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Low-Cost Demonstrative Evidence by William O’Brien Finch, Jr.


William O’B. Finch, Jr. received his J.D. from the University of Notre Dame and is a sole practitioner, concentrating his practice in personal injury, wrongful death, and wills & estates. He is a Past President of the Maryland Trial Lawyers Association (1997). As a member of MTLA, Mr. Finch has served on numerous committees including the Legislative Committee, Executive Committee and the Finance Committee. Mr. Finch has been a chair of and presenter at numerous MTLA programs, and his popular seminar, “Handling the Automobile Case,” is available on audiotape from MTLA. He is also a member of the American Trial Lawyers Association and is the Immediate Past President of the Carroll County Bar Association.


The Katherine Jeffers case is perma- nently etched in my mind. I first read about this case as a law student over 20 years ago.


It was an entertaining court-


room drama to say the least. It was also my first lesson in the effective use of low cost demonstrative evidence. Mrs. Jeffers was a seriously injured young lady who had the good fortune of retaining Melvin M. Belli (the self-proclaimed “King of Torts”) as her counsel. As the King told the tale in his book My Life on Trial: I had one client, Katherine Jeffers, a wholesome, slightly plump young mother with pigtails, who stepped off a San Francisco trolley on Market Street one day in 1941 (when four trol- leys ran there side by side) and got knocked down by another passing streetcar. The car ground through her right leg, just below the knee.


It


seemed clear that the Municipal Rail- road was responsible for the traumatic amputation. I sued, and the jury awarded her $65,000. Incredibly, the railroad attorneys moved for a new trial. The $65,000, they said, was too much. Nobody had ever gotten that much for the loss of a leg. And any- way, they added, doctors were now able to do remarkable things with artificial limbs. On those grounds, the judge set aside the verdict as excessive. […] We went to trial again.


This time,


however, I was glad I had a second chance. I came to court with more than a silver-tongued argument.


I


brought an exhibit. Along with my briefcase and my law books, I carried an L-shaped package wrapped in cheap yellow paper and tied with soft white string. The judge and the opposing attorney, John Moran, stared at it and wondered where they had seen that sort of paper before.


It was butcher’s


paper. Moran and the judge knew I was ca- pable of doing almost anything in court. After the Bryant case, I had seen the value of good exhibits, and bringing a part of a skeleton or someone’s brain


Spring 2001


preserved in alcohol into a courtroom wasn’t beyond me. They continued to look at this package with more than or- dinary curiosity. I didn’t open it, but I did have occasion to move it from place to place on the top of the counsel table. On the second day of the trial, I brought the package into court once more and ignored it. On the third day, I knew that the package was drawing more at- tention. I could see the jurors sizing up my client, dressed in demure gingham, her one good leg in a black stocking, and then shifting their gaze to the L- shaped package and whispering among themselves. John Moran gave the argument I had expected he would make. With one of these wonderful new artificial limbs, my client could do almost any- thing she could before: drive cars; play with her kids; swim; dance with her husband, a navy commander; make love. Then I moved to the package. I took my time. I plucked at the knots in the string. I might have snipped the string with the scissors offered by the bailiff.


I was strong


enough to simply break the string. But I carefully undid each knot, then slowly peeled off the butcher paper, crumpled it and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, another layer of the same paper. I took a half-minute to loosen that. When I had milked the moment for all it was worth, I turned to the jury and with a sudden, almost vio- lent move, I held what I had aloft. The defense attorney started to cry out his objection, then fell silent. I was holding up Katherine’s artificial limb, with all its lacings, glistening metal joints, straps, suction cups and new plastic shaft.


“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” I said, moving over to the jury box, “this is what my pretty young client will wear for the rest of her life. Take it.” I dumped it in the lap of the first juror. “Feel the warmth of life in the soft tissues of its flesh, feel the pulse of


Trial Reporter


the blood as it flows through the veins, feel the marvelous smooth articulation at the new joint and touch the rippling muscles of the calf.” The first juror gingerly passed on the prosthesis to the next juror and he to the next, and as he did so, I continued to talk. “Don’t be alarmed by all the harnesses and straps and the creaking of the metal. My client is no longer fright- ened. She will wear this artificial leg for the rest of her life in exchange for that limb which God gave her as she started life and which she should have worn for the rest of her days.” It took the jurors twenty minutes to examine that artificial leg, and I could see their verdict sealed in the looks on their faces as they passed the limb along. Then I gave it to the judge. I doubt if he had ever seen a prosthe- sis. He examined it, too. This time the jury came back with a verdict of $100,000. Although Melvin Belli tried this case


over 50 years ago, he used a number of fundamental techniques for the effective use of demonstrative evidence which still can be used by the modern litigator. The lessons of this true courtroom episode have stood the test of time. Notice that Melvin Belli brought only one exhibit to the second trial. A couple of good pieces of demonstrative evidence will suffice in most cases. The prosthesis was relevant, it illustrated in dramatic fashion a major component of Mrs. Jeffers’ damage claim – the permanent loss of her real leg and the unsuitable substitute she would en- dure for the rest of her life. We can safely surmise that this exhibit did not cost the plaintiff a dime. Zero cost demonstrative evidence is even better than low cost demonstrative evidence. The only practical drawback that I could see to the demonstration was that Mrs. Jeffers did not have a leg to stand on during the three-day trial. The jury’s verdict in the second trial undoubtedly made this temporary sacrifice


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