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Bar News - January 7, 2005 Professionalism and Communication By: Carol L. Kunz Recently, I attended a pretrial conference at Hillsborough North before a marital master. The opposing party was appearing pro se, and spoke and understood only limited English. He thus faced two enormous obstacles to understanding the proceedings. I watched as the Master explained the process to the court-sponsored interpreter, who in turn translated the words for the party. He sat motionless, seemingly transfixed by her words. I turned to my own client, and realized quickly that she too was engrossed in the proceedings, listening very carefully to the Master's explanation of discovery deadlines, crowded dockets, and required documents for trial. Seeing her response made me consider the adequacy of my own explanation of the day's events, and the importance of communication generally, as a part of the legal services we provide as attorneys. Almost any discussion of the role of an attorney stresses the value of strong communication skills, both oral and written. Every law school curriculum is anchored by a basic writing skills course. The ability to express ideas effectively, within the often restrictive confines of the court system, is critical to effective advocacy. With so much focus on how and when information is communicated to opposing parties and the court, however, it is easy to lose perspective on the importance of communicating the process to our own clients. The routine status conference that attorneys take for granted can be tremendously intimidating to an uninformed client, especially if she or he is fortunate enough to have avoided appearing in a courtroom before. I had a unique opportunity to experience this procedural vertigo first hand. Two years ago, my husband and I sat, terrified, in an austere Russian courtroom for the final step in the adoption of our son. The proceedings consisted largely of brusque and efficient conversations among the St. Petersburg magistrate, the orphanage director, and our interpreter, Viktor, who seemed determined to convey to us only the minimal amount of information that he deemed necessary for us to participate. At one point, both Viktor and the orphanage director began arguing loudly with the magistrate, who was busily shoveling papers back into folders. Even without speaking the language, it was clear that something was going very wrong. I turned to Viktor, who ignored without comment my requests for an explanation. Just as my face began to resemble something Edvard Munch might have painted, the crisis abated. It was not until we were flying to Moscow that evening that I learned that the court had been considering postponing the final proceeding for another month due to a minute clerical error made by a clerk. To this day, I am not certain whether Viktor was right or wrong in failing to communicate this potential crisis as we stood in court. Whatever he said to the judge was clearly effective, as evidenced by her decision to proceed with the adoption. He thus fulfilled beautifully his role as an advocate. But as a counselor - that more elusive role that advocates should play in dealing with clients - Viktor failed. He left us to flounder, albeit for only a short time, in a world that was both figuratively and literally foreign to us. A word of reassurance, or, more importantly, a better explanation in advance of what to expect from proceedings so routine to him, might have assuaged our panic. I hope that I don't forget that feeling of helplessness the next time I am faced with explaining a simple court proceeding to a client. Taking the role of counselor seriously is one of the most basic and profound services we can provide as attorneys. Carol L. Kunz is an associate at Wiggin & Nourie, and a member of the Professionalism Committee of the New Hampshire Bar Association. |
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