Some of you, even those of you who are waist-deep in the effluence of the legal profession, may not be aware of the age-old and mystical world of Iurimancy, or the use of occult theories and procedures to practice law. Though rare in our modern legal world, the practice of Iurimancy has a long and colorful history; did you know, for example, that Clarence Darrow won the Ossian Sweet trial by scrying his closing argument in a dixie cup of Bourbon? Or that F. Lee Bailey used a “spirit paralegal” named “Ed” to aid him in his cross-examination of Mark Fuhrman in the O.J. Simpson trial? Even Gerry Spence often uses augury to prepare his cases for trial¹.

The following can be put into use by any attorney who wants that extra “edge” over the competition that the invisible world of the spirits gives.

THE JUROT

Selecting a jury can be difficult even in the best of times. There are many different and conflicting works available to aid you in the selection process, but none are 100% effective. Some firms hire high-priced “jury consultants,” some  of whom have been known to have up to an astonishing 50% success rate.

FIG. 1: An archaic hand of Jurot. NB: Your jury pool probably will not include an heirophant.

A more-scientific way to select a jury involves a deck of cards representing each of the jurors in your pool– “Jurot Cards.” These cards are shuffled, cut, then “dealt” into a sideways-cross pattern on counsel table. The resulting “hand” of Jurot cards tells you, six at a time, which jurors you do or do not want on your jury– an upside-down card indicates “undesirable,” and the inensity of desirability/undesirability increases as you go from left to right.

This method of jury selection was used to great effect by John Adams (Samuel Salter Blowers made the cards, but Adams read them) in his defense of the British soldiers on trial following the Boston Massacre².

Modern practitioners prefer to make their own Jurot cards by writing the names and identifying information of each potential juror on a 3×5 card. If you see your opposing counsel laying down 3×5 cards in strange, seemingly random patterns during voir dire, it may be time to settle.

THE OUIJUR (2d)™

FIG. 2: The OuiJur(2d)™ board, and mysterious, spooky, gliding planchette.

My regular readers may recall the OuiJur (2d)™ from the 2007 Jovial Counsel Christmas Catalog. Be advised, the OuiJur (2d)™ is no mere parlor trick, nor amusing and diverting portal to the evil spirits of Satan’s Court for the delight of preteen slumber parties. The OuiJur (2d)™ is a powerful and serious tool for communication with the damned and tortured, but no less brilliant, souls of attorneys trapped between this world and the next (most are). Chances are, those attorneys were far better at their jobs in life than you currently are, and can answer even the most complicated and arcane legal issues with the greatest of ease.

Many attorneys who have not taken the power of the OuiJur (2d)™ seriously have ended up pulled beyond their ken into the strange and frightening world of Jurimancy. One attorney in Port Townsend used the board with his partner at a Hallowe’en party as a joke– he later found the ghost of Justice Rehnquist occupying his office– just kind of sitting the corner, quietly, occasionally scratching his nose– and went mad; additionally, his teenage daughter began talking to a being named “Justice Howdy.” RESPECT THE OUIJUR (2d)™ OR FACE PERIL³.

THE WACDL LISTSERVE

None have yet been able to explain the strange portal that may be opened simply by providing your e-mail address and $160/year to the Washington Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. Some say that Abdul Alhazrad discovered a way to trap the consciousnesses of attorneys in electronic pulses; still others posit that some psychic energy is responsible for the strange and random delivery of advisory e-mails. Personally, I believe that most of the missives received are merely serendipitous spam. In any event, often a useful answer to a pressing legal issue or a really good penis joke may be found through membership.

FOLK TRADITIONS

FIG. 3: The infamous "Hillbilly Westlaw"

These simple and homespun techniques can be as simple as dangling your wedding band on a chain over the stomach of each juror (left rotation– strike, right rotation– don’t strike), or removing the peel of a ripe apple in one strip  with your grandfather’s pocket-knife, throwing the peel over your left shoulder, and examining the shape it falls in to determine what cause of action your client’s complaint should contain⁴. These methods of Iurimancy are the more crude and primitive ones which were used by simple country lawyers with no understanding of the deeper powers they sought to harness. Like Abe Lincoln, or Daniel Webster. Real rubes.

These techniques may aid you in your practice, but always remember that they should never become a crutch; Occult Lawyering is not a suitable replacement for hard work, bribery, and knowing the judge.

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1. Maybe not. It is possible that he just hunts a lot of pheasants, and he just happened to be field-dressing them as I walked by.

2. Adams, a staunch Patriot, was, of course, appointed to the case. He received 18 guineas for his work (£18 18/), or about $500 in current U.S. Dollars, thus becoming the first and highest-paid public defender in U.S. history.

3. Coincidentally, OuiJur(2d)™ mousepads, prints and other high-quality gimcracks and gewgaws are available for sale at The Jovial Counsel’s Superior Value Emporium at CafePress. This does not mean that the OuiJur(2d)™ is not a SERIOUS TOOL and DANGEROUS PRODUCT in the wrong hands, just that it is REASONABLY-PRICED and HIGH-QUALITY.

4. This method may also be used to determine what gender your unborn child will be. Be sure you know which answer goes to which question!

In Re: Custody of Dolores H.
Massachusetts Supreme Court, 2004
833 Mass. 401, 974 N.E.2d 404

Spina, J.

Petitioner/Appellee Humbert Humbert, a professor of comparative French literature currently on sabbatical, seeks to gain custody of his thirteen year-old stepdaughter Dolores H. Following the death of his second wife, Charlotte H., Prof. Humbert requested that the Massachusetts Family Court grant him custody, which they did. On this appeal brought by a third-party petitioner, whose petition for custody was denied by that Court, he requests that this Court uphold the decision of the lower court granting his petition.

While this petition has met with considerable outcry in the public media and popular press, we must not forget that a family has many definitions in this day and age. To say that a forty-six year-old, disturbingly-melancholic, European man, traveling the country in a station-wagon and checking into single rooms in tawdry motels with a thirteen year-old girl not his natural daughter (and for whom he seems to have a strange affinity) is not a family is to deny the very cornerstone of America; a family is love, and a family is security. Both of these things Prof. Humbert can provide for Dolores H.

Notwithstanding the various amici curiae briefs this court has received from both sides, from the ACLU, the Christian Coalition, The International Society for the Protection of Nymphets, to name but a few, all represented ably by counsel, this court is constrained by a deep sense of moral and emotional duty to uphold the decision of the Massachusetts Family Court and allow Prof. Humbert to retain custody of his step-child, who he intends to withdraw from public school and tutor himself whilst on the road. Not only is Prof. Humbert eminently qualified to take charge of Dolores’s education (he has already taught her near fluent French), a trip of this magnitude across these great United States will no doubt be endlessly broadening for a young girl of Dolores’s age. We therefore affirm the decision of the lower court.

Greany, J., Dissenting.

Though far be it from me to declare what a family is and is not in this day and age, I agree with the majority to an extent: a family is love, and a family is security. That Prof. Humbert can supply love is not at issue here; however Prof. Humbert has been on “sabbatical” for some time and has not enjoyed gainful employment for many years. The large sum left to him by his “oncle [A]mericain” as his attorney, Mr. Nabokov’s brief so elegantly puts it, amounts only to some few thousand dollars a year. I would grant the petition of the Appellant, Mr. Claire Quilty, an eminent and distinguished American author and playwright, whose income easily exceeds that of myself and my brethren, and who owns a monumental home, Pavor Manor, one of America’s finest architectural examples of Victorian Gothic style. Mr. Quilty, though not related, has known Dolores H. for many years, his cousin being the town dentist. His interest and genuine caring for this child is a model of decent behavior to all of us, and his willingness to take in Dolores H. is nothing short of utter saintliness.

Ireland, J. Dissenting.

I’m can’t quite put my finger on why, but the phrase “small agile rump,” appearing on page 21 of Mr. Nabokov’s brief distresses me immensely, so I respectfully dissent.

I’ve been concerned for some time about the methods of advertising that my brethren in the Bar employ. There was a time, once, when lawyer adverts were not only considered to be in poor taste and frowned upon, but were also forbidden and could result in a one-way ticket to a career in used-car sales for the unwary practitioner.

One need only review Episode 110 of Green Acres (in which Lisa takes out an ad in the Hooterville and Pixley newspapers for Oliver’s fledgling law firm without his knowledge or consent, resulting in hilarious disciplinary hijinks) to see the evidence of this simpler and more discerning time.

Nowadays, however, one can’t flip on the TeeVee or open a telephone directory without being accosted by the smiling or scowling face of some attorney who wants one’s business and isn’t afraid to ask for it in tri-color, 3-by-5, pure, barratrous glory; and it seems with the passage of each year, the commercials get more and more brazen, the celebrity endorsements less and less dignified, the cowboy hats sporting snakeskin bands and pheasant feathers larger and larger. Promises of “big cash settlements” and the ability of a gentleman barrister (for lady barristers seldom deign to such ignominy, with one notable exception) to “make the insurance companies pay” are thick in the air, and often result in the penny-copper taste of sick in one’s throat and a general loss of respect for the legal community as a whole.

I’m happy to say that the firm I work for has never advertised– in fact, our phone number is unlisted. We rely solely on word-of-mouth recommendations, and we are not hurting for work. Someday, we may advertise, but when we do I hope it’s only with our names and contact information, maybe our fields of specialization and a nice clip art image of a sad clown. My boss offered to run an ad in the paper with the announcement of my hiring by the firm, but I firmly declined, remembering the announcement of the hiring of a former classmate that sent the members of my little law school clique into (perhaps jealous) fits of mockery amongst ourselves.

My friend Vinny has placed an ad in the local “Thrifty Bonus Nickel” type paper, and has had to endure our good-natured (for the most part) ribbing as a result. It does seem to have paid dividends as far as crack-possession and dependency cases are concerned, however.

The following are based on ads I’ve seen, and also on the behaviors of attorneys I work with every day.

(Click the thumbnail to see the ad in a size you can actually read)