Adoring public, I have returned. Let
me explain my absence.
When the Humans first brought me home,
Human Female, although a lawyer in name, was not working. It was
fantastic. She snuggled me when I needed snuggling, she fed me when
I needed feeding (not enough to my liking, by the way), she played
with me when I needed playing with.
And then she went back to work.
I am so alone! Neglected!
Frankly, I've just been too distraught
to write.
But I am determined to not turn into
another After-School Special, despite Human Female's abandonment. I
have made a commitment to this blog, and I shall persevere! I am
Rory! I am not just another latchkey kitten!
So, today shall be just a short post
about the purpose of objections, because I am feeling very
objectionable lately.
You've seen the tv shows and movies.
You've seen the lawyer-actors pop up like jack in the boxes and
self-righteously announce “Objection, Your Honor!” when the
testimony is not going their way. Alas, that's not really how it
works.
In order to object, the lawyer needs to
have “grounds.” Just because you don't like the way things are
going, doesn't give you the right to object. The testimony has to be
violating some rule of evidence.
For example, imagine I am suing Human
Female for emotional distress for leaving me alone all day. At the
trial, she testifies that she has to work in order to pay for my
kibble. I leap up onto the counsel table and howl “Objection!”
The judge is the ultimate arbiter of
what evidence is allowed to stand and what she or he chooses to
strike. She or he can stop a line of questioning. So, when I
object, I have to explain to the judge what my grounds are, so that
he or she can either “sustain” my objection (i.e. agree with it
and strike that particular piece of evidence), or “overrule” it,
(i.e. rule that the evidence can stand). Most times, the grounds are
obvious enough to the judge that she or he will decide without asking
for grounds. This also makes for better television than a protracted
argument at side bar about the meaning of the Rules of Evidence.
(I'd rather have a hairball).
So, what are my grounds? I can't tell
the judge that I just don't like her answer, or that it is hurting my
case. I could try to argue that her testimony is irrelevant,
(seriously, I don't care how she gets the kibble;YOU DO NOT LEAVE
RORY). I could argue that the testimony is overly prejudicial, that it will
create an improper emotional response in the jury that will distract
them from the legal and factual issues of the case (ok, I'm a kitten,
she's a lawyer. You're the jury. Who do you vote for?)
There are a number of highly technical
objections. If she testifies that Human Male told her that I told
him that I wanted her to leave me alone, I could object on the
grounds of hearsay. (Also, perhaps I'd have an argument that she is
totally incompetent, because, whoever heard of a talking cat?) One of
my favorite grounds is “asked and answered,” which is pretty much
a formal way of saying “Your honor, this clown of a lawyer has
asked this same question fifteen times as a way of hammering home his
point, and it's starting to get on my nerves.”
But don't think those television shows
have it all wrong. Objecting has an element of drama to it, no
question. The lawyer may use objections to signal the jury.
Depending on his tone, he could try to imply that a particular line
of questioning is totally off base, he could roll his eyes (not
recommended), he could flail, he could raise his voice. He may just
want to throw the other lawyer off, or derail the witness, by
interrupting. It's a dangerous game; the judge isn't likely to allow
him to play these kinds of games for very long.
But let's get back to what's important
here. Rory. Why can I not be brought to work? Look, I even fit in
Human Female's briefcase! They have kibble in the office, right?
welcome back.
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