“Yes, sir; at least the jury is composed of judges, instead of men who don’t know the plaintiff from the defendant, and we have no Supreme Court.”
“No jury, and no Supreme Court!” observed Miss Winters. “What a capital idea. I shall come here to practice.”
“Well, miss, if you practice law here, and wish to patronize the twelve men in a box, or enjoy the luxury of an appeal, you must bring your case in the United States Court, or take it there. In our State courts we have dispensed with all that ancient rubbish.”
“Rubbish!” exclaimed the doctor.
“Even so,” rejoined the stranger. “The judicial system in vogue elsewhere than in Arizona is as much a relic of barbarism as slavery or polygamy. It is no more fitted to the wants and enlightenment of the age than the canal boat for traveling, or the flint lock musket for shooting pigeons. Suppose you wish to recover a piece of land from a jumper in California or Maine, and one side or the other demands a jury trial. Every good citizen who is busy shirks duty as a juryman. Every intelligent citizen who reads the newspapers forms an opinion and is excused. From the residue—which is sure to contain both fools and knaves—you get twelve clerks, mechanics, laborers, merchants, farmers, and idlers—none of whom have any training in untangling complicated propositions, weighing evidence, remembering principles of law and logic, and according to each fact its just and relative importance.
“After these twelve men have listened to a muddle of testimony, objections, law papers, and speeches, concluding with bewildering instructions, which half of them fail to remember, and the other half fail to understand, they retire to the jury room and guess out a verdict. The losing party appeals, and, after wearisome delay, the Supreme Court decides that ‘someone has blundered,’ and, without attempting to correct the error by a proper judgment, sends the case back for another trial, another batch of blunders, and another appeal.”
“And how does your Arizona system correct the evils you depict?” queried the doctor.
“We commence at the other end of the puzzle,” said the stranger. “We place the Supreme Court in the jury box. We have a preliminary court of three judges in each judicial district. Every plaintiff must first present his case informally to this court. He states on oath the facts he expects to prove, and gives the names of his witnesses. Any willful mis-statement of a material fact, is perjury. If the evidence would, if uncontradicted, entitle him to recover, an order is issued giving him leave to sue. In practice, not one-half of the proposed suits survive the ordeal. The saving of time and money is great. Under the old system, after a jury had been impaneled, and days consumed, the plaintiff might, after all, be nonsuited. Now it is all disposed of in an hour or two. The preliminary court practically puts an end to all blackmailing litigation.”
“And when leave to sue is granted, what is the next step?” inquired the doctor.
“The case is brought under the same rules of procedure as of old,” replied the stranger, “with only such changes as were necessary to adapt litigation to the new conditions. We have three judicial districts in the State, and nine judges for each district. Upon questions of law arising during the trial, the judges pass by a majority vote, and in making the final decision, from which there is no appeal, seven judges must concur.”