All in all, I would rather be in Croatia

A couple of months ago I got the news. I was going to be asked to be a witness in a criminal trial. I would have to give testimony to support a former client. I was not thrilled. In general, my experience with courts has not been pleasant. In Lawton, Oklahoma, I had served as an expert witness a couple of times and it was less than enjoyable. The whole idea of an adversarial proceeding in which every word was scrutinized reminded me of nothing so much as an argument with my mother. But I digress…

In the US, I was a native speaker of the language of the court proceedings. In Israel, although my Hebrew is fluent, it is not native and therefore there are nuances and expressions that Israelis use and understand that elude me. So naturally, I was wary and reluctant. It was kind of like the way my then 5 year old son must have felt just after he started the fire in our living room: “maybe if I just get into bed and close my eyes, it will all disappear.” Well, the fire didn’t disappear and with the arrival of a notice from the court roughly equivalent to a subpoena, neither did the trial.

The prosecutor called me and asked for information. A second call came to change the date to nearly a week earlier. A third call came to change it back. Then we received a call from friends who wanted to know if we would like to join their trip to Croatia and Slovenia which was to take off the night before the anticipated testimony.

I called the prosecutor’s office. I explained that we had an opportunity to go on a trip and asked if there were any possibility that I could testify before or afterwards. The clerk sounded understanding and after checking with the prosecutor said that he regretted that there was no alternative.

Yesterday, the prosecutor called me to go over the facts and the points she wanted to make with my testimony. She helped me with some of the technical Hebrew phrases. For example, bruises are translated into Hebrew as “blue marks.” And professional journals, she told me, are “professional newspapers.”

So this morning, having no idea of the extent of the morning traffic to Tel Aviv, I left my home at 6:50 a.m., in order not to be late for the 8:30 summons. I was at the door of the courthouse at 7:30. Unfortunately, the doors open to the public at 8:00. I sat and read the book I had brought, and waited.

At 8:00, I got into line to wait for the security check and finally, I arrived upstairs at the courtroom. My former client was there. Little by little the other participants arrived and finally today’s session of the trial began. I was asked to stay outside while other witnesses were testifying. During that time I repeated to myself phrases that I knew would not come naturally to me. I kept reassuring myself that my hesitations over language could be of use because it would give me time to think. As the time passed, I just wanted it to be over because I was feeling more and more tense.

Finally, I was called. I hooked on the microphone and swore to tell the truth. Before the prosecutor could ask me the first question, the defense attorney began spewing objections. I say “spewing” because I am pretty certain that I saw steam rising from her and I certainly felt as if I was engulfed by a stream of lava. I was “irrelevant”, she asserted. However, it took her more than five minutes to say that. Then the prosecutor responded for another minute or two. Then two of the three judges tried to answer while the defense attorney continued spewing. The mayhem continued for about another ten minutes during which I was asked little more than my name, qualifications, time period during which I treated my client, and general impression of her condition at intake. Then the next eruption took place. At that point, the questioning was stopped and I was thanked for my participation.

I went back to the parking lot, paid, and left. All in all, I would rather be in Croatia.