By Marcel Strigberger | November 12, 2026
Is ignorance often bliss for lay people having contact with the legal system?
I have noticed that non-lawyers enjoy a much more relaxed attitude toward the judicial environment than we lawyers do. Lay people have no qualms expressing themselves with complete candor.
For example, when a judge enters the courtroom, he or she takes a short bow towards the body of the court, and the lawyers return the compliment, bowing back. Lay people, however, tend to look at one another and smile. One client gave the judge a thumbs up. The judge looked puzzled, as if she thought, “I must have done something right already.”
Many lawyers are also prown to dubious flattering phrases. They announce their names by saying something like, “If it please Your Honour, my name is Lawrence Coopersmith, representing the plaintiff.” This salutation reminds me of that song those Siamese cats sing in Disney’s Lady and the Tramp, “We are Siamese if you please. We are Siamese if you don’t please.”
Clients will often resort to comments evoked by emotion. I once represented a gentleman on an impaired driving charge. He was a proud WW2 navy veteran who obviously had experienced more trying experiences than this indictment. In the midst of a robust cross-examination by the prosecutor, he said with utter confidence, “You are harassing me with all these questions. I spent years in a submarine dodging depth charges. There is nothing you can do to me.”
The young prosecutor was obviously shaken. The judge, who seemed somewhat bored to this point, suddenly perked up. He said to the client, “Mr. Cerniek, we do acknowledge your service to our country, but please just answer Ms. Fitzmichael’s questions, and we shall all be out of here soon.”
I thought to myself that a lawyer could never go off on a tangent like that. It would, however, indeed be refreshing and liberating to be able to say to a judge, “Your Honour, you say my witness’s comment is hearsay. But you must admit this testimony. After all, I served for three years as a navy commando”. I somehow doubt whether the judge would then say, “Actually, counsel serving as a commando is an exception to the hearsay rule.”
I also recall a matrimonial case where the judge ordered my client, a musician, to pay arrears to his wife. Rick did not like this ruling and he told the judge outright, “For that amount of money, I can get myself a new set of drums.” The judge added that in default of payment, Rick would have to spend some time in jail. I cringed, as Rick was behind in paying my fees. Though tempted to express myself with the client’s candor, I restrained myself from saying, “Your Honour, with that amount of money Rick can pay off my outstanding fees account.” Where is the justice?
Lay people have no problems telling judges outright what they think of the judicial system. Once, when the case before mine involved a short hearing where the judge had to assess a legal bill between a lawyer and her client, the client wasted no time jumping on the judge, saying, “I know the outcome exactly. You judges and lawyers stick together like glue.” The judge actually went on the defensive, presumably trying to refute the client’s suspicions about any possible systemic bias. I don’t know if he succeeded. I did, however, think to myself that I would have liked to be before this judge in the case where Rick still owed me that money.
Lay people’s relaxed attitude towards judges is also apparent out of the courtroom. One of our Toronto courthouses has trial courtrooms on the upper floors of a high rise. There are no separate elevators for the judges. During a break, as my client and I were about to enter an elevator, we noticed the trial judge heading for the same elevator. I hit my brakes, as did other colleagues, allowing the judge to enter by herself. My client was surprised. He said to me, “That was our judge. Why didn’t we ride down with her? We could have explained that traffic signal to her better.”
This comment had a couple of colleagues who overheard it giggling. The truth probably is that we all shared this unattainable fantasy. After all, we’re lawyers.
And what happens when we come across judges out of the courthouse?
As lawyers, do we unwittingly deify judges? Judges often have lunch at restaurants near the courthouse. I do not recall ever coming near one and engaging him or her in a dialogue. I thought of that Old Testament scene with Lot’s wife. I almost felt that if I did, I would instantly turn into a pillar of salt.
A client once noticed my discomfort. When I told him there was a judge sitting at a nearby table, he said, “Wow! I’ll bet you thought judges don’t have to eat.”
Judges certainly can wield power, deciding whether you get money or freedom. Lawyers are more uptight about this than the public. I think of the comment by that iconic comedienne and former film star, Mae West, in a courtroom scene in My Little Chickadee, where the judge says: “Are you trying to show contempt for this court?” West, as Flower Belle, responds, “On the contrary, Your Honor, I’m doing my best to hide it.”
Now what are the chances of a lawyer ever coming up with a gem response like that?
Are we lawyers too invested in the system? I think of Mark Twain, who said, “All you need is ignorance and confidence; then success is assured.”
Amen.
Marcel Strigberger retired from his Greater Toronto Area litigation practice and continues the more serious business of humorous author and speaker. His book, Boomers, Zoomers, and Other Oomers: A Boomer-biased Irreverent Perspective on Aging, is available on Amazon (e-book) and in paper version. His new(!) book First, Let’s Kill the Lawyer Jokes: An Attorney’s Irreverent Serious Look at the Legal Universe, is available on Amazon, Apple and other book places. Visit www.marcelshumour.com. Follow him on X: @MarcelsHumour.