Consumers Taking Action Part Three- Learning The Law
by Ms. Jeanette D. Bartha
This essay will discuss the American judicial system as I experienced it following the decision to sue my former psychotherapist for personal injury. The events and opinions expressed here are of this writer and not of a psychotherapist or lawyer.
Litigation is a mammoth system of twists and turns that skilled attorneys interpret and navigate for their clients. As the plaintiff, my first lesson was to understand my role in the process. I had hired an attorney, let’s call him Nathan, to represent me, therefore, my role was that of client/plaintiff, rather than eager assistant. Over the ensuing years, yes, I said years, Nathan proved to be an exceptional counselor who considered my desire to comprehend the law and intuitively knew when to omit or disclose setbacks. In addition, he was considerate of my familys’ hesitations and allowed me to determine when to contact them. His respect and consideration fostered our trust and helped us work together through the litigation process. Nathan always treated me with respect and more importantly, never viewed me as mentally incompetent.
Laws differ from state to state, so my experiences will not necessarily represent what you may encounter. Detailing every aspect of my case is too detailed for this essay, so I will highlight those, which were most prominent.
The first aspect of litigation that impacted me was discovery, the process by which both prosecution and defense counsel request any information from the opposition that they deem pertinent to their case. In my situation, defense counsel obtained all psychiatric and medical records, and photocopied personal journals dating back fifteen years. I soon realized that the legal action I had set in motion mandated the exposure of personal data I would have preferred to keep private. I was presented with two options; either allow the discovery process to overwhelm me with embarrassment and anger, or accept it.
Bear in mind, we had the same right to obtain information from the psychiatrist, whom I shall call Dr. Stratford. To me, temporary embarrassment was worth the discomfort if it meant reaching my goal. I assumed that defense counsel would misconstrue information, but Nathan explained that this was customary and that it was his job, not mine, to get around each hurdle presented. Remaining in my role as client/plaintiff reduced frustration and enabled me to handle the process that dragged through the years like an injured elephant to a watering hole.
Following discovery, statements regarding what occurred during psychotherapy were taken of all parties. The recording of depositions was the process whereby defense counsel asked me questions before a court reporter. (Remember, Nathan took the deposition of Dr. Stratford as well). Due to the volume of information that reflected nearly seven years of treatment, each deposition was taken over a period of two days.
That morning, Nathan and I met at his office to briefly review the case. He had ditched the worn jeans and Tee-shirt and was wearing a tailored suit with a crisp white shirt that exuded confidence and power. I too, wore a business suit which gave me the appearance of an attorney rather than a former mental patient. We rode the elevator to street level where harsh winter winds flapped our coattails as we dodged the lunch hour crowd. Defense counsel offices were located on an upper floor in the building across the street. Nathan and I reached the lobby, fluffed our suits and hair, and silently entered the elevator; as the doors closed, anxiety and fear gripped me unexpectedly. The elevator crept to the fifth floor and when the doors opened …there he stood in all his arrogance … Dr. Stratford.
It was the first time I had seen him in five years. I was nervous, yet eager to demonstrate to his attorney that I was not the mentally incompetent woman his client had undoubtedly described. The lawyers shook hands; Dr. Stratford and I avoided each other. We were led into a room with large glass windows and a polished wooden table that seemed as large as a football field. My knees buckled as I walked around it, but when I reached my seat, fear and anxiety turned to self-confidence and welcomed anticipation.
Over the ensuing hours, I was asked hundreds of questions by defense counsel, which gave me the opportunity to share the horrendous psychiatric treatment Dr. Stratford had dispensed. A facet of depositions that I actually found enjoyable was that as I told my story, Dr. Stratford was not permitted to say anything. With glee, I answered his lawyer’s questions by looking directly into the eyes of the man who had caused so much pain. For the first time since meeting Dr. Stratford a decade earlier, he was legally unable to interpret my thoughts and had no power. Much to my disappointment, Dr. Stratford did not attend the second day of my deposition.
The deposition process elevated my confidence and I became more eager to meet Dr. Stratford face-to-face in the courtroom. I had successfully fulfilled my obligations and had dispelled the myth that I was a disturbed woman incapable of functioning without psychiatric supervision. I was ready to competently present my case to the court. My goal was getting closer.
Next: Finale & Conclusions
Consumers Taking Action Series
