Records on appeal

Under Fed. R. App. Proc. 30(b), appellants and appellees are to coordinate the production of a joint record on appeal, the appendix of the relevant filings and transcripts from the lower court proceedings to assist the appellate court in their review of the case. A number of courts of appeal, including the Seventh and Ninth Circuits, have very common-sense approaches to this: they've established local rules whereby each side submits their own appendix.  Others haven't caught on to the game-playing that can go on, and go with the default federal rule.  So, I, as an appellant, negotiate with the appellee settling parties about what appears in the record.

Time after time, I see the appellees asking to kill countless trees by burying the record on appeal with paper from the lower court. One might think they're doing this to just increase the costs of litigation for the other side, since the appellants are required to prepare the record on appeal—except Rule 30(b)(2) permits the appellant to take the position that the additional material is unnecessary, and ask the other side to advance the costs of providing the designated material. The real reason is, I would imagine, an insulting one: to persuade the judge that there's so much work to be done that the judge should just be lazy and throw up their hands and ignore the issues rather than dig through all the paper. This certainly never fooled the judges I clerked for, but it must work often enough to be worth the death of all these trees. There aren't any real sanctions with any bite for making appellate judges' lives harder like that, notwithstanding the clear command of Rule 30(a)(2) not to be pointlessly including material, so we have this wasteful game.

I'm seeing this now in one of my pending appeals; the appellees are trying to bury the record in meaningless paper that has nothing to do with the issues on appeal. I can't stop them, so I shrug my shoulders and ask for the payment that Rule 30(b)(2) requires. That should be the end of it, but for some reason the lawyers—often the same lawyers that have made me write a check to post an appeal bond to ensure they could recover their costs in the unlikely event they won on appeal—want to argue with me that the material is essential to the record on appeal and it's up to me to pay for including the material in the record on appeal. I generally don't play this game, but I recently had cause to write the following paragraph in a letter to defense counsel regarding the copying costs of one small three-page slice of the hundreds of pages they wanted included (material redacted to protect the guilty):

Docket No. [yyy]. [This docket entry] applies to the 10-[xxxx] cross-appeal and is not relevant to [my appeal]. I agree that if you decide to prosecute the cross-appeal, you will be required to advance the costs for us to include this docket entry in Volume 1 of the Record. Should you prevail in [the cross-appeal], you can petition to receive the approximately $5 to $20 in costs from the plaintiffs' appeal bond, but I understand if you wish to bill another $100 to your client to argue about this some more.

Stockholm Syndrome in the Nachshin v. AOL case

CCAF filed its reply brief today in the Nachshin v. AOL appeal.

The principal-agent problem does not just affect class action plaintiffs' attorneys enriching themselves at the expense of their putative clients. I see it far too often in the case of class action defense attorneys beholden to the billable hour at the expense of their clients. I've had securities defense attorneys admit to me sotto voce that they don't want to see securities law reformed, because they're making money off the status quo. If I were a defense client, I'd worry about attorneys like that; they might prefer to lose their 12(b)(6) motion in the hopes of churning some billable hours in discovery disputes. In a notorious example, attorneys from defense firms lobbied the ABA to release a statement opposing preemption—something that would hurt their clients, though would certainly increase the demand for lawyers' services. (I once had a lunch date with a pharmaceutical defense attorney who made a disparaging comment to me about "you people" believing in federal preemption. That second-person-plural mystified me: she was making a lot more money arguing in favor of preemption in court on behalf of her clients than I was making writing about preemption on public-policy grounds. If one's that offended by preemption, one should go work for a plaintiffs' firm where one can make more money in the long run: it's stupid to be selling out one's principles for less than one's opportunity cost of adhering to them.)

I've long felt that general counsels should do more to insist that their outside defense firms are really defense firms that believe in their clients' rights, rather than mercenary law firms that happen to represent defendants because their lawyers don't have the entrepreneurial courage to be contingent-fee plaintiffs' attorneys.  Top-of-the-line plaintiffs' attorneys are the best trial lawyers in the business: they don't get paid if they don't win, but they're the ones with the Gulfstream jets and 5000-person Christmas parties.  If a defendant responds by hiring a coddled Ivy-League defense attorney that's afraid of the inside of a courtroom and goes home at night feeling vaguely guilty that he's working for The Man, that defendant is going to get his head handed to him nine times out of ten.  That sort of ideological accounting is surely more important to the bottom line than the racial-diversity accounting many Fortune 500 companies insist upon in their outside law firms, but it happens far less than it should.

Anyway, in response to CCAF's opening brief in the Nachshin v. AOL case, the settling parties apparently agreed that AOL's defense attorneys would do all the briefing, and the plaintiffs' attorneys would simply free ride off the finished product:

• AOL response brief.
• Plaintiffs' response brief.

The plaintiffs couldn't even be bothered to cite their roman numerals in consecutive order.

For the life of me, I can't imagine why a defense attorney with the best interests of his client in mind wouldn't simply say: "You sued us, you defend the settlement. We're paying you hundreds of thousands of dollars to go away. My client shouldn't have to pay another penny into this case." But that would mean foregoing some fees. And why would a defendant's brief say something as vapid as "Both class actions and legal aid funds facilitate the supply of justice to those who cannot otherwise afford it" (p. 25)?  Trial lawyers, come sue AOL! According to AOL's brief, you're just facilitating the supply of justice when you do! (I was similarly amused that AOL of all parties would snark about the supposed fact that our opening brief would cite "online articles." That was especially ironic given that AOL pays writers to produce online articles for them.) I briefly worked at the same firm as Paul Cappuccio, a hard-nosed lawyer's lawyer who went on to become the general counsel of AOL before he escaped on a life-raft to keep the Time Warner general counsel job.  I cannot begin to imagine a general counsel's office supervised by Cappuccio permitting a brief like this to be filed, but perhaps I'm being naive.

As you can tell for yourself, these were exceedingly weak response briefs that never really engaged with our opening brief's argument against the conflict-of-interest problems in cy pres distribution, so I'm feeling good about our reply brief and about our chances.