May 23, 2018

Colorado Court of Appeals: District Court Retains Jurisdiction Over Allocation of Parental Responsibilities while Prior Order on Appeal

The Colorado Court of Appeals issued its opinion in In re Parental Responsibilities Concerning W.C. on Thursday, May 3, 2018.

Parental Responsibilities—Jurisdiction—Appeal—Motion to Modify—Changed Circumstances.

In this allocation of parental responsibilities case, father appealed the district court’s permanent orders granting mother sole decision-making authority and majority parenting time. Though his appeal is pending with this court, father filed verified motions to modify parenting time and decision-making in the district court. The district court concluded that it lacked jurisdiction to consider those motions while the appeal was pending; it decided to take no action on father’s motions unless and until the Court of Appeals finds that the district court has jurisdiction or remands and gives the court authority to consider the motions.

The Court determined that under Colorado’s Uniform Dissolution of Marriage Act, a district court retains continuing jurisdiction over motions to modify parental responsibilities while the current allocation order is on appeal, as long as those motions are based on a material change in circumstances that occurred after the original order was entered.

Father’s motion to clarify was granted and the case was remanded.

Summary provided courtesy of Colorado Lawyer.

Colorado Court of Appeals: Statutory Amendment Deprived State of Authority to Prosecute Conviction on Appeal

The Colorado Court of Appeals issued its opinion in People v. Cali on Thursday, May 3, 2018.

Theft—Theft by Receiving—Appeal—Statutory Amendment—Collateral Attack—Crim. P. 35(c)(2)(VI)—Postconviction Remedies.

Cali was convicted of theft and theft by receiving, both class 4 felonies, as well as two habitual criminal counts. The trial court sentenced him to 18 years in the custody of the Department of Corrections. Cali directly appealed his convictions, and his theft conviction was vacated. After Cali had filed his notice of appeal in the direct appeal and while the appeal was still pending, the legislature reclassified theft by receiving, as committed by Cali, to a class 6 felony. After his direct appeal became final, Cali timely filed a pro se Crim. P. 35(c) motion asserting, as relevant here, that he was entitled to the benefit of the changed statute. The postconviction court denied Cali’s motion without a hearing.

On appeal, Cali argued that the trial court erred by analyzing his postconviction claim as a request for retroactive application of the statutory amendment. He contended that because the amendment took effect while his direct appeal was pending and before his conviction became final, he is entitled to the benefit of the amendment. The amended statute applied to Cali because before Cali’s conviction became final, the State lost the authority to prosecute him for committing the class 4 felony of theft by receiving. That a different statute classifying theft by receiving as a class 6 felony could then be applied to Cali does not change the fact that the State lost the authority to enforce the statute under which Cali had been convicted. Although Cali did not raise the State’s loss of authority to prosecute him before his conviction became final on appeal, he could collaterally attack his conviction under Crim. P. 35(c)(2)(VI). Cali asserted a timely postconviction claim that entitles him to reversal of his conviction. But the trial court must convict him of the class 6 felony and sentence him accordingly.

The postconviction order was reversed. Cali’s conviction was vacated, and the case was remanded with directions.

Summary provided courtesy of Colorado Lawyer.

Forging New Writing Conventions: Parentheticals (And How We Use Them)

Putting citations after sentences sacrifices readability for credibility. The convention has critics but is here for the immediate future.[1] Its sister convention is putting parentheticals after citations. This convention rarely gets any discussion. It should.

When to Use Parentheticals

Every law student learns to use parentheticals. They take different forms. Often they are incomplete sentences explaining a point about the source, usually starting with a present participle—an “ing” word like “holding,” “finding,” or “concluding.” We use them often. Why?

Any answer includes a need to convey information about the source. But why convey that information in a parenthetical? This is the question you need to answer before using one.

There is a difference between each of the following:

“Summary judgment is only appropriate if the moving party establishes that no disputed material facts exist.” People In Interest of S.N. v. S.N., 2014 CO 64, ¶ 16.

People In Interest of S.N. v. S.N., 2014 CO 64, ¶ 16. (“Summary judgment is only appropriate if the moving party establishes that no disputed material facts exist.”)

Summary judgment is only appropriate when there are no disputed material facts. People In Interest of S.N. v. S.N., 2014 CO 64, ¶ 16.

People In Interest of S.N. v. S.N., 2014 CO 64, ¶ 16 (summary judgment is only appropriate when there are no disputed material facts).

When you include a parenthetical you make a series of choices. First, you choose to include rather than exclude information. Second, you decide how to phrase the information, either quoting, paraphrasing, or a little of both. Third, you determine where to put the information, either in the main text before the citation or in a parenthetical after the citation. That placement has consequences.

Those consequences come from how we read briefs. We all learn to write using parentheticals. But we do not necessarily learn to read parentheticals, or at least not to read them how the writer intends.

Here’s the writer’s perspective. The information is important enough to go in the brief, and belongs at the source’s hip.

But this placement has other consequences to the reader. The parenthetical is separate the main text. Because it stands apart, the reader must connect the main text information and the parenthetical information. A parenthetical placement may also suggest the information is less important than the main text. Indeed, part of Bryan Garner’s argument for putting citations in footnotes is that important authorities should be named and discussed in the main text, and “discussion of governing and persuasive authorities is enhanced because it can no longer be buried in parentheticals following citations.”[2] Plus, a parenthetical lengthens the citation, often by several lines. That lengthening causes greater disruption. Remember, main text citations trade readability for credibility. The longer the citation, the less readable the pros, the more unbalanced the trade.

Applying these factors, here are some scenarios that tempt readers to skip or gloss over parentheticals.

The main text suggests the parenthetical is unnecessary: If the main text sentence states an obvious or well-known proposition, a parenthetical seems unnecessary. Readers are always more tempted to skip portions that seem unnecessary. For example:

The statute of limitations for a bad faith tort claim is two years. Brodeur v. American Home Assur. Co., 169 P.3d 139, 151 (2007) (dismissing claim filed over two years and ten months after cause of action arose).

We all know what a statute of limitations is and the consequences of filing a tardy claim. The information in the parenthetical adds nothing. But that’s just the reader’s guess.

The reader’s triage comes before reading the parenthetical. Based on the main text sentence, the reader determines the parenthetical probably adds nothing and therefore is not worth reading. So the takeaway is to make sure the main text sentence preceding the citation sets up the need for a parenthetical. Great information does you no good if the reader never reads it. Secondarily, make sure the parenthetical’s information adds to your brief so when the reader does get to it, the information advances your argument.

The parenthetical is very long: Lengthy parentheticals rarely work. They are too much. They squeeze lists of facts or reasons into a run-on incomplete sentence. At the same time they drag out a citation, which disrupts the main text’s flow and often makes it difficult to find the next sentence. A common example is a parenthetical that tries to single-handedly apply a multi-factor test. For instance, a parenthetical applying People v. Humphrey’s twelve-factor assessment to determine if a Miranda waiver is valid.[3] Or a single parenthetical discussing how Effland v. People found five factors weighing against a finding of custody and fifteen in favor.[4] A parenthetical about one factor may be appropriate. But a discussion of the entire analysis or several factors is too much for one incomplete sentence bracketed by parentheses.

When to use parentheticals, what information to put in them, and how to convey that information requires judgment. But odds are you overuse them. To refine your judgment analyze People v. Brooks, which has over sixty case citations and only one with a substantive parenthetical explanation.[5] People v. Howard-Walker has over one-hundred case citations, only four with explanatory parentheticals.[6]

How to Phrase Parentheticals

An equally valid question is why we start parentheticals with a present participle (those “ing” words). Law school taught us this probably because the Bluebook rule on parentheticals says explanations not quoting the source “usually begin with a present participle.”[7] Why the Bluebook takes this position is unclear. Even if you live and die by the Bluebook, “usually” means not always.

Given the widespread use of “ing” words, would cutting them throw the reader or alter the meaning? See for yourself.

For all these reasons, we conclude that the issue was sufficiently preserved. See People v. Syrie, 101 P.3d 219, 223 n.7 (Colo.2004) (an issue is preserved where the trial court has “adequate opportunity to make factual findings and legal conclusions on any issue that is later raised on appeal”)

. . .

In all of them, the courts considered extrinsic circumstances only to determine whether the images were created to be viewed for sexual gratification. See Batchelor, 800 P.2d at 604 (that the defendant concealed the photos of his naked nine-year-old daughter, took the pictures at night, posed the child, and took the pictures secretly showed that he took the pictures for his own sexual gratification); T.B., ¶ 34 (that the defendant had texted the victims a picture of his erect penis when he solicited nude pictures from the victims showed that the pictures taken by the victims were intended for the defendant’s sexual gratification); Grady, 126 P.3d at 222 (the defendant produced photos of teenage models that he also posted on a website entitled “True Teen Babes”); Gagnon, 997 P.2d at 1284 (in deciding whether pictures taken by the defendant of a teenage girl in sexually suggestive poses and clothing were produced for sexual gratification, the court considered that “the pictures of the victim were found along with a large collection of other material the trial court described as adult pornography”).”

. . .

Images that are otherwise constitutionally protected images could become unprotected based merely on the subjective response of a particular viewer. See Batchelor, 800 P.2d at 602 (pictures depicting nude children for legitimate purposes are constitutionally protected).[8]

This excerpt shows “ing” words are often not needed. Commonly used present participles like “holding,” “finding,” and “concluding” are usually unnecessary because they are implied. In fact, it is difficult to imagine an example where such words make a difference. Take a look:

Smith v. Jones, 123 F.2d 345 (12th Cir. 2018) (finding statute of limitations barred claim).

Smith v. Jones, 123 F.2d 345 (12th Cir. 2018) (statute of limitations barred claim).

By contrast, openings like “comparing,” “reaching,” and “distinguishing” add meaning to a parenthetical.

You can decide when a present participle adds to the parenthetical. But omit them when they are unnecessary. Break the habit.


[1] Antonin Scalia & Bryan A. Garner, Making Your Case: The Art of Persuading Judges 132-33 (Thomson/West 2008).

[2] Id. at 132.

[3] 132 P.3d 352, 356 (2006).

[4] 240 P.3d 868, 875 (2010).

[5] 2017 COA 80.

[6] 2017 COA 81M.

[7] The Bluebook: A Uniform System of Citation R. 1.5(a)(i), at 59 (Columbia Law Review Ass’n et al., eds., 19th ed. 2010).

[8] People v. Henley, 2017 COA 76, ¶¶16, 28-29.

 

Michael Blasie graduated from the New York University School of Law. He began his career as a commercial litigator and criminal defense attorney in the New York City office of Cooley LLP where he practiced in state and federal trial and appellate courts. After five years he moved to Denver where he worked as a law clerk to the Honorable David J. Richman of the Colorado Court of Appeals before becoming Staff Counsel at Wheeler Trigg O’Donnell, LLP. Michael also serves as a volunteer firefighter for the City of Golden.

Colorado Supreme Court: Suppression Not Warranted where Defendant Dropped Drugs Prior to Seizure

The Colorado Supreme Court issued its opinion in People v. Taylor on Monday, April 30, 2018.

Arrest—Seizure—Suppression.

Pursuant to C.A.R. 4.1, the People challenged an order of the district court granting Taylor’s motion to suppress drug evidence. The supreme court held that the district court erred in granting Taylor’s motion to suppress because no seizure had yet taken place when Taylor dropped the drugs.

The court reversed the district court’s suppression order and remanded the case for further proceedings.

Summary provided courtesy of Colorado Lawyer.

Colorado Supreme Court: Dismissal of Single Parent from Dependency and Neglect Proceeding Not Final Appealable Order

The Colorado Supreme Court issued its opinion in People in Interest of R.S. on Monday, April 30, 2018.

Children’s Code—Dependency or Neglect Proceedings—Appeals.

In this dependency or neglect case, the trial court held a single adjudicatory trial to determine the dependent or neglected status of the child. The judge served as fact-finder with respect to allegations against mother, and a jury sat as fact-finder with respect to the allegations against father. The judge ultimately concluded that the child was dependent or neglected “in regard to” mother. In contrast, the jury concluded there was insufficient factual basis to support a finding that the child was dependent or neglected. In light of these divergent findings, the trial court adjudicated the child dependent or neglected and continued to exercise jurisdiction over the child and mother, but entered an order dismissing father from the petition. The People appealed the jury’s verdict regarding the father.

The court of appeals dismissed the People’s appeal for lack of jurisdiction, reasoning that the dismissal of a single parent from a petition in dependency or neglect based on a jury verdict is not a final appealable order because neither the appellate rule nor the statutory provision governing appeals from proceedings in dependency or neglect expressly permits an appeal from a “‘no adjudication’ finding.”

The supreme court concluded that, with limited exceptions not relevant here, section 19-1-109(1) of the Colorado Children’s Code authorizes appeals in dependency or neglect proceedings from “any order” that qualifies as a “final judgment” for purposes of C.R.S. § 13-4-102(1). Because the trial court’s order dismissing father from the petition was not a “final judgment,” the court concluded that the court of appeals lacked jurisdiction and properly dismissed the Department of Human Services’ appeal.

The court of appeals’ dismissal was affirmed.

Summary provided courtesy of Colorado Lawyer.

Forging New Writing Conventions: A Diplomatic Approach to the War on Adjectives and Adverbs

Perhaps the greatest problem with brief writing is that lawyers start by writing a brief.

We have read hundreds of briefs. So we think we know what a good brief looks and sounds like. That bias impedes us.

Most of what we read is not well written. Professors do not choose cases because they are well written. Westlaw and LexisNexis do not sort cases by writing caliber. And most briefs have mediocre or subpar writing. So our challenge is not mirroring what we spend most of our days reading.

Oddly, writing advice makes writing well harder. We learn writing as a series of rules or convenient lists of “pet peeves” — don’t splint infinitives, avoid the passive voice, never start a sentence with “and,” etc.[1] These rules accomplish their goals in the sense that they avoid egregious errors. But the rules preventing you from writing a horrible brief paradoxically prevent you from writing a great one.

Think For Yourself

Overcoming the impulse to write a formulaic brief requires a unique solution. That solution is more than revising rules. It is rebuilding how you think about writing, what you imagine when you start drafting a brief.

Enter First Principle Thinking. “First principles thinking is the act of boiling a process down to the fundamental parts that you know are true and building up from there.”[2] This concept gained popularity in engineering as a way to innovate.[3] For example, one reporter described Tesla’s chief designer using this concept: “The idea is to avoid thinking by analogy — let’s make this car look like that car, just sort of different or better — and instead deal with problems by stripping them down to the core and working your way up.”[4]

First Principles Thinking can and should apply to brief writing. To start, when trying to write a brief do not think of it as a brief. Think of it as you trying to persuade someone through a written document. Then build from there.

The next series of articles looks at the conventions holding you back. The articles apply First Principles Thinking to the rules limiting your writing. First up, the war on adjectives and adverbs.

Adjectives and Adverbs

If you needed to write a persuasive document, would you start by banning yourself from using whole categories of thousands of words? Of course not. You would, and should, use any words that help. Yet time and again we are told to cut adjectives and adverbs.

Misuses and Concerns

Critics of adjectives and adverbs have good reasons for concern.

The primary concern is the “show don’t tell” principle. Too often briefs assert a factual or legal conclusion without sufficient support. Red flags include sentences that use “clearly” or “obviously” to assert anything is true.[5] Other common violators are “conclusory,” “patently,” “cursory,” “baseless,” “unfounded,” “unsupported,” “frivolous,” “blatant,” and “vague.”[6] Instead of asserting a conclusion, briefs should provide the evidence and let the audience reach the conclusion itself.[7] So under the “show don’t tell” principle a writer replaces “Plaintiff has engaged in dilatory tactics” with “Plaintiff has missed three deadlines for responding to interrogatories.’”[8] And “the defendant brutally, viciously and repeatedly drove an enormous hunting knife into the victim’s chest and then callously left her to bleed to death, slowly and painfully” becomes “the defendant stabbed the victim five times in the chest with a hunting knife and then left her to die.”[9]

Another concern is redundancy. Sometimes briefs couple adjectives and adverbs with a fact. Here’s a simple example: “a gigantic one ton pumpkin won the blue ribbon.”[10] We all know how big pumpkins normally are, so “gigantic” is redundant with “one ton.” If the amount of giganticness is important, include the precise weight. If it is not, then “gigantic” makes the point.

Lastly, readers dislike adjectives and adverbs that mischaracterize the underlying facts by exaggerating or minimizing the truth. Did the defendant really “race home” when he went 56mph in a 55mph zone? Claiming a teacher “repeatedly attempted to sabotage and undermine the principal” goes too far when she only twice asked about budget cuts during faculty meetings. Likewise, stating a defendant got into a “brief scuffle with a bar patron” seems misleading when the defendant broke a bottle over the patron’s head and repeatedly kicked him, breaking six ribs and causing a head wound that needed twenty stiches. The problem here is a combination of the above points. Sometimes the underlying facts, standing alone, make the point. But other times, adjectives and adverbs are useful summaries as long as you choose the right words that do not overstate or understate what happened.[11]

These points are good well-reasoned advice. But none of these concerns warrant an editing manhunt. Just because adjectives and adverbs can be used poorly (as any word can be) does not mean that they always are or that they can never be used effectively.

Using Adjectives and Adverbs Effectively

“Many lawyers lament that legal writing squelches their creativity. It doesn’t need to.”[12] Adjectives and adverbs play critical roles in English; they can play those same critical roles in legal writing too. Take a look.

Example 1

A First Amendment challenge to a conviction for selling videos of animal cruelty did not stop then Solicitor General Elena Kagan from using adjectives and adverbs.

Law enforcement agents purchased several videos from respondent through the mail. The videos contain scenes of savage and bloody dog fights, as well as gruesome footage of pit bulls viciously attacking other animals. Agents searched respondent’s residence pursuant to a warrant and found other videos and dogfighting merchandise, as well as sales records establishing that respondent sold videos to recipients throughout the United States and in foreign countries.

. . .

The videos capture the entire grisly process of the animal’s being crushed to death, and they often show the woman continuing to crush the animal after it has died, until all that is left is a “bloody mass of fur.”[13]

Kagan converts the “show not tell” principle to “show and tell.” Her adjectives and adverbs characterize facts later described. But they are not redundant with the facts, nor are they a blatant appeal to emotion. The legal analysis pivots on a balancing test weighing the government interest against the speech’s expressive value. So these charged words embody the government’s interest: “a societal consensus that, although animals are often used for utilitarian purposes, they are living creatures that should be ‘treated in ways that do not cause them to experience excessive physical pain or suffering.’”[14] The characterizations don’t risk exaggerating the truth. Here, there was no dispute about whether the video content was vile; the dispute was about whether the constitution protected such content.

Example 2

In 2017 the Colorado Attorney General’s office won the Best Brief Award from the National Association of Attorneys General.[15] The winning brief was a Petition For a Writ of Certiorari to the United States Supreme Court. It too used adjectives and adverbs effectively.

Instead, the Tenth Circuit has adopted its own novel approach to the Guarantee Clause. If that approach stands, Colorado will be the first state in the country to be required to prove, to a federal judge’s satisfaction, that it is adequately republican.

. . .

If Guarantee Clause claims are now justiciable, there is no shortage of creative lawyers and academics standing ready to embroil states and federal courts in an endless stream of litigation on questions that, before now, would have been resolved through the political process.

. . .

By drastically shrinking the Raines rule and making it merely an exception to Coleman—rather than vice versa—the Tenth Circuit created a second split, this time with two other federal circuits.

. . .

Whether state legislators are permitted to lure federal courts into disputes like this one is an important question, as the Court recently recognized in Arizona State Legislature v. Arizona Independent Redistricting Commission, No. 13-1314. As important as that case is, however, the implications here are even more significant.

The Tenth Circuit based its jurisdiction on the alleged injuries of just three of Colorado’s 100 legislators. This is a significant step beyond the situation the Court faces in Arizona State Legislature, where the entire legislature, acting as an institution with one voice, filed a suit to protect its power to draw election districts.

Whatever the outcome in that case, decisive action by this Court will still be needed. Here, the Tenth Circuit extended legislative standing far beyond the facts of Arizona State Legislature, allowing a tiny minority of the Colorado General Assembly to sue the Governor, who is standing in as a surrogate for the voters who enacted TABOR.[16]

Then-Solicitor General Daniel Domenico, and his team, used adjectives and adverbs selectively and effectively. They often appear in topic or concluding sentences. Notably, far from altering the truth, here they often increase a description’s accuracy: not just shrinking but drastically shrinking, not just a legislature’s act but the entire legislature’s act, not just a minority but a tiny minority. Other times they are fair and shorter characterizations of the facts: “an unpredictable but likely large amount of litigation” becomes an “endless stream of litigation.”

Example 3

Ross Guberman found several briefs using adjectives and adverbs effectively:

Indeed, [Calvin Klein International] was delighted to enjoy the business of Wal-Mart, the biggest discounter of them al.

Sunbeam intentionally played fast and loose with its accounting numbers to hoodwink Wall Street.[17]

Conclusion

When people tell you to strip all the adjectives and adverbs from your brief, what they are really saying is they do not trust your judgment to use adjectives and adverbs effectively. Prove them wrong.

Adverbs and adjectives are where great advocacy lives.


[1] See George D. Gopen, The Sense of Structure: Writing From the Reader’s Perspective 3-7 (Person Education Inc. 2004) (use tools not rules). See also id.at 149-55 (chapter titled “‘Write the Way You Speak’ and Other Bad Pieces of Advice”).

[2] See James Clear, “First Principles: Elon Musk on the Power of Thinking For Yourself,” https://jamesclear.com/first-principles (last visited February 17, 2018).

[3] See Mayo Oshin, “Elon Musks’ ‘3-Step’ First Principles Thinking: How to Think and Solve Difficult Problems Like a Genius,” The Medium, August 30, 2017, https://medium.com/the-mission/elon-musks-3-step-first-principles-thinking-how-to-think-and-solve-difficult-problems-like-a-ba1e73a9f6c0.

[4] Matthew DeBord, “The secret to how Tesla gets its cars to look absolutely fantastic,” Business Insider, December 29, 2017, http://www.businessinsider.com/how-tesla-designs-cars-to-look-so-good-2017-11/#it-was-holzhausen-not-musk-who-was-the-budding-superstar-back-in-the-late-2000s-1.

[5] See Charles Bird & Webster Kinnaird, “Objective Analysis of Advocacy Preferences and Prevalent Mythologies in One California Appellate Court,” 4 J. App. Prac. & Process 141, 153 (2002) (“Readers notice and are bothered by . . . use of adverbs such as ‘clearly’ and ‘obviously’ in place of logic or authority.”); Roger J. Miner, “Twenty-Five ‘Dos’ for Appellate Brief Writers,” 3 Scribes J. of Legal Writing 19, 21 (1992) (“Eliminate adverbs such as clearly and obviously. If things are so clear or obvious, why do we still have a legal dispute on our hands?”).

[6] “Let nouns and verbs make your argument. Clearly, patently, obviously, literally, and egregiously make your points seem muddled, uncertain, unclear, nervous, and defensive.” Ross Guberman, “Five Resolutions for Litigators,” Legal Writing Pro Blog, https://www.legalwritingpro.com/articles/five-resolutions-litigators/.

[7] See Ross Guberman, Point Made: How to Write Like the Nation’s Top Advocates 57-67 (Oxford University Press 2d ed. 2014).

[8] Ross Guberman, “Five Resolutions for Litigators,” Legal Writing Pro Blog, https://www.legalwritingpro.com/articles/five-resolutions-litigators/.

[9] Daniel Klau, Appealingly Brief: The Little Book of Big Appellate Tips (Or How to Write Persuasive Briefs and Excel at Oral Argument) 41-42 (2015).

[10] See AnneClaire Stapleton, “What it takes to grow a massive prize-winning pumpkin,” CNN, October 7, 2013, http://www.cnn.com/2013/10/07/living/massive-pumpkin-tricks/index.html.

[11] For example, replace “Plaintiff makes numerous amorphous and conclusory arguments” with “Although Plaintiff insists that X, Y is the law.” Ross Guberman, “Five Resolutions for Litigators,” Legal Writing Pro Blog, https://www.legalwritingpro.com/articles/five-resolutions-litigators/.

[12] Guberman, supra n.7 at 191.

[13] Brief for the United States at 4; 17-18, United States v. Stevens, 559 U.S. 460 (2010) (internal record citations omitted) (underlining added). This example is courtesy of Ross Guberman, “Five Resolutions for Litigators,” Legal Writing Pro Blog, https://www.legalwritingpro.com/pdf/elena-kagan.pdf.

[14] Id. at 22 (quoting Congressional report).

[15] Erin Lamb, “Colorado Attorney General Cynthia H. Coffman and Solicitor General Frederick Yarger Accept 2015 “Best Brief Award” From the National Association of Attorneys General,” June 18, 2015, https://coag.gov/press-room/press-releases/06-18-15.

[16] Petition For A Writ of Certiorari at 3; 20-21; 29; 31-32 , Hickenlooper v. Kerr, 135 S.Ct. 2927 (2015) (record citations omitted) (underlining added).

[17] Guberman, supra n.7 at 191-99.

 

Michael Blasie graduated from the New York University School of Law. He began his career as a commercial litigator and criminal defense attorney in the New York City office of Cooley LLP where he practiced in state and federal trial and appellate courts. After five years he moved to Denver where he worked as a law clerk to the Honorable David J. Richman of the Colorado Court of Appeals before becoming Staff Counsel at Wheeler Trigg O’Donnell, LLP. Michael also serves as a volunteer firefighter for the City of Golden.

A New Approach to Writing Facts, Part II

The first half of this article explained how to create stories. It drew analogies to filmmaking and described four criteria from Stephen Armstrong and Timothy Terrell. Those criteria are where does a story start, where does it end, from whose perspective is the story told, and which details are included and where.[1]

Let’s apply this approach to fact sections.

Example 1: A Criminal Appeal

Compare these two excerpts from a criminal appeal’s fact sections.

Version 1:

Around 11:00 p.m., Sergeant Smith, Officer Jones, and Officer Richardson, members of the Auto Larceny Unit with over twenty years of combined experience, patrolled in an unmarked car near Main Street and Tenth Avenue. These uniformed officers observed a white Subaru with a Wyoming license plate double-parked in front of a housing project in a high crime area. When Smith saw the Wyoming license plate, he ran a computer check for possible car theft because Wyoming had a recent streak of fraudulent car registrations.

As the officers waited for the results, defendant, wearing a camouflage jacket, left the car, crossed Tenth Avenue, and entered a gas station. He stood there, looking up and down the street, but did not buy anything or peruse the store. Then two other passengers left the car and entered a nearby housing project. A few minutes later they came back with a brown paper bag and re-entered the car. Then the defendant crossed the street and got back into the car. They pulled away, and made a U-turn over a double yellow line.[2]

Version 2:

Michael Doe left Jackson Hole to visit his ill cousin in Denver. He had no car so he got a ride from his cousin Christopher, and his cousin’s friend, James. They left Jackson Hole around 6:00 a.m. The rental car, a Subaru, had three rows of seats. Christopher drove and James was the front seat passenger. Michael sat behind Christopher. No one sat in the third row seat closest to the trunk.

When they arrived in Denver that night, they stopped by Christopher’s aunt’s home. They double-parked across from a gas station. After the long trip, Michael got out to stretch his legs. He crossed the street to a gas station. Christopher and James got out to visit the aunt. After a few minutes, everyone got back inside the car. They pulled away en route to Michael’s cousin. When Christopher noticed flashing lights in his rearview mirror he pulled over. Three officers approached the car.[3]

Analysis:

Even if this was the only section you read from each brief, you would probably determine the case involves a Fourth Amendment issue surrounding a car stop, and the first version belongs to the prosecution while the second version comes from the defense. Note the varying strategies.

The prosecution’s story starts minutes before the car stop. It begins from the combined officers’ perspective. The reader learns what they know and nothing else. This perspective aligns with the prosecution’s viewpoint on the Fourth Amendment, which usually centers on reasonableness; officers do not need to be perfect or all-knowing, they just have to act reasonably. The details chosen support the position. You learn a lot about the officers’ background. To build credibility, you learn their names, their unit, and some of their experience. The story shifts to the car occupants’ perspective to describe their relevant behavior. The details build suspicion. You know very little about them, but a lot about the situation. This type of car is often stolen and it is in a high crime neighborhood. The defendant’s behavior at the gas station makes him appear to be a lookout. And the ending is critical. The brown paper bag acts like a new character. At the end of the story the reader wants to know what is in the bag. Drugs? A gun? Putting aside the law, the facts almost burden the defendant to provide an explanation.

Contrast the defense story. It starts hours earlier from the occupants’ perspective to show how normal their behavior is. You learn the names of everyone in the car and their relationship to one another. Michael, the defendant, has a good motive to be in the car (visiting a sick relative) and is doing something both legal and normal by getting a ride from his cousin. The details about who sat where foreshadows an issue about contraband later located in the car and who it belonged to. The story ends with the police pulling the car over. Interjecting the officers at the end accomplishes a few goals. Primarily, the reader is left wondering why the officers pulled over the car. Again, regardless of the legal burden, the reader wants an explanation for the officers’ actions. You never learn the names or backgrounds of the officers because to the defense they do not matter.

Example 2: A Supreme Court Brief

Here’s an example from a brief by then-attorney John Roberts. The question before the U.S. Supreme Court was whether the EPA could override Alaska’s permitting decision under the Clean Air Act (CAA).[4] The fact section starts with this:

Statutory and Regulatory Background. The CAA establishes “a comprehensive national program that ma[kes] the States and the Federal Government partners in the struggle against air pollution.” General Motors Corp. v. United States, 496 U.S. 530, 532 (1990). At the same time, the CAA recognizes that “air pollution prevention and air pollution control at its source is the primary responsibility of States and local governments.” 42 U.S.C. §7401(a)(3) (emphasis added); see also id. § 7407(a) (“Each State shall have the primary responsibility for assuring air quality within the entire geographic area comprising such State”) (emphasis added). Thus, while the CAA assigns the EPA the responsibility for establishing national ambient air quality standards (“NAAQS”) for certain pollutants, see id. § 7409, the Act assigns the States the responsibility for implementing them. See id. §§ 7407(a), 7410(a).[5]

The opening begins with the regulatory scheme—not with Alaska, not with the federal government, not with a description of air pollutants, and not with the mining company this case affected. This choice frames the issue as Congress wanting states to control air pollutants. It uses case law and the Act’s language to emphasize a joint-scheme with states leading the way. That is a strategic choice to have the reader understand this viewpoint upfront and ideally view the later facts through this lens.

Later the fact section reads:

For generations, Inupiat Eskimos hunting and fishing in the DeLong Mountains in Northwest Alaska had been aware of orange- and red-stained creekbeds in which fish could not survive. In the 1960s, a bush pilot and part-time prospector by the name of Bob Baker noticed striking discolorations in the hills and creekbeds of a wide valley in the western DeLongs. Unable to land his plane on the rocky tundra to investigate, Baker alerted the U.S. Geological Survey. Exploration of the area eventually led to the discovery of a wealth of zinc and lead deposits. Although Baker died before the significance of his observations became known, his faithful traveling companion—an Irish Setter who often flew shotgun—was immortalized by a geologist who dubbed the creek Baker had spotted “Red Dog” Creek.

. . .

Operating 365 days a year, 24 hours a day, the Red Dog Mine is the largest private employer in the Northwest Arctic Borough, an area roughly the size of the State of Indiana with a population of about 7,000. The vast majority of the area’s residents are Inupiat Eskimos whose ancestors have inhabited the region for thousands of years. The region offers only limited year-round employment opportunities, particularly in the private sector; in the two years preceding Alaska’s permit decision, the borough’s unemployment rate was the highest in the State.[6]

No one could claim the name of a mine, a dog in an airplane, the demographics of a region, or any of these facts are necessary to interpret the Clean Air Act’s text. Although unnecessary, they are relevant. “Roberts is litigating a classic federalism fight between the states and the federal government. And who knows how a mine fits into the community better than the local and state officials close to the ground?”[7] By using facts to show how unique the area is and how invested local peoples and local government are in the region, it shows a need and a reason why state government is better suited than the federal government to control permitting.

Example 3: A Supreme Court Decision

Look at Justice Jackson’s opinion in United States v. Morissette. The issue was whether a defendant could knowingly convert government property without any criminal intent. After the introductory paragraph, here is the opening:

On a large tract of uninhabited and untilled land in a wooded and sparsely populated area of Michigan, the Government established a practice bombing range over which the Air Force dropped simulated bombs at ground targets. These bombs consisted of a metal cylinder about forty inches long and eight inches across, filled with sand and enough black powder to cause a smoke puff by which the strike could be located. At various places about the range signs read ‘Danger—Keep Out—Bombing Range.’ Nevertheless, the range was known as good deer country and was extensively hunted.

Spent bomb casings were cleared from the targets and thrown into piles ‘so that they will be out of the way.’ They were not sacked or piled in any order but were dumped in heaps, some of which had been accumulating for four years or upwards, were exposed to the weather and rusting away.

Morissette, in December of 1948, went hunting in this area but did not get a deer. He thought to meet expenses of the trip by salvaging some of these casings. He loaded three tons of them on his truck and took them to a nearby farm, where they were flattened by driving a tractor over them. After expending this labor and trucking them to market in Flint, he realized $84.

Morissette, by occupation, is a fruit stand operator in summer and a trucker and scrap iron collector in winter. An honorably discharged veteran of World War II, he enjoys a good name among his neighbors and has had no blemish on his record more disreputable than a conviction for reckless driving.

The loading, crushing and transporting of these casings were all in broad daylight, in full view of passers-by, without the slightest effort at concealment. When an investigation was started, Morissette voluntarily, promptly and candidly told the whole story to the authorities, saying that he had no intention of stealing but thought the property was abandoned, unwanted and considered of no value to the Government. He was indicted, however, on the charge that he ‘did unlawfully, wilfully and knowingly steal and convert’ property of the United States of the value of $84, in violation of 18 U.S.C. s 641, 18 U.S.C.A. s 641, which provides that ‘whoever embezzles, steals, purloins, or knowingly converts’ government property is punishable by fine and imprisonment. Morissette was convicted and sentenced to imprisonment for two months or to pay a fine of $200. The Court of Appeals affirmed, one judge dissenting.[8]

The fact section sets Morissette up for a win.

It begins with a god’s-eye-view of a place, the bombing range. [9] Then it describes things in that place, spent shell casings. Only then is Morissette introduced. We learn he goes to the range for an innocuous purpose, hunting. True, there are signs saying keep out (a bad fact for Morissette), but we already learned the signs are not enforced. All of his alleged criminal acts are summed up in three sentences: he wanted to make some money, he took the casings, and he sold them for $84. Then a paragraph about Morissette’s positive character. And then Morissette’s approach to his actions; he did everything in broad daylight, never thought anything was wrong, never hid it, and cooperated with authorities.

Rather than a chronology, this story is about where, who, and why. It frames Morissette as an upright man with blameless motives.[10] By the end the reader is sympathetic to Morissette, and even wondering why this man was ever arrested. And that is precisely where Justice Jackson wants you before starting his legal analysis.[11]


[1] Stephen V. Armstrong & Timothy P. Terrell, Thinking Like a Writer: A Lawyer’s Guide to Effective Writing and Editing 300 (Practicing Law Institute 3d ed. 2009).

[2] This is a variation of the fact section in the Brief for Defendant-Appellant at 4-15, People v. Bryant, 562/05 (N.Y. App. Div. 2010).

[3] This is a variation of the fact section in the Brief for Respondent at 4-14, People v. Bryant, 562/05 (N.Y. App. Div. 2010).

[4] Brief for Petitioner, Alaska v. Environmental Protection Agency at i, No. 02-658 (U.S.).

[5] Id. at 5.

[6] Id. at 7-9 (citations omitted). This example is courtesy of Ross Guberman, Point Made: How to Write Like the Nation’s Top Advocates 59 (Oxford University Press 2d ed. 2014).

[7] Ross Guberman, “Five Ways to Write Like John Roberts,” https://www.legalwritingpro.com/pdf/john-roberts.pdf.

[8] Morissette v. United States, 342 U.S. 246, 247–50 (1952). This example courtesy of Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 1 at 117-18, 300.

[9] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 1 at 300

[10] See id. at 117.

[11] For more examples of fact sections and storytelling see Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 1 at 113-118, 296-305.

 

Michael Blasie graduated from the New York University School of Law. He began his career as a commercial litigator and criminal defense attorney in the New York City office of Cooley LLP where he practiced in state and federal trial and appellate courts. After five years he moved to Denver where he worked as a law clerk to the Honorable David J. Richman of the Colorado Court of Appeals before becoming Staff Counsel at Wheeler Trigg O’Donnell, LLP. Michael also serves as a volunteer firefighter for the City of Golden.

A New Approach to Writing Facts, Part I

We are told fact sections should tell a story, as if such advice is self-executing. No one explains how to tell a story. Yes, we tell stories everyday. But when we do, they come out naturally and may not be very good. Writing a fact section is not natural and needs to be good.

Put aside storytelling. Consider a different approach: filmmaking. Think of any scene from a movie you enjoy. Let’s use TOPGUN, because as someone of intelligence and great taste you were probably thinking of it anyway. Why is the main character’s call sign Maverick? Why not Renegade or Creampuff? It’s Maverick because screenwriters chose that name. Just like a costume designer chose aviator sunglasses. And not just any aviators, dark lens aviators instead of silver lens. A set designer chose which planes and how many to have in the background. The director chose to have Tom Cruise on the left and shoot the scene from a high angle. And we are all indebted to the music director for hiring Kenny Loggins to play Danger Zone.

In every scene dozens of people made decisions. Those decisions shaped the audience’s perception and told the story. Those decisions are why Darth Vader’s cape is not yellow, why the ending of the Usual Suspects surprised you, and why you knew Scar was a villain before he killed Mufasa.

In a fact section you are the cast and crew. You control every decision. It’s empowering; you don’t need a special effects budget and there is no producer to answer to. Yet most attorneys fall short because most attorneys have no training in storytelling.

Part I of this article is Directing 101 For Attorneys. It explains what stories can do in a brief and how to create them. Part II (to debut next month) applies this advice to examples.

Rethink What Fact Sections Can Do For You

“If you let me state the facts, I will let you argue the law—and I will win.”[1]

Before you write a story you need goals: (1) Identify the facts a court needs to decide in your favor, (2) provide the relevant procedural background, (3) preempt facts that favor the other side, and (4) for appeals, discuss the lower court’s ruling. Most fact sections have these goals. Most fact sections achieve these goals. And most fact sections stink.

Why they stink is less clear. When discussing fact sections, judges often advise attorneys to give them a reason to turn the page; “it is not unconstitutional to be interesting.”[2] Fair enough. But with large caseloads and billing concerns, writing entertaining briefs for an audience paid to read briefs is not a priority for most attorneys. A more compelling reason is that these four goals do not advance your argument.

A good fact section gives context and focuses on the relevant facts so “the legal analysis and result look inevitable.”[3] “From the reader’s perspective, your legal analysis seems the only possible means of reaching a just result on the basis of the facts.”[4] The four goals above do not accomplish this. You need more. Fact sections should prime a judge to favor an argument or side. They can elicit sympathy for a character or raise questions about behavior. This is where stories come in.

How to Craft A Story

If you have not been to film school, creating stories is daunting. Below is the best explanation I have come across, which comes from Stephen Armstrong’s and Timothy Terrell’s Thinking Like a Writer.[5]

The basic elements of a story are characters, the opening situation, the closing situation, and the movement from the opening to the closing.[6] “With each [element], your job is to create inferences that point towards favorable conclusions about the nature of the acts and actors that make up the story.”[7] These inferences are powerful. The power of fact sections is that “[t]hese very different stories were created from the same facts by making different decisions about which to use and how to organize them.”[8]

Like a film crew, four choices shape these elements into a story:

  1. The Start: Where does the story begin?
  2. The End: Where does the story end?
  3. Perspective: Through whose eyes do we see the events unfold?
  4. Details: Which details do we include and where do we include them? Which details do we omit?[9]

The Start

Beginnings are critical.

Sometimes stories begin by introducing a character, the world from his or her perspective, and that character’s motives for later actions. Han Solo, James Bond, Willy Wonka, George C. Scott’s General Patton, Indiana Jones, and Full Metal Jacket’s Gunnery Sergeant Hartman all have memorable introductions that prime the character’s later actions. The same principles apply to legal briefs. For example, a criminal trespass case might start with the defendant desperate, starving, and shivering, or with a family returning home to find a broken window.[10]  A trade secrets case might begin with a company introducing a revolutionary product for sale only to watch its chief scientist go to a competitor that introduces a similar product six months later. But the opposing brief might start years earlier with the competitor’s research and development team, and end with the new employee coming on board during the final stages of a product set for launch.

Other times effective stories start with context, not characters. Science fiction and fantasy movies do this all the time. There is no alien in the opening to Alien. Rather we see a giant ship with a skeleton crew floating in the void of space. The introduction establishes isolation, the last place you would want to encounter an alien with acid for blood. Lord of the Rings opens with a history of alliances and conflicts between humans, elves, and orcs; it introduces the ring but most of the main living characters come later. Bring this to your brief. Although we write about the real world, often it is a foreign world. Whether it is life in a gang-controlled neighborhood, a regulatory landscape, or how an industry works, there is a unique context. Armstrong and Terrell describe the case of a corporation accused of violating environmental regulations controlling pollutants released under certain weather conditions. Most writers would lead with what happened on the day of the violation. But a stronger opening might begin by describing how difficult it is to predict the weather.[11]

In most cases a story’s start should differ between sides. Imagine a car accident. Depending on who is being blamed, the story might begin with a description of the driver and his behavior (a character-based introduction), or a description of the intersection and weather (a context-based introduction).[12]

The End

The end of a story should reinforce the point. The criminal trespass case could end with a frightened defendant hiding in the bushes and being arrested, or with an intruder running out of a home.[13]

The end may go beyond the events that led to the lawsuit. It could lay the foundation for damages. So a trade secrets plaintiff might describe the plummeting sales or number of lost customers.  A victim’s hardships, the environmental impact, or reputational damage are all ways to end. Another option is the case’s effect on the client’s industry or the legal landscape.

Perspective

Conveying a perspective has two parts: who and how.

Who. Choose whose perspective to tell the story from. Often we choose one of the classic main characters like the plaintiff, defendant, or victim. But you don’t have to. The perspective could be from someone uninvolved with the events, like an expert witness or a detective. And it could be from someone on the other side of the case. In a case pivoting on intent, a prosecutor might tell the story from the defendant’s perspective to highlight the time he had to plan his actions; a plaintiff might do the same to show the warning signs before the negligent behavior.

Or the perspective could be from no person. You might adopt the legislature’s perspective to discuss a statute’s intent, or an agency’s perspective to describe a regulatory scheme. You could use a god’s-eye-view of the world to describe context, like a corporation’s organization or how a manufacturing process works.

Also consider whether the perspective will be consistent or whether it will change. You might begin with a god’s-eye-view of the world and then shift to a person’s perspective entering this world. Or you might start with the agency’s perspective in creating a regulatory scheme and then discuss your client’s view.

How. For most of us, to tell the client’s perspective we state the facts that client knew per that client’s testimony, deposition, sworn statement, etc. It looks likes this:

John became CEO of the company in 2001. The company entered the contract in January. The contract said all material facts were disclosed. It mentioned a $1 million debt. It did not mention a pending $3 million lawsuit. But John did not know about the lawsuit.

Stating facts your client knew does not necessarily tell the story from that client’s perspective. In fact, this example has three different perspectives.

Professor George Gopen explains that most people read a sentence as the story (i.e., perspective) of the main clause’s subject.[14] So “Jack loves Jill” is Jack’s story while “Jill is loved by Jack” is Jill’s story.[15] “Keep the grammatical subjects of your sentences the same for as long as you are telling that particular story. Then, by changing whose story the next sentence is, you will (silently) convey to your reader” a shift to a new story.[16]

So sentence structure defines perception. That is why in the above example there are three perspectives: John’s, the company’s, and the contract’s.

Avoid changing perspectives unintentionally. The compulsion to vary sentence structure (courtesy of our elementary school teachers) works against us. Rest assured, there are many ways to vary sentence structure while keeping the subject of the main clauses consistent. For example, both of these sentences are the defendant’s perspective:

The defendant chose to refuse the goods, even though the plaintiff delivered them on time.

Even though the plaintiff delivered the goods on time, the defendant chose to refuse them.[17]

Details

Identify the Necessary Facts

For a fact section you must know the law. The law identifies which facts a court must consider. For precisely this reason, many suggest writing the argument section first and the fact section last.[18] Public policies and equity may inform this decision too.

One caveat. Some hold Judge Aldisert’s view that, at least in an appellate brief, any fact you use in an argument section must be in the fact section.[19] The reason is that the fact section gives a court “an objective account of what occurred before the twist of advocacy is added to the cold facts.”[20] Perhaps in a single issue brief Judge Aldisert’s positon holds true. But modern writers have modified this approach.

“Do not burden the opening statement of facts with details relevant to a specific argument that you will develop in full later. Just state the basics.”[21] If your brief raises multiple unrelated issues, having mini-fact sections near each argument is easier for readers. Think of an appellate brief that raises pretrial, trial, and post-trial issues. The reader gets to the pretrial issue fact section on page four but does not see its corresponding argument section until page eighteen. Between those sections are pages of unrelated facts. Having a pretrial issue fact section right before its argument section makes your reader’s life much easier.

Cut Irrelevant Unnecessary Facts

A universal gripe is that fact sections contain too many facts.[22] But “too many” is the wrong phrase; it is not a numbers issue. It’s an issue with misleading a reader.

Fact sections cause problems when they suggest a fact is important when it is not. Readers assume you included a fact for a reason. The longer the reader searches for that reason the more confused the reader becomes. If a reason never comes, the reader gets confused and frustrated.

Here is a good example. At a recent CLE, one judge remarked that when she reads that police executed a search warrant at a particular address, she immediately begins to think the police searched the wrong home because why else would the address be relevant. When that is not the case, she is left wondering why the lawyer told her the address.[23] For precisely the same reason, dates, times, quotations, addresses, procedural history, locations, dollar amounts, weights, quantities, and proper names of people, places, entities, and pleadings are often irrelevant.[24]

A related problem is that fact sections fail to highlight key facts. If there are nine key facts and you tack on eighty more, those nine facts do not look essential. “Cutting clutter isn’t just about saving words. It’s also about turning down the noise so the signal shines through.”[25]

Applying these guidelines, look at Judge Posner’s edits to an opinion by Judge Wald.[26]

 

 

Judge Wald’s Opinion

 

 

Judge Posner’s Edit

 

Appellant Robert Morris was convicted of possession of cocaine with intent to sell, in violation of 21 U.S.C. § 841(a)(1) and § 841(b)(1)(B)(iii), and for using or carrying a firearm during and in relation to a drug trafficking offense, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 924(c)(1). He appeals both convictions on the ground that the evidence was insufficient to support either charge. We reject both challenges and affirm the judgment below.[27] A jury convicted the defendant of possession of cocaine with intent to sell it, and of using or carrying a firearm during and in relation to a drug offense. The judge sentenced him to 130 months in prison.[28]
On December 11, 1990, officers of the Metropolitan Police Department executed a search warrant on a one-bedroom apartment at 2525 14th Street, N.E., in the District of Columbia. Upon entering the apartment, the officers found appellant seated on a small couch in the living room; they detained him while they searched the apartment. The search produced two ziplock bags containing a total of 15.7 grams of crack cocaine divided among 100 smaller ziplock bags, $500 in cash, empty ziplock bags, razor blades, and three loaded and operable pistols. Two of the guns were under the cushions of the couch on which appellant sat; the third was in a nightstand in the bedroom. The cocaine and the cash were in an air duct vent in the ceiling of the bedroom. In the drawer of a dresser in the bedroom, the officers found two birthday cards; appellant’s name was on the envelope of one, and the other was for a “son,” signed “Mr. and Mrs. B.G. Morris” and dated November 30, 1990. No address was on either. In a hallway closet, the officers found a laundry ticket dated December 3, 1990, and bearing the name “E. Morris.” There were no identifiable fingerprints on any of these items. The officers arrested appellant, who was indicted on two counts: possession with intent to distribute in excess of five grams of cocaine base and using or carrying a firearm in relation to the possession offense.[29] Police had a warrant to search a one-bedroom apartment. Upon entering they found the defendant sitting on a small couch in the living room. The search revealed drugs, cash, and drug paraphernalia, and also three pistols—two under the cushions of the couch and the third in a nightstand in the bedroom.[30]

 

Once you identify the necessary facts and cut all the excess facts, congratulations—you now have a timeline. But not a fact section.

Add Relevant Unnecessary Facts

Conventional advice strips a fact section to only what a court needs to rule.[31] This advice goes too far.

Think of a summary judgment motion. Think of that numbered list of materially undisputed facts. That list is not a story. If you delete the numbers and group the list into paragraphs, it is still not a story. So a fact section needs more.

Great fact sections contain helpful unnecessary facts. The difference from the previous step is that these, albeit unnecessary, facts have a purpose, a purpose that furthers the story even if it does not further the legal argument.

This concept is not new. We see it in judicial opinions. “I doubt it’s a coincidence, for example, that in the U.S. Supreme Court’s landmark death-penalty cases in the 1970s and ’80s, the justices who voted against death sentences said nary a word about the underlying crimes, while those who upheld death sentences sometimes sounded like they were writing smut fiction.”[32]

There is another role for relevant unnecessary facts.  Some facts neutralize a tangent on the reader’s mind. For example, you might explain a rare point of law, like how although the defendant acknowledged his prior convictions when he testified trial, that testimony is inadmissible at a post-trial habitual criminal sentencing hearing to prove those convictions.[33] Without this fact, a court may be left wondering why a defendant disputes the existence of prior convictions he admitted to.

Organization

“[S]ome writers assume that, if they organize facts chronologically, they are by definition telling a story. That is a damaging mistake.”[34]

Choosing which facts to include and exclude is not enough. Equally important is where the facts fit into the story.

Begin by choosing the key facts in your story. Then choose an organization that highlights those facts. For chronologies, the key fact is the sequence of events. If the case centers on who knew what when, or who did what first, chronologies work well. But be careful because chronologies deprive you of control. “Because the writer is locked into his chronological default, however, he has no choice but to insert the key [] facts wherever the chronology permits, blurring the emphasis they deserve.”[35] They also tend to “run[] out of control and drag[] irrelevant facts along.”[36]

Other kinds of key facts do not depend on sequence. Armstrong and Terrell frame these alternatives as who, what, where, and why. Who: people and descriptions of them, their motives, or their credibility. [37]  What: a thing, like documents and what they say, who they were sent to, or how they were drafted; a manufacturing process; a person’s mental state.[38] Where: a location, the conditions of an area; the weather. Why: an explanation or motive like alcohol, jealousy, greed, wet roads.[39]

These facts are best highlighted without a chronology. Just because an organization is not a chronology does not mean it is told backwards or out of order. It just means sequence and timing do not control the story. Such stories might have timeless sections that discuss context, like a corporate structure or the ecology of a marsh polluted by an oil spill.[40] They might have lengthy explanations about people, companies, or contracts before moving on to an event. Or they might explain the story out of order; they might begin at the end and then explain what led up to that event. They might switch back and forth between an event and the past (like The Godfather Part 2).

Conclusion

Fact sections are the most underused part of briefs. If you do not tell a story and if you do not tell the right story, your brief is weak. Elevate your fact section and you will elevate your brief.

Channel your inner filmmaker to craft the story that advances your argument and sets you up for success. The next time you read a brief, think about whether the fact section helps the argument. Analyze it from the director’s chair: where does the story start, where does it end, who is telling the story, which details does it include and omit, and how it is organized.


[1] George Gopen, “Controlling the Reader’s Perception of Your Client’s Story,” 38 Litigation 4, at 18 (Summer/Fall 2012), available at www.georgegopen.com/uploads/1/0/9/0/109073507/litigation_5_palsgraffian_perspectives.pdf (attributing quotation to Clarence Darrow without citation).

[2] Ruggero J. Aldisert, Winning on Appeal: Better Briefs and Oral Argument 168 (National Institute of Trial Advocacy 2d ed. 2003).

[3] Stephen V. Armstrong & Timothy P. Terrell, Thinking Like a Writer: A Lawyer’s Guide to Effective Writing and Editing 111 (Practicing Law Institute 3d ed. 2009).

[4] Id.

[5] See also Brian J. Foley & Ruth Anne Robbins, “Fiction 101: A Primer for Lawyers on How to Use Fiction Writing Techniques to Write Persuasive Fact Sections,” 32 Rutgers L. Rev. 459 (2001).

[6] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3. at 299. See also Aldisert, supra n. 2 at 168 (stories have characters, conflict, resolution, organization, a point of view, and a setting).

[7] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3. at 299.

[8] Id. at. 299.

[9] Id. at 300.

[10] See id. at 298; 300.

[11] Id. at 300.

[12] See Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 113-14.

[13] Id. at. 300 (“notice how the impact of the arrest differs dramatically then it comes at the end rather than the beginning. If the rest of the story has been carefully constructed, the arrest seems cruel and unjust, not a presumption to be overcome.”).

[14] George Gopen, Whose Story is This Sentence? Directing Readers’ Perceptions of Narrative, 38 Litigation 3, Spring 2012 at 17-18,

available at www.georgegopen.com/uploads/1/0/9/0/109073507/litigation_4_whose_story.pdf.

[15] George Gopen, “Controlling the Reader’s Perception of Your Client’s Story,” 38 Litigation 4, at 18, (Summer/Fall 2012), available at www.georgegopen.com/uploads/1/0/9/0/109073507/litigation_5_palsgraffian_perspectives.pdf.

[16] Id. at 19.

[17] Gopen, supra n. 14 at 17-18.

[18] See Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 297 (“To write a persuasive story, you have to think carefully about the framework of plot and character around which the facts will cohere.”). See also id. at 354 (“Present facts with an eye towards the law” by stating only the facts you need, addressing material facts harmful to your argument, and avoiding argumentative characterizations of the facts).

[19] Aldisert, supra n. 2 at 169-70.

[20] Id. at 169.

[21] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 354.

[22] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 297 (“The fact section of the brief or memorandum of law becomes an agglomeration of data that is not just unpersuasive, but downright painful to read.”).

[23] Elizabeth Harris, Judge, Colorado Court of Appeals, Presentation at Appellate Practice Update 2017 (CLE in Colo., Inc. Nov. 29, 2017).

[24] Ross Guberman, Point Taken: How to Write Like the World’s Best Judges 44-57 (Oxford University Press 2015) (applying this advice to judicial opinion writing); Ross Guberman, “Five Resolutions for Litigators,” www.legalwritingpro.com/articles/five-resolutions-litigators/.

[25] Ross Guberman, Point Taken: How to Write Like the World’s Best Judges 51 (Oxford University Press 2015) (applying this advice to judicial opinion writing). See also Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 301-03 (showing how too much detail prevents key facts from getting the attention they disserve).

[26] These examples come from Guberman, supra n. 25 at 45-47.

[27] United States v. Morris, 977 F.2d 617, 618 (D.C. Cir. 1992).

[28] Guberman, supra n. 25 at 45-47.

[29] Morris, 977 F.2d at 619.

[30] Guberman, supra n. 25 at 45-47.

[31] See also Guberman, supra n. 25 at 56; 77 (“if your legal analysis does not turn on one of these details, consider purging them from your fact or background statement . . . .”) (applying advice to judicial opinion writing).

[32] Id. at 60.

[33] C.R.S. § 18-1.3-803(5)(b) (2017).

[34] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 120. But see Aldisert, supra n. 2 at 169-70 (recommending always explaining facts chronologically). The dangers of default organizations applies to other sections of brief writing too. In fact, Armstrong and Terrell have a chapter titled “The Dangers of Default Organizations” discussing common defaults like tracking the history of your research and thinking, or tracking your opponent’s organization. Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 87-110.

[35] Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 113.

[36] Id. at 111. “[T]he writer usually seizes onto chronology as a drowning person onto a life preserver. But a chronology is not a story. Nor can you turn it into one by ‘spinning’ or characterizing the facts, or by adding a few more heart-wrenching details.” Id. at 297.

[37] See id.

[38] See id.

[39] See id.

[40] See Armstrong & Terrell, supra n. 3 at 111-12.

Michael Blasie graduated from the New York University School of Law. He began his career as a commercial litigator and criminal defense attorney in the New York City office of Cooley LLP where he practiced in state and federal trial and appellate courts. After five years he moved to Denver where he worked as a law clerk to the Honorable David J. Richman of the Colorado Court of Appeals before becoming Staff Counsel at Wheeler Trigg O’Donnell, LLP. Michael also serves as a volunteer firefighter for the City of Golden.

Colorado Supreme Court: Foster Parents Lacked Standing to Challenge District Court Denial of Parental Rights Termination

The Colorado Supreme Court issued its opinion in People in Interest of C.W.B., Jr. on Monday, February 5, 2018.

Children’s Code—Dependency or Neglect Proceedings—Standing on Appeal.

The Colorado Supreme Court reviewed whether the foster parents in this case had standing to appeal the trial court’s denial of a motion to terminate the parent–child legal relationship. The foster parents intervened in the trial court proceedings pursuant to C.R.S. § 19-3-507(5)(a) and participated in a hearing on the guardian ad litem’s (GAL) motion to terminate the parent-child legal relationship between the mother and the child. The trial court denied the motion. Neither the state nor the GAL appealed the trial court’s ruling, but the foster parents did. The court of appeals concluded that the foster parents had standing to appeal the trial court’s ruling.

The supreme court concluded that the foster parents in this case did not have a legally protected interest in the outcome of termination proceedings, and that C.R.S. § 19-3-507(5)(a) did not automatically confer standing on them to appeal the juvenile court’s order denying the termination motion, where neither the Department of Social Services nor the GAL sought review of the trial court’s ruling. Because the GAL was statutorily obligated to advocate for the best interests of the child, including on appeal, there was no need to confer standing on the foster parents to represent the best interests of the child on appeal. The court therefore reversed the judgment of the court of appeals and remanded the case with instructions to dismiss the appeal.

Summary provided courtesy of Colorado Lawyer.

CJD 05-03 Amended Regarding Management Plan for Court Reporting and Recording

On Friday, January 19, 2018, the Colorado Supreme Court amended Chief Justice Directive 05-03, “Management Plan for Court Reporting and Recording Services.” This CJD was amended to reflect recent changes to C.A.R. 10 and 11, effective for appeals filed on or after January 1, 2018. The full text of the CJD is available here. For all of the Colorado Supreme Court’s Chief Justice Directives, click here.

CJD 85-22 Amended, Modifying Rate of Interest on Judgments that are Appealed

On Thursday, January 18, 2018, the Colorado Supreme Court issued modifications to Chief Justice Directive 85-22, “Rate of Interest on Judgments Which are Appealed.” The changes to the CJD reflect the Secretary of State’s certification that interest on monetary judgments that are appealed is 4 percent. The changes are in accordance with C.R.S. § 5-12-106(2)(a) and 13-21-101(3). For all of the Colorado Supreme Court’s Chief Justice Directives, click here.

Enhance Your Brief With Visual Aids

Have you ever tried to describe a fence in a brief? How about a photo lineup, a property line, a crime scene, a trademark, a scientific process, a patent, a timeline, a trail of money, a web of subsidiaries, or a comparison under a multi-factor test? You have options. A picture is worth a thousand words. So use a picture and lower your word count.

Rarely used yet always appreciated are visual aids like charts, maps, diagrams, and pictures.[1] Some concepts are easier to understand pictorially.

Simple visual aids are best. Remember, visual aids are substitutes for less effective main text. They should be simple and self-explanatory. If they need explaining, they are not working. For example, do not describe a scene and then include a map that matches the description. Just use the map.[2]

If you are new to visual aids, do not fear. You do not need to be an artist or computer wizard. Although you must use care when designing the aid, it need not be elaborate or artistic. As you will see below, many are basic and occasionally even hand drawn.

Finally, even if the visual aid is part of the record, include it in the brief rather than just citing to the record. Keep the brief a cohesive unit with all the information a court needs to decide a case.

Here are some opinions that use visual aids effectively. They show courts using them for three reasons: (i) to orient a reader or visualize the scene, (ii) to make a comparison, and (iii) to summarize facts. Each example includes the paragraph introducing the visual aid.

Using Visual Aids to Orient a Reader/Visualize the Scene

Example 1: [3]

Busch also concluded that the trajectory of the bullet holes caused by the initial shots to both Baldwin and Turley were consistent with a shooter being located by the barstools and that the shots could not have been made by someone coming out of the men’s restroom. First, the bullet that caused Turley’s wound was found in the tavern’s east door. Had the bullet been fired by someone by the men’s restroom or walking along the south wall (as Ogryzek testified), the bullet would have had to change its course almost 90 degrees after striking Turley to end up in the east door. The diagram below reflects the tavern’s layout and locations of Marcia Woolley, Turley, and Baldwin at the time of the shootings.

Example 2: [4]

The following diagram shows the approximate relative relationship of the properties that we have described above. This diagram is for illustrative purposes only, and it is not drawn to scale.

Example 3: [5]

The court ordered that a deed transferring a right-of-way for a road from Digor to the county be reformed and that the defendants among others be permanently restrained and enjoined from interfering with the county’s or the public’s use and possession of the property described in the reformed deed. We affirm.

On December 1, 1953, defendant Digor filed a plat signed by him in which a proposed road across his land, represented by the segments A, B, C, and D in the diagram below, was designated ‘Digor Drive.’

Example 4: [6]

This writ of error presents a rather knotty problem and arises from the fact that a house was so constructed as to encroach about 2 feet on an adjoining lot. To aid in an understanding of the entire matter, there is set forth below a diagram, not to scale, which when considered in connection with the balance of this opinion will hopefully bring the dispute into focus.

 

Using Visual Aids to Compare

Example 1: [7]

¶ 42 And even if (1) defendant’s identity as the perpetrator of the crime had been at issue; or (2) modus operandi evidence were admissible in cases other than sexual assault or domestic violence cases to prove the crime’s actus reus, we would nonetheless conclude that evidence of the February drug deal was not admissible to prove defendant’s modus operandi. When we compare the February drug deal with the May drug deal in the chart below, we see that, although the two drug deals were similar in some respects, they lacked the striking similarities and distinctive methodology that the law requires to show that both drug deals were the handiwork of one perpetrator. . . .

Example 2: [8]

Figure 2 compares the Hawg sealed bearing pack (Figure 2a) and the Newsco sealed bearing pack (Figure 2b).

. . .

Fifth, a defense expert compared the Hawg design to designs that had been publicly available at that time. One of these was illustrated by U.S. Patent Application Pub. No. 2003/0015352 fig. 1 (filed July 17, 2001), which we compare to the Hawg design in Figure 3.

Example 3: [9]

When Baig saw a billboard advertisement for Diet Sprite Zero in September 2004, he contacted Coca-Cola to threaten litigation over its purported infringement of his mark. Below are pictures of “Diet Sprite Zero” and “Naturally Zero.”

 

Summarizing Facts With Timelines, Charts, or Flow Charts[10]

Example 1: [11]

The facts of the petitioner’s brutal sexual assault and murder of 25-year-old LaTausha Curry on January 21, 1999 have been set forth in detail in our earlier opinion and the opinion of the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. We will not repeat them here. Some of the relevant dates have been set forth above. We repeat these dates and others in the timeline set forth below:

November 19, 1999: Johnson sentenced to death.
October 22, 2001: Johnson files state petition for writ of habeas.
January 30, 2002: Tex. Court of Criminal Appeals (“TCCA”) affirms Johnson’s conviction on direct appeal.
June 20, 2002: U.S. Supreme Court issues Atkins.
October 8, 2003: TCCA denies habeas relief.
February 11, 2004: TCCA modifies the “two-forum rule,” which required dismissal of a state writ or successive writ if a federal proceeding was pending, even if that proceeding was stayed. Ex parte Soffar, 143 S.W.3d 804, 804 (Tex.Crim.App.2004).
May 17, 2004: Johnson files first federal writ.
September 18, 2007: Federal writ denied by district court.
December 2, 2007: District court denies motion for new trial.
April 7, 2008: Johnson seeks COA from Fifth Circuit.
October 2, 2008: Fifth Circuit denies COA.
January 16, 2009: Execution date set for April 30, 2009.
March 9, 2009: U.S. Supreme Court denies cert to Johnson’s challenging the Fifth Circuit’s denying his COA.
April 28, 2009: Johnson attempts to file successive writ with TCCA based on Atkins claims.
April 29, 2009: TCCA denies subsequent writ because Johnson failed to make a prima facie case of mental retardation. Johnson files the current motion.

Example 2: [12]

On cross-examination, witness Nee frequently asserted his Fifth Amendment privilege. The chart below outlines the context in which these assertions were made:

Example 3: [13]

The ownership genealogy of the ‘236 and ‘578 patents is documented in the chart below.

Example 4: [14]

JWR operates four coal mines west of Birmingham, Alabama. The parties refer to the mines as Mines 3, 4, 5, and 7. Mine 3 is located in Jefferson County, Alabama, near Adger, Alabama. Mines 4, 5, and 7 are located in Tuscaloosa County, Alabama. The number of layoffs at each mine and the percentage of workers affected are reflected in the chart below:

 

How to Create Visual Aids

Here are helpful resources on creating visual aids.

Designing charts and graphs

  • Gene Zelazny, Say It With Charts: The Executive’s Guide to Visual Communication (4th ed. 2001).

Creating flowcharts, charts, and graphs in Microsoft Word

  • Add A Drawing To A Document, https://support.office.com/en-us/article/Add-a-drawing-to-a-document-348a8390-c32e-43d0-942c-b20ad11dea6f (last visited August 23, 2017).
  • Saikat Basu, How to Create Stunning Flowcharts With Microsoft Word, http://www.makeuseof.com/tag/create-stunning-flowcharts-microsoft-word/ (last visited August 23, 2017).
  • Insert A Chart From an Excel Spreadsheet Into Microsoft Word, https://support.office.com/en-us/article/Insert-a-chart-from-an-Excel-spreadsheet-into-Word-0b4d40a5-3544-4dcd-b28f-ba82a9b9f1e1 (last visited August 23, 2017).
  • How to Add A Graph to Microsoft Word, http://www.wikihow.com/Add-a-Graph-to-Microsoft-Word (last visited August 23, 2017).

[1] “Wherever possible, use pictures, maps, diagrams, and other visual aids in your briefs. Some lawyers seem to think a word is worth a thousand pictures. The reverse, of course, is true. Seeing a case makes it come alive to judges.” Hon. Richard Posner, Effective Appellate Brief Writing, A.B.A. Litigation News (Spring 2010), https://apps.americanbar.org/litigation/litigationnews/trial_skills/appellate-brief-writing-posner.html. See also Ross Guberman, Point Made: How to Write like the Nation’s Top Advocates 293-94 (2d ed. 2014).

[2] Unlike brief writing, during a trial you might decide such repetition is useful to the jury.

[3] Woolley v. Rednour, 702 F.3d 411, 418 (7th Cir. 2012).

[4] Graham v. Jules Inv., Inc., 2014 COA 136, ¶ 13 (Colo. App. 2014).

[5] Bd. of Comm’rs of Grand Cty. v. Baumberger, 513 P.2d 1075, 1075–76 (Colo. App. 1973).

[6] Emery v. Medal Bldg. Corp., 436 P.2d 661, 662–63 (Colo. 1968).

[7] People v. Williams, 2016 COA 48, ¶ 42-43 (Colo. App. 2016).

[8] Hawg Tools, LLC v. Newsco Int’l Energy Servs., Inc., 2016 COA 176M, ¶¶ 27, 33 (Colo. App. 2016).

[9] Baig v. Coca-Cola Co., 607 Fed. Appx. 557, 558–59 (7th Cir. 2015).

[10] See also Stephen Armstrong & Timothy Terrell, Thinking Like a Writer: A Lawyer’s Guide to Effective Writing and Editing 127-30 (Practicing Law Institute 3d ed. 2008) (discussing use of lists and bullet points); Ross Guberman, Point Made: How to Write like the Nation’s Top Advocates 295-300 (2d ed. 2014) (same); Ross Guberman, Point Taken: How to Write Like the World’s Best Judges 73-77 (2015) (discussing same in an opinion’s Statement of Facts).

[11] In re Johnson, 325 Fed. Appx. 337, 339 (5th Cir. 2009).

[12] United States v. Newman, 490 F.2d 139, 144 (3d Cir. 1974).

[13] Rembrandt Data Techs., LP v. AOL, LLC, 641 F.3d 1331, 1333 (Fed. Cir. 2011).

[14] Int’l Union, United Mine Workers v. Jim Walter Res., Inc., 6 F.3d 722, 724 (11th Cir. 1993).

 

Michael Blasie graduated from the New York University School of Law. He began his career as a commercial litigator and criminal defense attorney in the New York City office of Cooley LLP where he practiced in state and federal trial and appellate courts. After five years he moved to Denver where he worked as a law clerk to the Honorable David J. Richman of the Colorado Court of Appeals before becoming Staff Counsel at Wheeler Trigg O’Donnell, LLP. Michael also serves as a volunteer firefighter for the City of Golden.