Storytelling: A Technique for Juror Persuasion
While many lawyers are storytellers[1], some seem to have a “gift.” When these people say, “Let me tell you a story…” everyone gets quiet. They know the story will be entertaining and memorable. It will be a story they would like to tell themselves. Great storytellers may have something special, but for the most part, storytelling is a skill. This article is about how to develop stories for a jury.
The typical case includes scores of facts, technical terms, and concepts that are foreign to most jurors. A juror’s recollection of critical case facts hours, days, or even weeks later can be the difference between success and failure. In trial, lawyers must provide jurors a way to remember the key facts and arguments that will be needed for a favorable outcome during deliberations[2]. Stories, when well-conceived and executed, provide jurors a memorable and persuasive framework for their recollection of critical case facts.
Stories are not collections of facts interspersed with proverbs, analogies, metaphors, biblical references, song titles, and anecdotes. Stories have a beginning, middle, and end. Juror research indicates that the presentation of evidence in story form is more persuasive than reciting facts or organizing a presentation by witness order[3]. More importantly, juror decisions are affected by when the story begins and the point of view used to tell the story[4]. This “sequencing” of the story can change the outcome of deliberations.
How does storytelling help jurors?
Storytelling helps jurors focus and remember critical case facts and issues.
Storytelling provides jurors an organizing framework for evaluating which facts are relevant or irrelevant as well as what evidence is important. Stories also help jurors understand the motives of a party or key witness. Without a story, the case may be difficult for jurors to understand or remember. [5] Jurors will look for a story, and if they don’t hear one, they will create one to make sense of the evidence they think they have heard. The story created gives them a framework they can use to organize, sort, and evaluate the information given during the trial.[6]
Finally, storytelling provides lawyers with a juror-directed focus, an organizing framework of evidence the jury must believe in order for your story to prevail during deliberations. In the same fashion that a story gives jurors a framework to help organize evidence, it provides a focus for the trial lawyer on what evidence is most important from the perspective of the trial story (and the story’s audience- the juror). The lawyer who organizes his presentation around that framework provides jurors with a story they can adopt, remember, and use in deliberations.
Developing a Story for a Case
1. The story must have a clear “juror takeaway.”
To develop a story, the lawyer must decide the juror takeaway that is communicated in the story. In an intersection collision case, one of the juror takeaways might be that the defendant ignored the rules of the road and was operating his/her car without any regard for others. A juror takeaway for a story may be a fact-based conclusion or a conclusion based on a combination of facts and emotion. Professional writers compress their audience “takeaway” to one or two sentences before they begin to write, and they write the takeaway down.[7]. Stories developed for litigation are no different. What facts, reasons, and motivation must a story provide for a juror have to decide this issue favorably? The takeaway chosen must be reduced to one or two simple non-technical sentences. No decision made about telling the story should interfere with the effective delivery of the takeaway.[8]
“The hunter who chases two rabbits catches neither one.”
Pick one takeaway for your story.
2. Point of view controls the scenes of the story and the perception of listeners.
The single most important choice made in developing a story is its point of view; that is, who is telling the story[9]. Point of view is about whose “eyes” are used to describe the action of the story. More than any other technique, point of view influences how listeners perceive the story[10]. Among other things, the choice of the point of view determines what scenes can be included[11].
Point of view can be used to show the inter-relationship of facts that might not otherwise be either obvious or memorable. Point of view can also allow the presentation of facts, so they are strategically sequenced[12] and designed to take advantage of known juror biases. An example is the best way to demonstrate.
“Bill Bronson is leaving his office on the afternoon of November 24th. He is leaving the office 10 minutes earlier than usual. He gets into the car and begins to take the same route home that he always takes. The same route he has taken every day for the last 8 years. It’s just a few miles… a right turn out of the parking lot, a right on State Street, and a left onto 4th avenue. But, for some reason, instead of turning onto State Street, he keeps driving until he gets to South Street. He is in the middle of the intersection when a drunk driver runs the red light and kills him.”
At his funeral, people say, “If only . . .”
Most people will complete this by saying:
“If only he had taken his usual route home, if only he hadn’t gone a different way, if only he hadn’t left work early that day.”
Point of view in a story affects how listeners attribute responsibility and blame. Telling this same story using a different point of view (the drunk driver) focuses the listener on a completely different takeaway.
“Steven Randall is at Mallory’s bar at the corner of South and 3rd Avenue. He is finishing his sixth screwdriver. His words are slurred; the bartender offers to get him a ride home, but Randall mutters and stumbles out the door. He drops the keys trying to unlock the car door, but finally gets it opened and gets inside. He starts the car and hits the gas as he leaves the parking lot, burning rubber. As he goes down South Street, he accelerates to 50 mph. He doesn’t see the red light and hits a green Toyota broadside.
At the same time Randall was finishing his sixth drink, Bill Bronson is leaving his office. He gets into his dark green Toyota, puts on his seatbelt and…”
Storytellers must use great care in selecting the characters used for point of view. When adopting a character or witness’ point of view, that character becomes important in the story and to the jurors.[13] After selecting the person who will provide the point of view, collect facts that describe his/her dress, mannerisms, appearance, things in their hands or other details, and the setting[14]. Providing details about the person who serves for the point of view makes them more real and memorable. Using two points of view, and telling two stories in parallel, it is possible to compare the responsible conduct of one party with the unreasonable conduct of another. The example immediately above tells the drunk driver’s story and then begins, in parallel, the story of the victim. The juxtaposition of facts, without argument, allows the jurors to make their own decision about whose conduct was reasonable. However, once the story begins with a chosen character’s point of view, you should stay in that viewpoint through the scene[15].
The jurors will focus on the conduct of characters in your story.
For Liability Stories – focus on the conduct of the defendant.
3. Make sure the story is about people, not facts.
The golden rule in journalism is that stories are always about people. Journalists do not write about the details of public policy; they write about the politicians arguing about the policy or the people whose lives are/may be changed by the policy. The story is not about a fire; it is about the people involved in the fire. All good stories are, in a sense, biographies that encompass key events, milestones, or watersheds in a person’s life. Like journalism, who, what, when, where, and why are questions that should be answered by a story[16].
Use description to help jurors characterize key story characters.
The way people are described affects whether a listener perceives them as positive or negative. Fiction writers and storytellers have identified characteristics they use to describe sympathetic, positive characters. There are 10 (more or less) characteristics that make characters sympathetic to audiences. Appropriate story descriptions can increase a juror’s positive perceptions about a witness or party.
Physical attractiveness is the most obvious characteristic that makes a witness or litigant (a character in story terms) appealing to a jury/audience. Victims can be also be seen positively, providing they had no choice in their role as victim and they do not appear weak. Jurors may admire the actions of Saviors who take responsibility for others, even if the rescue is unsuccessful. Characters who make personal sacrifice also win points. However, the jurors must feel that the character had no other choice, or that the sacrifice will make a difference. Characters with plan and purpose or hunger and dreams also are appealing. As a general rule, jury sympathy increases with the importance of the character’s dream, and the amount of effort exerted to accomplish the dream. Jurors admire courage, i.e. the willingness to take physical, social, and financial risks. Along with courage however, the character must demonstrate fair play. Jurors expect characters to have positive attitudes toward themselves and others. Characters who take personal responsibility for themselves and do not whine, despite hardship, may be admired for their positive attitude [17]. Dependability always is a positive characteristic. If a character is dependable, many jurors will see that as an attractive characteristic. Jurors like cleverness when they see it in someone who they view as a problem-solver. Intellect is not an asset in a character. American audiences tend to resent characters that are smarter and better educated than other people[18]. A character that blames others, a character that whines, a character who takes all the credit, or who complains will be unattractive[19].
In general, we want to frame defendants as villains, possessing traits we are all familiar with. A great villain is usually: Powerful, Intelligent, Immoral, Deceptive, A character, rather than a collective.[20]
With corporate entities – focus on the choices of an individual in the corporation, not the collective, and if possible, frame them as someone jurors will not like.
4. Story structure is based on the juror takeaways and points of view required.
Structure is the glue that holds stories together[21]. To jurors, stories are not collections of facts interspersed with proverbs, analogies, metaphors, biblical references, song titles, and anecdotes. Their view of what is a story comes from a larger cultural context; what they have experienced in television, in movies, in the stories they read, and the stories they have been told.[22] This is the standard jurors use for judging storytelling.
While a lawyer may be creative and have command of case facts, compelling stories that meet this standard cannot be composed entirely in the head. The best, most experienced storytellers and trial lawyers write outlines or create storyboards to develop and structure the stories they tell[23]. The outline must include a beginning, middle, and end that show the scenes in the story and their relationship to each other[24].
Developing a single story that encompasses every important takeaway in a case may be impossible with the evidence available. However it may be possible to craft separate but related stories for liability, damages, motivation to act, and one or more significant landmines. The choice of which story is used should be based on a strategic decision about how best to win, or at least advance, the case.
Constructing any story outline requires the following.
A. Marshall the facts that will make your story come alive.
Storytelling may require facts that are not in your file. Unless there was a plan before discovery began, critical story facts may not be in an interrogatory answers, or covered in a deposition. What kinds of facts are these? Story facts anchor a story, by making it both real and memorable[25]. One way they do this is by including personal details about the individuals used for the point of view in the story. Point of view characters come alive when there are details about their personal characteristics as well as where they were, what they were doing, how they were acting, what they were wearing, and why they were there. Details about the weather, physical surroundings, and descriptions of the scene can also be used to make the story come alive.
B. Decide where to start and end the story.
The start of the story should involve what storytellers call a conflict. A conflict is a change, decision, or dispute that is critical to your juror takeaway and creates a story question. Compelling, memorable stories require conflict; there is no substitute[26]. Identify what action or goal your most significant character will select to resolve things. Think about the story question this goal will put in the listener’s mind. Will it (hopefully) lead to the juror takeaway required? In our earlier example, Bill Bronson made a decision to leave early and take a different path home. Steve Randall, the drunk driver, made a decision to refuse the bartender’s help in getting a ride home. These were the decisions, the conflicts that began each character’s story. The nature of the conflict (change, decision, dispute) should be included, or at least hinted at, in the opening statement[27]. For maximum effectiveness, the story should start where a change threatens the character or status quo and creates a question that is answered by the story’s end[28].
In addition to identifying the conflict, the story just clearly identify the time when this conflict, decision, or change occurs. There should be careful thought about when the story begins. Choosing an unorthodox time to begin the story may be effective. For example, in a products liability case the plaintiff may choose to start the story during the original concept design or manufacture of the product, years before injury. The defense may want to start the story months before the injury but at a different point, for example, at the time when a co-worker warned against removing a guard. The juror takeaway chosen for the story will dictate where to start the story (and the point of view adopted).
Once the decision is made on where to begin the story, another decision must be made on when to end it. The end of the story should provide a resolution to the conflict, and the story question that is created in the opening scene[29].
C. Outline the scenes and structure of your story into three acts.
“Ignore three-act structure and you will fail.”[30] When writers and storytellers talk about story structure, they are referring to three-act structure. This is the standard for all stories, whether they are in one-act plays, television shows, movies, or novels. Three-act structure provides form, lucidity, and balance to stories. At the most basic level, a story must have a beginning, middle, and an end.
The beginning of a story includes two elements, a “set-up” and an introduction of the conflict (change, decision, or dispute). This set-up acquaints the listener with the setting, the main character, and gives the listener an idea of what the story may be about. The introduction of conflict is the second element of the beginning.
The middle of the story (or second act) involves a turning point. This is a change in events where complications arise, where “the plot thickens”, or a fateful decision is made.
The end of the story (the third act) incorporates three separate elements, a climax, a final confrontation, and a resolution. The climax is the culmination of events, the point in the story where all the issues must be resolved. The final confrontation follows the climax. The climax is the cause; the final confrontation is the effect of the climax and resolves the issues that peak in the climax. The resolution is the final outcome of the story. In our earlier example of Bill Bronson’s story the climax is the collision, the final confrontation is his death, and the resolution is the questioning by people at the funeral home (“If only he had taken his usual route home . . .”).
Like each act of a play, each part of a story may have more than one scene. The scene is the basic building block of any story. A scene can convey mood, attitude, and sense of time and place. However, those messages are secondary. A scene isn’t just description, it arises for a reason and it is going somewhere. It has meaning. It has a point[31]. For beginning storytellers, it is critical to realize that each scene is a segment of story action, not something that goes on in a character’s head[32]
D. Identify the transitions you will use between scenes.
Every story must have a beginning, middle and end, but they must be also be connected. The connections between parts of a story are called transitions. Transitions can be a carefully crafted sentence at the end of a scene and another at the beginning of the next. Transitions can be a direct statement to the listener that a change in time, place, or viewpoint has happened since the last scene, e.g., “At about the same time . . .or three hours later . . . or in another office 500 miles away . . .”[33] Transitions may also be accomplished by connected action that is begun in one scene and continued in the next.
E. Create Storyboards to organize and develop your story.
As a device to organize the outline and ideas about a story, nothing works better than storyboards. Professional writers have used storyboards for years as a technique to visually identify the scenes and action of their stories. Drawing a series of boxes on a page with enough room for a rough picture and notes can create a beginning set of storyboards. As an alternative, 3 x 5 cards can be used. Within each box (or 3 x 5 card), make a simple picture of who is in the scene and where the scene takes place. Include notes about when it takes place and the action for the scene. The “boards” can be arranged and rearranged to create the best strategic sequence for the story, and may suggest alternative points to start or end the story. Once the order of the scenes is set, a transition should be suggested for the next scene. Once developed, storyboards can be used to rehearse, test, and refine the story.
F. Rehearse, Test, and Refine your story.
Storytelling can enthrall listeners. Dramatic presentations by great actors or actresses can move audiences. Neither is spontaneous. Stories and story presentation must be practiced. The storyteller cannot assume the story works. He/she needs someone else to say whether the story is interesting, and whether the listener derives the story question that is part of the presenter’s plan. The impact and perceptions of a presentation may be improved by review of the tone, inflection, gestures, facial expressions, and other elements of presentation. The reason professional storytellers, actors, and actresses are able to make a presentation seem natural (and compelling) is because the story has been rehearsed, tested, and refined repeatedly.
5. Show/Don’t tell
Show/Don’t tell is common advice to writers and storytellers learning their craft. “Showing” is using details and engaging the senses. “Telling” is narrative that explains what is going on in the story[34].
When using storytelling as a technique you must focus on recreating events rather than listing facts (i.e., creating a “stack o’ facts”). No matter how small the action, you are describing it to listeners, not just informing them that it happened[35]. This does not mean that everything must be described ad nauseum, sometimes it takes only one or two details to light up a character for listeners[36].
What a character tastes, touches, smells, and sees may be more important than what he hears[37]. Incorporate details in your story that stimulate a listener’s senses, including sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste. While too many details like this can slow the pace of your story, adding just the right amount will make it more real and memorable.
6. Use active voice, present tense, and third person.
Active Voice
Active voice refers to sentences where the actor/subject is identified (passive voice) at the beginning of the sentence and is followed by the action verb, i.e., the subject of the sentence acts. Example: The bill was passed by Congress (passive voice-the statement of a fact) vs. Congress passed the bill (active voice-a description of action). Passive voice generally takes more words, and often leaves it unclear who is doing what to whom.[38]Active voice generally makes sentences shorter and more vigorous.[39] Since the goal of storytelling is to describe action (not to develop a stack o’ facts), active voice is the preferred style for presentation.
Tense
Writers of dramatic literature write in the present tense. It is the preferred tense for short stories, including stories used in litigation[40].
Telling a story in the present tense, using active verbs, creates a greater impact on the listener than the use of past tense or passive verbs. The story is happening now, and the listener is there. Compare the following:
“Bill Bronson left his office on the afternoon of November 24th, 10 minutes earlier than usual. He got into the car and took the same route home that he always took. The same route he has taken every day for the last 8 years. It’s just a few miles… a right turn out of the parking lot, a right on State Street, and a left onto 4th avenue. But, for some reason, instead of turning onto State Street he kept driving until he got to South Street. He was in the middle of the intersection when a drunk driver ran the red light and killed him.”
“Bill Bronson is leaving his office on the afternoon of November 24th. He is leaving the office 10 minutes earlier than usual. He gets into the car and begins to take the same route home that he always takes. The same route he has taken every day for the last 8 years. It’s just a few miles… a right turn out of the parking lot, a right on State Street, and a left onto 4th avenue. But, for some reason, instead of turning onto State Street he keeps driving until he gets to South Street. He is in the middle of the intersection when a drunk driver runs the red light and kills him.”
Past tense creates a story about something that has already happened, something the listener can do nothing about (the first example here, Bill Bronson left his office . . .) Present tense brings the listener into a story whose ending is not inevitable. Using present tense is the easiest aspect of storytelling, but one that requires discipline.
Person
Almost all stories, including the news, history, and science are written in either first person or third person.
Singular Plural
First Person I go We go
Second Person You go You go
Third Person He goes They go
First-person is for the eyewitness account, the story in which I tell you what I did, and what happened to me. Stories are generally told in the third person, through a narrator[41].
7. Speak simply and ask the listener’s questions.
Technical and legal terms, arcane phrases, and unusual vocabulary interfere with communication to jurors. Jurors must conclude either lawyers use those words to impress them or that lawyers don’t care whether they understand. Either is bad. Jurors cannot be persuaded if they are confused or don’t understand. The more direct the language, the clearer it is, the more powerful it will be.
Lawyers have a tendency to add qualifiers (adjectives and adverbs) in their spoken and written messages. Too many qualifiers mean that you are describing things in the abstract rather than in the particular. Instead of telling us that the plaintiff works tirelessly, describe the calluses on her hand or her slow and heavy walk[42]. Trial scripts should be examined to make sure adjectives and adverbs aren’t being used to avoid the hard work of observation.
Asking a rhetorical question will often produce more favorable results with juries than making a statement[43]. Rhetorical questions engage the listener in the story, and the segment of the story to follow. The answer to the rhetorical question (created by the juror and now inside his/her head) will be the standard used to measure the conduct of the party involved in your story[44]. Asking, “What would be the first priority for a company building a passenger ship that would cross the icy waters of the North Atlantic?” involves the juror, and allows them to answer the question with what they would have done.
8. Plan story delivery to vary the tone of voice used.
The second meaning of Show/Don’t tell is that storytelling requires variation in the tone of voice, facial expression, and pace. Each of these, along with gestures and body language can emphasize and animate key points of the story[45].
Tone of voice conveys a wide spectrum of meanings. People often use a more limited vocabulary when talking than when writing because they don’t need as many words. Instead, tone of voice distinguishes meaning[46].
When telling a story, the storyteller must use their natural voice and style. However, almost everyone has a range in his/her natural voice. Tone of voice is a combination of timbre, inflection, and loudness. Taken together they convey much of the meaning of the spoken word[47]. The timbre, inflection, and loudness we use when talking to a small child is different from the timbre, inflection, and loudness we use when talking to a former college roommate over a beer. Storytellers plan the timbre, inflection, and loudness they will use for each portion of the story as well as when and how it will change. Social psychologists have established that varying voice is one aspect of communication that can make a speaker both more persuasive, and more credible[48].
Slowing down or varying pace can be difficult in the pressure of trial. Anyone who has difficulty varying pace should start with using silence. Silence in a courtroom is unusual. It can be used to make a jury wonder what is going on, or what is going to happen next in your story. Silence also adds emphasis and dramatic impact to the first words that break the silence.
9. Plan story delivery to incorporate non-verbal communication techniques.
Although lawyers place great emphasis on word choice, words count for only 8 percent of what a listener draws from our talking to them[49]. Tone (inflection, pace, etc.) accounts for 37 percent of the impact[50]. By far the most important aspect of our communication is nonverbal, which accounts for 55 percent of the impact[51]. Research has also established that females are more sensitive than men to non-verbal stimuli, and African-Americans are more sensitive than whites.[52]
Facial expression, gestures, and postures
Facial expression, gestures, and posture are part of the way we speak and communicate. We rely on people’s facial expression, gestures, and posture for important information about their intention, their emotional attitude toward us and toward what they are saying. Facial expression, gestures, and posture frequently change our understanding of spoken words[53].
Anchoring
One non-verbal communication technique is a process referred to as “anchoring.” Anchors are unspoken messages to jurors associated with gestures, posture, position, or other prompts. Anchors are created by using a specific gesture (posture, position, etc.) simultaneously with a verbal “message.” Repetitive pairing of the gesture with the message eventually communicates the verbal message without saying a word. Standing in a particular position in the courtroom or using a particular object whenever the questioning or evidence is about a particular issue may also be used to help create an anchor[54].
Demonstratives
Strategically selected pictures and graphics significantly increase the odds of jurors retaining your key points and remembering them during jury deliberations. For each juror takeaway an appropriate visuals can help cement that point in jurors’ minds. Demonstratives are not “pretty pictures.” They must be strategically linked to your juror takeaways and trial story. The problem with most trial presentations using visuals is that there are either too many visuals, or too few. The visuals may have nothing to do with the juror takeaways. Often the visuals are too dense, i.e. there is too much data, too many images, and too many words. When this happens, the juror takeaway can be obscured by the abundance of other data present. Demonstratives can also be disjointed and unconnected to the case, or juror takeaways. Finally, demonstratives can be designed to be aesthetically pleasing, but what makes them aesthetically pleasing may distract from the takeaway.
10. Consider using “regular people” to help identify the best story and point of view for the case.
Will a lawyer created story resonate with a jury of non-lawyers? Will jurors create stories that a lawyer doesn’t anticipate[55]? The answers are “maybe” and “yes”. Focus groups can provide both feedback on your stories and be a source of other approaches to consider. A jury consultant who is experienced in selecting, running, and debriefing focus groups can help design the research project, and analyze the reactions of the focus group to both general and focused questions relevant to your story construction and point of view. Additionally the research should explore values, concepts, and language the jurors discuss and use. Research done on prior cases, conversations with laypeople, and studying published research on juror biases may also provide insight to stories that will work in your case.
How can storytelling skills be developed?
It is unrealistic to expect that anyone can become a facile storyteller just by using the technique in trial presentations. First, most lawyers won’t get enough practice with real cases. Second, storytelling for trial presentation is a lot of work and may seem too intimidating or risky for a first attempt. The practical alternative for most people is to practice storytelling in non-legal settings. Practice on kids. Family stories can incorporate a point of view, a beginning, middle, and end, as well as a “takeaway” that can be passed on to another generation.
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[1] Many thanks to my private board of Editors: Don Beskind, Rodney Jew, Joshua Karton, Mark Kozieradzki, Jim Lees, Paul Scoptur, Tom Vesper, and Jake Vigil.
[2] To be effective in deliberations jurors who are favorable to your case must have facts and arguments “at their fingertips” which allow them to counter arguments made by opposing jurors.
[3] Pennington, Nancy and Hastie, Reid “Cognitive Theory of Juror Decision Making: The Story Model” Cardozo Law Review Vol. 13, (1991) p. 542-543.
[4] Pennington et al., op. cit. p. 550.
[5] Bothwell, Robert K. “Social Cognition in the Courtroom: Juror Information Processing and Story Construction”, A Handbook of Juror Research, ALI: Philadelphia, 1999, p. 17-5
[6] Fitzgerald, Joseph M. “Younger and Older Jurors: The Influence of Environmental Supports on Memory Performance and Decision Making in Complex Trials”, Journal of Gerontology: Psychological Services 2000, Vol. 55B, No. 6, p. 324.
[7] Kress, Nancy Beginnings, Middles & Ends, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1993, p. 66.
[8] Lipman, op. cit. p. 90
[9] Rubie, op. cit. p. 135
[10] Wood, Monica Description, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1995, p. 84., Feigenson, op. cit., p. 67.
[11] Kress, Nancy Beginnings, Middles & Ends, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1993, p. 65.
[12]Sequencing of Information—The order of how information and evidence are presented will impact on how it is interpreted by the jury. You should sequence the story in such a way as to focus attention on the conduct of the opposition. Take the jurors through the choices made by them. Order the presentation of the information in such a way as to compel them to conclude the opposition needs to be held accountable.
[13] Card, Orson Scott, Characters & Viewpoint, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1988, p. 66.
[14] Dibell,Ansen Plot, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1988, p. 23.
[15] Bickham, Jack M. Scene & Structure, Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1993, p. 43.
[16] Rubie, op. cit. p. 43.
[17] Personal responsibility is one of the most common and powerful criteria used by juries in evaluating the conduct of parties.
[18] Card, op. cit. p. 79-86.
[19] Card, op. cit. p. 86-91.
[20] Michael R. Cowen, AAJ’s Litigating Truck Collision Cases, Scottsdale, AZ, Mar. 2018.
[21] Rubie, Peter, The Elements of Storytelling, New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1996, p. 131.
[22] Lipman, Doug, Improving Your Storytelling, Little Rock: August House, 1999, p. 12, Feigenson, op. cit., p. 47
[23] Lipman, op. cit. p. 90, Spence, Gerry How to Argue and Win Every Time, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1995, p.121.
[24] Lipman, op. cit. p. 95
[25] Kress, op. cit. p. 15
[26] Bickham, op. cit. p. 23
[27] Kress, op. cit. p. 13
[28] Bickham, op. cit. p. 8
[29] Bickham, op. cit. p. 9
[30] Druxman, Michael B., The Art of Storytelling, Westlake Village, Ca.: Center Press, 1997, p. 21.
[31] Dibell, op. cit. p. 8.
[32] Bickham, op. cit. p. 50.
[33] Dibbel, op. cit. p. 112.
[34] Wood, op. cit. p. 18.
[35] Wood, op. cit. p. 25.
[36] Wood, op. cit. p. 6.
[37] Wood, op. cit. p. 11.
[38] Wydick, Richard C., Plain English for Lawyers, Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 1999, p. 46.
[39] Strunk, William Jr. White, E.B., The Elements of Style 4th Edition, Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 2000, p. 18-19.
[40] Amsterdam, A. and Hertz, R. (1992) An Analysis of Closing Arguments to a Jury, New York Law School Review, 37, 55-122, Card, op. cit. p. 131.
[41] Card, op. cit. pp. 128-129.
[42] Wood, op. cit. p. 161
[43] Zillman, D. “Rhetorical Elicitation of Agreement in Persuasion”, 21 Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 159 (1965)
[44] Gerry Spence’s writing is an example of someone who constantly communicates by telling stories and asking rhetorical questions. Spence, op. cit., p. 115
[45] Mehrabian, Albert Nonverbal Communication, Chicago: Aldine Atherton, 1972 p. 108.
[46] Lipman, op. cit. p. 24
[47] Lipman, op. cit. p. 24, see also footnote 36.
[48] Burgoon, Judee K. and Birk, Thomas “Nonverbal Behaviors, Persuasion, and Credibility” Human Communication Research, Vol. 17 No. 1, Fall 1990, p. 160.
[49] Mehrabian, op. cit. p. 108
[50] Supra. p. 108
[51] Supra. p. 108
[52] Starr, V. Hale and McCormick, Mark, Jury Selection, Boston: Little Brown, 1985.p. 333
[53] Lipman, op. cit. p. 25-26
[54] Trial Consultant David Ball has often used the following example in describing anchoring. At trial the plaintiff’s attorney uses a bright yellow manila folder to anchor a key takeaway. The folder has one question written inside, to which the answer is always “no”. As witness after witness is questioned, the attorney picks up the yellow folder and reads e.g. “Were you responsible for maintaining the brake fluid in the 1998 Navistar Tractor?” At closing argument, or before, when the attorney picks up the yellow folder the jury knows both the question, and the answer.
[55] As an example of unanticipated story creation, research has established that older jurors have “enriched processing”. Simply stated, they have so many life experiences that they can take seemingly unrelated facts and create multiple stories. A younger person would never anticipate most of the story alternatives created. See Fitzgerald, J.M. “Younger and Older Jurors: The Influence of environmental supports on memory performance and decision making in complex trials” Journal of Gerontology: Psychological Services 2000 55B(6), 323-331.
