Protecting the Record. Preserving Justice. Empowering Stenographers.
In 1936, farmers fought foreclosure by staging “penny auctions,” bidding pennies on their neighbors’ land and giving it back to them.
Today, stenographers can do the same — through unity, co-ops, and reporter-owned platforms to reclaim our profession from AI, digital recording, and private equity control.
California’s Court Reporters Board has turned oversight into inadvertent endorsement. Its public “Registered Firms” list features non-CSR-owned conglomerates like Veritext and Magna—but omits legitimate CSR-owned professional corporations. The result? True shorthand reporting firms are hidden while unlicensed corporations gain state-backed visibility. It’s a structural inequity that undermines professional integrity and consumer trust—and it demands reform.
When defense counsel was caught red-handed using AI to transcribe voir dire, the courtroom froze. The judge’s question—“Are you giving them realtime?”—made the truth unmistakable. Rather than confront, the reporter stayed calm, answered honestly, and later turned it into an upsell. The same attorney who relied on illegal AI ended up buying realtime from the pro she tried to replace. But AI note-taking tools may be capturing juror identities and responses, permanently exposing private citizens.
In The Death of Expertise, Tom Nichols warns that society is replacing knowledge with convenience. Court reporting stands at that fault line. AI may transcribe words, but it cannot witness truth. Only a certified reporter — physically present, ethically bound — can certify a record. To sign off on machine output isn’t innovation; it’s fraud. And it marks the death of expertise itself.
Stenography isn’t just skill — it’s mental athleticism. Like NBA rookies, students must fail, reflect, and adjust daily. Every dropped word is data, not defeat. Treat your practice like training camp: review your “film,” log your growth, and build proof, not praise. Five minutes of reflection a day turns pressure into performance.
CCRA has taken a historic stand for every California court reporter. With attorney Scott Kronland of Altshuler Berzon, we’re defending the integrity of the record before the California Supreme Court. The fight against electronic recording isn’t just about jobs—it’s about justice. Your profession. Your record. Your voice. Stand with us. Join CCRA. Donate today.
When an attorney asks you to “take down” a video played in court, your authority comes from Rule 2.1040(d)—not the attorney. Always obtain a court order, mark the playback as a “transcription of an electronic recording,” and certify it separately. This protects your license, the record’s integrity, and your professional credibility while keeping the attorneys—and the judge—happy.
The justice system assumes court reporting is “handled,” but the record itself is collapsing under the rise of uncertified digital labor and AI transcripts. Attorneys, judges, and legislators don’t realize that without certified stenographers, accuracy, ethics, and access to justice all fail. This roadmap shows how to unite the legal community to protect the record—and the rule of law itself.
As digital recording and AI transcription quietly replace certified court reporters, the justice system risks losing its most vital safeguard — the human record. Attorneys, judges, and legislators don’t realize they’re standing on a collapsing foundation. Without stenographers, there is no certified transcript, no reliable appeal, and no accountability. Saving steno isn’t nostalgia — it’s protecting the rule of law itself.
Digital recording and ASR may promise convenience, but they fail the test of law and logic. Machine transcripts aren’t sworn, certified, or admissible—they’re hearsay without a human declarant. Court reporters remain the only officers of the record who can guarantee accuracy, authenticity, and accountability in real time. Justice still depends on human precision.
After years of “steno is dying” headlines, the data tells a different story. Enrollment is climbing, schools are reopening, and the profession has grown by 231% in just two years. A new generation of reporters is reclaiming the record—proving that integrity, accuracy, and human intelligence can’t be replaced by algorithms. This is the rebirth of steno.
This Halloween, the scariest thing in court reporting isn’t a ghost or vampire — it’s the empty reflection of automation, profit, and lost authorship floating where truth once lived. Don’t be haunted by hollow promises. Protect the record. Defend your craft. Keep the soul in stenography. Happy Halloween!
Big agencies believe consolidation is their final victory. In reality, they’re setting the stage for their own disruption. Reporters hold the licenses, the legal authority, and now — thanks to modern tech — the tools to bypass the middle layer entirely. When the market flips, it won’t be agencies in control. It will be the reporters.
As remote depositions become routine, reporters face growing pressure to act as both stenographer and Zoom host. NCRA ethics are clear: reporters cannot record or serve as videographers—but may host solely to prevent unauthorized recording or AI bots. When firms or attorneys refuse to disable ASR, the reporter’s duty is to withdraw, protecting the integrity of the record above all.
Magna’s Halloween “Spooky Season” giveaway offers $25 gift cards for every 100-page transcript — a festive twist that may violate California’s court-reporting ethics code. By tying rewards directly to transcript production, the program breaches CCR § 2475(b)(8), which bans gifts or incentives for reporting services. What looks like a treat could become a costly trick for Magna and participating reporters.
Court reporters hold the public’s trust—and that includes what we say after we leave the room. Sharing case details, even without names, can still identify participants and damage our impartiality. Confidentiality isn’t just about secrecy; it’s about respect, neutrality, and professionalism. Protecting the record means protecting our reputation—on and offline.
Attorneys often assume that showing or publishing an exhibit makes it part of the record—it doesn’t. Only the judge can direct that an exhibit be “marked” or “received.” The clerk keeps the official list; the reporter records what’s said. If you skip the formal steps, your exhibits vanish on appeal. Make your record right, or risk losing it forever.
A transcription company actually asked a certified court reporter to “sign off” on an AI-generated deposition—no oath, no saved audio, no chain of custody. When the attorney demanded a lawful certification, they tried to hire a reporter to legitimize their robot record. This isn’t innovation; it’s impersonation—and it threatens the integrity of every legal transcript in America.
AI notetakers and unlicensed digital “reporters” are quietly infiltrating depositions, recording sensitive testimony without consent or accountability. Videographers are stunned when they see a real stenographer—proof of how rare human guardians of the record have become. Attorneys must learn to spot imposters, protect client confidentiality, and insist on certified court reporters before justice becomes just another algorithmic summary.
A house that looks whole from the front but is gutted on the side—that’s our profession today. Stenographic court reporting was built on a solid legal foundation, but years of legislative erosion, agency consolidation, and technological shortcuts have hollowed it out. The cracks are showing. It’s time to stop patching and start rebuilding—before the next storm brings the whole structure down.
Verbit’s new mobile app lets anyone “record everything” — but at what cost? Without regulation, uncertified recordings could replace official transcripts, eroding reporter income and the integrity of the record itself. If the profession doesn’t fight back now, “copy sales” may be the least of what’s lost. This isn’t innovation; it’s deregulation disguised as convenience.
The Huseby-Esquire acquisition exposed a pattern of unpaid invoices and retaliation masked as “accounting confusion.” Reporters owed thousands are discovering their work vanished in a merger loophole — until laws like California’s SB 988 strike back. With WHD filings, certified letters, and public exposure, freelancers can turn the “wash-their-hands” tactic into corporate accountability.
Digital firms are exploiting the “notary loophole” — using notaries instead of licensed court reporters to swear in witnesses and certify transcripts. But notaries aren’t officers of the court. This practice risks inadmissible records, broken chain of custody, and malpractice exposure. Only certified stenographers can lawfully administer oaths and safeguard the integrity of the record.
Courtrooms across America are quietly shifting from certified verbatim reporting to AI transcripts, digital recordings, and agency-controlled “roughs.” The result? Hearsay masquerading as the official record — with no clear custodian, no accountability, and enormous power flowing to private platforms. This isn’t just a professional issue; it’s a constitutional one. If we lose control of the record, we lose control of justice itself.
Kerala is openly mandating AI transcription in every courtroom. In the U.S., the same shift is happening quietly. Esquire and Veritext now hand out free AI rough drafts, reshaping transcript control through corporate platforms — while some LA Superior Court judges secretly use machine drafts during remote hearings. Policy, business, and judicial habit are converging — outside public view.
Some reporters are quietly redacting Social Security numbers from transcripts—without realizing they may be altering the official record. Privacy concerns are valid, but under most state and federal rules, redaction is the attorney’s responsibility, not the reporter’s. Here’s why automatic redaction could violate ethical duties—and how to protect both accuracy and privacy the right way.
In Department 16 of Los Angeles Superior Court, Judge Steve Cochran told jurors, “We don’t do that,” referring to readback of testimony—directly contradicting CCP § 614, which guarantees every civil jury the right to request testimony readback during deliberations. His refusal highlights a growing erosion of due process as judges quietly sidestep mandatory procedures meant to preserve the integrity of the record.
Attorneys often assume court reporters are the ones driving up transcript costs. In reality, it’s the agencies in the middle—marking up reporter rates and layering on fees for condensed transcripts, concordances, exhibits, and repositories that reporters don’t see a penny of. As transparency grows, attorneys are discovering the truth: working directly with certified reporters saves money and strengthens the record.
The future of court reporting isn’t automated—it’s live, verbatim, and unstoppable. In 2025, certified stenographers and voice writers are shattering the shortage myth, expanding remote coverage, and using cutting-edge tools to uphold the integrity of the record. “Record now, transcribe later” isn’t innovation—it’s regression. The real revolution is happening in real time, with reporters leading the charge.
“Without hope, we’re doomed.” Jane Goodall’s message is our call to action. Court reporters aren’t losing — we’re fighting strategically. Exposing the notary loophole, revealing hearsay flaws, and modeling decentralized custody of records are how we win. Hope isn’t wishful thinking — it’s our strongest weapon. The record is the battlefield. And we are its guardians.
Whoever controls the record controls reality. Across history, power has always sought to erase, rewrite, or distort inconvenient truths. In today’s courtrooms, the neutral stenographic reporter is the last line of defense against narrative manipulation by judges, agencies, corporations, or algorithms. Undermining their role isn’t modernization — it’s historical amnesia. Guard the record, or lose the truth.
In our profession, real leadership is built on shared values, not personalities. When branding starts to overshadow substance and questioning becomes uncomfortable, it’s time to pause. We can admire energy without surrendering judgment. The future of court reporting belongs to all of us—not a fan club. Let’s protect our integrity by staying grounded in transparency, ethics, and collective strength.
Court reporting’s future depends on more than letters after our names. Credentials have value, but without strong state licensure, standardized titles, and real enforcement, they offer no structural protection. As attorneys push back on “high rates” and cheaper labor undercuts skilled reporters, the profession must unify around measurable skill, fair rates, and regulatory strength—not voluntary designations.
Shaunise Day’s handling of the 2022 Steno in the City™ event was professionally negligent. She failed to submit the proper paperwork to Guinness, and as a result, Mark Kislingbury’s historic 370 WPM performance was never ratified. That failure didn’t just cost him recognition — it misled the community and damaged the profession.
Court reporting’s future hinges on how we train new reporters. While “short writing” promises speed, decades of data show it fails to scale. Traditional phonetic theories taught in NCRA-accredited programs remain the backbone of reporter education—emphasizing accuracy, clarity, and proven outcomes. Recruitment reform, not shortcuts, will strengthen the pipeline and ensure a generation ready to protect the record.
Long before steno machines, Ancient Greek scribes developed shorthand to capture debates and court proceedings. The Romans expanded it, Taylor and Pitman refined it, and Ward Stone Ireland’s 1911 machine revolutionized it. Today’s realtime theories trace their lineage back over 2,000 years—a legacy of precision, linguistic mastery, and adaptation that defines the court reporting profession.
Agencies claim they use digital recorders only for the “jobs no one wants.” But reporters know better. Short PI and workers’ comp depos aren’t unwanted—they’re flexible, essential, and often preferred. Labeling them “undesirable” masks profit motives, undercuts opportunities for new talent, and devalues critical legal proceedings. There’s no such thing as a job nobody wants—only work that deserves respect and fair pay.
The court reporting profession is at war — and wars aren’t won by polite committees. We need to man up, raise our standards, challenge the old guard, and lead with courage. The culture that got us here can’t get us out. Either we act like guardians of the record or watch our profession be dismantled piece by piece.
Courts are not “sitting on a gold mine” — they’re bound by the Constitution. Turning depositions into revenue streams ignores statutes, due process, and the ethical duty to safeguard verbatim accuracy. Sworn reporters are not obstacles but guardians of the record. Replacing them with AI “light edits” risks malpractice, reversals, and erosion of public trust. Fool’s gold is no substitute for justice.
In California, court reporters are legally bound to publish consistent rates and apply them equally to all clients. My rates aren’t negotiable, because fairness, ethics, and transparency matter more than undercutting for a job. Consistency protects our licenses, our profession, and the record itself. My rates are my rates—for everyone, every time.
Leadership in court reporting isn’t about titles, control, or being the loudest voice. True leaders create growth. They mentor students, pay fairly, and model integrity. If the people around you aren’t stronger, more confident, and more skilled because of your presence, your “leadership” is a façade. You can’t call yourself a leader if no one grows when you’re around.
Integrity is the backbone of court reporting—yet too often, reporters who speak out are punished instead of praised. Loyalty is demanded, while truth is silenced. We cannot survive as a profession if courage is branded “conflict” and accountability is seen as “disloyalty.” Court reporters must reclaim integrity as our standard, not intimidation.
Court reporters and small agencies: this is not the end — it’s the beginning of transformation. When you step into the fire of immersion, fear fades, energy multiplies, and breakthroughs happen. You are the guardian of truth, and together we are unstoppable. Don’t wait. Reclaim your value, stand tall, and help save the profession today.
Small, reporter-owned agencies are being squeezed by Big Box firms offering lavish gifts, delayed payment schemes, digital reporters, and AI summaries. Competing on those terms is impossible — and unethical. But survival is still possible. By flipping their business model upside down — paying reporters faster, networking instead of consolidating, and selling ethics instead of perks — small agencies can thrive again.
Court reporting agencies profit twice: first from our labor, then by conscripting us as unpaid sales reps. Some agencies do better, but one is too many. Reporters are not brand ambassadors, cookie pushers, or mock jurors. We are officers of the court, and when neutrality is compromised, justice itself is at risk. Agencies must change — or be called out.
Magna’s “Spin to Win” wheel isn’t harmless fun—it’s an illegal lottery in disguise. By tying raffle entries to transcript submissions and page counts, the company recreates the same scheme Shaunise Day’s Steno in the City™ ran in Long Beach without DOJ registration. In California and most states, Prize + Chance + Consideration = lottery. No free entry means no compliance.
In every courtroom, voices overlap, tempers flare, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Amid the chaos, one thing never wavers: the stenographer’s notes. They are the unshakable record—neutral, permanent, and immune to distortion. Machines may glitch, audio may falter, but the stenographer’s notes never lie. They remain the ultimate safeguard of truth in our justice system.
Saving stenography isn’t a runway walk—it’s a battlefield. Agencies have leveraged legislation to gain ground, and courts now put their names on forms once reserved for reporters. Power circles inside our own profession deflect responsibility, as seen in the Notary Loophole fallout. The truth is simple: reporters must reclaim leadership, defend independence, and fight for the integrity of the record.
Stanford’s data shows ASR makes twice as many errors with Black speakers as white speakers. The NCRA warns of bias, misattribution, and chain-of-custody failures. In trial after trial, I’ve seen judges and attorneys turn back to the human transcript when accuracy matters. Until a machine can raise its right hand and swear to accuracy, the record still belongs to court reporters.
The Bushmen pitied Laurens van der Post when he admitted he could not hear the stars sing. Today, I feel the same grief for our profession. The truth rings out—schools reporting poaching, leaders failing in accountability—yet so many refuse to hear it. Our poverty is not material, but in losing the ability to hear the song of truth itself.
STENOIMPERIUM