When the Horse Is Dead – Lessons for the Court Reporting Profession

There’s an old satirical metaphor that packs more wisdom than most white papers: The Dead Horse Theory. It asks a painful but necessary question—are we still trying to ride a horse that has already died?

In other words, are we clinging to methods, strategies, or leadership approaches that no longer work, hoping that with enough force or wishful thinking they will somehow come back to life? For court reporters, small agencies, and our professional associations, this metaphor hits uncomfortably close to home.

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The Absurdity of Denial in Court Reporting

Denial has become a quiet epidemic in our profession. Instead of facing the truth of what is and isn’t working, we double down on the very behaviors that keep us stuck. The examples from the “Dead Horse Theory” translate almost perfectly into our daily challenges.

• Change the jockey, not the horse.
  Too often, organizations respond to crisis by shuffling leadership. A new president, a new board, a new committee chair. But if the underlying strategy is flawed—if the model is unsustainable—no jockey can ride that horse to the finish line. We’ve seen this play out as association after association cycles through officers without ever addressing the structural weaknesses that leave reporters vulnerable to legislative erosion, agency overreach, and digital encroachment.
• Form committees and task forces.
  How many “shortage committees” have we formed in the last decade? How many “task forces” to study the impact of digital reporting? Each report recycles the same findings, and yet little changes. The energy spent producing paper could be better spent building pipelines of real reporters or lobbying for policies that actually protect the record.
• Invest in a new saddle.
  This one stings. Agencies and associations throw money at shiny technology or glossy PR campaigns as if a polished saddle will revive the horse beneath it. We’ve seen investment in AI summaries, digital pilot programs, and expensive rebrands—when the real problem is a lack of reporters and the erosion of ethical standards around “responsible charge.”
• Redefine what “dead” means.
  Perhaps the most dangerous behavior of all. Some leaders twist language to convince reporters that the problem isn’t a problem at all: “Digital is just another tool.” “Attorneys don’t care who takes the record.” “Shortage means opportunity.” These reframings create a false sense of security, distracting us from the reality that fundamental aspects of our profession are under attack.

Denial blinds us. It wastes time, money, and energy that could be spent on solutions. And worse, it prevents us from mourning what is truly gone—and building what must replace it.

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Dead Horses in Our Profession

So what exactly are the “dead horses” we keep trying to ride?

1. The belief that big agencies will look out for stenographers.
   Time and again, consolidation has proven the opposite. Agencies prioritize shareholder returns over reporter pay, and invest in digital models that reduce costs by sidelining stenographers. Expecting them to save our profession is like waiting for a wolf to protect the sheep.
2. The assumption that endless volunteerism will fix systemic problems.
   Reporters give their time generously, but goodwill alone cannot sustain a profession. Burnout is rampant. Without sustainable funding, professional advocacy collapses under the weight of unpaid labor. That horse has been dead for decades.
3. The illusion that silence is safety.
   Many reporters fear rocking the boat. They believe that staying quiet will protect their jobs or relationships with agencies. In reality, silence has enabled digital encroachment and left legislators with the impression that we don’t care. That horse is not only dead; it’s buried.
4. The myth that “shortage” is our golden ticket.
   Some believe scarcity guarantees survival. But agencies are filling the gap with cheaper alternatives, and courts are experimenting with unproven methods. Counting on shortage as a business model is like betting your future on the lifespan of a dying horse.

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The Courage to Dismount

The hardest part of the Dead Horse Theory is also the most liberating: having the courage to dismount.

Admitting a horse is dead is not weakness. It’s the first step to real problem-solving. For us, that means facing what doesn’t work—and being bold enough to try what might.

• Stop waiting for rescue.
  No national association, no mega-agency, no legislature is coming to save us. The profession must save itself, reporter by reporter, agency by agency, state by state. That clarity is liberating once you accept it.
• Redirect resources.
  Instead of pouring energy into endless studies, we need direct investment in schools, mentorships, and apprenticeships. We need to channel money toward litigation, lobbying, and marketing that actually moves the needle.
• Tell the truth.
  Stop sugarcoating. Reporters must be honest with attorneys, judges, and lawmakers about the failures of digital and AI substitutes. Glossing over the facts helps no one—it only perpetuates illusions.
• Innovate responsibly.
  Innovation isn’t the enemy. The problem is when innovation is used to dismantle us rather than empower us. Innovative reporter-first technology, transparent rate databases, and reporter-owned platforms aren’t dead horses—they’re new foals waiting to be trained.

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Choosing Life Over Illusion

The Dead Horse Theory forces us to ask hard questions:

• Are we clinging to failing strategies because we’re afraid of change?
• Are we confusing activity with progress?
• Are we mistaking denial for hope?

In court reporting, as in life, the principle is simple: You cannot get to a new destination by riding a dead horse.

We have to choose life over illusion. That means letting go of outdated beliefs, failed leadership models, and strategies that keep us spinning in circles. It means mourning what we’ve lost, but refusing to stay stuck beside the carcass.

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What Comes After the Dead Horse

The hopeful side of this metaphor is that once you dismount, you are free to choose a new path. For reporters, that could mean:

• Reporter-owned agencies that refuse to engage in unethical contracting.
• Collaborative lobbying coalitions that bypass associations that have proven ineffective.
• Direct-to-attorney education campaigns that highlight the irreplaceable value of the human reporter.
• Technological tools that empower reporters—not replace them—such as realtime streaming, AI-assisted indexing, and new tools that protect transcripts.

New horses are out there. But we cannot mount them while clinging to the old.

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Time to Choose

The Dead Horse Theory is more than a joke—it’s a mirror.

So, court reporters: What dead horses are you still riding?

• Is it the belief that your agency will eventually pay you fairly?
• Is it the faith that an association committee will suddenly solve the shortage?
• Is it the hope that silence will keep you safe?

If the horse is dead, no amount of feeding, training, or saddle-polishing will change it. The time has come to dismount, grieve if you must, and then climb onto a living, breathing horse that can carry you forward.

Because the future of this profession will not be built on denial—it will be built by those who have the courage to let go of what is gone and ride forward into what is alive.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

This article reflects my perspective and analysis as a court reporter and eyewitness. It is not legal advice, nor is it intended to substitute for the advice of an attorney.

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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