The warning signs were visible long before the certification pages landed on the judge’s desk. For years, Texas court reporters have cautioned that the quiet expansion of digital-only depositions—recorded by notaries, outsourced to typists, and funneled through national agencies like Veritext Legal Solutions—would one day collide head-on with the rules of evidence and the constitutional rights of litigants who depend on a reliable, certified record. That day has arrived in Texas courtrooms with increasing frequency, and the consequences are no longer hypothetical.
The certification pages in the recent filing are unambiguous: a notary, not a Certified Shorthand Reporter, administered the oath and recorded the testimony. A separate typist—identified only as a “qualified transcriptionist”—later converted the digital audio into a transcript. Both individuals certify neutrality; neither certifies professional competency in stenographic reporting; and neither claims to have been physically present for the Zoom proceedings. The resulting transcript, according to those who reviewed it, does not follow the Uniform Format Manual, contains improper and inflated pagination, and bears no resemblance to a Texas-compliant official record.
Yet the transcript was admitted in a major pending case. And that, for many Texas reporters, is the alarm bell they have feared all along.
A Systemic Breakdown in Disclosure and Objection
For the reporter who raised the issue, the frustration is not abstract. This is the second time such a transcript has appeared in her court. Both times, attorneys failed to object. Both times, the judge, reluctant to delay the case further, allowed the transcript into evidence.
The attorneys, she explained, claimed they were unaware that the five days of Zoom depositions would proceed without a Texas-certified reporter. They assumed a licensed professional would be present. They assumed the record would meet legal requirements. They assumed incorrectly.
Disclosure, in this context, is not a courtesy—it is a statutory requirement. Texas law is plain: if a deposition is taken under Rule 203, the officer must be a certified shorthand reporter unless all parties stipulate otherwise. When an out-of-state agency substitutes a notary without disclosure or stipulation, the entire proceeding stands on questionable legal ground.
But by the time the “transcript” reaches the court, the damage is done. The judge is presented with a choice between exclusion—which jeopardizes trial schedules—and reluctant admission, which risks violating the rules. Both choices burden the court; only one burdens the agency responsible.
A Quiet Crisis Now Playing Out in Open Court
Texas reporters watching these developments are blunt: the rules mean nothing if they are not enforced. They describe the current moment as a crisis not only of procedure, but of professional integrity. Some have voiced concern that agencies are exploiting the post-pandemic normalization of remote depositions to quietly bypass certified reporters, relying instead on notaries who lack training in realtime recording, transcript management, or Texas evidentiary standards.
Those warnings are no longer theoretical. The certification pages tell a story that is now unfolding in real time: cost-cutting is masquerading as modernization, and Texas litigants are paying the price.
The officer who notarized the proceedings certifies that he recorded them digitally and later had them “reduced to typewriting by a qualified transcriptionist.” The transcriber certifies that she prepared the transcript from the digital audio. Neither appears to claim familiarity with Texas transcript formatting rules. Neither certifies specialized training in legal proceedings. And yet, the document is presented to the court as if it were indistinguishable from a certified Texas reporter’s record.
The distinction matters. In Texas civil litigation, the deposition transcript is often the record. It drives summary judgment motions, impeachment at trial, settlement valuations, and—in many cases—the final outcome of the case itself. When accuracy and authentication are compromised, justice is compromised.
The Legal Stakes: When an Improper Record Becomes a Precedent
The reporter who raised the alarm believes the judge should have rejected the transcript outright. The rules of evidence, she argues, leave no room for sympathy or convenience. Accepting a non-compliant transcript not only undermines the statutory role of Texas Certified Shorthand Reporters—it exposes litigants to potential prejudice.
More importantly, she warns, once a court admits such a transcript without objection, a dangerous precedent is set. Other judges may follow suit in the interest of efficiency. Other attorneys may grow complacent. Agencies may push the boundaries even further, emboldened by judicial leniency.
Her proposed remedy is straightforward and legally sound: exclusion. If the transcript is inadmissible under the rules, the judge has an obligation to reject it. Doing otherwise risks compromising judicial neutrality. And when a party is harmed by the use of such a record, they gain a cause of action—not against opposing counsel, but against the agency that produced the defective transcript.
If lawsuits proliferate, she argues, the economic pressure may succeed where regulatory engagement has stalled. “When the floodgates of lawsuits against them open,” she says, “this could then be stopped.”
A Call for Collective Action—and Accountability
The reporter’s warning has sparked the same question across Texas: What role should professional associations play?
Advocates are calling for coordinated action by the Texas Court Reporters Association (TCRA) and the Texas Deposition Reporters Association (TxDRA). Both organizations have long fought to preserve professional licensing standards, protect the integrity of the record, and ensure compliance with state requirements. But this conflict extends beyond routine advocacy. It is a structural challenge to the framework that governs depositions in Texas.
Some reporters believe these associations should petition the Judicial Branch Certification Commission to investigate the conduct of Veritext Legal Solutions and pursue revocation of its Texas firm registration. Others call for formal complaints against notaries acting as deposition officers without proper disclosure or statutory authority. Still others urge legislative engagement, arguing that loopholes in remote deposition procedures must be closed before the problem grows even larger.
Behind these proposals lies a shared conviction: Texas law is only as strong as its enforcement.
The Human Cost of Professional Erosion
The emotional tone of the reporter’s message reflects something deeper than procedural frustration. Texas Certified Shorthand Reporters—professionals who endure rigorous testing, years of training, and ongoing regulation—feel their work is being devalued by agencies seeking cheaper alternatives.
“Why spend so much blood, sweat, and lots of tears trying to pass the CSR,” she asks, “if we can all just be typists?”
The sentiment is echoed statewide. For reporters, this is not merely a fight about jurisdiction or economics. It is a fight for the preservation of a profession built on accuracy, integrity, and accountability—the core elements of a reliable legal record.
When a deposition is recorded by a certified reporter, the court and litigants receive not just words on a page, but a safeguarded evidentiary product: realtime monitoring of testimony, immediate correction of unclear speech, secure custody of exhibits, statutorily compliant formatting, and sworn attestation by a licensed officer of the court. None of these protections are guaranteed when depositions are reduced to audio files and transcribed by unseen typists.
What Happens Next: Enforcement, Litigation, or Collapse
Texas now stands at a crossroads. If judges begin rejecting non-compliant transcripts, the problem may correct itself through natural consequences. If attorneys begin objecting earlier in the process—as the rules require—agencies will be forced to comply or face exclusion. If associations intervene decisively, regulatory bodies may finally confront the scope of the issue.
But if courts continue to admit these records in silence, the professional framework underpinning Texas civil litigation could erode far more quickly than many realize.
Without enforcement, certification becomes symbolic. Without objection, defects become invisible. Without accountability, precedent calcifies.
And once precedent is set, reclaiming ground becomes exponentially harder.
Hold the Line
Texas reporters are not asking for special treatment; they are asking for adherence to the rules that already exist. Rules designed to protect litigants. Rules written to safeguard the record. Rules that preserve the integrity of the judicial process itself.
The call now is simple: uphold those rules.
Reject defective transcripts. Enforce disclosure requirements. Sanction non-compliant agencies. Protect the profession that protects the record.
Because once the official record collapses, everything built upon it collapses with it.
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.
***To unsubscribe, just smash that UNSUBSCRIBE button below — yes, the one that’s universally glued to the bottom of every newsletter ever created. It’s basically the “Exit” sign of the email world. You can’t miss it. It looks like this (brace yourself for the excitement):
STENOIMPERIUM 