Why Do I Need a Certified Videographer? - By Denise Doucette, RDR, CLVS
Reprinted from clvs.ncraonline.org

I'll always remember one young videographer who, during a long and particularly boring deposition, managed to attract the attention of a roomful of attorneys by clipping his fingernails. We all turned to look at the videographer, who was completely absorbed in his task. He was dutifully wearing his earmuff-style headphones, so he was unaware how loud the clipping noises sounded during lulls in the testimony. The videographer remained utterly oblivious to the fact he had become the center of attention. You know the testimony is pretty boring when you'd rather watch someone clipping his fingernails. And then there was the videographer who burst into song in the midst of a deposition. I had wondered to myself earlier why he had two sets of headphones, one earmuff style and one smaller set of Walkman-style earphones. Apparently the earmuffs were for use in monitoring the deposition, and the smaller earphones were for listening to his favorite cassettes when the testimony became too boring to bear. The participants were more amused than annoyed, and the videographer was rightfully mortified when he realized what he had done. I'll bet given a choice, everyone in that room would have rather listened to Eric Clapton than our actuarial witness that day.

One video deposition is a clear winner in my personal portfolio of lifetime "worst-of" scenarios (i.e., worst videographer, worst interpreter, worst witness, etc.). One of my favorite clients had scheduled the videotaped deposition of an expert witness who lived and worked in a remote rural location. In order to accommodate the witness, eight attorneys and I each drove four hours one way in order to conduct the deposition at the witness's office. My client arranged for the services of a local videographer. I arrived well in advance of the scheduled starting time and was ushered into the "deposition suite," which turned out to be a large one-room, warehouse-like structure situated directly behind the witness's modest office building. The cavernous room was outfitted with long cafeteria-style tables and metal folding chairs for the occasion. The lighting was poor and the acoustics a nightmare. I began to question my sanity for accepting this assignment. However, real panic didn't set in until after the videographer arrived.

I introduced myself and offered to assist in any way I could. My offer was met with a blank stare. I bravely pushed ahead. "Have you done many depos?" I inquired. "Yeah, a couple," came the answer. "Are you certified?" I asked. "Nah, you don't have to be certified to do this. Those programs are just a rip-off, anyway." I bit my tongue and smiled. No need entering into a debate this early in the game. I watched as the videographer set up his equipment. Some key ingredients were missing; I just had to ask. No, he wouldn't be using supplemental lighting, and no, he wouldn't be making an audio recording. By now the attorneys were beginning to arrive, so I decided to keep my mouth shut and let the drama unfold. My sixth sense had told me to bring along a portable audio cassette recorder, but I knew the quality would be poor due to the acoustics of the room and the inadequate built-in microphone. Anything was better than nothing, though; I'd just have to make the best of the situation. Although some of the attorneys commented on the dim lighting, no one questioned how that might affect the quality of the video recording. The deposition began, and as in prior depos in the same case, the attorneys frequently objected and engaged in rancorous debate. The presence of video usually brings out a measure of forced civility among adversaries, but not this group. I prayed for the batteries in my cassette recorder and concentrated on creating an accurate record. The attorneys took no recesses when one questioner concluded and the next in line began, choosing instead to remain on the record and just play quick musical chairs. These guys were in a hurry to finish up and start the four-hour return drive back to civilization.

During one of the musical-chairs sessions I heard an "Oops" and looked up to see the most recent questioner holding a broken lavaliere microphone in his hands. The noticing attorney said, "Let's go off the record." All eyes turned to the videographer. More accurately, all eyes turned to the empty chair where the videographer had once been seated. I, for one, had been concentrating so intently on the proceedings that I failed to notice the departure of the videographer. The next attorney in line quickly stepped up, took hold of the now-clipless microphone, and said, "I'll just hold it in place." The deposition continued with each questioner in succession holding the microphone in one hand while fumbling through a mass of documentary exhibits with the other. Mercifully, the whole ordeal was over within an hour and a half, and the videographer did manage to return in time to make the closing remarks as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

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