My reaction to the opinion — that judges ought to avoid entirely engaging in social media communications with anyone who is or may be a lawyer or a litigant in cases before them — is one people close to me would describe as “paranoid.” Perhaps I’m just risk averse. I think, though, that I’m principally concerned with integrity.

The issue is one that pertains to what are known as “ex parte communciations” — communication between a lawyer or a litigant with the judge without the presence or participation of the adversaries to the lawsuit in which the lawyer or litigant is appearing before the judge. Ex parte communications, except under very limited circumstances all of which ensure notification to the adversaries as soon as practicable, are absolutely forbidden. Our legal system is founded on its adversary nature — not in the sense that it requires fighting but, rather, in that it tries to ensure the voices relevant to the dispute all have equal access to the judge. If my adversary communicates with the judge, I have the opportunity to judge whether it’s worthy of a response and how to respond. We don’t leave to the judge to decide whether I should or can respond — the system ensures I make that decision.

The importance of avoiding ex parte communications was brought home to me in law school by the professor who was my supervising attorney in the clinic I was part of. I was representing a child as guardian ad litem in a child abuse and neglect case in family court in Flint, Michigan. The entire scene was grim — it was 1983, and Michigan had started the precipitous economic descent it suffered at the hands of the auto industry. Unemployment in Flint was through the roof (even in 2010 terms). Abuse and neglect claims had increased. That day it was freezing and pouring rain.

After our hearing, my professor/supervisor and I stood sheltered in an entranceway to the courthouse, hoping the rain would abate a bit so we could make it to our car without getting to0 rain-soaked. As we stood there, the door opened and the judge before whom we’d just appeared stepped out, smiled, and started speaking with us, obviously intent on the same endeavor we were — waiting out the rain in the doorway. My professor immediately wished the judge a good day and, grabbing my arm, led us out into the deluge. When we’d made it to the car I asked her what in the world she had been thinking. She responded, “You do not communicate with a judge without the other side present. It’s wrong!”

It makes perfect sense to me. If the other side has an opportunity to communicate with the judge without my knowledge, how am I supposed to judge what I should let the judge know? Unfortunately, some important people seem to have underestimated the fundamental importance of this rule. Justice Scalia seems not to have worried that hunting with Dick Cheney might be deemed a compromise of the integrity of his court judging a case in which Cheney was a party. Justice Thomas’s willingness to speak before and maintain other relationships with conservative groups with a stake in cases before the Supreme Court are notorious.

And now comes the Ohio Supreme Court suggesting that as long as a judge is really careful he can communicate via social networks with people who are litigating cases in his court. I think it stinks. I would tell a judge not to allow access via social networks to litigants or potential litigants. And I’d tell any lawyer to stay away from networking with a judge before whom he will or may appear.

Incidentally, I don’t think the Ohio Supreme Court’s “guidance” really is all that helpful anyway. Essentially, the guidelines leave to the judge the determination of what is and is not appropriate, acknowledging there are no “bright lines” distinguishing between the two:

• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 1.2., a judge must maintain dignity in every comment, photograph, and other information shared on the social networking site.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.4(C), a judge must not foster social networking interactions with individuals or organizations if such communications erode confidence in the independence of judicial decision making.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.9 (A), a judge should not make comments on a social networking site about any matters pending before the judge – not to a party, not to a counsel for a party, not to anyone.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.9 (C), a judge should not view a party’s or witnesses’ pages on a social networking site and should not use social networking sites to obtain information regarding the matter before the judge.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.10, a judge should avoid making any comments on a social networking site about a pending or impending matter in any court.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 2.11 (A)(1), a judge should disqualify himself or herself from a proceeding when the judge’s social networking relationship with a lawyer creates bias or prejudice concerning the lawyer or party. There is no bright-line rule: not all social relationships, online or otherwise, require a judge disqualification.
• To comply with Jud. Cond. Rule 3.10, a judge may not give legal advice to others on a social networking site.

Social Networking by Judges, Board of Governors of Grievances and Discipline, Ohio Op_10-007, 12-3-10

Large-scale commercial contracts often include arbitration clauses in the hopes of avoiding large-scale commercial litigation. But litigators are starting to find the quicker, cheaper, more private aspects of arbitration have turned into lengthy, expensive and often public quasi-trials.

This has a growing number of attorneys advising clients to either take their chances in court or tailor very specific arbitration clauses with the hopes of limiting the expense of arbitration. It’s a slow-moving process, however, as litigators are rarely consulted when corporate attorneys are drafting contracts.

In the old days, Cozen O’Connor litigator Philip G. Kircher said, arbitration used to mean a six-month process “from cradle to grave.” There was very little discovery, fewer depositions and less case management. The parties would go before one or three arbitrators and have a short, informal hearing with the rules of evidence more relaxed than in court.

As arbitration became more popular because of the expense of litigation, corporations’ growing distrust of juries and the length of time it took a case to get to trial, the arbitrators became all the more sophisticated. That resulted in the parties asking more of those arbitrators in terms of complex discovery, more depositions and pretrial conferences, he said.

“Slowly but surely, what was once supposed to be fast and cheap was becoming probably just as expensive, if not more so, than going to court,” Kircher said.

Kircher had two arbitrations recently that have gone through weeks of trial, hundreds if not thousands of exhibits, dozens of witnesses and lots of briefing. The panel then sits with the cases for months to review all of that material.

“Even when there’s a final award, more often than not the losing party tries to find a way to appeal it anyway, so [it gets] hung up for another year before the award is rendered to judgment,” Kircher said.

He is part of a growing segment of attorneys who would rather have the security of an appeal and the finality of a court decision by taking their cases to court. Kircher is advising his clients to create clauses in their contracts that agree to have a nonjury trial in the event of a dispute or at least agree on a certain jurisdiction, preferably in federal court.

[Hat tip to Philip Loree.]

Mike Masnick over at techdirt, , writing about the “Permission Culture” (that is, the culture that insists that sampling and quoting should only be done with permission), puts his finger directly on one of the biggest problems — the fear of even frivolous lawsuits, even by big publishing concerns, prevents writers, musicians, and artists from quoting, sampling, and appropriating parts of copyrighted works they don’t need permission to take:

The unfortunate reality these days is that publishers won’t touch such quotes without permission being granted. It’s almost impossible to find a publisher these days that would sign off on even that snippet of eight words, claiming that they don’t want the liability of a lawsuit. I’ve had this discussion a few times with authors and publishers, and they all say the same thing: due to the potential liability of a lawsuit, even if it clearly does appear to be fair use, it’s just not worth using the quote. In fact, we discussed this point here last year, where we wrote about an author who had to drop an entire section of a book, because of a few short quotes. Clear fair use… but his publisher wouldn’t touch it.

I would suggest too that one reason publishers won’t publish books without permission for the use of quotations is that they perceive it to be in their interests not to do so. That way, other publishers will ask and pay for permission to use quotations from their own books. That is why, I am convinced, the music industry never has seriously challenged lower court decisions requiring permission (and, presumably, payment) for the use of any recorded sample — the practice makes each company’s record vault’s sources of income.

The problem, of course is exacerbated considerably because the wealth and of the corporate conglomerates that own so much of our intellectual property. Who is going to fight Disney, even if he’s right? Another problem is the widespread ignorance in the media about copyright. As Richard Posner has written, the fear of litigating against rich copyright holders who place a premium on their fear of losing something of value leads to behavior based on law that isn’t at all what the law is supposed to be:

Look at the copyright page in virtually any book, or the copyright notice at the beginning of a DVD or VHS film recording. The notice will almost always state that no part of the work can be reproduced without the publisher’s (or movie studio’s) permission. This is a flat denial of fair use. The reader or viewer who thumbs his nose at the copyright notice risks receiving a threatening letter from the copyright owner. He doesn’t know whether he will be sued, and because the fair use doctrine is vague, he may not be altogether confident about the outcome of the suit. The would-be fair user is likely to be an author, movie director, etc. and he will find that his publisher or studio is a strict copyright policeman. That is, since a publisher worries about expansive fair uses of the books he publishes, he doesn’t want to encourage such uses by permitting his own authors to copy from other publishers’ works. So you have a whole “law in action” law invented by publishers, including ridiculous rules such as that any quotation of more than two lines of a poem requires a copyright license.

Jeff Gamso, a criminal defense attorney (and former English professor!) in Toledo, Ohio who writes a terrific blog, Gamso for the Defense, takes a much more nuanced approach to the study in his post, “Blessed are the Oddsmakers.” First, it’s important to note the difference between criminal defense and civil litigation. As Gamso reminds his readers, in his practice, “[m]ost trials result in guilty verdicts. But most cases aren’t tried; they’re resolved by pleas of one sort or another.” It reminds me of what a friend of mine, a public defender, once told my class in response to the question “what’s the hardest part of your job?” He answered, “Losing 95% of my cases.”

But Gamso reminds us that pleas, the criminal analog to a civil settlement, is a strategic move made with the best possible` estimation of likelihood of success at trial, an estimation by no means easy to make:

The idea of the plea is that it’s a compromise because trials are problematic. They’re a lot of work and they are, ultimately, uncertain. Anyone who’s been at this for a while can tell you that juries and judges sometimes surprise. We win (whatver that means) some cases we should lose. We lose (whatever that means) some cases we should win. The jury, the judge, the world sometimes just gets it wrong.

Accordingly, the decision to accept an offer from the other side is a complicated combination of prediction of an uncertain future, the ability to convey the relevant information to the client, the other side’s own predictions and resulting offer (if any), the client’s own inclinations and decision (it is his decision), and the adversary’s response to the client’s decision.

Perhaps most importantly, however, it’s fundamental to any effective legal representation to understand that lawsuits and prosecutions are not binary, win/loss situations. Overcoming binary thinking is, in fact, one of the most important and difficult tasks in teaching first year law students. It’s difficult enough to get students to understand that the outcome of a case is the only thing that matters to a client, but then also to get them to realize that the result is usually a whole lot more complicated matter than merely stating that the plaintiff or defendant won or lost. (And it’s a shame that Remedies is one of the most neglected courses in law schools these days.) Let’s get this straight: Exxon won the litigation which resulted in it paying over $500 million in punitive damages. Or, as Gamso so pungently puts it in connection with criminal defense:

[David] Dow tells of Van Orman, an innocent man on death row. He simply didn’t commit the crime. He’s also got mental retardation. Dow proves the retardation and gets him off the row. Now the innocent man will do life in prison. “But I’m a death-penalty lawyer and Van Orman won’t get executed, so I count it as a victory. One of my clients committed suicide a week before his execution. That’s a victory. Another died of AIDS. A victory.”

You bet. I had a client who died of hepatitis right after I filed the papers asking the U.S. Supreme Court to hear the case. He died before the state had a chance to reply, certainly before the Court ruled. That goes down as a win. That’s how it works when you’re doing death penalty defense. Whenever the government doesn’t murder your client, you’ve got a win.

All of which is a way of saying that in this business, winning often isn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. Confession suppressed? Win. Even if the drugs aren’t suppressed? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get some of the charges dismissed? Win. Even if the client’s found guilty of some things? Yep. Just not a complete win.

•Get a five year sentence? Win if the client might have gotten 8. Or 50.

•LWOP? Win if the alternative was death.

•Continuance? Hung jury? Wins. Even if they’re only temporary. (The old line is that a continuance is as good as an acquittal – it just doesn’t last as long.)

•Client goes home after a not guilty verdict? Big Win.

And on it goes.

The key isn’t that what counts as a win depends. The key is that you need to have a sense of things. (emphasis added)

Yes, the key is to have a sense of things. A win is getting the best outcome the circumstances permit you to get for a client. Do human beings tend to be overconfident in their predictions? Cognitive science establishes that does indeed seem to be the case, and as a lawyer you ought to be aware of it, and you ought to be aware that your adversary shares the same bias, and you ought to be aware of the risks associated with going to trial, and you ought to be aware of your client’s fears and desires and his ability to deal with risk and loss. You need to have a sense of an infinite number of things, and the better your sense of these things is and the better you are at communicating them to your client, the better you will be as a lawyer and the better the outcomes you will produce. Will you be able to tally those outcomes as wins and losses? Only if you have a very flexible understanding of what constitutes a win or a loss.

It’s a real situation, and, apparently, “the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine has made a multi-million dollar mistake. In March, a machine malfunction was blamed for a $42 million dollar jackpot.” (hat tip to techdirt.)

But here’s the question the stories don’t resolve: is the casino entitled to pay only $1,627.82? In legal jargon, the casino is seeking “reformation” of the contract it had entered into with the couple — that is, the casino is claiming it can “rewrite” the contract it had with the couple. I put “rewrite” in quotation marks because the contract was not written but, instead, was implicitly understood by the couple and the casino to provide that if they paid their money and pulled the lever on the slot machine they’d be entitled to the winnings that appeared, if any. The reformed contract would be that the casino agreed to pay any amount up to $1,627,82 in exchange for the couple paying the money necessary to play the game.

I don’t know enough about the regulation of casinos to supply the answer to this problem. It may well be that casino bets are treated differently than other contracts. Nevertheless, if standard contract law does apply, the basis of the casino’s position would be a claim that it had made a mistake — that it understood the machine would operate in a manner that would make the top prize the lower amount but, as events proved, that understanding was mistaken. The mistake would be “unilateral” rather than “mutual” because the couple would not have been operating under the same assumption.

In order to prevail on a defense of mistake, mutual or unilateral, the person asserting the defense must establish it did not “assume the risk” of the mistake.” To prevail on a defense of unilateral mistake, the person must also establish either (1) that enforcing the mistaken contract would be “unconscionable”  or (2) the other party knew of or caused the mistake.

Plainly, the couple did not know of or cause the mistake. Whether enforcement of the deal the couple thought it was getting would be “unconscionable” is a difficult question to answer. A deal is “unconscionable” if it is so grossly unfair it would the court won’t enforce it. The mere fact the casino makes out so badly isn’t “unconscionable.” We enjoy the “freedom of contract,” which means we are entitled to take stupid risks and courts will enforce the deals we made that subjected us to those risks (unless, of course, you’re an investment bank).

But whether the deal is “unconscionable” really turns, to my mind, on the other question: did the casino assume t his risk? On the one hand, the casino is the one responsible for the hardware or software that caused the glitch. Moreover, if I read the casino’s explanation correctly, the $11 million the machine originally indicated the couple had won is within the realm of reasonable payoffs on that machine. “It’s what the jackpot would have been after the prize [I presume the $1,672] was claimed.” But, given the casino’s online page of “jackpot winners” — none of whom won more than $10,500 — that doesn’t really seem to be what the casino intended to say.

Finally, the “glitch” is one the casino had reason to know might happen. It was the second time in three months a Colorado slot machine had made a multi-million dollar mistake, and the earlier one was for quite a bit more ($42 million rather than “merely” $11 million).

On the other hand, if the couple had no reasonable grounds to believe their bet could earn them $11 million, it seems a lot less likely they could prevail. In essence, the defense of mistake does not enforce a deal when it turns out the deal literally enforced would turn out to be something entirely different than what the parties believed they were agreeing to. Were they entering into a bet that they knew might pay $11 million? If so, the couple ought to win. If not, the casino ought to win.