Dumb & Dumber Questions & Answers
Having spent many years asking dumb questions and getting even dumber answers in state and federal courts, I take pride in a style of cross-examination designed to expose the implausibility of my opponent’s positions.
As Detective Columbo taught us years ago, the “dumb question” can be an extremely effective weapon in probing a witness’ credibility and in revealing flaws and fallacies.
In courtroom combat, “dumb” questions may be smart tools for challenging the wisdom and logic of your opponent’s position.
That doesn’t stop my opposing counsel from objecting. While they readily agree that my questions are dumb, they don’t always appreciate the brilliance of my legal strategy. On occasion, neither do judges, who sustain some of these objections, forcing me to shift gears to smarter, more sophisticated questions.
Perhaps they should be used sparingly, but dumb questions may be very effective in confronting dumb positions. When one witness once engaged me in a petty semantic battle on the definition of an “apartment,” a dumb question prompted an even dumber exchange that left many jurors scratching their heads in confusion:
Q: Would you agree that an “apartment” is a type of “dwelling”?
A: No. An apartment is not a dwelling.
Q: Don’t people live in apartments?
A: You can live in an apartment, but you can’t dwell in an apartment.
Of course, most dumb questions we hear in courtrooms are, indeed, just dumb questions. Wishing to leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of justice, lawyers have asked the following questions in actual courtroom battles:
After threatening your life, did he kill you?
You don't know what it was, and you didn't know what it looked like, but can you describe it?
Were you alone or by yourself?
So you were gone until you returned?
Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
Do you have any children or anything of that kind?
Dumb questions may backfire on lawyers who think that they are really being smart. One defense lawyer learned this the hard way when cross-examining a pathologist in a murder trial:
Attorney: Before you signed the death certificate, had you taken the pulse?
Coroner: No.
Attorney: Did you listen to the heart?
Coroner: No.
Attorney: Did you check for breathing?
Coroner: No.
Attorney: So, when you signed the death certificate you weren't sure the man was dead, were you?
Coroner: Well, let me put it this way. The man's brain was sitting in a jar on my desk. But I guess it's possible he could be out there practicing law somewhere.