The game of law

This is an interesting idea that seems to come up again and again when talking about law, and I find it’s one worth investigating. Ewick and Sibley write, “games are clearly demarcated encounters, bounded in space and time, with formal beginnings, turn takings and endings” (p. 136). Obviously, a very similar description could be applied towards the law. Several of the respondents used in this book too, referred to the justice system as some type of game to be played. Arthur Williams found that there was a “great deal of mental stimulation in situations where” the lawyers “were playing games” (p. 138). Raymond Johnson too looked at the justice system as game, as an arena where “You either win, or you lose. As long as you accomplish your objectives, you win. I’m not concerned about justice” (p. 140).
In reality, it is a game, one that Ewick and Sibley say have rules, boundaries, and objectives. And like all games, they do eventually come to a sort of conclusion, where you either win or lose. But there are even more parallels than that. Juries and lawyers are “drafted” by the defendants. A judge presides over the court as a sort of referee or umpire to ensure that the rules are followed. Clients that have more money, like professional sports teams are able equip themselves with better legal lineups, increasing their chances of victory. The court established at varying levels of power and importance, as are major and minor league teams. These comparisons go on and on, and it becomes clear, as it did with Michelle Stewart, that “the truth has very little to do with it, that it is really just a chess game” (p. 138).
As Denzel says in Training Day: “It’s not what you know. It’s what you can prove.” Clearly, it’s how you play the game. And in sports all the time there are ways around the truth, around the rules. In both worlds, there are loopholes, strategies, practices, coaching sessions. In both processes decisions are made and carried out in a way that will influence the outcome of the game, of the trial, in the favor of one party/team of the other. And this idea of game is not limited to the courtroom, but rather it extends throughout the whole process.
For example, two summers ago, my guitar was stolen from the backseat of my car. I immediately sought out help from the police by filing a report on my stolen property. In addition, I reported the missing item to several music shops in the area and told them to be on the lookout. One week later, one store contacted me with the name and number of a person selling the exact item described. After receiving that information, I again contacted the police and told them who stole the guitar. In the end, I was able to recover my stolen property. The point is, even in this process, which occurred outside the courtroom, a game was played. I made specific maneuvers and drafted key players (guitar stores and police) in order to get back my guitar, and once I knew where it was, I sent in my closer to secure the win (in the form of a detective).
In the end I also had to make a decision about whether or not to press charges. If charges were filed, the guitar would be kept as evidence, and it was likely that it would take months before it was finally returned to me. So in the end, I had to make a decision that, to some, would seem like sacrificing justice, in order to get my guitar back as soon as possible and allow me to finish out the season. Maybe a slight stretch with my example, but that point is that the law truly can be a game, one, that is played with a strategy and key heavy hitters, and in this case, I believe I played it rather well.