The Man in Court

by Frederic DeWitt Wells

Whatever the trouble with objections may be, it is neither the fault of the lawyer, the judge, nor the witness. When certain evidence is not allowed by law it is proper that it be objected to. Unreasonable and often comical as objections sound, the basis of their existence in law is that the court wants the best possible proof.

Instead of a copy of a letter the judge and the jury ought to see the original. Instead of the copy of a will the paper actually signed by the testator is wanted. Suppose a question arises as to the payment of a bill. The defendant says that he went into the store and paid it. The best proof is to be given by someone who saw him pay it. A witness to whom he came afterward and said that he had been down to the store and had paid the bill is not so accurate a witness as the man who was in the store and saw the money paid over. It is to keep out this poorer proof that objections are made.

If the objection is good, the judge says "Objection sustained," or if he thinks the evidence the best he allows it and says "Objection overruled," then the witness may proceed and answer the question. Unless the lawyer objecting states the ground or reasons for his objection, the objection is not supposed to be valid for the other side ought to be apprised of the reason so that he may supply the proper proof, that is why the objection is named as irrelevant, incompetent, and immaterial, so as to cover all possible grounds.

The reasons given for the objections: incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial might, so far as the average man is concerned, read "incontepent," "irrevelant," and "immature." The words when repeated together seem like that old legal term "incorporeal hereditaments." They are imposing and add tone to the trial. The solemnity of repetition is always a valuable asset. The real value of the word irrelevant is shown by repeating irrelevant, "irrevelant," irrelevant, "irrevelant." In a short time one sounds as valuable as the other.

When he makes the objection the lawyer rises and when he is through sits down. This gives the appearance of constantly jumping up but is only a question of etiquette, like taking off the hat or making a bow. Some people like the formality but there is a question how much is due to the dignity of a court and how much form and manners must be sacrificed to efficiency of business. The judge who said that he did not hear the constant objections of the lawyer because he made his objections sitting down was not so much an adherent of good form as a protestor against the absurdity of professional objections.

The mooted question is the same and goes back to the one on evidence. Shall everything be allowed in and a photographic picture of numerous details be given to the court? If that is the correct idea, a general knowledge and atmosphere may be derived from all the surrounding circumstances and then there would be no objections. If the strict interpretation of the law be followed limiting evidence to only what is seen and heard, objections are proper and sensible.

The modern tendency is to do away with all restrictions of the past. There has been too great severity in interpreting the law of proof and the pendulum is bound to swing far in the opposite direction. A medium may not easily be reached, and the only test is the common sense of the average.

On the question of time and whether the abolishing objections and letting in all evidence would not be shorter, there is much to be said. It might take less time for the witness to recount the death-bed scene of his wife's sister's brother-in-law's aunt, than for the court to hear and pass upon all the objections and arguments as to the admission of the testimony on the red cow.

As the jury listen to the objections and exceptions they become more and more impatient. The restraining influence of the surroundings, the fact that they are impaneled in a box and that they are a part of, the drama keeps them silent. They cannot break out in revolt at the badgering of the witness. They can say nothing about the absurd objections that are interrupting the proceedings or the spiteful little exceptions that are being thrown in, but can only quietly store up an increasing mistrust of the whole method. When the lawyer objects so strenuously the jury thinks he must have something to conceal. Yet when the objections are made they have a certain effect which is not at first realized. A question is asked that is to the juryman perfectly sensible, but which is absolutely inadmissable under the rules of evidence. For example, the lawyer asks, "What did you tell your wife about the accident when you got home?" Any reasonable man knows that what he tells his wife is very important and bears on the question of his veracity. The other lawyer very properly objects. The jury thinks there must be something in it. The lawyer asks again, "Didn't you tell your wife the horses were going very fast?" The other lawyer is on his feet. "I object," he says, "and I must ask your Honor to instruct the counsel not to ask questions that are manifestly improper." The Court rules in favor of the objecting lawyer. He admonishes the lawyer and instructs the jury to disregard the question. Yet what is the effect? The jury believes unless the lawyer thought the answer would be most unfavorable to his side he would not have objected to it so strenuously. The impression remains on the minds of the jury that there was a good deal to that question of what he told his wife.

It is for this reason that when the lawyer keeps on asking objectionable questions, the judge will sometimes declare a mistrial or allow one side to withdraw a juror, which is only a polite way of saying that the present jury in the particular case can not be fair.