Pardon the negative connotation of my title, but sometimes it feels that way whenever I write a decision as part of my work as a court attorney.
My law school batchmate and friend Dred who used to work as a court attorney and who's now in Boston for her LLM wrote on her Facebook a few days ago that she misses typing the "omnipotent WHEREFORE." For those who aren't familiar with court decisions, 'wherefore' is what we write before the dispositive portion of our decision. It's the word that precedes our final ruling and which carries with it a sense of finality and authority, such that everytime you reach that part of the decision when you have to type it, you somehow begin to feel that you have dispensed justice in your own little way.
That's why I couldn't help but agree with Dred's use of the word omnipotent. Because when you come to think of it, in a certain sense, omnipotent is what you become the moment you decree how the parties in one case should conduct themselves after the decision you wrote is promulgated. And sometimes, I feel uncomfortable just thinking about this. Who are we, after all, to decide whether a person is really psychologically incapacitated to comply with his or her essential marital obligations? Who are we to decree whether this kid should be adopted by these particular individuals, who, just by our appreciation of the evidence at hand, seem qualified to have parental authority over the potential adoptee? Who are we to say that a marriage has to end, or that a mother should be deprived of custody over her children, or that a person is not capable of handling his own affairs anymore?
Of course, there are standards and legal precepts to follow and to aid us in arriving at a just decision. And in the interest of maintaining order, the society has to live with the fact that when it comes to disputes involving even the most personal matters, an impartial stranger has to step in and decide what is right for everyone.
But while our knowledge of the law is probably enough for us to determine what is just and equitable, it still becomes overwhelming sometimes just to think think that our appreciation of what actually transpired, whether it is right or wrong, ultimately becomes the reality for the parties involved.
Today, I submitted a decision that took more than three weeks for me to write. Because of the implications of its outcome, I felt, for the first time, the magnitude of what I actually do in my work. It's not that I don't trust my judgment. But the thought that henceforth, the parties would have to live with my conclusion, totally blows my mind away.
Of course, as in all decisions I write, my boss will have the final say. Of course, the parties can appeal. Of course, my conclusion can be overruled. But until these things happen, my determination of what's true and what's just stays. To my mind, this is as close as anyone can get to playing god. And suddenly, I'm not so sure anymore how to feel about it.
My law school batchmate and friend Dred who used to work as a court attorney and who's now in Boston for her LLM wrote on her Facebook a few days ago that she misses typing the "omnipotent WHEREFORE." For those who aren't familiar with court decisions, 'wherefore' is what we write before the dispositive portion of our decision. It's the word that precedes our final ruling and which carries with it a sense of finality and authority, such that everytime you reach that part of the decision when you have to type it, you somehow begin to feel that you have dispensed justice in your own little way.
That's why I couldn't help but agree with Dred's use of the word omnipotent. Because when you come to think of it, in a certain sense, omnipotent is what you become the moment you decree how the parties in one case should conduct themselves after the decision you wrote is promulgated. And sometimes, I feel uncomfortable just thinking about this. Who are we, after all, to decide whether a person is really psychologically incapacitated to comply with his or her essential marital obligations? Who are we to decree whether this kid should be adopted by these particular individuals, who, just by our appreciation of the evidence at hand, seem qualified to have parental authority over the potential adoptee? Who are we to say that a marriage has to end, or that a mother should be deprived of custody over her children, or that a person is not capable of handling his own affairs anymore?
Of course, there are standards and legal precepts to follow and to aid us in arriving at a just decision. And in the interest of maintaining order, the society has to live with the fact that when it comes to disputes involving even the most personal matters, an impartial stranger has to step in and decide what is right for everyone.
But while our knowledge of the law is probably enough for us to determine what is just and equitable, it still becomes overwhelming sometimes just to think think that our appreciation of what actually transpired, whether it is right or wrong, ultimately becomes the reality for the parties involved.
Today, I submitted a decision that took more than three weeks for me to write. Because of the implications of its outcome, I felt, for the first time, the magnitude of what I actually do in my work. It's not that I don't trust my judgment. But the thought that henceforth, the parties would have to live with my conclusion, totally blows my mind away.
Of course, as in all decisions I write, my boss will have the final say. Of course, the parties can appeal. Of course, my conclusion can be overruled. But until these things happen, my determination of what's true and what's just stays. To my mind, this is as close as anyone can get to playing god. And suddenly, I'm not so sure anymore how to feel about it.
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