During Family Dinner, Dad Said “You’re No Lawyer”—Then His Case Landed On My Desk…

Passing the bar yet, sweetheart? Dad’s voice dripped with familiar condescension across the mahogany dining table. Or still just filing papers? I took a slow sip of wine, thinking of the stack of Supreme Court briefs waiting in my chambers. Still working on it, Dad. See, this is what happens. He told my brother Michael, the golden child with his senior partnership at Dad’s firm.

No focus, no drive, just like her mother. Mom stared at her plate while my sister-in-law Catherine poorly concealed her smirk. The weekly family dinner was proceeding exactly as expected. At least she has a steady job, Mom offered weekly. The courthouse is stable employment. Barely a parallegal, Dad scoffed, cutting into his stake.

Though I suppose someone has to file the paperwork for real lawyers. Michael chuckled. Remember when she said she was going to argue before the Supreme Court? That was cute. I checked my phone discreetly, reviewing tomorrow’s docket. The Chin Industries antitrust case would be first Dad’s biggest case in decades. He had no idea I’d be presiding.

Speaking of cases, Dad continued, biggest one of my career tomorrow. Antitrust suit that’ll reshape the whole industry. Not that you’d understand the complexity, dear. Must be stressful, I offered, thinking of the fatal flaws I’d already spotted in his brief. Nothing I can’t handle, he boasted, though the opposing council is bringing in some hot shot new judge.

Probably some political appointee who doesn’t know Richardson versus Thompson from their own reflection. I smiled, remembering how I’d written the definitive analysis of Richardson versus Thompson in law school. The same paper Dad had dismissed as amateur hour. Tell her about the president, dear, Catherine urged, though it might be a bit advanced for her level.

The Richardson doctrine? I asked innocently. Or the Thompson framework for market consolidation. Dad’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. You’ve heard of those? They come up sometimes, I said. In the filing room. Michael laughed. Right. Because parallegals totally handle landmark antitrust precedents. Mom tried again. Maybe she’s learning.

That’s good, right? Learning to file them alphabetically, maybe. Dad chuckled. Though I doubt she could tell you the first thing about how Richardson changed interstate commerce law. I thought about my clerk’s detailed analysis of exactly how dad’s case violated Richardson’s core principles. Tomorrow would be enlightening. Tell us more about your big case, Dad, I said watching him pin.

I hear it’s in front of a new justice. Some political appointment, he waved dismissively. Probably barely out of law school, but they’ll learn quick enough who runs that courtroom. My phone buzzed. A message from my clerk about lastminute adjustments to tomorrow’s questioning. The same questions that would dismantle dad’s entire argument.

You should come watch, Michael suggested with fake generosity. See how real lawyers work. Might learn something. I’ll be there, I promised, thinking of my judicial robes hanging in my chambers. Wouldn’t miss it. The filing room has a great view of the hallway. Catherine smirked. Dad raised his wine glass. To justice, he proclaimed, and to those who actually understand it.

I lifted my glass, hiding my smile. To tomorrow’s revelations. The next morning, I sat in my Supreme Court chambers, reviewing dad’s case file one final time. My clerk, James, was updating me on the packed gallery. Your father’s firm has taken up the first three rows, he reported. Quite confident from what I hear.

And where did they seat my family? I asked, adjusting my judicial robes. Front row, though they seemed confused about why they were given such prominent placement. James paused. Your brother is telling everyone how he’ll explain the big legal words to you during breaks. I smiled, reviewing my prepared questions.

Did they notice my name plate yet? Still covered until the formal introduction, court protocol and all. He grinned. Though your father just loudly explained to another partner how the rookie justice probably needed basic antitrust concepts defined. Through my chamber window, I could see more attorneys filing into the courtroom.

Dad’s signature red tie was visible in the crowd, his confidence radiating through the gathering. The press is here in force, James continued. First major antitrust case for the new justice and all. the new justice who supposedly barely passed the bar. I quoted last night’s dinner conversation. According to your brother’s comments in the hallway, yes, James checked his notes.

He’s currently explaining to the other attorneys how his little sister, who files papers here, wouldn’t understand the brilliance of their legal strategy. My phone buzzed. A message from mom. Saved you a seat in the gallery. Hope you can see okay from back there. Time? I asked, standing to adjust my ropes. 3 minutes to introduction. James handed me the final briefing.

Your father just asked if the new political appointee had arrived yet. Called them and I quote, “Probably another academic who never tried a real case.” I thought of my years on the federal bench, the landmark decisions, the careful anonymity I’d maintained during my rise through the judiciary, all leading to this moment. the Richardson precedent.

I confirmed, though I’d practically written the modern interpretation. They’ve built their entire argument on a fundamental misreading of it. James confirmed. Your analysis from last night identifies 16 critical flaws. Through the door, I could hear the gallery settling. Dad’s confident voice carried. Watch and learn how real lawyers handle the highest court.

Your sister-in-law is explaining court procedure to the other partner’s wives. James reported, fighting a smile. She just mentioned how nice it was that they let you work here, even in such a small role. I gathered my files, checking my reflection one final time, and the bedding pool. The firm’s associates have wagered two months salary on your father’s victory.

James straightened his tie, though I noticed several clerks taking the other side after reviewing your questions. The marshall’s voice carried through the door. All rise. Ready? James asked, gathering the final documents. I thought of last night’s dinner, of decades of dismissal and condescension, of being the daughter who just couldn’t grasp real law.

One last thing, I said, straightening my robe. Make sure the court photographer captures their faces when the marshall makes the introduction. All the Supreme Court of the United States is now in session. The Honorable Justice Alexandre Chin presiding. The silence that followed was absolute. Through my peripheral vision, I watched Dad’s legal pad slip from his fingers, his face draining of color as I ascended to the bench.

“Be seated,” I said calmly, arranging my files. “Chin Industries versus Federal Trade Commission. Council, please state your appearances.” Dad’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. In the front row, Michael’s designer suit suddenly seemed to shrink around him, while Catherine’s perfectly composed face had frozen in an expression of horror.

I I Dad stammered, his legendary courtroom presence evaporating. Council, I prompted my voice carrying the weight of the highest court in the land. Your appearance for the record, Jonathan Chin. He finally managed his red power tie now matching the color flooding his face. For the petitioner, Chin Industries, very well. I opened his brief, the same arguments he’d boasted about at dinner.

Council, let’s begin with your interpretation of Richardson versus Thompson. You seem to suggest it supports your market consolidation theory. The gallery was dead silent as the implications settled over the assembled attorneys. My father, who dismissed my legal acumen for decades, was about to argue before his barely a parallegal daughter.

The the Richardson doctrine clearly states, “He began, does it?” I interrupted citing from memory because the controlling opinion, particularly footnote 23, seems to directly contradict your position. Unless you’re suggesting the chief justice was incorrect. Through the gallery, I could see Michael frantically flipping through his copy of the brief.

While Catherine appeared to be looking for the nearest exit. Perhaps, I continued, you’re referring to the interpretation I outlined in the Harvard Law Review 5 years ago. The article you called, I believe, amateur hour legal theory. Dad’s hand trembled as he reached for his water glass. Behind him, his senior partners were exchanging alarmed glances as their star attorney crumbled before the justice he dismissed over dinner. Your honor, he tried again.

The market conditions are remarkably similar to the Thompson case, I finished, which as any firstear law student could tell you, explicitly prohibits the very consolidation you’re proposing, unless filing court documents has confused my understanding. Mom’s face in the gallery showed a mixture of shock and something that looked surprisingly like pride.

The briefing schedule, one of Dad’s partners whispered urgently trying to salvage the argument, was clearly outlined in my chamber’s orders, I noted, though perhaps those were misfiled by the barely qualified court staff. The morning sun through the Supreme Court windows caught my justice’s robe as I leaned forward.

Every eye in the courtroom fixed on the impossible scene unfolding. Counsel, I said, my voice carrying decades of earned authority. Would you like to revise your position on the qualifications of this court, or shall we continue discussing your creative interpretation of precedents? I helped write.

Dad’s legendary composure cracked completely. Your honor, Alexandra, I, Justice Chin, I corrected gently, though I understand the confusion. It must be difficult to reconcile with last night’s dinner conversation about my what was it? Limited grasp of real law. The gallery erupted in barely contained murmurss as the mighty Jonathan Chin withered before his daughter’s bench.

Now, I continued, lifting his brief, shall we discuss the 16 critical flaws in your argument, or would you prefer to start with explaining how a mere parallegal reached the highest court in the land while you weren’t paying attention? The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the Supreme Court’s windows as I delivered my final words and council about that comment regarding someone has to file the paperwork.

I smiled, lifting the landmark decision I’d authored last term. You’ll find my filing system quite thorough. Your case is dismissed. As Dad stumbled back to his table, I caught Mom’s eye in the gallery. For the first time in decades, she sat straightbacked and proud, watching her daughter command the highest court in the land.

“Court is adjourned,” I announced, rising in my justice’s robes. Though I believe we’re still on for family dinner tonight, I trust everyone can find their way to the right table this