A Young Court Reporter Meets a Silent Advocate
In the mid-1980s, I was a young court reporter working in the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. During that time, I met a young attorney who would go on to become one of the most skilled and beloved courtroom advocates I’ve ever seen. It was his first trial for a new client—a products liability case involving a backup warning device on an industrial machine.
The plaintiff claimed she was injured in a warehouse aisle by a reversing machine with a faulty backup alarm. A straightforward case on paper. But what unfolded in that courtroom would become a masterclass in something I later learned was called: Silent Advocacy. This is something he learned from its originator, George J. Lavin, Jr., Esquire, who wrote the book.
A Trial Begins – And a New Style Emerges
This five-day jury trial moved through its usual beats—openings, witness and expert testimony, closings, deliberations. But the attorney representing the defense immediately stood out.
After a long day in court, he approached me and asked if his firm had requested a daily copy of the transcript. When I said no, he respectfully asked if I could get it to him that night. Despite the technological limitations of 1985—no email, no digital transfer—he was calm, courteous, and appreciative. after transcribing the day’s proceedings, I ran the transcript through a slow, continuous-feed printer and set out to deliver it.
At the address listed, no one answered. I called from a phone booth (remember those?). After some confusion, I learned that the attorney’s firm had just moved—two blocks from the courthouse. We laughed. I delivered the transcript, and despite the delay, his tone never shifted. He was disarming, composed, and gracious.
That was just the beginning.
The Courtroom as a Classroom
During the trial, he demonstrated something powerful—control without arrogance.
He cross-examined the plaintiff’s expert with clarity and precision. He asked to move the easel closer to the stand. While adjusting it, he tripped slightly—knocking the board to the floor. The tension broke. The jurors smiled. He made a lighthearted comment that got them to laugh, then returned smoothly to his questioning.
It was a moment of authenticity, not performance. He wasn’t trying to charm the jury—he simply connected with them.
They were locked in. He was winning what is called the Battle of the Attorneys: a silent contest for the jury’s trust, well before deliberations ever begin.
The Sound of Silence – A Closing They Never Forgot
In his closing argument, the attorney pulled off one of the most memorable moments I’ve seen in four decades of trials.
He said:
“Do you remember when you first sat in the jury box and noticed Tom, our court reporter? You heard the click of his machine, right?”
Jurors nodded.
He continued:
“But after several days, do you even hear that sound anymore—or has it faded into the background?”
Then he paused.
As he stopped speaking, I stopped writing.
The courtroom went completely silent.
He looked at me and said,
“Tom, would you hit the keys so the jury can hear the sound again?”
I obliged.
The jurors laughed quietly—because they understood immediately. This was auditory habituation, explained in real time through experience. The point? Just because something was once loud and obvious (like a beeping backup alarm) doesn’t mean it still is after repeated exposure.
He taught them without lecturing.
He moved them without dramatics.
And he delighted them with a moment of unexpected clarity.
Years Later – The Same Skill in Depositions
In the decades that followed, I had the chance to observe this attorney in dozens of depositions. Time and again, the same pattern emerged.
During breaks, I would overhear plaintiffs’ attorneys telling their clients:
“Listen—this guy is not your friend. Don’t get so conversational.”
That’s because he made it easy for deponents to open up. His questioning style was disarming, almost colloquial. Plaintiffs would volunteer information without realizing it. It was a one-on-one conversation, not a legal inquisition.
That’s what Silent Advocacy looks like.
What Is Silent Advocacy?
The Roman orator Cicero said that the goal of every great advocate is to:
- Teach
- Delight
- Move
This attorney did all three—calmly, credibly, and without theatrics.
He taught by illustrating concepts, not explaining them.
He delighted by engaging jurors as humans.
He moved by appealing to their sense of fairness.
The Jury’s Real Questions
Long before a jury evaluates the facts or the law, they’re asking themselves:
- Do I trust this attorney?
- Is this attorney prepared?
- Are they helping me understand?
- Do they care about justice?
- Are they human, like me?
This attorney passed that test every time.
He didn’t overpower witnesses or try to outshine opposing counsel.
Instead, he earned the jury’s trust by being authentic, focused, and calm.
Why the 13th Juror?
In my eyes, he wasn’t just representing a client—he was practically one of the jurors himself. He aligned with them. He understood their perspective. He embodied their values.
They were on his side—before he said a word in closing.
That’s why I call him The 13th Juror.
Final Thoughts
Silent Advocacy isn’t about silence. It’s about subtlety. It’s about controlling the courtroom without demanding it. And most of all, it’s about connection.
Whether in trial or deposition, the most powerful advocates don’t dominate the room—they invite the jury in.
They listen.
They adapt.
They teach, delight, and move.
And that’s why jurors love them.
🔒 Disclaimer
The content of this article is intended for informational and educational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice, opinion, or endorsement of any specific attorney or legal strategy. All views expressed are those of the author and are based on personal observations and professional experiences in the courtroom setting. Any similarities to real persons or cases are purely coincidental unless explicitly identified.
Readers should consult with a licensed attorney for advice regarding their own legal matters. PhillyLegalNews.com and its contributors assume no liability for actions taken based on the information contained herein.
