunch. There's an envelope under my legal pad. Have a good day."

He left. As I approached the legal pad, I felt horrible that I was essentially throwing a man's case out the window because of greed. Then I took the envelope and noticed the cash. It appears I'd been bought, I thought to myself. I put it into my jacket pocket and walked out without saying a word to anyone. I proceeded home to work on the transcript with that wad of cash staring back at me. Everything I'd ever worked for and believed in was at stake, but the money spoke louder and eventually prevailed. 

After an hour or two, I finished editing the transcript and sent the final to my agency to be billed. It'll be awhile before I return to Mr. Blank's office, I hope. The money is still on my desk at home, and it'll be there until I hear somehow this case is over.  I have to work tomorrow on another case. Let's hope this attorney is a little more honest.

*Oh, this is a work of fiction before anyone goes reporting me.

Brilliant! Especially your placing of the very last sentence. Fantastic.

I agree with Rosalie.  You're an amazing author, and should submit some stories to other websites, too, and see what they all say!

Oh, my God, you are HILARIOUS!!!  I'm a NY reporter, too, and I just went back and read all your posts and can totally relate to all your stories!!  I can't stop laughing!  I miss posting here, and I came back to check it out, and I found myself looking for posts from you!  Thanks for the laughs!!!   "Stared at him like he farted" hahahahaha......I've done that a million times after some of the questions some attorneys ask!!!

You almost had me! I kept thinking that there was no way this court reporter would throw his away. Not only would the decision be unethical, it would definitely ruin your stories. : )

I've been a court reporter for over 30 years. Believe me, it never gets old. 

I was so pissed at you until the last sentence.

A riveting story! Loved it. Keep them coming, please!