Judge David J. Allen
Wayne County Circuit Court
Wayne County Circuit Court
Editor’s Note: The following column is adapted from remarks delivered by Judge David J. Allen at the Association of Defense Trial Counsel (ADTC) Past Presidents Dinner. Judge Allen is a sitting Wayne County Circuit Court judge with 23 years on the bench and a frequent contributor to the Detroit Legal News. The remarks have been lightly edited for publication format; the substance and personal reflections remain entirely his own.
—————
Good evening, everyone.
It is truly an honor to be here with all of you—colleagues, friends, and in many cases, people I have known for a long time… sometimes across the aisle.
I was asked to speak about civility, communication, and cooperation — particularly between opposing counsel — and how that impacts the court and case outcomes.
And I will be honest with you right out of the gate: I come before you a little conflicted.
Because while I believe deeply in those principles, I also know — in my heart — that I have not always hit the mark. Not as a lawyer. Not as a judge.
I have had moments I would like back. I have said things from the bench I probably should not have. I have let frustration get the better of me.
So tonight is not a lecture.
It is more of a confession… mixed with a few stories… and hopefully a reminder of what actually matters in this profession.
I want to talk about three things: a gavel, a candy bar, and a desk set.
—————
The gavel
I have been a judge for 23 years. And in all that time, I have never once banged my gavel.
To be clear — I have one. It sits right there on the bench. But it is mostly decorative at this point… a little dusty, actually.
On that gavel, I taped a quote attributed to one of my judicial mentors, Judge Damon Keith. To paraphrase: “I have never banged my gavel. The judge sets the tone. If you treat people with respect, they will respond accordingly.”
That stuck with me.
Because the truth is — the courtroom takes its cue from the people in it. Yes, judges set the tone. But lawyers reinforce it… or undermine it.
If the temperature in the room rises, it is rarely because of the law. It is because of how we are dealing with each other.
You do not need a gavel if there is mutual respect. And if you do need one… something has already gone wrong.
—————
The candy bar
Years ago, I presided over a murder trial. Serious case. High stakes. Jury fully engaged.
We get to closing arguments. The prosecutor is in the middle of his closing — a really important moment — and defense counsel, sitting at counsel table, slowly unwraps a Babe Ruth candy bar… and starts eating it. Right there. In front of the jury.
I kept my composure. Did not react in front of the jury. But off the record… we had a conversation. Because it was obvious what it was—a distraction tactic. A way to throw opposing counsel off his game.
Here is the problem. After the trial, I debriefed the jury. You know what they talked about? Not the testimony. Not the evidence. Not the legal arguments. The candy bar.
After a week-long trial — where a man’s life was at stake — that is what stuck.
That lawyer had his client’s fate in his hands… and chose a gimmick over professionalism. And it backfired. Because the jury had to work past that behavior to even get to the substance of his argument.
Juries are watching you. Always. They are grading you. You may think you are being clever. Strategic. Aggressive. But what they often see is distraction… disrespect… or lack of credibility. And once you lose credibility, it is very hard to get it back.
The lesson is simple: Stick to the facts. Stick to the law. Be professional. Do not give the jury a reason to focus on anything other than your client’s case.
—————
The desk set
Before I was on the bench, I spent about two years litigating a case in this very court. Two years. Multiple hearings. Motions. Appeals — twice to the Court of Appeals.
And opposing counsel… I thought he was my nemesis. You all know the type. Pushes every button. Takes every position. Files everything.
And I took the bait. Every time. I gave it right back. Maybe more. We fought over everything.
Until one day — literally minutes before closing arguments — our clients came in from the hallway. And they told us they had settled the case. Without us. After two years… tens of thousands of dollars… and a whole lot of court resources… the clients figured it out.
And I remember thinking: I met the enemy… and it was me. We were not advocating anymore. We were fighting just to fight. And in the end, it did not help our clients. It did not help the court. It did not help the system.
But here is the part I really remember. That same lawyer — my “nemesis” — later became a friend. And when I opened my first law office, he gave me a desk, a chair, a bookshelf, and a credenza.
That desk set stayed with me for years. A daily reminder that the person across from you is not the enemy. They are just doing their job. And maybe — if you handle it the right way — they might even become a colleague. Or a friend.
—————
What judges notice—and what matters
Judges and juries give lawyers a grade. Some of you get an A. Some of you… not so much.
Here is the key: If you are uncivil, disrespectful, or acting the fool — even if you are absolutely right on the law — the judge or jury has to get past your behavior to get to your argument. That is a problem. Because judges and juries are human. We notice everything. Not just what you say… but how you say it. How you treat opposing counsel. How you treat staff. How you carry yourself when things do not go your way.
And I will let you in on something: Judges talk about lawyers. Just like lawyers talk about judges. It is human nature. So ask yourself: What are they saying about you when you are not in the room? Because reputation matters in this profession. Probably more than we admit.
I have not always gotten this right. There are times I have been too sharp. Too impatient. Too dismissive. And when that happens—I try to own it. I have called lawyers after hearings to apologize. I have said things on the record to correct myself. Not because I had to… but because it was the right thing to do.
Those moments matter. They build trust. They model something we do not talk about enough in this profession: accountability.
—————
A simple ask
Communicate. Pick up the phone. Do not let emails turn into battles. Cooperate where you can. Not at the expense of your client—but in service of them.
And remember that professionalism is not weakness. Civility is not surrender. It is strategy. It makes you more effective. More credible. More persuasive. And ultimately—it serves your client better.
I cannot teach you civility. And as I have admitted—I do not always model it perfectly. But I can recognize it. And I can tell you—some of the finest lawyers I see in my courtroom are the ones who get this right every single day. Some of them are in this room tonight. You know who you are. And more importantly—so do the judges.
At the end of the day, this is a hard profession. High stakes. High pressure. Strong personalities. But we have a choice in how we conduct ourselves.
So maybe… we do not need to bang the gavel. Maybe we do not need the candy bar tactics. And maybe we remember… the person across from us might one day be the one handing us the desk.
—————
Good evening, everyone.
It is truly an honor to be here with all of you—colleagues, friends, and in many cases, people I have known for a long time… sometimes across the aisle.
I was asked to speak about civility, communication, and cooperation — particularly between opposing counsel — and how that impacts the court and case outcomes.
And I will be honest with you right out of the gate: I come before you a little conflicted.
Because while I believe deeply in those principles, I also know — in my heart — that I have not always hit the mark. Not as a lawyer. Not as a judge.
I have had moments I would like back. I have said things from the bench I probably should not have. I have let frustration get the better of me.
So tonight is not a lecture.
It is more of a confession… mixed with a few stories… and hopefully a reminder of what actually matters in this profession.
I want to talk about three things: a gavel, a candy bar, and a desk set.
—————
The gavel
I have been a judge for 23 years. And in all that time, I have never once banged my gavel.
To be clear — I have one. It sits right there on the bench. But it is mostly decorative at this point… a little dusty, actually.
On that gavel, I taped a quote attributed to one of my judicial mentors, Judge Damon Keith. To paraphrase: “I have never banged my gavel. The judge sets the tone. If you treat people with respect, they will respond accordingly.”
That stuck with me.
Because the truth is — the courtroom takes its cue from the people in it. Yes, judges set the tone. But lawyers reinforce it… or undermine it.
If the temperature in the room rises, it is rarely because of the law. It is because of how we are dealing with each other.
You do not need a gavel if there is mutual respect. And if you do need one… something has already gone wrong.
—————
The candy bar
Years ago, I presided over a murder trial. Serious case. High stakes. Jury fully engaged.
We get to closing arguments. The prosecutor is in the middle of his closing — a really important moment — and defense counsel, sitting at counsel table, slowly unwraps a Babe Ruth candy bar… and starts eating it. Right there. In front of the jury.
I kept my composure. Did not react in front of the jury. But off the record… we had a conversation. Because it was obvious what it was—a distraction tactic. A way to throw opposing counsel off his game.
Here is the problem. After the trial, I debriefed the jury. You know what they talked about? Not the testimony. Not the evidence. Not the legal arguments. The candy bar.
After a week-long trial — where a man’s life was at stake — that is what stuck.
That lawyer had his client’s fate in his hands… and chose a gimmick over professionalism. And it backfired. Because the jury had to work past that behavior to even get to the substance of his argument.
Juries are watching you. Always. They are grading you. You may think you are being clever. Strategic. Aggressive. But what they often see is distraction… disrespect… or lack of credibility. And once you lose credibility, it is very hard to get it back.
The lesson is simple: Stick to the facts. Stick to the law. Be professional. Do not give the jury a reason to focus on anything other than your client’s case.
—————
The desk set
Before I was on the bench, I spent about two years litigating a case in this very court. Two years. Multiple hearings. Motions. Appeals — twice to the Court of Appeals.
And opposing counsel… I thought he was my nemesis. You all know the type. Pushes every button. Takes every position. Files everything.
And I took the bait. Every time. I gave it right back. Maybe more. We fought over everything.
Until one day — literally minutes before closing arguments — our clients came in from the hallway. And they told us they had settled the case. Without us. After two years… tens of thousands of dollars… and a whole lot of court resources… the clients figured it out.
And I remember thinking: I met the enemy… and it was me. We were not advocating anymore. We were fighting just to fight. And in the end, it did not help our clients. It did not help the court. It did not help the system.
But here is the part I really remember. That same lawyer — my “nemesis” — later became a friend. And when I opened my first law office, he gave me a desk, a chair, a bookshelf, and a credenza.
That desk set stayed with me for years. A daily reminder that the person across from you is not the enemy. They are just doing their job. And maybe — if you handle it the right way — they might even become a colleague. Or a friend.
—————
What judges notice—and what matters
Judges and juries give lawyers a grade. Some of you get an A. Some of you… not so much.
Here is the key: If you are uncivil, disrespectful, or acting the fool — even if you are absolutely right on the law — the judge or jury has to get past your behavior to get to your argument. That is a problem. Because judges and juries are human. We notice everything. Not just what you say… but how you say it. How you treat opposing counsel. How you treat staff. How you carry yourself when things do not go your way.
And I will let you in on something: Judges talk about lawyers. Just like lawyers talk about judges. It is human nature. So ask yourself: What are they saying about you when you are not in the room? Because reputation matters in this profession. Probably more than we admit.
I have not always gotten this right. There are times I have been too sharp. Too impatient. Too dismissive. And when that happens—I try to own it. I have called lawyers after hearings to apologize. I have said things on the record to correct myself. Not because I had to… but because it was the right thing to do.
Those moments matter. They build trust. They model something we do not talk about enough in this profession: accountability.
—————
A simple ask
Communicate. Pick up the phone. Do not let emails turn into battles. Cooperate where you can. Not at the expense of your client—but in service of them.
And remember that professionalism is not weakness. Civility is not surrender. It is strategy. It makes you more effective. More credible. More persuasive. And ultimately—it serves your client better.
I cannot teach you civility. And as I have admitted—I do not always model it perfectly. But I can recognize it. And I can tell you—some of the finest lawyers I see in my courtroom are the ones who get this right every single day. Some of them are in this room tonight. You know who you are. And more importantly—so do the judges.
At the end of the day, this is a hard profession. High stakes. High pressure. Strong personalities. But we have a choice in how we conduct ourselves.
So maybe… we do not need to bang the gavel. Maybe we do not need the candy bar tactics. And maybe we remember… the person across from us might one day be the one handing us the desk.
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