James Huston - Marine One

"Mr. Hackett," I said in response without looking at him. "Mr. Bass."

"Ms. Long," they said.

"Mr. Hackett. Mr. Bass."

I waited for one of the plaintiffs, one of the widows, to come in for the arguments because I had figured Hackett for someone who wanted his client there during the motions in limine arguments to elicit sympathy from the judge. Most of the time clients skipped the motions in limine because they were usually legal and technical in nature and not something to which the parties could individually contribute. But sometimes they would show up in the hope that the judge would grant their motions out of sympathy.

The judge had considered conducting a lottery for seats to the trial because of the demand from the public. Instead, the court had opted, at least for the first week, to have people line up outside the courthouse for the back five rows. The doors would be open to the general public thirty minutes before court began. By the time I had gone through my outline three times and begun reviewing the motion papers, the bailiff opened the doors of the courtroom to the public. They had gone through security and been thoroughly checked and now were abuzz with excitement. They tried unsuccessfully not to be loud. They could also see that the judge was not on her bench. They thought that gave them freedom to converse loudly, which I suppose it did, but the noise was annoying.

After the public was seated behind the press, the bailiff went up on the other side of the gate and stood between the counsel tables by the lectern. He turned around and said, "If I could have everybody's attention, please."

He waited until the room was completely silent. I continued to work. He went on, "Although court is not in session, the attorneys and other people working on behalf of the parties are preparing for the hearings which are about to take place. I therefore request that you remain quiet during this time. I will ask you to stand when the judge enters and court is about to be in session."

They all nodded, anxious to please, and the room grew silent. The artists there on behalf of the press were sitting front and center. They were drawing Hackett and me and undoubtedly Rachel. Judge Betancourt had made it clear there were to be no television or still cameras. The only images that would be allowed out of the courtroom were artist drawings of the participants and witnesses.

After another twenty minutes had passed and it was ten to nine, the court's clerk came in and took her seat before her computer. She began typing away on her keys and asked for appearances. Hackett and I both got up, walked to the clerk, and handed her our business cards. She knew who we were, who we represented, and why we were there; she just needed to go through her procedures, which I actually appreciated. I liked precision and order in the conduct of a trial. I liked rules that everybody followed and I could count on being applied equally. I told her I was there on behalf of WorldCopter SA, the European company, and WorldCopter U.S., and she nodded and wrote those names on my card. Hackett did likewise and told her he was there on behalf of all the plaintiffs, whom of course he called "widows." He said, "I'm here on behalf of all of the widows of Marine One."

I tried not to roll my eyes and went back to my seat. I could feel the pressure rising in my chest as we approached the commencement of this immense trial and was sure that my heart rate was now over a hundred beats per minute.

Rachel seemed calm and was preparing a chart for me for the jury selection, or voir dire, as it is officially called. Judge Betancourt was a bit unusual, at least for federal courts now, in that she actually allowed the lawyers to conduct some of the questioning of jurors. Most federal judges made you submit written questions, some of which they would ask, then ask the rest on their own. They would give you no room at all in your attempts to load the jury box with people favorable to your client and to eliminate those you believed might be against you. That was of course what we did; it was part of the adversarial process. The idea was that the resulting jury would end up somewhere in the middle and therefore be fair. Judges, thinking themselves unbiased and balanced, often cut the process short, made their own decisions, and ended up with a jury that was in fact biased. I'm sure the judges were less rosy about the role of judges when they were trying cases as lawyers.

The door in the back corner of the courtroom opened and Judge Betancourt came in. She stopped just short of the three steps that led to her seat behind the bench. The bailiff said, "All rise. United States District Court for the Eastern District of Maryland is now in session. The Honorable Patricia Betancourt presiding. Please be seated and come to order."

The judge climbed up to her black leather chair and sat down. She looked smaller then I remembered. She was perhaps five foot three and 115 pounds. She had short-cropped brown hair and reading glasses. I could tell she'd spent extra time on her makeup that morning. I wondered if she actually thought of the reporters, the press, and the artists who would be drawing her that day. It's human nature to try to look good, especially if you think it's for a big audience. This was without a doubt the biggest audience she would ever be in front of in her entire life. Would trying to "look good" affect her decisions? It was disquieting to think of the judge of your case primping for the press.

"Good morning, counsel."

"Good morning, Your Honor," all the attorneys responded, standing.

She had the clerk call the case, then said, "Mr. Hackett, I don't believe you've ever tried a case in front of me."

"No, Your Honor, I've never had the pleasure," he said.

"Usually I do motions in limine in chambers, but since this is a case of such note, we will have the motions in limine arguments here."

"That's fine, Your Honor, wherever you'd like to do it is fine with me," Hackett said.

"Mr. Nolan, good morning."

"Good morning, Your Honor."

"We have twenty-three motions in limine to argue this morning, and I believe you win the prize as you filed thirteen of them. We shall therefore deal with yours first."

"That's fine, Your Honor, how would you like to address them?"

"In order. I don't think we need to stand on formality during this initial proceeding. Why don't you be seated, Mr. Nolan. Mr. Hackett, I will ask you for your comments in addition to whatever you said in your opposition as we proceed through his motions, and then we will address yours. Do you understand?"

We all did and we began. Judge Betancourt was clinical in her rulings on the motions. For each motion she gave us her tentative ruling and explanation and asked for comments from the side that would be unhappy with the ruling. It was extremely efficient. When that party had had his say, her ruling stood, and we went on to the next one. Her rulings were well thought out, precise, and fair. It was a good start. Six of my motions had been granted, and four of Hackett's. None of them gutted the other side's case. The rulings resulted in evidentiary changes that nibbled at the edges of the case, but nothing that went to the heart of anything significant.

After completing the arguments on the motions, Judge Betancourt launched right into her explanation of how she was going to do the jury selection. We hadn't even reached our morning break yet. She had the clerk call the jury room to have the jury panel come in the room immediately after the morning break.

They were all there when we returned. The bailiff had asked three of the observer rows to wait in the hallway during the jury selection process. They would be allowed to return to their seats after the jury was selected and trial had commenced.