I'll Be Short
Tuesday, November 20, 2007 at 00:00
By Marcel Strigberger
According to the Guinness Book of Records the three most chaotic places in the world are downtown Cairo at rush hour, Macy's department store in Manhattan just before Christmas and most mornings at Toronto's Family Law Motions Court.
This being a legal publication I shall perhaps deal with the first two places at another time.
The Motions Court. Simply put Counsel arrive at 10:00 A.M. only to sit around all morning and often into the afternoon before their cases get reached. The most popular pastime for the waiting lawyers has become knitting.
In an effort to be fair the court purports to deal with shorter matters firstly. Lawyers are asked to fill out a counsel slip indicating how long their matter is expected to last. This should work. Then again the coyote should catch the roadrunner.
Unfortunately many lawyers have developed unusual difficulties in estimating how long their cases will take, sometimes underestimating slightly, like by a power of ten. Their disabilities in estimating time have become contagious, spawned perhaps by their having been bitten previously when they spent all day in court with their "simple" matter.
I was unaware of this problem until recently. I attended for a straightforward motion with interim support for two kids being the only issue. The husband's counsel wished to adjourn to cross-examine but I wanted interim interim support, in the interim. Simple?
I walked into the courtroom and the registrar handed me the file and said, "How long will your matter take? And be honest."
I gave him an estimate of twenty minutes. I figured this was a short matter and I'd be out of there by 11:00 after the judge deals with a few consent matters. This view was about as realistic as the Tampa Bay Lightening winning the Stanley Cup.
I was out of there at 3:00 P.M.
I noticed there were several "short" matters ahead of mine which each lasted 45 minutes to an hour. Upon checking the counsel slips I saw that counsel on those cases estimated their cases would take fifteen minutes. I was learning.
The next time I had a motion for something similar I estimated the matter to take ten minutes. The motion was sort of similar except that it also included a side issue of interim access. My client wanted access trimmed and spelled out as the existing arrangements for reasonable access that included weekend access to the husband every other weekend resulted in the husband usually ending his weekend access by returning the kid promptly on Tuesday night.
I smugly smiled to myself when in replying to the registrar's request for an honest estimate I said, "Ten minutes, tops." I touched the tip of my nose to check whether or not it had grown.
I figured I'd be out of there by 10:30, maybe 10:45 at the latest if the judge's pen ran out of ink. My case was reached at 3:30.
Once again I scanned the counsel slips and I noticed that the four or five cases heard ahead of me each estimated that their matter would take five minutes. This was war.
It was not too long before my presence was once again required at Her Majesty's Family Law Court. Unlike the earlier occasions the case I had now was a doozy. My lady client, a mother of five kids hadn't gotten any support whatsoever from her sleazy husband.
In addition the guy frequently came home drunk, singing "It's Been A Hard Day's Night" at the top off his lungs.
Although he was a doctor earning two hundred thousand dollars a year and he had healthy investments, he wasn't paying any of the house maintenance expenses, threatening the wife that she and the kids would be out on the street when the mortgagee takes over.
In addition he would bring his girlfriend Marla to the house and they would lock the wife out of the bedroom. Marla also sang.
We figured some form of interim relief was appropriate.
I drafted a voluminous motion record putting all the sordid facts together. Attached were a couple of supplementary affidavits from witnesses to the husband's weird behaviour, including a police officer who had attended at the home to investigate a complaint and who claimed that the husband also bit him on the ear.
I thought I had a good case even though the husband's lawyer filed an equally voluminous motion record denying categorically all the wife's allegations, putting even the husband's paternity in dispute. For good measure he also alleged that the cop was the wife's lover.
My one and only concern on the morning of the motion was getting reached, before the year 2003.
I entered the courtroom at 9:55 and the registrar greeted me, pointing to the file which resembled the Beijing telephone directory. He asked gingerly, "And how long will you be this morning sir?"
Without batting an eyelash I replied, two minutes, three minutes tops."
The husband's counsel who was in agreement with my assessment of the problem (the problem that lawyers were having getting heard promptly) nodded affirmatively, adding,
"Depending on what my friend says, I may be thirty to sixty seconds." We both resumed our knitting.
My opponent and I figured we'd be out before His Honour could endorse "Jackie Robinson" on the record.
At 12:50, the registrar announced that we were to come back at 2:30, when His Honour would start hearing the longer matters. Once again we looked at the counsel slips of the four or five lucky stiffs who got in ahead of us that morning and they all estimated "one minute". One guy estimated two minutes but he added that he had to get out early because his wife was in labour.
Both my friend and I realized it didn't look good for us getting reached that week...and it was only Monday.
Then suddenly something made us crack up with laughter. An out of town lawyer naively pleaded to the registrar, "But my matter will only take ten minutes."
We returned at 2:30 and opposing counsel and I were equally desperate, along with about ten other lawyers who wanted to be heard that afternoon. Everyone started shooting revised estimates of the time their cases would take, to the registrar.
One guy said, "I'll be ten seconds."
Another said, "Never mind him, that's a marathon. I'll be three seconds, guaranteed."
His opponent nodded in agreement saying, I won't even talk."
The registrar looked at my opponent and me and my learned friend said, "We have a consent matter. It's so short we agreed to it two hours ago."
"Yes," I added desperately, "We'll just open the judge's door, look in, bow to His Honour and leave."
I was sure that would do it as the registrar reached for our file bending his knees to avoid back damage.
As my friend started walking towards the judge's chambers, suddenly the guy from out of town blurted out,
"Let me through now. Never mind your consent. The spouses in my case don't want anything at all. They're reconciling."
We were never reached that afternoon. My motion is now scheduled to be heard next Thursday.
Let all counsel take notice that our disputed matter is on consent. And my wife will be in labour. And she's expecting twins. My opponent's wife will also be in labour. And she's expecting quintuplets. I ask that no other counsel show up as in any event it will be a statutory holiday. And most of all I ask your indulgence and understanding and let me go first. I'll be short.
According to the Guinness Book of Records the three most chaotic places in the world are downtown Cairo at rush hour, Macy's department store in Manhattan just before Christmas and most mornings at Toronto's Family Law Motions Court.
This being a legal publication I shall perhaps deal with the first two places at another time.
The Motions Court. Simply put Counsel arrive at 10:00 A.M. only to sit around all morning and often into the afternoon before their cases get reached. The most popular pastime for the waiting lawyers has become knitting.
In an effort to be fair the court purports to deal with shorter matters firstly. Lawyers are asked to fill out a counsel slip indicating how long their matter is expected to last. This should work. Then again the coyote should catch the roadrunner.
Unfortunately many lawyers have developed unusual difficulties in estimating how long their cases will take, sometimes underestimating slightly, like by a power of ten. Their disabilities in estimating time have become contagious, spawned perhaps by their having been bitten previously when they spent all day in court with their "simple" matter.
I was unaware of this problem until recently. I attended for a straightforward motion with interim support for two kids being the only issue. The husband's counsel wished to adjourn to cross-examine but I wanted interim interim support, in the interim. Simple?
I walked into the courtroom and the registrar handed me the file and said, "How long will your matter take? And be honest."
I gave him an estimate of twenty minutes. I figured this was a short matter and I'd be out of there by 11:00 after the judge deals with a few consent matters. This view was about as realistic as the Tampa Bay Lightening winning the Stanley Cup.
I was out of there at 3:00 P.M.
I noticed there were several "short" matters ahead of mine which each lasted 45 minutes to an hour. Upon checking the counsel slips I saw that counsel on those cases estimated their cases would take fifteen minutes. I was learning.
The next time I had a motion for something similar I estimated the matter to take ten minutes. The motion was sort of similar except that it also included a side issue of interim access. My client wanted access trimmed and spelled out as the existing arrangements for reasonable access that included weekend access to the husband every other weekend resulted in the husband usually ending his weekend access by returning the kid promptly on Tuesday night.
I smugly smiled to myself when in replying to the registrar's request for an honest estimate I said, "Ten minutes, tops." I touched the tip of my nose to check whether or not it had grown.
I figured I'd be out of there by 10:30, maybe 10:45 at the latest if the judge's pen ran out of ink. My case was reached at 3:30.
Once again I scanned the counsel slips and I noticed that the four or five cases heard ahead of me each estimated that their matter would take five minutes. This was war.
It was not too long before my presence was once again required at Her Majesty's Family Law Court. Unlike the earlier occasions the case I had now was a doozy. My lady client, a mother of five kids hadn't gotten any support whatsoever from her sleazy husband.
In addition the guy frequently came home drunk, singing "It's Been A Hard Day's Night" at the top off his lungs.
Although he was a doctor earning two hundred thousand dollars a year and he had healthy investments, he wasn't paying any of the house maintenance expenses, threatening the wife that she and the kids would be out on the street when the mortgagee takes over.
In addition he would bring his girlfriend Marla to the house and they would lock the wife out of the bedroom. Marla also sang.
We figured some form of interim relief was appropriate.
I drafted a voluminous motion record putting all the sordid facts together. Attached were a couple of supplementary affidavits from witnesses to the husband's weird behaviour, including a police officer who had attended at the home to investigate a complaint and who claimed that the husband also bit him on the ear.
I thought I had a good case even though the husband's lawyer filed an equally voluminous motion record denying categorically all the wife's allegations, putting even the husband's paternity in dispute. For good measure he also alleged that the cop was the wife's lover.
My one and only concern on the morning of the motion was getting reached, before the year 2003.
I entered the courtroom at 9:55 and the registrar greeted me, pointing to the file which resembled the Beijing telephone directory. He asked gingerly, "And how long will you be this morning sir?"
Without batting an eyelash I replied, two minutes, three minutes tops."
The husband's counsel who was in agreement with my assessment of the problem (the problem that lawyers were having getting heard promptly) nodded affirmatively, adding,
"Depending on what my friend says, I may be thirty to sixty seconds." We both resumed our knitting.
My opponent and I figured we'd be out before His Honour could endorse "Jackie Robinson" on the record.
At 12:50, the registrar announced that we were to come back at 2:30, when His Honour would start hearing the longer matters. Once again we looked at the counsel slips of the four or five lucky stiffs who got in ahead of us that morning and they all estimated "one minute". One guy estimated two minutes but he added that he had to get out early because his wife was in labour.
Both my friend and I realized it didn't look good for us getting reached that week...and it was only Monday.
Then suddenly something made us crack up with laughter. An out of town lawyer naively pleaded to the registrar, "But my matter will only take ten minutes."
We returned at 2:30 and opposing counsel and I were equally desperate, along with about ten other lawyers who wanted to be heard that afternoon. Everyone started shooting revised estimates of the time their cases would take, to the registrar.
One guy said, "I'll be ten seconds."
Another said, "Never mind him, that's a marathon. I'll be three seconds, guaranteed."
His opponent nodded in agreement saying, I won't even talk."
The registrar looked at my opponent and me and my learned friend said, "We have a consent matter. It's so short we agreed to it two hours ago."
"Yes," I added desperately, "We'll just open the judge's door, look in, bow to His Honour and leave."
I was sure that would do it as the registrar reached for our file bending his knees to avoid back damage.
As my friend started walking towards the judge's chambers, suddenly the guy from out of town blurted out,
"Let me through now. Never mind your consent. The spouses in my case don't want anything at all. They're reconciling."
We were never reached that afternoon. My motion is now scheduled to be heard next Thursday.
Let all counsel take notice that our disputed matter is on consent. And my wife will be in labour. And she's expecting twins. My opponent's wife will also be in labour. And she's expecting quintuplets. I ask that no other counsel show up as in any event it will be a statutory holiday. And most of all I ask your indulgence and understanding and let me go first. I'll be short.
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© 2007 Marcel Strigberger. This article CANNOT be copied or reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the Author.
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