"Unwritten Rules" from The Embassy Ball
“Objection, your honor! The DA is presenting evidence that was collected ex legit voca. That’s illegal,” said the defense attorney.
“Says who?” demanded the prosecutor.
“Our constitution protects our right against ex legit voca.”
“Where?”
The judge banged his gavel and called both counsels to his stand. He turned to the defense attorney. “Where the hell does it say that that’s illegal?”
“That right is explicitly protected by our constitution.”
The judge scratched his head. “But where?”
“What do you mean?”
The judge handed him the 1,891-page archive of legal precedents.
“You find it. And you win this case. I hope you can speed read. I’m recessing this trial for lunch. By the time we return, well, let’s just say, you have one hour to read 1,891 pages.”
The defense attorney sighed. “Well, at least I packed my lunch today. There’s always a long line at the cafeteria.” And he saved time by reading while eating.
England’s constitution is common law. It’s not a written document that outlines the structure and function and role and limitations of each branch of government. Their constitution is just the legal precedents set over hundreds and hundreds of years stemming from the Magna Carta.
So where does this story take place? Is the trial happening in America that never became independent from England, and is therefore still governed by British Common Law? Is the trial taking place in London? Is the trial taking place in a separate country that has a different legal system … like, for example, Florina or Movrastan? It doesn’t matter. They still have an unwritten constitution. Where’s James Madison when you need him?
The fate of this poor criminal hinged on his attorney’s ability to find three Latin words in a dense archive. Couldn’t he just look the constitution up online and do a Control + F search and find it quickly? No. The legal archives were not online. Court trials from three centuries ago were public record, but they gathered dust at the County Clerk’s office. They never saw the light of day. Until today. When an attorney’s career and a criminal’s life depended on it.
“What does this paragraph even mean? It’s all in Latin!” the defense attorney complained. Latin may be a dead language, but it is alive and well in our English legal vocabulary. “If only I had taken Latin instead of Spanish in high school. I though Latin was useless since nobody speaks it. But this could be the deciding factor in whether I win or lose this case. If only I could read this…” But all he could remember was veni vidi vici. I came. I saw. I conquered. Julius Caesar. The tyrant who toppled the Roman republic. And it seemed democracy would crumble today, as well, if this attorney could not uphold the constitution.
Well, he lost the case. He couldn’t read Latin at a rate of 1,891 pages/hour. He may have lost the battle but he won the war. The defense attorney became the chairman of the very first Constitutional Convention. He wrote a hard copy of a concise constitution that all could see, honor, protect and uphold. The unwritten constitution became a tangible document that all could access. And instead of the dusty archives at the County Clerk’s office, well, he had all of the delegates bring iPads and they combined their drafts on a Google Doc so everyone could edit it. And then they uploaded it to the internet so all could access it. And it was written in a language that all could understand. Rather than formal, stuffy Latin that nobody could make sense of, it was written in English. And the law of The People became the law of The People. And it was accessible to all. And democracy and justice were achieved.
“Objection, your honor! The DA is presenting evidence that was collected ex legit voca. That’s illegal,” said the defense attorney.
“Says who?” demanded the prosecutor.
“Our constitution protects our right against ex legit voca.”
“Where?”
The judge banged his gavel and called both counsels to his stand. He turned to the defense attorney. “Where the hell does it say that that’s illegal?”
“That right is explicitly protected by our constitution.”
The judge scratched his head. “But where?”
“What do you mean?”
The judge handed him the 1,891-page archive of legal precedents.
“You find it. And you win this case. I hope you can speed read. I’m recessing this trial for lunch. By the time we return, well, let’s just say, you have one hour to read 1,891 pages.”
The defense attorney sighed. “Well, at least I packed my lunch today. There’s always a long line at the cafeteria.” And he saved time by reading while eating.
England’s constitution is common law. It’s not a written document that outlines the structure and function and role and limitations of each branch of government. Their constitution is just the legal precedents set over hundreds and hundreds of years stemming from the Magna Carta.
So where does this story take place? Is the trial happening in America that never became independent from England, and is therefore still governed by British Common Law? Is the trial taking place in London? Is the trial taking place in a separate country that has a different legal system … like, for example, Florina or Movrastan? It doesn’t matter. They still have an unwritten constitution. Where’s James Madison when you need him?
The fate of this poor criminal hinged on his attorney’s ability to find three Latin words in a dense archive. Couldn’t he just look the constitution up online and do a Control + F search and find it quickly? No. The legal archives were not online. Court trials from three centuries ago were public record, but they gathered dust at the County Clerk’s office. They never saw the light of day. Until today. When an attorney’s career and a criminal’s life depended on it.
“What does this paragraph even mean? It’s all in Latin!” the defense attorney complained. Latin may be a dead language, but it is alive and well in our English legal vocabulary. “If only I had taken Latin instead of Spanish in high school. I though Latin was useless since nobody speaks it. But this could be the deciding factor in whether I win or lose this case. If only I could read this…” But all he could remember was veni vidi vici. I came. I saw. I conquered. Julius Caesar. The tyrant who toppled the Roman republic. And it seemed democracy would crumble today, as well, if this attorney could not uphold the constitution.
Well, he lost the case. He couldn’t read Latin at a rate of 1,891 pages/hour. He may have lost the battle but he won the war. The defense attorney became the chairman of the very first Constitutional Convention. He wrote a hard copy of a concise constitution that all could see, honor, protect and uphold. The unwritten constitution became a tangible document that all could access. And instead of the dusty archives at the County Clerk’s office, well, he had all of the delegates bring iPads and they combined their drafts on a Google Doc so everyone could edit it. And then they uploaded it to the internet so all could access it. And it was written in a language that all could understand. Rather than formal, stuffy Latin that nobody could make sense of, it was written in English. And the law of The People became the law of The People. And it was accessible to all. And democracy and justice were achieved.
