Grace Under Fire
I provided graphics and technology for a damages trial one very cold winter in the Southern District of New York. That proceeding stands out in my memory as profound. There are plenty of things about the weeklong affair that are worth mentioning — a particularly cantankerous judge, an empowered, almost comical courtroom deputy, a tiny (really 4’ 8” it seemed) and not so comical in-house counsel, a disruptive member of the gallery who asked to be heard after the jury was dismissed, among others. But they would be the stuff of “trial,” and what trial doesn’t have those kinds of stories? No, what stands out in my memory about this one, is the word “grace.”
The lead attorney had flown in from San Francisco the week before Opening, diving right into the war room mania, and proceeded…with grace. He was known to look up from his pile of exhibits or laptop screen whenever someone asked a question. And he listened with his eyes, making you feel like there was nothing else on his mind but you. And then he answered with a presence of mind that was enviable. When he asked what you thought about something, he seemed to listen closely to your answer. It was a rare joy to feel seen and heard and part of his team.
When the judge interrupted his opening statements, in front of the jury to warn him to “move on,” my client smiled a genuine smile and moved on. And when the judge interrupted again, again he paused with reflection and moved on, in a way that I can tell you many, many others would have fought instead with obstinacy and dramatic flair.
And when in-house counsel came at him hard in the hallway (an amusing sight given his 6’ 4” beanpole stature) to fight back in front of the jury, he listened, then disagreed with kindness and savvy that comes from a long line of trials. I remember asking a colleague of his, “is he for real?” The answer, a resounding yes, was made clear to me in the most unlikely of places, his funeral.
It has been about six years since that trial, one of Mike Lawson’s last. When I heard about his death from pancreatic cancer a few months after our trial, I remember marveling at how fast that type of cancer can move (because surely he wasn’t ill during trial). I was astounded to learn in fact, it hadn’t moved as quickly….he actually had given it a run for its money. Turns out he was dealing with treatments for the disease during our trial, and the grace I witnessed was magnified upon reflection.
It didn’t take long for me to wonder why I felt compelled to attend his funeral when I had known him for so short a time. The words spoken by the lifelong friend, a former classmate and judge, and a managing partner of his law firm, were all words with which I immediately identified. They spoke consistently of his desire to do great things with purpose and connection, to honor and acknowledge people around him, all with a smile that lit up the room. And those are just not aspects of trial you see every day.
His family designed a booklet for the attendees to celebrate his life. My copy is in my trial bag, and I consult it at some needed moment during every trial since.
