In August, Scott Greenfield (Simple Justice) posted an item ("Where's the Proof?") looking askance at the increasing number of law schools that are apparently treating the law of Evidence as an elective, rather than a mandatory subject. (Antonin Pribetic promptly followed up with a Canadian perspective on the subject on The Trial Warrior Blog.) Scott's post took aim at the notion that future attorneys who won't be spending their time in a criminal or civil courtroom have no real "need" to learn Evidence as a discipline, that it is somehow not relevant to their expected practice. He begged to differ:
The teaching of evidence in law school is not in anticipation of someone being a litigator. Granted, it is absolutely required for a litigator, and especially for a trial lawyer, but that's not where it ends. Knowledge and understanding of evidence is a core competency for every niche (read that clearly, every niche) in the practice of law. Yes, M&A. Even real estate closings and wills. Multinational contracts. You name it, you still need to know evidence. Why? Because every aspect of law entails a potential of dispute leading to litigation. Any lawyer who doesn't comprehend evidence cannot competently perform his function.
If nothing else, the concepts of relevance and materiality are basic to thinking like a lawyer. If you don't get them, you can't think. You can't reason. You can't understand things the way a lawyer must.
Evidence is that important, to the way that lawyers think and to what they think about. It should if anything be even more important to the way that courts and other judicial bodies go about making decisions that affect or bind or burden those who come before them. In light of that, I was taken aback this week by the case of Kaiser Foundation Hospitals v. Wilson [PDF], in which the California Court of Appeal was prepared with surprising ease to find that the Legislature intended to toss aside one of the nre venerable precepts of the law of evidence: the general prohibition on Hearsay.
Hearsay, you will recall, is evidence in the form of an out of court statement submitted for the truth of its content. For instance, if Tom takes the stand and testifies that "I heard Dick say that Harry ran that red light," that testimony is hearsay if you are offering it to prove that Harry did in fact run that red light. Subject to a bundle of exceptions, hearsay evidence is generally inadmissible—that is, it is not to be heard or considered by the trier of fact—and for fairly obvious reasons: it is at least two steps removed from direct observation of the facts (not "I saw x" but "I heard someone say that they saw x") and, like a message passed from ear to ear in a game of "Telephone," becomes unreliable and subject to easy manipulation pretty quickly.
In the Kaiser v. Wilson case, the Court of Appeal took a look at Code of Civil Procedure section 527.8, which authorizes employers to obtain restraining orders and injunctions against those who are shown to p0se a threat of violence toward their employees. Kaiser Foundation Hospitals believed Jeff Wilson to be such a person: according to Kaiser, Wilson threatened violence against at least two specific Kaiser employees after his wife's employment with Kaiser was terminated. Kaiser applied to the Superior Court for injunctions prohibiting Wilson from violence or threats of violence against those employees, and the court granted the petition. Wilson appealed, arguing that nearly all of the evidence considered by the Superior Court was hearsay that should not have been admitted or considered in support of the injunction.
The Court of Appeal concurs with Wilson's first premise, that the evidence offered by Kaiser was almost entirely hearsay. However, the court looks at the language of the controlling statute and concludes that in these particular cases the Legislature intended to toss aside the usual prohibitions on hearsay evidence.
Code of Civil Procedure section 527.8(f) requires a hearing before an injunction can issue, and requires "clear and convincing evidence that the defendant engaged in unlawful violence or made a credible threat of violence" as a prerequisite to the judge's decision to grant the injunction request. That same subsection also provides:
At the hearing, the judge shall receive any testimony that is relevant and may make an independent inquiry.
(Emphasis added.)
The appellate court's analysis of the statutory language proceeds from the somewhat unexpected premise that there is "no relevant legal authority regarding the extent to which the rules of evidence do or do not apply" to hearings under this statute. The court is curiously mum as to why it would not presume that the rules of evidence do apply to these cases as they would in most any other Superior Court hearing, especially one in which the standard of proof is defined as "clear and convincing evidence." In the absence of that presumption, the Court of Appeal opines that the reference to "any testimony that is relevant" should be taken to "suggest[] that the Legislature intended to permit a trial court to consider all relevant evidence, including hearsay evidence, when deciding whether to issue an injunction to prevent workplace violence...." (Court's emphasis.) The court takes note that hearsay is inadmissible "[e]xcept as provided by law," but deems the injunction statute's silence on the subject to create such an exception.
The decision displays a touching confidence in the abilities of trial court judges, who "are particularly aware of the potential unreliability of hearsay evidence, and are likely to keep this in mind when weighing all of the evidence presented." In fact, the court notes that the trial judge in this particular case remarked that the weight he would give the hearsay testimony—the overwhelming majority of the evidence presented—was "not going to be a lot." All of which begs the question, if the hearsay evidence is not going to be given much weight to begin with, how can it be viewed as the sort of "clear and convincing" evidence that is required to support the injunction? Is it unreasonable, before as court imposes significant limitations on a defendant's activities or speech, to require the employer to produce direct evidence of a threat against a particular employee—for instance, the employee's own testimony concerning how the threat was conveyed or perceived—rather than secondhand testimony that someone else "heard" or "was told" of a threat?
I hold no brief in favor of violence, in or out of the work place, but my sense is that the courts in this case have allowed one laudable policy goal, protection from threats and violence, to trump a policy that is at least as laudable and necessary: the policy that evidence should not be considered when, as in the case of hearsay, it is by definition frequently unreliable and always disconnected from direct perception and personal knowledge of the facts it purports to establish.
The rules of evidence have developed over time to provide a degree of confidence in courts' factual findings and for the protection even of bad actors such as Wilson is claimed to be. It troubles me that an appellate court, particularly in the absence of an unequivocal statement of legislative intent, should be so willing to sweep them aside in the name of good intentions.
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A gratuitous and irrelevant postscript:
This reminds me of an exchange heard in a Los Angeles courtroom many years ago.
ATTORNEY A: Objection. Hearsay.
ATTORNEY B: Yes, your Honor, but it's really good hearsay....
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Illustration: Gossips in the Altstadt, Sindelfingen, Germany, via Wikimedia Commons.
Let's Get Small
Mainstream legal reporting has its moments of accuracy, but also tends to be liberally larded through with misstatement, omission and dollops of authentic nonsense, especially when the report claims to have uncovered a burgeoning "trend." The Los Angeles Times succumbs to the hazards of the course today—on Page One, no less—as it ventures into the mysterious realms of the Small Claims Court and consumer class action law in a garbled story that seems to be about the former but that is really more concerned with the latter.
The Times pegs its report to a dispute between "angry consumer" Heather Peters and Honda Motor Company:
By way of background: in California, the Small Claims Court exists as a division within the larger Superior Court. (Other jurisdictions, of course, have equivalent institutions, but California is the focus of the Times story, and of this blog.) The purpose of Small Claims Court is to take disputes involving relatively small amounts of money out of the more formal judicial system, in the hope that the claims can be resolved more quickly and at less expense than in a full-scale court case. A Small Claims case can often be concluded within weeks of filing, rather than the months or years entailed in a "real" lawsuit. Hearings are somewhat informal, and rules of evidence such as the hearsay rule are more loosely applied. Typically, Small Claims cases are not heard by an actual judge. The hearing officer will most likely be a local volunteer attorney sitting as a temporary judge on the Court’s behalf. The hearing officer is expected to apply the law as any other court would, but the relative informality of the Small Claims process inevitably leaves open the potential for some to go Solomonic and to do "what seems fair" regardless of legal niceties.
So then, to return to the Times report:
One point that the story alludes to but never states plainly—"burying the lede" as the journobloggers like to say—is that the jurisdictional limit on California Small Claims cases will be increasing as of January 1, 2012. Ms. Peters will be permitted to claim as much as $10,000 only because her hearing is scheduled for the first court day of the new year. If the case were heard today, the maximum award would be only $7,500.
The claim by the Times that "Honda can't spend a single dollar on legal help" is bunk. The only thing Honda cannot do is send a lawyer to appear at the Small Claims hearing itself. Up to the courthouse door, Honda can (and presumably will) spend whatever it wants to obtain advice and assistance from its attorneys in preparing to put on a defense. Honda can be represented at the hearing by any employee it designates, so long as that employee is a non-lawyer whose primary job is something other than appearing for the company in Small Claims court. Whoever that employee may be, it is near to inconceivable that he or she will not have been fully briefed and prepared, armed with all necessary evidence, and likely supplied with a written legal brief, drafted behind the scenes by counsel, for the "guidance and assistance" of the hearing officer. To the extent that insurance coverage applies, Honda's liability insurer may well be paying for the necessary legal consultation.
Also not mentioned by the Times: if Ms. Peters claim results in a judgment against Honda, Honda has the option of appealing that judgment. In California practice Small Claims defendants have a right of appeal, but Small Claims plaintiffs do not. A small claims appeal goes before an actual Superior Court judge and is heard de novo: that is, it is an entirely new hearing, as if the original Small Claims proceeding had not happened. More pertinent to the unreliable theme of the Times story: in Small Claims appeals, the parties are entitled to be represented by an attorney at the hearing, as Honda surely would be.
Having glossed over the extent to which attorneys can and will involve themselves in Small Claims litigation, the Times sets its controls for the heart of hyperbole and and runs straight on into trend-spotting cliché:
Dewy-eyed invocations of "social networking and the Internet" follow, leading to the inevitable "to be sure" caveat and the equally inevitable exception to the caveat. Small Claimants have to "prepare arguments" and take time from work to show up in court, don't you know? It can be "daunting," adds attorney Jacoby, who almost certainly had more potent things to say than the 16 words the Times elected to quote. But...
Why might "cutting the attorneys out" be an unalloyed Good? In a further exercise in lede-burying the Times pivots its attention from defense counsel to plaintiffs' attorneys and strikes up what appears to have been the intended true theme of the story: the well known, often painful disconnect between the remedies that are obtained for individual class action plaintiffs—in the Honda cases, $100 to $200 cash and a potential discount of between $500 and $1000 on future Honda purchases—and the rather larger remedies obtained by the much smaller class of lawyers representing them—here, reportedly a share of $8.5 million in fees. One such lawyer is quoted expressing his pride in what he and his compatriots have wrought in crafting the settlement; his personal stake in the payout goes unquantified.
In the concluding segment of the story, we return to Peters and learn that this angry consumer may not be nearly so angry with Honda and its lawyers as she is with class counsel:
Savvy State-employed recovering lawyer that she is, Heather Peters' decision to proceed in Small Claims Court suggests a calculated assessment on her part that whatever actual damages she or other individual Honda buyers may have sustained amount to something more than a few hundred dollars, but something less than $10,000 apiece. If that is the case, then she is likely right to think that proceeding by a class action offers no real advantage to her in terms of time and resources invested or the size her ultimate recovery. Going that route will not, however, eliminate Honda's attorneys entirely from the mix, much as the Times might wish it.
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Update [1300 PST]: Portland, Oregon-based class action attorney David Sugerman adds a few insights on his blog, including links to Heather Peters' website opposing the class settlement and to her Twitter feed. Interestingly, at this writing, Ms. Peters herself has not linked to the Los Angeles Times story.
Here's a question I am at least somewhat curious about: Who is responsible for this story coming to the Times' attention in the first place, and for building this into a front page story in a fading-but-still-relatively-major metropolitan newspaper? Is Ms. Peters handling her own PR?
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Photo: Tiny World Courthouse, Chambersburg, PA, via Ed South's Wonderful World of Blog. Post title lifted from Steve Martin, ca. 1977
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Posted by George M. Wallace at 11:55 AM in General Legal Comment, New Cases - Procedural Issues | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)
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