
When a news anchor recently suggested that Cracker Barrel might be the last bit of American nostalgia left, one veteran court reporter pushed back with a sharper perspective. “Cracker Barrel is not the last bit of nostalgia we have left, as I heard on the news today,” said Al Betz, a reporter with decades of experience in the courtroom. “That may belong to live court reporters who you know you can trust to keep an accurate record of the all-important case transcript. And we’re fighting hard to maintain our position. A human being has to be ‘the one’ responsible, not ‘the machine.’”
Betz’s words capture the essence of a profession under siege by automation but still holding fast to its indispensable role in justice. While restaurants, brands, and roadside icons might stir sentimental memories, there is something far more vital at stake in our judicial system: the human guardians of the record.
Nostalgia vs. Necessity
Cracker Barrel’s rocking chairs and comfort food are certainly symbols of simpler times. They represent familiarity in a fast-changing world. But nostalgia alone cannot keep society functioning. The judicial system, on the other hand, depends on trust. The official transcript is not just a memory; it is the foundation of appeals, verdicts, and justice itself.
A machine may record audio, but it does not understand. It cannot clarify a mumbled word, distinguish between overlapping voices, or raise its hand in the courtroom to ask for a spelling. Most importantly, a machine does not bear responsibility. If the record is wrong—if a crucial word is misheard or omitted—who is accountable?
A human court reporter is. That is the difference between nostalgia and necessity.
The Principle of Responsible Charge
In professions where accuracy and safety are paramount, there must always be a human being in “responsible charge.” Engineers stamp their drawings, doctors sign off on treatment plans, and pilots—not autopilot systems—carry the final burden of responsibility.
The same principle applies in the courtroom. Court reporters act not just as stenographers but as officers of the court. Their presence ensures that when a transcript is certified, it carries the weight of an accountable professional, not the disclaimers of a software company.
Machines may promise efficiency, but efficiency without accountability is a dangerous illusion.
Trust Is Earned, Not Programmed
Court reporters have long been trusted because they are visible, accessible, and subject to scrutiny. Attorneys know the reporter sitting in the courtroom has taken an oath to capture the record impartially. Judges know that when they rely on a transcript, it has been vetted by the very person who witnessed the proceeding.
Contrast that with an algorithm hidden inside a black box. Who trained it? What bias was built in? Who is liable when it gets something wrong? AI cannot take the witness stand and explain its choices. It cannot be disbarred, sanctioned, or held in contempt. Trust requires human integrity.
Fighting Hard to Maintain Position
Betz is not alone when he says reporters are fighting to maintain their place. Across the nation, court reporters are educating attorneys, judges, and lawmakers about why their role cannot be replaced.
This fight mirrors countless other professions where machines threaten to edge out skilled labor in the name of cost savings. Yet the stakes in court reporting are higher. Losing a family-run restaurant chain would be sad. Losing the integrity of the legal record would be catastrophic.
Court reporters are not asking to be preserved as a quaint tradition. They are demanding recognition as indispensable.
The Myth of Machine Neutrality
Some argue that machines are impartial, that they simply record what is said without human bias. But neutrality is meaningless if accuracy is compromised. An AI that misidentifies a medical term or confuses “not guilty” with “guilty” is not neutral—it is wrong. And wrong has consequences.
Human court reporters may not be perfect, but they are trained to spot errors, request clarification, and certify their work under penalty of perjury. Machines have no such guardrails. They do not know when they are wrong. That is why a human must always remain “the one.”
The True Last Bit of Nostalgia
If nostalgia is about holding on to what we value most, then perhaps live court reporters really are the last bit of nostalgia worth fighting for. But unlike a roadside diner, their survival is not about sentiment. It is about justice.
We may enjoy remembering where we ate after a long road trip. But generations from now, when someone seeks justice on appeal, they will rely not on fond memories but on a verbatim record. They will need the assurance that a human professional stood behind every word.
Conclusion: Human Hands on the Record
In the end, nostalgia for things like Cracker Barrel makes us smile, but nostalgia for court reporters makes us vigilant. Court reporters remind us that in an age of automation, there are still places where a human being must be the one in charge.
The legal record is too important to outsource to machines. It requires human judgment, accountability, and trust—the qualities that no algorithm can replicate.
Court reporters are not just fighting for their jobs. They are fighting for the very integrity of the justice system. And that, far more than rocking chairs on a porch, deserves to endure.
StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.
Disclaimer
“This article includes analysis and commentary based on observed events, public records, and legal statutes.”
The content of this post is intended for informational and discussion purposes only. All opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are based on publicly available information, industry standards, and good-faith concerns about nonprofit governance and professional ethics. No part of this article is intended to defame, accuse, or misrepresent any individual or organization. Readers are encouraged to verify facts independently and to engage constructively in dialogue about leadership, transparency, and accountability in the court reporting profession.
- The content on this blog represents the personal opinions, observations, and commentary of the author. It is intended for editorial and journalistic purposes and is protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution.
- Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.
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