For the past three weeks, I have risen from my warm comfortable bed, only to face the same recurring dilemma: return to my blissful dreams or go to another day of Winter Evidence. As a battle-scarred veteran of the Harvard Law School, I am no longer afraid of the dark forces which strike fear in the hearts of many 1Ls: the Socratic Method, In-Class Exams, and, of course, Grades. Over time, I have learned to speak my mind when called upon, to study the concepts most likely to be tested, and to live with the outcome, good or bad. So, every morning, I had to make a simple decision, free of fear and bias: Are the things I will learn today worth my time? Despite the muddy snow and freezing rain so characteristic of New England winter, the answer was always a resounding "Yes."

Sitting in the Ames courtroom, I found myself drawn to your discussions and dialogues in a way that has become almost foreign to me as a law student. Instead of posing abstract hypotheticals devoid of emotion, you challenged us to go beyond the logic of law and to confront the pain and suffering of real people. I will never forget the trial video that you played for us during our discussion of prejudice and the Lopinson case. When the gruesome photographs of the victims’ bodies were displayed on the large screen projector, I remember thinking, "Is this for real?" After seeing one photograph after another, I felt shock and then outrage at the violence that had been committed. In our media-driven world full of violent movies and TV dramas, I was surprised to find myself shocked by the brutality of the crimes displayed in the photographs.

Through this vivid demonstration, you taught us the power of emotion. After years of law school, many of us have become overly cynical, dismissing emotional pleas as "fluff" in favor of arguments grounded in logic and legal doctrines. In the real world, however, people make their most important decisions from the heart. By ignoring arguments and evidence aimed at arousing feelings of sympathy, anger, and guilt, we are unwittingly throwing away our most powerful tools of persuasion.

At the same time, you also taught us the importance of credibility. In case after case, from the biblical story of King Solomon to the Greek tragedy "Electra," you forced us to examine our attitudes and emotions toward the characters involved and then to shift our frames of reference. Suddenly, the "bad guy" became the "hero" and vice versa. Through this process, you taught us that, in the art of persuasion, purpose and character of the messenger are just as important as the clarity of the message.

Finally, you taught us that every argument can be reduced to a story and that the search for truth is the search for the most plausible, the most believable story. In every trial, each side presents its own story of the events in dispute. As lawyers and storytellers, we strive to create a narrative in which our client’s actions and interests are portrayed in the best light possible, while resonating with the audience’s view of the world. At the same time, in a courtroom, we are restrained by the rules of evidence in telling our stories. For reasons of fairness and public policy, we are restricted in the way our stories can be told (e.g. leading questions on direct), and we are precluded from telling certain stories altogether (e.g. hearsay).

The most important stories, however, are often told outside the courtroom, through press conferences, books, and now the Internet. As exemplified by the Woburn case and "A Civil Action," participants in a legal dispute often have a powerful desire to have their stories heard, not only by the nameless men and women of the jury but by the public at large. The goal is not to arrive at "The Truth," but to present as many voices and stories as possible so that no one person or institution can dominate the storytelling process. In this context, you introduced us to the Internet as a unique medium for telling stories. Through our group projects, all of us had the opportunity to hone our skills as storytellers and to explore innovative ways of presenting arguments and evidence on the Internet. Unlike the courtroom, there are no rules of evidence on the Internet. As storytellers, we are only limited by the attention span of our audience.

Sincerely,

Satisfied Student