Stuart Thomas dropped by my office last week. Since it was too early for him to be in town for Christmas parties, it could only mean one thing- he was going to sleep on my couch while I worked. It’s always good to see Stu and I really don’t mind him snoozing in my office so long as it isn’t during my nap time. Luckily for us both, it wasn’t.

I was grousing about losing a motion when he launched into a story. Unperturbed by the interruption (mostly), I listened.

“I was in a courthouse elevator with a lawyer and he looked crestfallen.

‘What is wrong?’ I asked. His response stunned me.

‘I think I just lost a suggestion of death,’ he said.”

I was baffled. All one needs for a suggestion of death motion is a death certificate and a replacement person to serve as the plaintiff or defendant, whichever is needed. Most times a death certificate isn’t even necessary and one can bluff through without a replacement party on occasion. It is the three inch putt of lawyering.

“How could that be?” I asked.

“Beats me. When a lawyer confesses losing a sure thing, you don’t ask any questions.”

Stu was correct. Anyone who claims to be a trial lawyer but hasn’t lost a trial or at least a motion is either very lucky or a liar.  We tend to talk freely amongst ourselves about losses because they are a uniting experience and a lawyer is certain to be gracious when hearing a tale of woe while a client or spouse may be less so.

When we win, we try to be considerate of our opponent. This isn’t just professional, it is in hopes that we will receive the same grace when it comes our turn to lose. I’ve lost rear end automobile cases and won a trip and fall case that my boss only let me try because it looked hopeless. I believe that every case can be won or I won’t take the potential client on. My optimism has betrayed me more than once.

My former law partner was quick to say “this too shall pass” after a trial, win or lose. While he was right, those words were much less welcome after a win than a loss. It would have been nicer if he had waited a beat for a reasonable celebration instead of immediately letting the air out of me. My partner was blessed with wisdom but not timing.

When a lawyer loses a case, we know that the client is the actual one who suffers. Yet the trial lawyer feels the loss as deeply, if not for as long. At least civil lawyers do. A criminal lawyer told me that whatever happened in trial, he knew he was going home at the end of the day. An outsider would say that his sentiments were callous. Trial lawyers would nod, knowing that it is dangerous to our mental health to get too invested in a client’s case. Lawyers and outsiders alike would agree that he was a jerk.

Win or lose, a closed case leaves an empty spot in a lawyer’s spirit. We try to move on to the next case quickly, especially after a loss. I find that I drag my heels for a week after losing a case and two weeks after a win. Maybe firemen feel the same way after the adrenaline rush of fighting a fire. Clearly that is not a good metaphor. The only smoke I  inhale is second hand from cigars.

I was doing so now, in fact. Stu had lit an especially stinky stogie, using my “no smoking” sign as an ash tray.

“Lawyers rarely win or lose,” he said. “Maybe ten percent of the time, on the margins, the lawyer makes a difference. The rest of the time the facts are dealt cards and what the jury does is not always related to the facts or the lawyers.”

I wanted to argue that lawyers make the difference more often than he suggested but it was too late. The cigar smoke still hung in the air but Mr. Thomas was already asleep in my office. He hadn’t yet won, quitting mid-argument. Unfortunately for lawyers, quitting mid case doesn’t pay very well.  My friend snored pro-bono.

©2025 With All Due Respect. Spencer Farris is the founding partner of The S.E. Farris Law Firm in St Louis, Missouri. Comments or criticisms about this column may be sent c/o this publication or directly to him via email at farris@farrislaw.net. He typically responds after his allotted nap time.