Storytelling for Lawyers by Philip Meyer Page A

employs the fitting and bucolic analogy of “the mud springs.” First, Spence reminds jurors that Kerr-McGee has only one legal defense, that Karen Silkwood took the plutonium from the plant and poisoned herself; this is “the only possible defense that Kerr-McGee has.” 10 Spence then warns the jurors that the defendant will attempt to lure them into the “mud springs” and admonishes them not to be deceived:
    [I]f you want to clear up the water, you’ve got to get the hogs out of the spring. And, if you can’t get the hogs out of the spring, I guarantee you can’t clear up the water.… And the thing that I say to you is “keep out of the mud springs” in your deliberations. You are not scientists—I’m not a scientist—my only power is my common sense. Keep out of the mud springs. You’ll be invited there [by the defendant, in closing argument]. Use your common sense. You’ll be invited to do number-crunching of your own [by the defendant]. You’ll be invitedto play word games [by the defendant]. You’ll be invited to get into all kinds of irrelevancies. And I only say to you that you have one hope—don’t get into mud springs—keep your common sense, and take it with you into the jury room. 11
    Throughout his closing argument Spence refers numerous times to these two ministories as a legal shorthand: the anecdote of the lion who got away (embodying Spence’s legal theory of strict liability) and the analogy of the mud springs (a reference to the defendant’s strategy of obfuscation). Spence reflects upon this strategy: “In preparing the Silkwood case I outlined the story, but on the opposite page in the notebook I wrote out a few words, a slogan of sorts, that stood for my entire argument, my [legal]
theme: ‘If the lion gets away, Kerr-McGee has to pay
’. I played and replayed that [legal] theme like the recurring refrain in a song.” 12
    This shorthand provides a rhyming aphorism that sticks in the mind like Johnny Cochran’s equally melodic hook, “If the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit.” It enables Spence to dispense quickly with the issue of liability and focus primarily on the issue of punitive damages: how Kerr-McGee should be punished for allowing the “lion to get away.” In doing so, Spence strategically claims melodrama as the proper genre for the competing storytelling, challenging the defense to the difficult task of reversing the polarities of the story and convincing the jury that Karen Silkwood is the deceitful antagonist who poisoned herself, while Kerr-McGee is the virtuous protagonist. That is, if melodrama is the only way to understand what happened, then either Silkwood is the hero and Kerr-McGee is the villain, or it’s the other way around. And if it’s the former, then Silkwood wins on liability and the only question that remains is how much to punish Kerr-McGee for its actions so that it will change its evil ways. Thus, Spence’s task is not only to tell the story persuasively as melodrama but to tell it so persuasively that melodrama becomes the only way to think about the case. Otherwise, Spence could construct his melodrama and Kerr-McGee could tell a competing story in another genre or simply attempt to disrupt the mapping of melodrama onto the facts by making the characters and actions more ambiguous. Hence, Spence’s careful admonition to the jurors to beware of the mud springs.
    Spence’s core narrative is a simple and traditional Western melodrama. In this story, Karen Silkwood possesses the internal psychology characteristic of hero-protagonists in prototypical Westerns: she is a loner-outsider, possesses impressive integrity, and sacrifices self-interest and autonomy forthe greater community. According to the screenwriting guru Syd Field, the archetypal Western hero is portrayed as “fighting against the injustices of the