Even Mock Trials Produce Some Real Triumphs

These past weeks I have been observing a court case filled with high drama and tension.

A woman has accused her mother of abusing her sister 18 years ago. It is still unclear if the mother committed the abuse or not. Although the evidence is pretty grim stuff, I always find myself on the edge of my seat.

Take last week. One young man fell apart on the witness stand, a young woman presented some compelling testimony about head injuries, and an unusually young lawyer brought me close to tears with his closing argument. The courtroom is always packed, everyone as focused on this amazing trial as I am.

Am I serving jury duty on a high-profile case? No. But I am serving, along with hundreds of other teachers, as a mock trial coach. This program, the brainchild of the Constitutional Rights Foundation, the state Department of Education and the California Bar Assn., started 20 years ago. There are now 48 teams vying for the Orange County championship and 60 more competing in Los Angeles County.

More than 8,500 high school students in 34 counties in California will take on the parts of lawyers, witnesses and courtroom personnel to try this year’s fictional case, People vs. Tanner. The winning schools in each county will meet to determine a state champion in late March. The winner of each state travels to someplace like South Carolina to determine a national champion.

It took me a good year to begin understanding the complexities of mock trials. The entire competition goes on for eight weeks if a team makes the finals. One week a school’s prosecution team competes; the next week the defense is up. A defense team includes, for example, students who represent several lawyers and four witnesses, as does the prosecution team. The weekly trial is held in an actual courtroom, a real judge presides, and real lawyers award points for how well the students try the case. There are a ton of other rules that make up the peculiar culture that is mock trial.

Now that I’m beginning my third year as a coach, it’s hard to imagine a more demanding extracurricular experience. In fact, it’s not all that “extra,” but really an academic class in itself.

Students have to do everything from studying relevant court cases to understanding the differences between California Penal Code Section 187 and Section 192. There is no question one is more learned at the end of a season than when one started out. The frequent headaches team members complain about are probably the result of rapidly expanding brain cells.

Student lawyers are also expected to do a thorough direct examination of a witness (try to ask questions that will allow the witness to shine) and an effective cross-examination (try to limit the witnesses to straight “yes” or “no” answers and never let them explain anything).

A sophomore will have to stand up and present a compelling opening argument; a junior must decide in a split second if the objection she is making is “lack of relevance” or “hearsay.” Within weeks, the kids chosen to be on the mock trial team start throwing around terms such as “probative,” “party opponent” and “stipulations” as if they were slang words.

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One of the most exciting aspects is the spontaneity involved in an actual trial. Each school approaches the case differently and a team never knows exactly what issues will come up, what questions will get asked or what curves may be thrown. One week the judge will let a critical piece of evidence in; the next week a different judge will throw it out. No matter how much a team plans, it can all go out the window in a second, and there had better be a Plan B.

There is also a fair amount of personal drama on any given team. The two lawyers who make up the defense fall in love during the season, but more important, fall out of love. A star witness has a basketball game the night of a trial. The defendant’s zipper breaks before she takes the stand. The lawyer set to deliver the pretrial argument is caught in freeway traffic. Exhibit A, an impressive diagram of the scene of the crime, gets left in the courthouse elevator.

But when a round comes together, it’s an adrenaline rush that I find hard to duplicate. Maybe that’s why some kids keep coming back. Neither the judges nor the professional lawyers who score the competitions cut the participants any slack just because they’re young.

The whole point of this activity is to expose students to the ins and outs of the American legal system, and in this regard it is stunningly successful. A news article about an ongoing trial immediately makes sense. An episode of “The Practice” gets torn apart for being unrealistic. And, best of all, a mock trial veteran is not intimidated by the law. The closing “attorney” on our team fought a ticket in court last year, complete with his own hand-drawn diagrams. He won both the decision and the admiration of the presiding judge.

But a huge benefit of this activity has nothing to do with law. When I see a shy sophomore girl hold her own with a 55-year-old judge, or the once awkward boy stand up in that courtroom all by himself, I know it’s all about confidence. I can’t think of any better preparation for college, or for life. So my team, and the hundreds of others just like us, will be up late Monday night preparing for Tuesday night’s trial. But hey, that’s what real lawyers do.

Those interested in setting up a mock trial program at their schools can contact Laura Wesley, the program’s coordinator for the state of California, via e-mail at laura@crf-usa.org or by calling her at (213) 316-2128.

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Christine Baron is a high school English teacher in Orange County. You can reach her at oceducate@latimes.com or (714) 966-4550.