I always joke that I was standing in my double-wide, ironing my waitress uniform when a commercial came on TV for the local court-reporting school in Orlando. I thought, I’m sick of waiting on people, I took shorthand in high school and enjoyed it, so this sounds right up my alley.
I completed a two-year program at Orlando College [a vocational tech institution, since closed] that included classes in theory, law, legal and medical terminology, English, punctuation and typing. I have an advanced certification called Registered Merit Reporter that means I can transcribe a Q&A at 260 words/minute.
We’ve all seen the court reporter in front of the judge’s bench, typing away on that alien-looking typewriter, the stenotype. But what do we not see?
When it comes to trials, what you don't see is all of the prep that we do beforehand. We get ahold of as many documents as we can. You can also reach out to the attorneys and ask for copies of the exhibits they will admit, their witness list, anything that’s not already in the court file. You go through it all and pick out proper names, terms that may not be in your dictionary. That's what we call the database within our software. I make sure to put all that in my dictionary so that I'm coming up with a clean record instantaneously and, say, if there’s an objection, the judge can immediately look at the screen in front of them to see exactly what’s being objected to.
Wow. I didn’t realize the judge is getting your transcript in real-time.
Most of the time, yes—in high-profile cases, death-penalty cases. The attorneys can also request access to real-time transcription. It is a lot of pressure. When this was more of a new thing, they would call it “writing naked” because any small mistake is just out there for everyone to see.
When the courtroom empties at the end of the day, are you done?
No. I’m cleaning up the transcript, correcting mistakes, adding punctuation, researching proper names and spelling. You’re proofreading, creating a table of contents. All the parties get a certified copy of the transcript by the next morning. People are speaking faster and faster these days. When I first started, an average day in court was around 200 pages. Now, it’s between 250 and 300.
Can’t AI just transcribe the audio of court proceedings?
We’ve seen stories about attorneys getting in trouble for using AI, where the AI bot makes up case law that doesn’t exist. You need a human making sure that ethics rules and regulations are being applied appropriately, reminding the parties that certain records need to be sealed or that bank account and Social Security numbers, addresses of victims and things like that need to be redacted. When a child victim testifies—and this has happened many times—the parties are supposed to refer to them by their initials. But they’ll forget and say their names, not even realizing they’re doing it. I’m the one that goes to the judge and fixes it in the record.
Is it hard sometimes to be the human in that chair?
It is extremely difficult to not show emotion. It's a bit of a huge no-no. But I'm also human. I haven't ever broken down or anything, but definitely I've had tears, just hanging my head hoping no one notices and wishing I had a Kleenex. I covered the Cady Way Trail murders trial [in 2012]. It was two young boys, 16 and 18, shot execution style and their bodies lit on fire. They were best friends since childhood. As part of the victim impact statement, they played a video compilation of the boys growing up. I'm tearing up now just thinking about this.
Then, there was a child murder that happened around the same time as the Casey Anthony case but got no media attention. He was 8 months old, killed by his father. And he's African American. I still think of that little baby boy to this day.
Were your daughter and son little at the time?
They were teenagers. But all of my experience as a court reporter changed the parent that I was. I once had to take the deposition of a 5-year-old who had been sexually molested. She was trying to explain what had happened to her, using all of the little nicknames her parents made up for her various body parts. So, from Day 1 with my children, it was, “This is a penis. This is a vagina.” And they are going to know how to describe it, and that it's not okay for anyone to touch. I don't know that I would've had the forethought to do that without my experience in court and depositions.
What’s the longest trial you’ve covered?
Four weeks, and it was just the penalty phase. For Keydrick Jordan, one of those I’ll never forget. He was convicted of murdering two women. It was a tragic, horrible case, not just for the innocent victims, but for the defendant, whose siblings described some of the most horrific abuse he suffered as a child. They were on the stand—grown adults—just bawling their eyes out recounting what he’d been through. Some people, it just seems like they never had a chance.
Are you going home to zone out in front of true crime on TV?
I do watch true crime on TV late at night. A lot. [Laughs.] I like the forensics. It’s fascinating. I tried to talk my son into a career in forensics, but he wasn’t going for it.
What does Hollywood get wrong about what you and your colleagues do?
A lot. We have a tripod and the machine sits down between your legs so you’re not lifting your arms to type on top of a desk. It’s not that hard to get it right.
Speaking of TV, have you noticed a change in the courtroom when TV cameras are present?
Only when the cameraman would be like, “Can you move? You’re blocking my shot.”
And I’m like, “No, I cannot. I don’t care about your shot. I’m doing my job here.”
