Learning to Make a Brief March

[Editor’s Note:  This month faculty members share their favorite brief writing or oral argument tip.  This is the third entry in the series.] 

Maybe it’s like your first kiss, or maybe I’m unusual this way, but I think I will always remember my first brief.  I was a new associate working with two partners on the defense of a federal securities lawsuit.  The litigation was just a minor skirmish in a larger war: the plaintiff was attempting a hostile takeover of our client, and the litigation was intended to bring some more pressure to bear on our recalcitrant board of directors. Could we do anything to relieve that pressure?

The senior partner asked me to research an obscure provision of securities law that he felt might provide a basis for a motion to dismiss under Rule 12(b)(6).  I prepared a memo that carefully assessed the strengths and weaknesses of his theory, ultimately concluding that it was viable.  “Great memo,” he responded, “now rewrite your analysis as a brief in support of a motion to dismiss.”

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Climbing Mountains and Creating Diamonds

We have all heard them. In the frazzled squeals of over-caffeinated classmates, in the somber tones of shell-shocked 2Ls, and occasionally, through the uncontrollable tears of a humbled perfectionist (hopefully not): Law school exam horror stories. These frightening tales echo throughout Eckstein Hall: “One exam counts for your entire grade!” “My Civil Procedure exam took over three hours!” “Twenty minutes into the Torts Final the kid next to me just threw down his pen and walked out!” Now I am not here to scare you, but I am also not going to lie to you, law school exams are not fun. Rather, I am here to give you advice based on how I survived my first semester of law school exams.

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The Bride of Dracula: A Halloween Story

It is Halloween, and time for my annual attempt at political satire.  Previous attempts at spooky political humor can be found here and here.  Public response to these efforts has been overwhelming, but I am going to keep doing it anyway.

Scene: A decrepit stone mansion in suburban Minnesota. A great entry hall is lit with the flames of a dozen torches. Ragged tapestries line the walls. In the corner, a grand staircase and an iron banister, covered in cobwebs, lead to the second level. The front door creaks eerily as two shadowy figures enter the room.

Van Helsing: Quiet, Mr. Harker, don’t let her hear you.

Harker: Do you think the Countess is sleeping?

Van Helsing: No. She only sleeps during the daylight.

The stillness is interrupted by a female voice coming from the top of the stairs.

The Countess: You know me all too well, Dr. Van Helsing. Did you stop by for a cup of tea? I wasn’t expecting visitors.

She steps out of the shadows and into the flickering firelight. She is wearing a diaphanous floor length gown, colored eggshell blue. Her long brown hair extends to her shoulders, where it curves back upwards in a flip. But the most striking aspect of her appearance is her stare, with two intense brown eyes that seem to pierce into her visitors’ very souls.

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