As promised, this is the first of my recurring posts taking on interesting subjects from the work of Robert Heinlein. See the above-linked post for my introduction to the series. Upcoming topics shall include Lawyers Beyond Stereotypes; Law, Social Contract, and Vigilantism; and Aliens, Enemy Combatants, and the Other.
But this time: Courts!
Everyone loves a good courtroom drama. Some of the best have been written by lawyers, familiar with the drama, the substance, the procedure, and the personalities.
Despite not being a lawyer, however, Heinlein consistently wrote good courtroom. Whether played for laughs or as a deadly serious case with life on the line for a protagonist or even for an entire race, Heinlein deserves recognition as one of the best lay authors ever to depict judges, courtrooms, trials, and trial lawyers in action.
Job: A Comedy of Justice
Some judges in Heinlein are offstage, lightly developed, or caricatures. This is not by necessity; Heinlein could write a good judge, and a good courtroom. Nevertheless, plot didn't always require it.
In Job: A Comedy of Justice, the appearance before
Don Clemente (Judge Ibañez is his name) (a Clement judge? Exactly) in Mazatlán, Mexico is perfunctory, handled entirely by narration by Alec/Alex, the book's protagonist and the Job in the title. Alex is a monolingual English speaker, and therefore unable to understand what is happening in the courtroom beyond what happens to him. Without any dialogue from the
Juez (Wikipedia
en Español), we are left with Alec's description of his actions and words. Clemente is "pleasant," "certainly no hanging judge" (Del Rey 1984, p.123) and is described as "a humane judge" for his actions.
Those actions? Alex and his love, Margrethe, are admittedly travelers in distress, and are rebuffed by the American consulate. Owing a great deal of money for their rescue, and facing a regime where "they don't permit bankruptcy the way we do, but they do have a rather old-fashioned debtor's prison law," they wind up indentured servants. The merciful part is that they wind up with a relatively benign and generous
patrón.
There are plenty of good digs at useless bureaucrats - but directed at the American who is helpfully unhelpful to a fellow American in distress, not to the judge who efficiently disposes of a minor problem, about on the level of complexity of a speeding ticket.
I won't spend too long on this one. At the risk of spoiling the entire plot,
Kip and Pee-wee go before an intergalactic tribunal, comparable in some ways to a United Nations or International War Crimes tribunal. With plenty of science fictional elements (a collective mind overseeing the proceedings; distant relatives of humanity speaking up in favor of humanity's right to exist; various other aliens appearing who are clearly superior to the comparatively primitive human race, which is barely capable of interplanetary travel), the court scene is nevertheless a totally typical Heinlein scene: the Defiance. Present also (spoilers again) in The Star Beast, when Mr. Kiku stands off the Hroshii menace, refusing to cave diplomatically to a superior military force, and in the short story
"The Long Watch,", in which Johnny Dahlquist (one of "The Four" mentioned in Space Cadet), who earns his immortality by sacrificing his own life to prevent power-hungry traitors from holding the world nuclear hostage.
This time, the plot includes a major court battle (spoilers)
- like in Citizen of the Galaxy - over whether the Heinlein hero is entitled to contested fabulous wealth. At issue in both books are identity and competency, and in both cases powerful and unscrupulous parties with opposed interests are arrayed against the protagonist in court.
The scenes in court, which include detailed and often outstanding examples of courtroom , who has undergone a brain-body transplant (into a dead body, to save an exceedingly old, exceedingly rich man and give him a new opportunity at life, thanks to a fortuitous murder victim whose body he can use), are rich. Rich in humor, rich in legal argument. The protagonist is sophisticated, slippery, self-effacing, and carries on a rich inner dialogue (including the phrase Judgie-Wudgie, which I do not recommend be used aloud by any advocate). The presiding judge is a friend and lodge brother of the protagonist - a fact impacting directly on her controverted identity - and the question is raised whether such demands recusal. Of course, recognition of facts suitable for judicial notice does not require that a judge recuse him or herself as a "witness" - and incidental or purely social connections are not the kind of disqualifying relationships which implicate bias.
There are some truly outstanding examples of terminology, rhetoric, and legal logic on display in later sections, which include expert witnesses, active involvement by the trial judge, and more hilarious dialogue, in between excellent legal drama and interesting science fiction. Overall, deserving of a close look. (Ace 1987 pp.183-96, 335-347).
No major spoilers, but hidden to save space.
Two events of particular interest. A summary and somewhat informal proceeding occurs after a trainee breaks a direct order - and then "takes a swing at" one of his sergeants - and connects. The "bedroll lawyer" opens his mouth, and talks himself out of 30 days of no privileges, partial house arrest, bread & water for dinner, etc. - and talks himself into a court-martial and 10 lashes plus a dishonorable discharge. (Ace 1987 pp.55-68). The proceeding is speedy, deadly serious, and brings home to Johnny Rico the sudden, sickening realization that disobeying orders can have real consequences. There is also a good discussion of the need to have such a punishment, when the mistake leading to the problem may have been made by a superior.
Later, Heinlein dips into capital punishment, for the hanging of a deserter named Dillinger. No, not for the desertion - "he killed a baby girl." Heinlein pauses to heap scorn all over the phrase "juvenile delinquent," makes a case for the absence of a moral instinct in humans and argues for a need to instill the "basis of all morality": a sense of duty. His concluding thought in the episode, by Johnny after the swift justice is complete, is "The one thing I was sure of was that he would never again kill any little girls. That suited me. I went to sleep." (Ace 1987 p.87-97).
If I had infinite time, I would also spotlight
Rocket Ship Galileo [update: I meant, of course, The Rolling Stones - wrong juvenile-involving-interplanetary-youngsters!]- but maybe I'll save that one for another time.
Also worth noting: the hilarious court scenes in The Star Beast, which include a working Truth Meter. Not for absolute truth - I'm sure such would be unscientific. The gadget helps the finder of fact to make determinations of subjective honesty of witnesses, by flagging when they make statements they know to be false. Not helpful when the witness is unreliable for other reasons, as by honest mistake, misperception, failures of memory, or other reasons beyond intentional lies. That part of the scene is played partly for laughs, but it's a fascinating examination of what might change in a court given that kind of technology.
*Not all comments welcome. Flippant, facetious, fierce, or fatuous, fine. Fraudulent, felonious, fabricated, facially insufficient, and farkin' futile, fuggeddaboutit.