How's your friend's trial going? people ask me. Quite well, thank you.

So far, the Chicago prosecutors could convict Conrad Black only of literacy, which may not be a crime even in Illinois. Anyway, the recidivist biographer of Maurice Duplessis, F.D. Roosevelt, and, most recently, Richard Nixon might freely admit to it.

Meanwhile, the prosecutors have gleefully convicted themselves of illiteracy, though "convict" may be the wrong word.
Eric Sussman, a prominent U.S. prosecutor, somehow managed to get through university without ever encountering the word "calumnies." What are they teaching in school?, George Jonas wants to know.
Eric Sussman, a prominent U.S. prosecutor, somehow managed to get through university without ever encountering the word "calumnies." What are they teaching in school?, George Jonas wants to know.

Illiteracy appears to be a matter of pride for lawyers in the Midwest.

As it should be, I suppose.

It can't be easy dodging and resisting common English words. But never underestimate natural illiterates. Lead prosecutor Eric Sussman, for instance, somehow managed to go through law school without learning how to decipher and pronounce the word "calumnies."

How can you avoid such an ordinary word is what puzzles me. I doubt if one can read a 19th-century novel in English in which the word doesn't occur. It's possible, I suppose, never to have read a 19th-century novel in English -- possible, but my God, how can one become an assistant district attorney?

Jonas! Sit, boy! Settle down.

Illiterates can lead happy and productive lives. They will only be baffled once in a while -- for example, when they hear Lawrence Olivier say in the classic movie Hamlet: "Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go."

Or when they are trying to read a literate person's correspondence into the court record, as the hapless Chicago prosecutor did. Sussman was trying to read from one of Lord Black's e-mails when the word "calumnies" floored him -- but then words flooring lawyers is nothing new.

About 10 years ago the Massachusetts Bar Association Lawyers Journal printed some questions actually asked by Sussman's illustrious colleagues on the East Coast during various trials:

"Were you present when your picture was taken?" one Massachusetts attorney wanted to know.

Another was curious if "it was you or your younger brother who was killed in the war?"

A third lawyer sought medical enlightenment. "Now doctor," he asked, "isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?"

I would love to have heard the doctor's reply, but the Lawyers Journal didn't offer it.

The association also failed to note the hourly fee the lawyer charged for asking his penetrating question. My guess is around $400 to $500 U.S. -- this seems to be the going rate for American litigation lawyers these days.

"Yes, thank you, clients," U.S. lawyers say, "for $400 to $500 a tic we're willing to exhibit our subclinically aphasic selves to the public in your cause. Oh, you want a lawyer who can actually speak, read and write? Well, lah-dih-dah! Yes, we have a few. They charge around $800 an hour."

Actually the $400-to-$500 dollar type is more amusing. Listen to these samples:

Q: "Did he kill you?"

Q: "How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?"

Q: "You were there until the time you left, is that true?"

Or take this exchange:

Q: "So the date of conception (of the baby) was Aug. 8?"

A: "Yes."

Q: "And what were you doing at that time?"

You must admit this is top-drawer stuff. It beats merely not knowing how to pronounce calumny. In this company, Sussman sounds positively erudite. No wonder U.S. District Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald hand-picked him to lead the prosecution team against Lord Black and his co-defendants. One can imagine the conversation:

"Hey, boys, who has the brains around here?"

Blank stares. "You mean the office, sir, the northern district of Illinois?"

"Bravo!"

"Oh, the Sussman-kid, hands down. We call him The Scholar. Or Eric the Maverick. A match for this Canuck, Black. He owns a dictionary, sir, no kidding, I saw it on his desk."

As in Illinois, so in Massachusetts. More so, actually, because the exchange above is imaginary. The exchange below was reportedly actual:

Q: "Doctor, is it possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?"

A: "No."

Q: "Did you check for pulse or breathing?"

A: "No."

Q: "Then how can you be so sure, Doctor?"

A: "Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar."

Q: "But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?"

A: "It is possible that he could have been alive and practising law somewhere."

George Jonas is a columnist for the National Post.

© The Ottawa Citizen 2007