Why Transcribing from Electronic Recordings Is Hearsay — and the Stenographic Profession’s Strongest Defense

The Facebook Question That Frames It All

A friend asks: “I have a friend interested in going to court reporting school. Any thoughts on whether that’s a good idea with possibly AI taking over? I want to encourage her but also be honest about the changes.”

It’s a question thousands of students, parents, and professionals are asking as artificial intelligence (AI), automatic speech recognition (ASR), and electronic recording (ER) technologies are marketed as replacements for stenographic reporters. My answer — and the focus of this article — is simple: AI and ER transcripts are hearsay.

Unless a transcript is produced by the person who was physically present, swore an oath, and captured the record verbatim, it is not legally reliable testimony. It is, by definition, an “out-of-court statement” — hearsay. That truth is not just a rhetorical weapon; it is a legal foundation that secures the future of stenography.

What Is Hearsay?

Hearsay is defined in the Federal Rules of Evidence (Rule 801) and most state evidentiary codes as an out-of-court statement offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted. Courts are generally skeptical of hearsay because it denies the trier of fact (judge or jury) the ability to evaluate the credibility, demeanor, and accuracy of the person making the statement.

In legal proceedings, hearsay is usually excluded unless it falls under specific exceptions (such as business records, dying declarations, or admissions against interest). The policy reason is clear: the adversarial system depends on live testimony subject to cross-examination.

Now apply that principle to transcripts created from an electronic recording, whether transcribed by a contractor days later or spit out by an AI engine. The words on the page are not the record itself; they are someone else’s interpretation of the record — a hearsay statement.

Why an ER Transcript Fits the Hearsay Definition

Consider the process. A judge allows a hearing to be recorded instead of stenographically reported. That recording is later handed to a transcriber or fed into an ASR program. A transcript is produced.

But what is that transcript, legally?

  1. It is not the original testimony. The witness’s sworn words were spoken in court, not in the transcriber’s office or inside the AI algorithm.
  2. It is an out-of-court interpretation. The transcriber (human or machine) was not present, did not administer the oath, did not observe non-verbal clarifications, did not interrupt for clarification, and did not certify accuracy under penalty of law.
  3. It is offered to prove the truth of what was said. When an attorney cites that transcript in a motion, they are asking the court to accept it as if it were the verbatim record.

That combination squarely places the ER transcript in the definition of hearsay: an out-of-court statement offered to prove the truth of the matter.

The Stenographic Reporter’s Unique Role

A certified shorthand reporter is not a passive recorder. They are a sworn officer of the court. When a reporter transcribes proceedings, they:

  • Administer oaths to witnesses.
  • Interrupt if multiple people speak at once or if words are inaudible.
  • Ask for clarification of spellings, technical terms, or indistinct speech.
  • Certify the transcript under penalty of perjury as a true and correct record.

That certification transforms the transcript into admissible evidence, not hearsay. Courts rely on the reporter’s presence and oath as a safeguard of reliability.

An AI cannot administer an oath. It cannot stop a mumbling witness and ask for repetition. It cannot distinguish between homophones like “there,” “their,” and “they’re” without context. And crucially, it cannot testify in court that its transcript is true and correct.

Accountability and Responsible Charge

In every licensed profession, there is a principle called Responsible Charge. It means that a qualified human being — licensed, sworn, and ethically bound — assumes responsibility for the work product. Architects sign off on blueprints. Doctors sign charts. Attorneys sign pleadings. Court reporters certify transcripts.

That certification is not symbolic. It creates accountability. A court reporter who falsifies, alters, or negligently mishandles the record can be disciplined, fined, lose their license, or even face jail time. The justice system depends on this chain of responsibility: someone must stand behind the record.

AI cannot accept responsible charge.
AI cannot be punished.
AI cannot be fined.
AI cannot be jailed.
AI cannot raise a hand, take an oath, and defend its transcript in open court.

Without responsible charge, an AI/ER transcript is not only hearsay — it is unaccountable hearsay. That lack of responsibility erodes the very foundation of evidentiary reliability.

Why This Matters Now

The push for AI and ER in the courts is often framed as a cost-saving measure. Vendors promise that microphones and software can replace expensive human labor. Yet the hidden costs are enormous:

  • Challenges to admissibility: If an ER transcript is hearsay, litigants can object to its use. That creates delays, appeals, and mistrials.
  • Loss of accountability: No human officer swears responsibility for the transcript. Errors cannot be traced to a certifying professional.
  • Access to justice issues: Poor litigants, pro se defendants, and vulnerable parties suffer most when the record is inaccurate or incomplete.

If courts embrace ER/AI without recognizing the hearsay problem, they risk undermining the integrity of the entire justice system.

Case Law and Precedent

Several courts have already grappled with the admissibility of ER transcripts. While some jurisdictions tolerate them in limited circumstances, appellate decisions repeatedly stress the superiority of certified stenographic transcripts. Judges often note that recordings are incomplete, distorted, or fail to capture non-verbal cues.

Even when recordings are admitted, they usually require a foundation of authenticity and accuracy. But without a certifying reporter, who lays that foundation? A technician who installed the microphone? A contractor overseas who typed what they thought they heard? An AI engineer? None of those individuals were present when the words were spoken. That gap is fatal under hearsay doctrine.

Turning the Argument into a Weapon for the Profession

For years, stenographers have tried to defend their role by pointing to error rates, cost comparisons, or tradition. Those arguments are important, but they are not bulletproof. Vendors counter with claims of “improving accuracy” and “cost efficiency.”

Hearsay is different. It is not a matter of opinion, statistics, or preference. It is black-letter law. If every court reporter begins educating attorneys and judges with one simple truth — “AI/ER transcripts are hearsay” — the profession gains an unassailable defense.

Imagine every objection in court being met with: “Objection, Your Honor. That transcript is hearsay. The transcriber was not present. The only admissible record is the certified stenographic transcript.”

If repeated often enough, this objection becomes doctrine. Attorneys will internalize it. Judges will cite it. And the market for stenographers will stabilize for another century.

A Message to Future Students

So, back to the Facebook friend wondering whether to attend court reporting school. The answer is: Yes. Court reporting is not only a secure profession, it is a frontline defense of constitutional rights.

While technology evolves, the legal system remains bound to principles of fairness, confrontation, and reliability. A profession that holds the key to keeping the official record admissible is not going away. In fact, demand for certified stenographers is rising as courts realize the pitfalls of ER.

Students entering the field today are not competing with AI; they are protecting justice from hearsay. That is a mission worth dedicating a career to.

Conclusion: Safe for 100 Years

When someone asks if AI will replace court reporters, the answer is not complicated. AI cannot replace us because AI is hearsay.

The only record that stands in court is one taken down verbatim by a live, sworn stenographic reporter. That truth is our weapon, our shield, and our professional identity. If we consistently remind the legal community of this fact, our profession will remain safe — not just today, but for the next hundred years.

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.

***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):

Perception vs. Reality – The Truth About Court Reporting Education Costs

When students consider pursuing a specialized career path, one of the first questions they ask is: Is the education worth it? For court reporting, this question often collides with another perception—that vocational programs are “for-profit cash grabs” charging high tuition without delivering proportional value. The reality is far more complicated and, ultimately, far more encouraging than critics realize.

The Harvard Analogy—And Why It Misses the Point

It’s common to hear the comparison: “If you want to go to Harvard, you have to pay Harvard money.” In other words, premium schools charge premium prices. But the court reporting world isn’t Harvard, and tuition for stenographic programs is not an inflated status fee. Instead, it reflects the cost of running a highly specialized vocational program in a shrinking niche field.

The Harvard analogy also implies that administrators are pocketing massive profits. But that’s a misconception. Court reporting schools, like many vocational institutions, operate on slim margins. The idea that they are swimming in tuition money ignores the actual realities of declining enrollment, increasing regulatory oversight, and the high cost of providing individualized education in a trade that requires live instruction, technology, and mentoring.

The Reality Behind “For-Profit”

The term for-profit often triggers skepticism. People imagine owners lining their pockets while students struggle with tuition debt. But for-profit in this context doesn’t mean predatory. It means the school isn’t subsidized by government funding the way community colleges are. Vocational programs must sustain themselves on tuition alone.

With enrollments down nationwide—reflecting both declining awareness of the profession and a demanding certification process—the revenue simply isn’t there to create wealth for administrators. In fact, the opposite is often true: many vocational schools are barely surviving. Far from extravagant lifestyles, the leadership of these schools often live modestly. They are not building empires; they are working to keep a legacy institution alive for the next generation of reporters.

Why Education in Court Reporting Feels Expensive

Students understandably experience sticker shock. A court reporting program may cost tens of thousands of dollars. For someone entering a vocational path, that can feel daunting, especially when compared to the perception that community colleges or public programs should offer cheaper routes.

But consider what that tuition covers:

  • Faculty salaries: Skilled instructors are often experienced reporters who could be earning six figures in the field. To attract and retain them, schools must pay competitive wages.
  • Technology: Stenography machines, software licenses, and realtime systems are not cheap. Students need access to professional-grade equipment to train effectively.
  • Regulation and accreditation: Meeting state and national standards costs money, from curriculum reviews to compliance audits.
  • Student support: Tutoring, mentoring, career placement, and exam preparation require additional staff and resources.

Every tuition dollar is stretched across these costs. Unlike large universities with endowments or government-subsidized community colleges, private vocational schools rely solely on tuition to cover the true cost of delivering education.

The Enrollment Crisis

The financial strain on court reporting schools is amplified by a nationwide enrollment crisis. Court reporting is an essential profession, yet fewer students are entering programs each year. Schools face the paradox of needing to invest in marketing, outreach, and student support to boost enrollment while operating on dwindling tuition revenue.

This dynamic often leads to closures. In the last two decades, numerous respected programs have shut their doors. Each closure further shrinks access to training and worsens the shortage of certified reporters. The schools that remain have managed to survive not by reaping outsized profits, but by holding on with determination and cutting costs wherever possible.

Value vs. Cost – The Investment Case

The real conversation students should be having is not about whether a school is for-profit, but whether the return on investment justifies the cost. And here, the math is clear.

A typical court reporter may start out earning around $45,000 per year. But with experience, certification, and specialization, earnings can climb dramatically. Many freelance reporters in states like California, Texas, and New York regularly surpass six figures. Some, through high-volume work and realtime specialties, can even earn $200,000–$500,000 annually.

Let’s frame that against the cost of education. Even if a program costs $35,000 to complete, that investment can yield decades of high-paying work. Over a 30-year career, a reporter could conservatively earn $1.5 million to $3 million. For top-tier earners, the number climbs exponentially.

In other words, the tuition isn’t a “cash grab.” It’s the price of admission to a profession with one of the strongest income-to-education-cost ratios available today. Unlike law school or medical school, which can saddle graduates with six-figure debt before they even begin working, court reporting offers a relatively short training timeline and a direct path to high earnings.

Dispelling the “Cash Grab” Narrative

The narrative that court reporting schools are “cashing in” on students does a disservice to both the institutions and the profession. It discourages potential students, fuels cynicism, and undermines trust in a field that desperately needs new entrants.

Here’s the reality:

  • Court reporting schools are not exploiting students; they are keeping a door open to a profession that is struggling with both supply and demand.
  • Tuition reflects actual costs, not inflated profits.
  • Without these schools, aspiring reporters would have even fewer options, worsening the shortage and further diminishing access to justice.

Seeing the Bigger Picture

When evaluating whether to enroll in a stenographic program, students should focus less on the business structure of the school and more on the outcomes. The key question is: Will this investment prepare me for a career where I can earn, grow, and thrive?

The answer, resoundingly, is yes. Court reporting remains a field with unmatched job security, flexible career paths, and high earning potential. The demand for certified reporters continues to outpace supply, meaning that graduates often find work immediately.

The real risk is not in paying tuition to a court reporting program. The real risk is in missing the opportunity altogether, leaving a high-paying, in-demand profession underfilled because of misplaced perceptions about cost and profit.

From Perception to Perspective

It’s easy to label a for-profit school as a cash grab. It’s harder to step back and look at the real economics behind vocational education in specialized fields. Court reporting programs don’t charge tuition to enrich administrators; they charge what they must to sustain themselves in a world where this training is increasingly endangered.

For students, the decision should come down to value. Court reporting education may feel expensive in the moment, but compared to the lifetime of earnings and opportunities it opens, the cost is one of the best investments a person can make.

Rather than dismissing these programs, the profession needs to rally around them. They are keeping the pipeline open. They are ensuring that the next generation of court reporters exists at all. And for those who commit to the program, the payoff is not just financial—it’s a lifelong career with purpose, stability, and impact.

Court Reporting is the $35,000 Investment That Can Yield Millions

When most people think about career choices, they focus on passion, job security, or work-life balance. Few take the time to run the numbers the way an investor would. But in today’s world, where education costs have skyrocketed and student loan debt cripples entire generations, it’s worth asking: What is the true return on investment of a career path?

In that light, court reporting stands out as one of the most overlooked yet extraordinary opportunities. For an investment of about $35,000 in education and training, a reporter can earn anywhere from the average of $45,000 per year to as much as $500,000 annually at the top of the profession. Over a 30-year career, that’s a range of $1.35 million to $15 million in gross income.

Even on the low end, court reporting offers a strong return compared to the cost of education. On the high end, it delivers one of the best ROI opportunities of any professional path.

Breaking Down the Numbers

The Cost of Education

Becoming a court reporter doesn’t require a four-year degree. Instead, the typical path involves attending a specialized program through a community college, private school, or online academy.

Tuition, equipment (steno machine or voice mask, computer, CAT software), books, and exam fees generally total $30,000 to $40,000 depending on the program. For this analysis, we’ll use $35,000 as the benchmark.

That’s the “initial investment.”

The Earnings Spectrum

Earnings vary widely in court reporting, depending on geography, specialization, and work style.

  • National average: About $45,000 per year, based on U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics data. Many entry-level reporters or those working part-time fall within this bracket.
  • Mid-range: Many full-time freelance and official reporters regularly earn between $80,000 and $120,000 annually.
  • Top tier: Reporters who specialize in realtime, expedites, high-volume depositions, or trial work can earn $250,000 to $500,000+ per year.

Over a 30-year career, this creates a wide but clear range of potential:

  • Low end (average): $45,000 × 30 = $1.35 million
  • Mid-range: $100,000 × 30 = $3 million
  • High end: $500,000 × 30 = $15 million

ROI in Financial Terms

Return on investment (ROI) is calculated as: ROI=Gain from Investment – Cost of InvestmentCost of InvestmentROI = \frac{\text{Gain from Investment – Cost of Investment}}{\text{Cost of Investment}}ROI=Cost of InvestmentGain from Investment – Cost of Investment​

  • Low end: $1.35 million – $35,000 = $1,315,000 gain. ROI = 3,757%.
  • Mid-range: $3 million – $35,000 = $2,965,000 gain. ROI = 8,471%.
  • High end: $15 million – $35,000 = $14,965,000 gain. ROI = 42,757%.

Even for those earning the average salary, court reporting delivers nearly a 4,000% return on the cost of schooling. And for those who build a thriving freelance or official career, the numbers become extraordinary.

The Payback Period

Another way to look at value is the “payback period” — how long it takes to recover the original investment.

  • Average reporter ($45k/year): $3,750/month → education paid off in less than a year.
  • Mid-range reporter ($100k/year): $8,333/month → education paid off in about 4 months.
  • Top-tier reporter ($500k/year): $41,667/month → education paid off in less than one month.

By comparison, traditional college graduates often spend 10 to 20 years repaying student loans.

Comparison to Other Professions

Traditional College Degrees

  • Cost: Average four-year degree = $120,000–$250,000.
  • Salary: Median salary for bachelor’s holders = ~$65,000/year.
  • Payback: 5–10 years, often longer with debt.

Law School

  • Cost: $200,000+.
  • Salary: Median lawyer salary = $135,000.
  • Payback: Often decades.

Medical School

  • Cost: $250,000–$400,000.
  • Salary: Median physician = $220,000.
  • Payback: Long training pipeline + years of debt repayment.

Court Reporting

  • Cost: $35,000.
  • Salary: $45,000 (average) → $500,000+ (top).
  • Payback: From less than a year to less than a month.

Court reporting may not guarantee $500,000 to everyone, but even average salaries generate ROI that outpaces most careers.

Why Court Reporting Offers Such Strong ROI

1. High Demand, Low Supply

The shortage of certified reporters nationwide creates upward pressure on wages. Courts, law firms, and agencies compete for talent, ensuring strong earning potential.

2. Multiple Revenue Streams

Unlike flat-salary jobs, reporters can stack income through:

  • Appearance fees
  • Per-page transcript rates
  • Realtime hookups
  • Expedites

This creates significant earning potential for those willing to maximize workload.

3. Career Longevity

Reporters can often work 30 to 40 years with the right ergonomic practices. This stability compounds the ROI.

4. Professional Barrier to Entry

The difficulty of mastering stenography or voice writing ensures that those who do succeed hold a valuable, defensible skill.

The Risks of Shortcuts

Some students look for “fast tracks”: bare-bones certificates, on-the-job learning promises, or skipping transcript training altogether. While tempting, these shortcuts almost always backfire.

Half-trained reporters may capture words but lack the knowledge to produce certified transcripts. Courts and law firms need professionals who can deliver from day one. Skipping training may save money upfront, but it costs credibility — and career longevity.

Beyond the Dollars – Intangible Returns

While the financial ROI is undeniable, court reporting also delivers:

  • Job security: The justice system requires accurate records.
  • Professional respect: Reporters are officers of the court.
  • Flexibility: Freelance reporters set schedules and workloads.
  • Intellectual stimulation: Exposure to law, medicine, business, and more.

Court reporting may be one of the best-kept secrets in the career world. With an initial investment of about $35,000, professionals can earn from $45,000 to $500,000+ annually — translating into lifetime earnings of $1.35 million to $15 million.

Even at the average level, the ROI is stronger than most traditional degrees. At the top of the profession, it becomes extraordinary.

In an era where students are saddled with debt chasing uncertain job prospects, court reporting proves that sometimes the smartest investment is not the most obvious one. For those willing to put in the work, the numbers — and the opportunities — speak for themselves.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

The Myth of Shortcuts in Court Reporting & Why Proper Training Matters

Every few months, a new wave of aspiring court reporters asks the same question: Is there a shortcut? Can they bypass the expense, time, and rigor of a full court reporting program and still walk into a courtroom, ready to capture the record? The reality is stark: in a profession as technical and legally critical as ours, shortcuts don’t work. There is no substitute for comprehensive training.

The temptation is understandable. Court reporting schools require a significant investment of time, money, and persistence. Students often balance families, jobs, and life’s other demands while trying to master 225 words per minute with near-perfect accuracy. The promise of a cheaper, quicker path—through a certificate program, a voice-writing course, or “on-the-job training”—sounds appealing. But those paths often set students up for failure, leaving them ill-prepared for the demands of the courtroom.

The Danger of Learning Only “Half the Job”

Many shortcut programs focus on a single skill: how to operate a machine or a voice mask. They teach the mechanics of capturing words but skip over everything else that defines the role of a court reporter.

A professional reporter is not just a human recording device. They are a highly trained officer of the court, tasked with producing a verbatim, certified transcript that can withstand appellate scrutiny. That means understanding courtroom procedure, learning how to handle exhibits, applying legal terminology correctly, formatting transcripts to statutory standards, and navigating the unpredictable dynamics of live proceedings.

A student who only learns how to “write” or “voice” without also learning transcript production, court procedures, and proofreading has, at best, half the skillset. They may be able to capture words, but they cannot deliver what attorneys and judges actually need: a certified transcript that becomes part of the permanent record.

The Transcript Gap

This is the piece most shortcut seekers miss. Producing a transcript is an art and a science. It requires:

  • Formatting mastery. Statutes and court rules often dictate margin widths, page lines, certification wording, and distribution requirements.
  • Proofreading skills. Even the best reporter makes errors in the heat of live proceedings. Proofing is not optional; it’s what ensures accuracy.
  • Research ability. Reporters constantly verify case citations, names, and spellings to maintain the integrity of the record.
  • Technical competence. From realtime hookups to electronic exhibits, today’s reporters must manage complex technology with confidence.

Shortcut programs rarely teach these skills. Instead, they assume students will “figure it out” later or outsource the work to scopists and proofreaders. But that abdicates professional responsibility. A certified reporter signs their name to the transcript. Delegating the entire process without knowing how to do it themselves is not just unprofessional—it’s a liability.

The Myth of “On-the-Job Training”

Some students cling to the idea that courts will train them after hire. While certain jurisdictions may offer orientation or brief training programs, those are designed to polish skills, not build them from scratch. A five-week crash course may teach local software or filing systems, but it cannot replace years of foundational learning.

Courts are not in the business of schooling beginners. With overwhelming caseloads and trial backlogs, they need reporters who can hit the ground running. Judges expect reporters to manage proceedings with competence from day one. The courtroom is not a classroom; it is a crucible where lives, liberty, and fortunes are at stake.

Depending on “on-the-job training” to fill in the gaps is like showing up to fly a plane without flight school, hoping the airline will teach you how in the cockpit. It’s not realistic—and it puts the entire system at risk.

Why Shortcuts Appeal—and Why They Fail

The allure of shortcuts usually comes from two places: time and money. Students want a faster, cheaper route into a high-paying, in-demand career. And it’s true—reporters are in short supply, and the market is hungry for new professionals. But hunger does not erase standards.

  • Shortcuts cost more in the long run. Students who skip proper training often discover they cannot pass certification exams, cannot perform on the job, or cannot produce transcripts without costly outside help. They either quit in frustration or spend more money later filling in the gaps.
  • Shortcuts damage reputations. One underprepared reporter fumbling in court can sour judges and attorneys on the entire profession. That reputational damage hurts everyone, not just the individual.
  • Shortcuts lead to burnout. Entering the courtroom unprepared is stressful. Reporters who lack a full foundation quickly become overwhelmed and leave the field, adding to the very shortage that shortcuts claim to solve.

The Value of Comprehensive Schooling

Traditional court reporting schools, whether brick-and-mortar or online, remain the gold standard for training. They are not perfect, and the industry must continue improving recruitment, retention, and affordability. But they teach the whole job, not just pieces of it.

At a proper school, students learn not just how to capture words, but how to turn those words into an accurate, certified transcript. They study court procedure, technology, legal terminology, ethics, and professional practice. They build speed and accuracy under the guidance of experienced instructors. They practice transcript production until it becomes second nature.

Graduates who come out of these programs are not just writers or voicers; they are fully competent reporters, ready to meet the demands of the courtroom.

Buyer Beware – The Rise of Shortcut Companies

The shortage of reporters has created a market for quick-fix programs and companies eager to cash in. Some sell certificates that sound impressive but don’t meet licensing requirements. Others market equipment or software as if the tool itself could replace skill.

Prospective students must be wary. A certificate that doesn’t include transcript training, court procedures, or rigorous practice is not a true pathway to employment. A company promising fast results without hard work is selling a fantasy. The only guarantee is that the student will spend money and still not be job-ready.

No Shortcuts to Excellence

Court reporting is not a profession that tolerates half-measures. Accuracy, integrity, and competence are non-negotiable because the stakes are so high. A misheard word can alter the outcome of a trial. A flawed transcript can derail an appeal. A poorly trained reporter can damage the credibility of the entire profession.

The truth is simple: if you want to be a court reporter, you must invest in proper training. There are no shortcuts. Comprehensive schooling is not just about getting a license—it’s about becoming the kind of professional the justice system can rely on.

For students tempted by the promise of a quick fix, the message is clear: take the long road. It’s the only road that leads to lasting success.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Outsider Companies Are Knocking – Why Court Reporters Must Push Back and Protect the Profession

Over the past year, a growing number of emails, social media posts, and marketing campaigns have landed in court reporters’ inboxes. The message is always the same: “Join us. Work with us. We’re the future of legal reporting.”

Recently, one such email from a company called Prevail Legal circulated among reporters. Their pitch sounded familiar: they claim to be “reporter friendly,” they insist their AI-powered live transcript feature is only meant to assist, not replace, and they assure reporters they’re “essential to the legal process.”

But let’s pause here. If their AI transcript already produces a real-time rough draft, then what is left for reporters beyond a final polish? And if they require reporters to lug equipment, troubleshoot Zoom, and manage exhibits, what are we really being valued for—our skill, or as tech support for their platform?

This is not just about one company. It’s about a growing trend of outside firms and tech startups attempting to wedge their way into our market, using AI and clever language to exploit our labor while undermining our profession. Court reporters must see these tactics clearly and respond strategically.

The Playbook of Outsider Companies

Let’s break down the common themes in the pitches we’re seeing:

  1. Reassurance Without Guarantees
    They say: “AI is just a tool. Reporters are still essential.”
    Reality: If their business model provides free roughs and realtime to attorneys through AI, then the paid rough draft market is destroyed. Our value is reduced to the final transcript only.
  2. The Trojan Horse of “Technology Partnerships”
    They want us to handle Zoom log-ins, troubleshoot their software, and manage exhibits. That’s uncompensated tech labor on top of our actual work.
  3. The Illusion of Professional Respect
    They frame themselves as allies: “We need reporters. We respect your expertise.”
    But the long-term trajectory is clear: their profitability depends on minimizing human involvement. If they can push us into marginal roles while feeding AI with transcript and audio data, they will.
  4. Strategic Partnerships with Large Institutions
    Companies like Prevail have already partnered with organizations such as JAMS (Judicial Arbitration and Mediation Services). This is a direct attempt to normalize AI-driven reporting in mainstream legal proceedings.
  5. Silence on Data Usage
    A critical question remains unanswered: Are they using reporter transcripts and audio to train their engines? If so, we’re not just working for less—we’re training the very technology designed to replace us.

Why Reporters Should Be Concerned

This isn’t just about losing rough draft revenue. The ripple effects are enormous:

  • Loss of Realtime Premiums: AI delivers a “good enough” live transcript, so attorneys won’t order paid realtime.
  • Data Exploitation: Sensitive deposition and arbitration content could be fed into AI engines, raising serious privacy and security concerns.
  • Devaluation of Human Skill: Our decades of training and professional expertise are being reframed as “optional”—something to clean up AI’s mess.
  • Market Saturation of “AI Reporters”: If attorneys believe AI is “close enough,” they’ll push firms to adopt it broadly, regardless of quality or ethical concerns.

The Strategic Plan: How We Push Back

The good news: reporters hold more power than we think. Every deposition, every hearing, every arbitration still requires us—for now. If we stand together, we can stop these incursions before they become normalized. Here’s the roadmap:

1. 

Educate Attorneys and Clients Immediately

  • Don’t stay silent. When you encounter an AI-based agency, inform the attorneys on the record.
  • Explain that their sensitive information may be fed into a third-party AI engine with uncertain data protections.
  • Remind them that only a certified court reporter can produce an official, admissible transcript.

2. 

Say “No” and Mean It

  • Decline work for agencies whose business model undercuts roughs, realtime, or privacy.
  • Share experiences with fellow reporters. Our collective refusal sends a strong market signal.

3. 

Leverage Professional Associations

  • Work with state and national reporter associations to issue position statements condemning AI-driven outsourcing.
  • Encourage associations to lobby for legislation protecting stenographic reporting and prohibiting uncertified AI records in court.

4. 

Highlight Privacy and Security Risks

  • AI transcripts rely on cloud-based processing. That means confidential deposition content is vulnerable to breaches.
  • Frame this as not just a reporter issue, but a client risk issue. Attorneys care about privilege, confidentiality, and malpractice exposure.

5. 

Strengthen Client Relationships

  • Stay close to your law firms. Build trust. Attorneys are less likely to be swayed by flashy tech pitches when they have a reliable, skilled reporter they respect.
  • Position yourself as a guardian of the record—not just a service provider.

6. 

Promote Our Value Publicly

  • Use LinkedIn, Facebook groups, and professional forums to share accurate information.
  • Write blogs, post videos, and speak up about why stenographic court reporters remain the gold standard in accuracy, neutrality, and reliability.

7. 

Be Ready With Questions

If approached by one of these firms, ask direct questions such as:

  • Are transcripts or audio used to train your AI?
  • Are attorneys informed that their confidential proceedings are being processed by AI systems?
  • If AI provides roughs and realtime for free, how are reporters compensated for the loss of those services?

If they hesitate, dodge, or refuse to answer—there’s your answer.

8. 

Remember: Outsiders Need Us More Than We Need Them

These companies cannot function without certified reporters. Their marketing is a scramble to recruit us because their AI alone won’t hold up legally. That is our leverage. Use it.

A Call to Unity

Back in the early days of contracting, many reporters believed, “If we just say no, it will stop.” And they were right. The power of refusal is real.

The same applies here. If we accept AI-driven agencies and their “assisting tools,” we normalize them. If we decline, educate attorneys, and make our stance public, these companies lose traction.

Court reporters are the guardians of the record. We are not optional, and we are not tech troubleshooters for corporations looking to profit off our backs. Every time we say “no,” we protect our profession and the future of accurate, impartial, and confidential legal records.

Final Word

The push from companies like Prevail Legal isn’t just about technology—it’s about control of our market. They want our skills, our transcripts, and our clients, but they don’t want to pay for our full value.

This is the moment to draw the line. Educate. Refuse. Advocate.

If we fight together now, we preserve not just our livelihoods, but the integrity of the legal system itself. If we don’t, we risk becoming “essential” only as a cleanup crew for AI’s rough drafts—and that’s not a future worth accepting

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.

***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):

Hearsay on the Record – When Transcripts Lose Their Voice

“I know you think you understand the words I said, but what you understand is not what I meant.”

That statement could be made in any courtroom in America. It captures the perennial problem of miscommunication. Words are slippery things—spoken in haste, accented by dialect, altered by noise, or even obscured by emotion. Now imagine taking that problem one step further: instead of a live human reporter preserving every syllable in the room, a recording is made, and later, someone who was never there attempts to produce a “transcript.”

The result is not the record of what was said. It is the record of what the transcriber thought they heard. And in the eyes of the law, that raises a thorny question: Is such a transcript, technically, hearsay?

What Is Hearsay, Really?

Under the Federal Rules of Evidence (Rule 801), hearsay is defined as an out-of-court statement offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted. It is excluded from evidence because it lacks the guarantees of reliability that come with direct testimony: oath, cross-examination, and the jury’s ability to observe demeanor.

Traditionally, transcripts made by certified court reporters avoid this problem because they are not hearsay. A court reporter, as an officer of the court, is present in the room, swears an oath, and produces a verbatim record under penalty of law. Their transcript is not a “statement” by them—it is the official record of the proceeding itself.

But what happens when the transcript is generated after the fact, by someone who was never present?

The Recording Paradox

A digital recording seems like a neutral piece of evidence. After all, it’s just a capture of sound. Yet recordings have limits. Microphones pick up side conversations, coughs, background noise, or nothing at all when a witness mumbles. Dialects, slang, and legal jargon can become garbled.

If a third party later listens to that recording and transcribes it, their choices inevitably shape the meaning. Did the witness say “he don’t got a gun” or “he done got a gun”? The difference could alter the course of a criminal case.

At that moment, the “transcript” becomes a second layer of interpretation—a human filtering of sound waves into text. It is not the proceeding itself; it is an outsider’s report of what they think happened inside. In other words, it starts to look very much like hearsay.

A Tale of Two Transcripts

Imagine two scenarios:

  1. Official Court Reporter – A certified shorthand reporter is in the courtroom, taking down every word. When asked to read back testimony, the reporter can do so instantly. The transcript is later prepared, signed, and certified as the official record.
  2. Remote Transcriber – No reporter is present. The proceeding is recorded. Weeks later, a transcriber, perhaps in another state or country, listens and produces a document. They never witnessed the proceeding, cannot resolve ambiguities, and cannot be questioned about context.

In the first case, the transcript is part of the court’s machinery of justice. In the second, the transcript is a derivative product of an out-of-court interpretation. If offered as evidence, it arguably meets every element of hearsay: it is a statement, made outside the courtroom, offered to prove what was said.

The Reliability Problem

Courts have long recognized that reliability is the linchpin of admissibility. This is why certified transcripts are accepted, but “rough drafts” or uncertified transcriptions are not. When the transcriber is a stranger to the proceeding, the reliability of their work depends on two fragile assumptions:

  • That the recording captured everything accurately.
  • That the transcriber interpreted it correctly.

Both assumptions are shaky. Recordings can fail, and even the best-trained ears can mishear. Unlike a live reporter, the transcriber cannot raise a hand in the moment and say, “Excuse me, could you repeat that?” They are locked into the limits of the audio.

The law does not look kindly on guesswork.

Judicial Views on the Matter

Several courts have already wrestled with the admissibility of transcripts created from recordings. The general rule: the recording itself may sometimes be admissible, but the transcript is not unless verified by someone with direct knowledge. For example, in United States v. Robinson (7th Cir. 1986), the court noted that transcripts of tape recordings are not evidence themselves—they are merely aids, unless authenticated.

Authentication requires someone with personal knowledge to testify that the transcript is accurate. But if no one with personal knowledge was present—because the transcriber was absent—who can authenticate? The transcript floats unmoored, legally speaking.

That leaves judges with two options: reject it outright, or treat it as hearsay requiring an exception. Neither inspires confidence.

Why the Distinction Matters

At first blush, this may seem like a technicality. After all, if the transcript is “close enough,” why not use it? But the stakes are enormous:

  • In criminal law, one word misheard can mean the difference between acquittal and conviction.
  • In civil law, a mis-transcribed contract term could swing millions of dollars.
  • In family law, a garbled custody hearing could determine where a child lives.

The transcript is not a mere clerical convenience. It is the legal truth upon which appeals, rights, and freedoms rest. Allowing hearsay-like transcripts into the system corrodes the integrity of that truth.

The Ethical Dimension

There is also a profound ethical concern. Attorneys are bound by professional conduct rules to protect client interests. If they rely on a transcript that turns out to be inaccurate—or worse, inadmissible—they may be exposing their clients to harm and themselves to malpractice claims.

Meanwhile, judges depend on transcripts for appellate review. An inaccurate record could leave them vulnerable to reversal, undermining judicial efficiency and public trust.

The safest course—the only course, many argue—is to insist that the official record be made by a licensed professional present in the room. Anything less invites hearsay to masquerade as truth.

Technology’s Temptation

The rise of AI-driven transcription tools has only sharpened this dilemma. Proponents claim machine learning can transcribe speech quickly and cheaply. But AI is not a witness. It cannot swear an oath. It cannot clarify in real time. It cannot testify in court if challenged.

Every AI transcript must still be checked by a human. And if that human was not present, the same hearsay problem persists. The technology may change, but the legal principle does not: justice requires a reliable, authentic, firsthand record.

Back to the First Sentence

“I know you think you understand the words I said, but what you understand is not what I meant.”

This is the danger of building justice on transcripts from people who were never present. They may believe they have captured the words. But without the anchor of firsthand presence and professional certification, what they offer is an interpretation—an out-of-court statement about an in-court event.

And that, in the purest sense, is hearsay.

Conclusion

The transcript is the backbone of the legal system. It must be exact, reliable, and unimpeachable. When produced by those present, under oath, and with the skill to clarify in real time, it fulfills that role. When produced secondhand, from recordings alone, it slips into the gray zone of hearsay—unreliable, unauthenticated, and dangerous to justice.

Courts, attorneys, and policymakers must resist the lure of convenience and cost savings that erode accuracy. For without a faithful record, trials risk becoming little more than rumors written down.

And justice deserves better than hearsay on the record.

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.

***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):

In Defense of the Crow – Why the Underdog Wins the Fight Against the Eagle

We’ve all heard the story:

“The crow pecks at the eagle. The eagle doesn’t fight back. It just soars higher until the crow suffocates and falls away. Lesson? Ignore your critics. Rise above. Don’t engage.”

It’s an inspiring little fable—if you’re the eagle. But what if the eagle is not a symbol of wisdom and strength, but of fraud, manipulation, and unchecked arrogance? What if the crow isn’t just an annoyance, but a whistleblower, a truth-teller, the one with the courage to expose the predator for what it really is?

The story changes. And so does the moral.

The Crow Is Not a Nuisance—It’s a Watchdog

Crows don’t peck for fun. They peck because they’ve seen danger. They rally against threats bigger than themselves to protect their community. They are intelligent enough to remember faces, warn others, and even teach the next generation to avoid predators.

That’s not annoyance. That’s strategy. That’s survival. That’s truth-telling.

When a crow takes on an eagle, it’s not because it’s petty. It’s because the eagle has taken too much, deceived too long, or threatened the balance of the skies.

The Eagle’s “Ascent” Is an Illusion

In the parable, the eagle never fights back—it just rises higher until the crow falls away. Admirable, right? Not so fast.

Sometimes “rising higher” is just running from accountability. Sometimes silence is not wisdom, but cowardice. The eagle doesn’t silence the crow with dignity—it relies on altitude, optics, and image to escape being exposed.

But here’s the truth: not every crow falls off. Some hold on. Some peck harder. Some rally a whole murder of crows that chase the eagle from the sky. And contrary to the myth, crows are not limited by thin air—certain members of the crow family, like the alpine chough, are among the highest-flying birds on Earth. They nest above 21,000 feet and have been recorded soaring with mountaineers at nearly 27,000 feet, far higher than eagles are known to endure. In fact, they hold the distinction of the highest-flying corvids ever recorded.

The crow doesn’t gasp for breath in thin air. The crow thrives there.

Why You Should Side With the Crow

The eagle looks majestic in paintings, on flags, in motivational speeches. But majesty without integrity is just manipulation with wings.

The crow isn’t trying to look noble—it’s trying to be noble. To warn others. To expose the liar. To protect the vulnerable. To say: “Don’t be fooled by feathers and posturing. See the truth.”

The crow doesn’t need glamour. The crow has grit. The crow has courage. And the crow is relentless.

The Real Lesson

Don’t dismiss the crow because it’s loud. Don’t idolize the eagle because it’s pretty.

Ask yourself: Who is actually telling the truth? Who is actually defending the flock? Who is willing to fight when silence would be easier?

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is side with the crow.

Because in the end, it’s not the altitude that suffocates the crow—it’s the truth that brings down the eagle.

If you side with the eagle, you’re siding with appearances. With manipulation disguised as majesty. With dominance that hides deceit.

If you side with the crow, you’re siding with courage. With intelligence. With the uncomfortable.

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.

***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):

Saving Court Reporting – It’s About More Than Fighting AI

The legal world has spent years debating artificial intelligence and digital recording in courtrooms. And with good reason. Accuracy, privacy, and accountability are not luxuries; they are the bedrock of justice. Human court reporters remain the gold standard for preserving the record.

But while we fight Silicon Valley’s latest experiment, another crisis is starving our profession from within: the collapse of the education pipeline. Without new blood entering the field, no defense of “the record” will matter—because there will be no one left to keep it.

The Disappearing Schools

Court reporting programs across the country are closing. Community colleges have dropped their degrees, citing low enrollment, high equipment costs, retiring instructors, and budget shortfalls. One school in Sarasota shuttered its program after years of struggling with recruitment. Another, in Wisconsin, closed its department entirely after decades of producing certified reporters.

This is the quiet erosion of our profession. Every time a school closes, dozens—sometimes hundreds—of potential reporters lose the chance to discover a career that could change their lives.

And what has been done to stop it? Not nearly enough. Our leadership has been slow to respond, failing to “triage” schools at risk, failing to rally communities and state legislators, and failing to show deans why court reporting is a workforce program worth saving.

A Lesson from Kusadasi, Turkey

Yesterday, in Kusadasi, Turkey, I heard a story that hit me like a bolt of recognition. Our tour guide explained how the ancient craft of carpet weaving is dying. For centuries, Turkish carpets were prized worldwide, each one a work of art made by hand. But today’s youth no longer want to learn the trade. They want to be doctors, lawyers, teachers—prestigious professions that promise more stability and income.

The government, realizing the cultural treasure at risk, is now offering incentives for students to learn carpet weaving. Because if no one learns the craft, it will vanish forever. Machines can mass-produce rugs, yes, but they cannot reproduce the artistry, precision, and soul of a handmade carpet.

Sound familiar?

Court reporting faces the exact same fate. We are the human craft preserving the truth in our justice system. And unless we recruit and support the next generation, we too will be replaced—not because machines are better, but because no one is left to carry the torch.

Rethinking Standards, Lowering Barriers

Part of the problem is our own pipeline. Some schools demand five perfect passes at 225 words per minute before graduation. Admirable in theory, but how many capable students have been forced out because they couldn’t quite hit that benchmark before their funding or patience ran out?

Many of these students later pass the RPR or state exams in months. The rigid structure of schools may be unintentionally gatekeeping rather than cultivating.

Maybe it’s time to modernize: lower graduation benchmarks to 200 wpm while keeping the professional certification bar at 225+. That way, schools can graduate more students who are on the cusp of readiness while still ensuring professional standards are met.

The focus should be on building reporters, not building attrition statistics.

Recruitment – Who Even Knows We Exist?

Another brutal truth: most young people—and their parents—don’t even know this career exists. Ask a high school student if they’ve heard of court reporting, and you’ll likely get a blank stare. Meanwhile, they’re bombarded with campaigns to become nurses, engineers, or software developers.

We need the same energy. Recruitment must be aggressive, creative, and digital-first. Imagine:

  • TikTok series showcasing young reporters hitting six-figure incomes.
  • Partnerships with high schools and guidance counselors.
  • Loaner equipment and scholarships to reduce upfront costs.
  • National mentorship networks linking students with veterans for support.

If we want to fill the seats, we must first make sure students even know the seats exist.

Innovation Isn’t AI—It’s Education

Ironically, the real innovation our profession needs has nothing to do with AI. It’s not about cloud transcription or voice recognition software. It’s about reimagining how we teach, recruit, and retain the next generation.

Innovation looks like:

  • Hybrid and online training models for rural students.
  • Workforce grants and tuition incentives, the same way governments fund nursing and teaching programs.
  • A professional “rescue squad” that steps in the moment a school considers closing, to fight for its survival.
  • Public-private partnerships to subsidize equipment and software for students.

This isn’t lowering the bar. It’s lowering the barriers.

The Dual Fight

Yes, we must continue exposing AI’s failures in accuracy, privacy, and accountability. But if that is our only focus, we risk winning the argument and losing the war. Because without reporters entering the pipeline, there will be no one left to take the depositions, cover the hearings, or produce the transcripts that justice depends on.

We must fight on two fronts: against the incursion of unproven technology, and for the preservation of our schools, students, and future workforce.

A Call to Action

The story of Turkish carpets is a cautionary tale: once a craft disappears, it is nearly impossible to bring back. Court reporting is no different. We are not “just typists.” We are custodians of truth.

So here is the call:

  • Leadership must treat school closures as a national emergency.
  • We must reimagine recruitment and visibility, bringing court reporting into the spotlight for the next generation.
  • We must modernize our educational structures to reduce attrition while upholding certification standards.
  • Every working reporter must become a mentor, recruiter, and advocate.

Because once our profession is gone, it’s gone for good. And what will be left behind will not be faster, cheaper, or better. It will be weaker, riskier, and less accountable.

Just like the hand-woven carpets of Turkey, our craft is too valuable to lose. The time to fight for it is now.

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.

***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):

The Irreplaceable Human Court Reporter – Why AI Will Never Capture the Record

A courtroom is not a lab. It is not a tech demo or a theoretical exercise in “innovation.” It is a crucible where freedom, reputation, livelihood, and even personal safety are decided every day. The people who work there know this truth in their bones: the record matters. And when it comes to creating that record, no machine—not even the most sophisticated AI—can match the precision, accountability, and judgment of a trained human court reporter.

The Brutal Reality of Live Proceedings

Consider a criminal trial where a victim is on the stand. The witness is distraught, words tumbling out at more than 300 words per minute. She’s recounting trauma, using regional slang, coded references, and drug-culture terminology that would bewilder an algorithm. Every other sentence has names, dates, and crucial details that—if misheard—could alter the meaning entirely.

In such a setting, the human court reporter is not simply “typing fast.” They are actively listening, clarifying, and stopping the proceedings when accuracy demands it. They interrupt respectfully, ensuring the record reflects exactly what was said, not an approximation. They balance technical skill with extraordinary people skills, managing interactions with attorneys, judges, and vulnerable witnesses—all while keeping composure under pressure.

Now ask yourself: How would an AI meeting assistant, microphone array, or digital recorder fare in this exact environment?

The Myth of “Faster, Cheaper, Better”

Tech vendors love buzzwords: faster, cheaper, better. But when we test those promises in real legal proceedings, the shine quickly fades.

  • Speed: Court reporters routinely handle testimony at speeds of 225–300 words per minute in real time. AI transcription programs struggle with overlapping speech, accents, slang, and high-speed dialogue. Far from being faster, AI often creates more work—requiring human cleanup that delays transcript delivery.
  • Cost: The “cheaper” claim is a mirage. Any initial savings on labor are offset by hidden costs: hours of correction time, risk of appeal due to faulty transcripts, and exposure to lawsuits if confidential recordings are leaked or mishandled. Unlike a court reporter, a machine doesn’t bear responsibility for errors—someone else pays the price.
  • Accuracy: Machines can transcribe words, but they cannot recognize when the words don’t make sense, when the witness is misheard, or when multiple people talk at once. The difference between “he did it” and “he didn’t” can be a matter of liberty or imprisonment. A human reporter knows when to stop and clarify. AI barrels ahead blindly.

In short: what tech companies market as “better” is in fact worse—sloppier, riskier, and more expensive in the long run.

The Fragile Nature of Privacy

Courtrooms deal with sensitive matters: domestic violence, child abuse, trade secrets, medical records, immigration status. Court reporters are bound by strict ethical codes and state licensing rules. They are trained to safeguard confidentiality.

Contrast that with AI tools, which rely on cloud processing, data storage, and sometimes third-party vendors. Each recording, each transcript becomes a data point that could be hacked, sold, or misused. Even anonymized data can be re-identified with enough cross-referencing.

Ask any survivor of domestic violence: privacy is not an abstract concept. It can be the difference between safety and danger. The thought of confidential testimony being siphoned into training databases for “better AI models” should alarm every judge and attorney.

The Disappearance of Accountability

Perhaps the most overlooked risk of replacing court reporters is the loss of a single, responsible custodian of the record.

When a certified stenographer or voice writer produces a transcript, their name is on the cover. They swear to its accuracy. They can be subpoenaed, questioned, and held accountable. There is a clear chain of responsibility.

With AI or digital recording, accountability evaporates. Who is responsible for the transcript? The software developer? The court clerk who pressed record? The low-paid contractor cleaning up errors after the fact? If no one is ultimately responsible, then the legal system itself is weakened. The transcript—the very evidence relied upon in appeals—becomes a collective shrug.

The Human Dimension of the Job

Court reporting is often dismissed by outsiders as “just typing.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Reporters must have:

  • Exceptional listening and memory skills to follow rapid-fire testimony.
  • Emotional intelligence to handle distraught victims, combative attorneys, and impatient judges.
  • Mental stamina to concentrate for hours at a time without missing a word.
  • Technical mastery of complex equipment and software.
  • Ethical judgment to maintain neutrality and confidentiality.

There are much easier jobs with far less stress and far greater recognition. Reporters do this work because it matters, because the integrity of the justice system depends on it.

Once We’re Gone, We’re Gone

The greatest danger is complacency. Many assume that if court reporters fade away, something “better” will replace them. The reality is starkly different: once the skill, training, and pipeline of certified stenographers and voice writers is dismantled, it will not be rebuilt.

We are not trading up. We are trading down—to inaccuracy, delays, privacy leaks, and the abdication of responsibility. And by the time policymakers realize the damage, it will be too late.

Human Oversight Will Always Be Required

Even the most advanced AI systems require human oversight. A mislabeled transcript, a homophone error, a mistranscribed name—these are not minor glitches; they are potential grounds for mistrials or wrongful convictions.

The legal system cannot afford to outsource its backbone to machines that lack judgment, ethics, and accountability. Certified human reporters—whether steno or voice—remain the gold standard.

A Career Worth Defending

Those who have dedicated their lives to this profession know its value. They can tell you about the high-stakes cases, the judges who shaped their understanding of justice, the unforgettable moments of human drama. They could write books filled with stories.

Yes, the work is demanding. Yes, it requires sacrifice. But it is also a career of profound meaning—one that places the reporter at the very center of justice, ensuring the truth is preserved for generations.

That is not something to dismiss lightly. It is something to defend fiercely.

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.

***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):

The Otter Lawsuit – AI, Privacy, and the Fight Over Consent

A groundbreaking lawsuit has been filed against Otter.ai, a company known for its AI-powered meeting transcription and recording services. At the center of the complaint is a fundamental question: Can AI companies record, transcribe, and train on private conversations without the explicit consent of all participants?

The lawsuit, which touches multiple federal and state privacy laws, may set a legal precedent not only for Otter but for the entire AI industry—particularly the booming sector of AI meeting assistants. It highlights what privacy expert Luiza Jarovsky, PhD, calls another instance of AI exceptionalism: a tendency to treat AI technologies as though they deserve exemptions from long-standing legal and ethical norms.

The Allegations Against Otter

Otter.ai offers a meeting assistant tool that can automatically join virtual meetings, record conversations, and generate transcripts. While marketed as a productivity enhancer, this tool raises serious privacy concerns.

The lawsuit alleges that Otter:

  1. Fails to obtain consent from all participants.
    While account holders grant permission when they sign up, non-users who participate in meetings are often unaware that their voices are being recorded, transcribed, and stored.
  2. Shifts responsibility onto users.
    Instead of ensuring compliance itself, Otter instructs users to secure consent from others—a responsibility many ignore or misunderstand.
  3. Uses private conversations to train AI models.
    According to the complaint, Otter trains its AI on user-generated content, which may contain sensitive or confidential information, raising additional risks of misuse and data leakage.

The plaintiffs argue that these practices violate a suite of federal and California state laws designed to protect communications, privacy, and consumer rights.

The Legal Landscape

The lawsuit invokes an impressive list of statutes and doctrines, showing the breadth of potential violations. Among them:

  • Electronic Communications Privacy Act (ECPA): Prohibits unauthorized interception or recording of communications. Consent from just one party may not be enough in certain jurisdictions.
  • Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA): Targets unauthorized access to digital systems and data. Recording without consent can be framed as unauthorized access.
  • California Invasion of Privacy Act (CIPA): California is a “two-party consent” state, meaning all participants must agree before a recording is made.
  • California Comprehensive Computer Data Access and Fraud Act: Focuses on digital trespass and unauthorized data collection.
  • Torts of Intrusion Upon Seclusion and Conversion: Common law claims that protect individuals from invasive surveillance and the misappropriation of their personal data.
  • California Unfair Competition Law (UCL): Prohibits business practices that are unlawful, unfair, or fraudulent.

By bringing such a broad set of claims, plaintiffs are signaling that AI companies may not be shielded from the legal duties that govern traditional recording technologies.

Consent and the Myth of Delegated Responsibility

One of the most striking aspects of the Otter case is the way it spotlights a common industry practice: shifting privacy responsibilities onto users.

Most AI meeting assistants—including those offered by competitors—ask the account holder to “make sure everyone consents.” On paper, this sounds like compliance. In reality, it is a recipe for noncompliance. Many users are unaware of the legal requirements in their state, while others assume that clicking through terms of service covers all participants.

This is where AI exceptionalism comes into play. Imagine a human stenographer secretly transcribing a private call without telling everyone present. It would clearly violate privacy law. Yet when the same act is done by an AI assistant, some companies act as though the rules are negotiable.

The Otter lawsuit may be the first high-profile test of whether courts will hold AI companies accountable for these evasions.

Ethical Implications – Beyond the Law

While the lawsuit is grounded in legal claims, the ethical stakes are just as high. Recording private conversations without consent undermines trust—not only between meeting participants but also between the public and technology companies.

Several risks flow from Otter’s alleged practices:

  • Exposure of sensitive information. Many meetings involve confidential discussions—legal strategy, business negotiations, or personal health matters. Recording without consent jeopardizes this confidentiality.
  • Training data exploitation. Using recorded conversations to train AI models compounds the violation. Personal data is not only captured but repurposed for profit.
  • Data leakage and cybersecurity threats. Every additional dataset becomes a target for hackers. In an era of escalating cyberattacks, AI companies bear heightened responsibility for data protection.

As Jarovsky points out, AI should not be treated as an exception to basic principles of consent and transparency. If anything, AI’s scale and opacity demand higher standards of accountability.

The Broader Context – Productivity vs. Privacy

AI meeting assistants are part of a larger wave of productivity-enhancing AI tools. From note-taking to drafting emails, AI is increasingly embedded in daily workflows. Yet the drive for efficiency often overshadows privacy concerns.

This is not the first time technology companies have downplayed consent in the name of innovation. Social media platforms once normalized pervasive data collection under the guise of “improving the user experience.” The backlash that followed—culminating in regulations like the EU’s GDPR and California’s CCPA—shows that societies eventually demand accountability.

The Otter lawsuit may be a similar inflection point for AI meeting assistants. It forces the question: Can convenience justify eroding privacy?

Potential Outcomes and Precedents

If the plaintiffs succeed, the consequences could reshape the AI landscape:

  1. Stricter compliance obligations. AI companies may be forced to build explicit consent mechanisms directly into their products, rather than leaving the responsibility to users.
  2. Limits on AI training practices. Courts may restrict the use of private conversations as training data without informed, opt-in consent.
  3. Increased litigation risk. Other companies offering similar services could face lawsuits, especially in “two-party consent” states.
  4. Policy reforms. Legislatures may introduce new AI-specific privacy laws to fill gaps left by older statutes.

Even if Otter settles, the case will likely serve as a warning shot across the industry.

Lessons for Businesses and Users

For businesses, the takeaway is clear: do not assume AI products are legally or ethically compliant just because they are popular. Before deploying AI assistants in sensitive contexts, organizations must ensure all participants are informed and consenting.

For individual users, awareness is equally critical. Using AI meeting assistants without securing explicit consent exposes you to liability—not just the company. A participant who feels wronged may sue both the platform and the meeting organizer.

In practice, this means:

  • Always disclose when using AI assistants.
  • Obtain written or recorded consent from all participants.
  • Avoid using AI assistants in meetings involving privileged, confidential, or regulated information.

The Role of Court Reporters – Protecting the Record and Educating Attorneys

One often-overlooked dimension of this debate is the role of court reporters, who are uniquely positioned to safeguard against these risks. Unlike AI assistants, stenographic reporters already operate under strict ethical and legal frameworks requiring transparency, consent, and accuracy. Court reporters can educate attorneys about the dangers of unauthorized recording and transcription tools, reminding them that using AI meeting assistants without consent could expose lawyers to lawsuits, sanctions, or even malpractice claims. By reinforcing best practices—such as insisting on human stenographers for depositions, hearings, and sensitive meetings—reporters not only protect the integrity of the record but also shield themselves from being entangled in litigation involving unconsented AI recordings.

Drawing the Line

The Otter lawsuit is not just about one company. It is about drawing a line in the sand: AI tools must operate within the boundaries of privacy law, not outside them.

Technology may evolve rapidly, but the principles of consent, transparency, and respect for personal autonomy are not negotiable. If AI meeting assistants are to become a staple of modern productivity, they must first earn the trust of the people whose voices and words they capture.

As courts and regulators grapple with the Otter case, one thing is certain: the future of AI-powered meetings will be shaped not only by innovation, but also by accountability.

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.

***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):

AI, Ethics, and the Future of Court Reporting – From Hype to Practical Tools

Artificial intelligence has moved from futuristic concept to everyday reality faster than almost any technology in recent memory. It now powers the apps on our phones, the platforms we use for work, and, increasingly, the systems being proposed—or quietly implemented—inside courtrooms.

For court reporters, captioners, and other guardians of the record, this rapid shift presents both a serious challenge and a rare opportunity. The challenge lies in understanding what AI really is, cutting through the hype, and defending the profession from those who would misuse it to justify replacing skilled human reporters with unqualified substitutes. The opportunity lies in using AI as a tool to strengthen our own work—without sacrificing our ethics or accuracy.

This article explores both sides – the myths and threats surrounding AI in court reporting, and the very real, practical ways it can be harnessed to make us better, faster, and more effective.

Understanding What AI Is—and Isn’t

The first step to having an informed conversation about AI is stripping away the marketing gloss and understanding its core.

Artificial intelligence is not magic. It is math—complex algorithms trained on massive datasets to recognize patterns, make predictions, and generate content.

In our industry, that might look like:

  • An AI model trained on millions of words generating a rough transcript from an audio file.
  • A speech recognition system “learning” how certain accents or technical terms sound over time.
  • An automated tool predicting the next word or phrase in a sentence based on statistical probability, not understanding.

And that last point is key: AI doesn’t “know” if something is correct. It cannot understand nuance, sarcasm, or context in the way a human can. It cannot weigh testimony, clarify ambiguous statements, or ask for a repeat in the moment.

This distinction matters because some vendors and agencies are presenting AI-generated transcripts as “just as good” as those produced by trained professionals. They are not. Without a human reporter’s oversight, the result may be faster—but it is rarely accurate, and it is never accountable.

The Real Threat – The Narrative Behind the Technology

The most pressing danger to court reporting from AI is not the technology itself—it’s the story being told about it.

The sales pitch to courts, legislatures, and procurement officers goes something like this:

  • AI is modern.
  • Human reporters are outdated.
  • Automation is cheaper, and “good enough” for the job.

The problem is, “good enough” is not acceptable in legal proceedings where a single word can change the outcome of a case. Yet, because AI sounds futuristic and budget-friendly, decision-makers without direct experience of the courtroom are tempted to buy in.

Legislation is being introduced in some jurisdictions to normalize the use of digital recording and automated transcription in situations that require the highest levels of accuracy. These changes are framed as modernization, but in practice they lower the standard for the official record.

History already shows us what happens when corners are cut:

  • Audio recording devices fail.
  • Poor microphone placement leaves key testimony inaudible.
  • Transcripts generated from faulty recordings contain glaring errors—and no one is there to correct them.

When this happens under a human reporter’s watch, we stop, clarify, and ensure the record is correct. When it happens under an automated system, there is no safety net.

One Profession, Many Methods—Shared Responsibility

Another danger is division within the profession. It’s easy to fall into “us vs. them” thinking between stenographic reporters, voice writers, and pen writers. But these distinctions miss the point.

Our common ground is not the tool we use—it’s the standard we uphold.

  • We are all trained.
  • We are all bound by ethical obligations.
  • We all bring judgment, context, and accountability to the record.

If AI is allowed to replace one group, it sets the precedent for replacing all of us. The only way to effectively push back on legislative and procurement threats is to present a united front, regardless of input method.

AI as an Ally – Where It Can Help, Not Replace

While much of the conversation around AI in our field is defensive—protecting against its misuse—it’s equally important to recognize where it can legitimately improve our work.

When the technology is in our hands, under our control, and used to enhance what we do rather than replace it, AI can be a powerful ally. Here are some examples.

1. Job Preparation

AI can accelerate the early stages of any assignment:

  • Case research: AI can surface case law summaries, public filings, and industry articles in seconds, helping you understand context before you walk in the door.
  • Glossary creation: Feed an AI tool your witness list, and it can suggest likely technical terms, names, and spellings from similar cases.
  • Specialized terminology: For complex medical or technical depositions, AI can scan relevant literature and extract probable terms, giving you a pre-built vocabulary list.

This prep work can reduce surprises during proceedings and shorten the time you spend verifying terms later.

2. Transcript Editing

Editing is where AI can save hours without compromising your authority over the final record.

  • Error spotting: AI can compare your draft to an audio file and flag possible discrepancies for your review.
  • Formatting automation: Pagination, indexing, exhibit lists, and even table of contents generation can be done automatically—while you retain editorial control.
  • Consistency checks: AI can quickly identify inconsistencies in capitalization, name spelling, or speaker attributions across a long transcript.

Used this way, AI isn’t “writing” the record—it’s making your editing process faster and more thorough.

3. Business Operations

Running a reporting business comes with its own set of repetitive, time-consuming tasks that AI can streamline:

  • Invoicing and payment tracking: Automated billing systems can send invoices, track payment status, and send reminders for overdue accounts.
  • Scheduling optimization: AI scheduling tools can learn your preferences and propose the most efficient ways to fit in jobs.
  • File management: AI-powered search can retrieve past transcripts, exhibits, and client files instantly from your archives.

This frees up more of your time for actual reporting work.

4. Client Service Enhancements

Clients notice when you make their lives easier. AI can help deliver that without sacrificing professionalism:

  • Searchable transcript archives: With proper security protocols, clients can search across all their past transcripts for keywords or topics.
  • Faster delivery: AI-assisted formatting and proofreading can shorten turnaround times without cutting quality.
  • Custom client portals: Attorneys can log in to securely download transcripts, track project progress, and access past cases anytime.

These features make you more competitive without reducing the human oversight that keeps the record accurate.

5. Personal Productivity

Not all AI applications need to be industry-specific:

  • Email drafting: AI can draft routine responses or follow-up messages for you to approve and send.
  • Voice-to-text for prep notes: Dictate reminders or ideas during case prep and have them transcribed instantly for your reference.
  • Learning on demand: Use AI to summarize new legislation, tech tools, or case law changes so you can stay informed without hours of reading.

These are simple ways to reclaim time and reduce mental clutter.

The Ethical Guardrails That Keep AI in Its Place

Using AI responsibly means drawing clear boundaries:

  1. Privacy and confidentiality come first. Only use platforms that encrypt data and comply with all applicable confidentiality rules.
  2. Human oversight is non-negotiable. AI can suggest, but you decide. Never let an AI output stand unreviewed.
  3. Accountability stays with you. If your name is on the record, you own every word in it—whether or not AI was part of the process.
  4. Transparency matters. Be prepared to explain to clients exactly how AI is used and where human review enters the process.

When these guardrails are in place, AI remains what it should be: a servant to your expertise, not a substitute for it.

The Path Forward – Knowledge, Advocacy, and Adaptation

The future of court reporting will be shaped by those who can navigate both the technology and the politics around it. That means:

  • Becoming tech-literate. Understand AI enough to see through exaggerated claims.
  • Advocating actively. Push back on legislation and procurement decisions that compromise the record.
  • Adapting smartly. Use AI tools where they make your work stronger, not where they diminish your role.

Technology does not have ethics. It does not care about accuracy, fairness, or justice. Those are human values—and they are the values we bring to the record. As long as we keep those values central to our work, AI will remain just one more tool in the hands of professionals who know exactly how to use it.

Staying in Control of the Narrative

The biggest mistake we could make is to ignore AI and hope it goes away. If we do that, we hand control of the narrative—and our future—to those who see us as replaceable.

By staying informed, speaking up, and using AI on our own terms, we can protect the profession, elevate our work, and ensure that the official record remains in the hands of those best equipped to create it: trained, ethical, and engaged human court reporters.

The future of court reporting isn’t just about technology—it’s about who’s in charge of it. And that should always be us.

Top 10 AI Tools Court Reporters Should Know About

AI is only as good as the hands that guide it. These tools can save time and improve workflow—without replacing your skills or compromising confidentiality.

1. Otter AI (for personal meeting notes)

  • Use it for: Capturing your own prep sessions, meetings, or seminars—not proceedings.
  • Why it helps: Creates searchable notes with timestamps, so you can quickly find key details.
  • Ethics tip: Never upload confidential case audio.

2. WordRake

  • Use it for: Editing your marketing materials, emails, or blog posts.
  • Why it helps: Suggests concise, clear rewrites without altering your legal meaning.

3. Grammarly Business

  • Use it for: Proofing non-transcript documents and business correspondence.
  • Why it helps: Catches typos, grammar errors, and style inconsistencies before clients see them.

4. Descript

  • Use it for: Internal training videos, quick marketing clips, and personal content.
  • Why it helps: AI-powered transcription and video editing in one platform.
  • Ethics tip: Avoid uploading sensitive legal recordings.

5. ChatGPT (Pro Version with Advanced Data Analysis)

  • Use it for: Drafting emails, summarizing legislation, creating glossary lists from public documents.
  • Why it helps: Speeds up research and idea generation—just verify everything it outputs.

6. Microsoft Copilot (Office 365 Integration)

  • Use it for: Summarizing Word documents, analyzing Excel sheets, or auto-formatting reports.
  • Why it helps: Directly integrates into the tools you already use daily.

7. Evernote with AI Search

  • Use it for: Organizing job notes, exhibit lists, and prep research.
  • Why it helps: AI-powered search makes finding past notes instant.

8. Adobe Acrobat Pro with AI Assistant

  • Use it for: Creating, editing, and summarizing PDF exhibits.
  • Why it helps: AI can quickly locate specific terms across hundreds of pages.

9. Calendly with AI Scheduling

  • Use it for: Automating client scheduling without email back-and-forth.
  • Why it helps: Learns your availability patterns and minimizes conflicts.

10. Trello or Asana with AI Automation

  • Use it for: Managing multi-day trials, large deposition series, or multiple clients.
  • Why it helps: AI rules can assign tasks, set reminders, and track deadlines automatically.

Ethics Checklist for AI Use in Court Reporting

Before using any AI tool in your work, run through this checklist to protect the record, your clients, and your reputation.

1. Confidentiality

  • ☐ Does the tool encrypt data in transit and at rest?
  • ☐ Is the company’s data stored in a secure, jurisdiction-compliant location? (e.g., U.S.-based servers if required)
  • ☐ Have I confirmed the tool won’t use my uploads for AI training?

2. Scope of Use

  • ☐ Am I only using this tool for non-confidential tasks unless a secure agreement is in place?
  • ☐ Is the AI assisting my workflow—not creating or finalizing the official record?

3. Human Oversight

  • ☐ Have I personally reviewed every AI suggestion before accepting it?
  • ☐ Is my name only attached to work I have fully verified?

4. Accuracy

  • ☐ Am I cross-checking AI-generated research, term lists, or summaries against reliable sources?
  • ☐ If an AI tool makes an error, can I detect and correct it before delivery?

5. Transparency

  • ☐ Could I explain to a client, court, or ethics board exactly how I used AI in this project?
  • ☐ Am I prepared to defend that my process met all professional standards?

6. Accountability

  • ☐ Would I be comfortable if my use of this AI tool was audited?
  • ☐ Am I taking full responsibility for the final product—AI-assisted or not?

Golden Rule:
If you wouldn’t hand this material to an untrained stranger, don’t upload it to an AI tool.
Your expertise, ethics, and judgment—not the technology—are what make the record reliable.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Bullies in Court Reporting – The Personal, Systemic, and Cultural Forces Pushing Stenographers to the Brink

In the StenoImperium article “Deadlines, Deadlines Everywhere: The Court Reporter’s Race Against the Clock,” the author paints a vivid picture of stenographers sprinting to meet back-to-back transcript demands — a race where there’s no finish line, only more hurdles. While the piece focuses on deadlines, it indirectly exposes something deeper: bullying in the court reporting world isn’t limited to personal mistreatment. It’s also baked into the very structure of the industry.

Court reporters are navigating three interconnected forces:

  • People who abuse power within the profession.
  • Systems that exploit labor through impossible expectations, legal loopholes, and digital disruption.
  • A culture that normalizes cruelty and mistakes it for strength.

The Personal Bullies – Power Plays and Professional Intimidation

On the human level, bullying in court reporting can look like:

  • Agency pressure – threatening to blacklist a reporter if they decline an unrealistic turnaround or refuse to work without proper pay.
  • Attorney intimidation – yelling, belittling, or demanding a reporter “just delete that from the record” in violation of ethics and law.
  • Gatekeeping within associations – industry leaders using their positions to discredit dissenters, retaliate against whistleblowers, or block speaking opportunities.
  • Peer hostility – colleagues undermining one another to secure jobs, clients, or status.

These personal interactions create an environment where speaking up feels risky. Reporters often fear losing work or being ostracized — which makes silence an easier, but more damaging, choice.

The Systemic Bullies – Deadlines, Policy, and Profit Models

The StenoImperium article describes how time itself becomes the adversary — a bully that never sleeps. But behind those deadlines are systemic forces shaping the profession’s stress:

  • Unrealistic turnaround expectations – Daily copy, same-day delivery, and expedited transcripts stacked back-to-back without relief.
  • Legislative erosion – Bills like AB 711 in California normalize the absence of human reporters, emboldening courts and agencies to devalue the role.
  • Digital disruption – The aggressive push by large firms to replace stenographers with digital recording and AI transcription undercuts rates, quality, and due process.
  • Client-as-dictator model – In many agencies, “customer service” means bending or breaking labor standards to keep attorneys happy. The reporter bears the cost.
  • Pay compression – Even as expectations climb, page rates stagnate or drop, with agencies pocketing the difference.

These systemic pressures don’t just make the job harder — they make it easier for personal bullies to thrive. When the system normalizes overwork and underpayment, individuals can exploit that vulnerability without consequence.

The Cultural Bully – Normalizing Cruelty as “Power”

Robert Reich, former U.S. secretary of labor, writes about the “collapse of decency” in leadership and the way cruelty becomes normalized. This same dynamic exists in microcosm within court reporting.
Every time a stronger party bullies a weaker one — whether it’s a high-profile agency against a freelance reporter, or a judge allowing intimidation in the courtroom — the social fabric of the profession frays.

An abuse culture thrives on three conditions:

  1. Fear – Reporters fear losing work or being blacklisted.
  2. Humiliation – Public shaming, whisper campaigns, and online pile-ons.
  3. Favouritism – Certain individuals get plum assignments or leniency they haven’t earned, while others are punished for speaking out.

Favourites fawn over the bully for self-preservation, while targets live in constant anxiety. This is not a sign of power — it’s evidence of illness in the system and, in many cases, illness in the individual.

Bullying Is Not Just Immoral — It’s a Medical Crisis

According to neuroscience research cited in The Bullied Brain, chronic bullying damages both brain and body, leading to anxiety, depression, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, midlife disease, and shortened lifespans.
Bullying is contagious — exposure breeds more bullying, especially when it is rewarded or left unchecked.

Healthy leaders have robust affective empathy circuits; bullies, by contrast, have eroded them. Treating chronic bullies as “powerful” rather than ill feeds the cycle. Just as infectious disease is quarantined, persistent abusers of power should be removed from positions where they can harm others, given psychological evaluation, and placed in rehabilitation programs.

Why the Two Types of Bullies Feed Each Other

Personal bullies often hide behind systemic ones. An agency owner who threatens to stop sending jobs if you miss a deadline can point to “industry standards” — even if those standards are abusive.
Likewise, systemic bullies — like legislative changes that strip reporters from proceedings — gain power when individuals in leadership refuse to push back, or worse, actively support harmful reforms for personal gain.

Breaking the Cycle

Combating bullying in court reporting means tackling all three levels at once:

  1. Call out unethical behavior — and know this is not bullying
    There’s a crucial difference between bullying and accountability. Bullying is about power, intimidation, and silencing dissent. Calling out unethical conduct is about protecting the profession, clients, and the record. A common tactic of real bullies is to label the whistleblower as the bully to deflect attention from their own misconduct. They rally allies to harass or ostracize the person who spoke up, creating the illusion that the target is the aggressor. But in reality, the bully is the one weaponizing the group against an individual, not the one standing alone and pointing out wrongdoing.
  2. Push for structural reform – Advocate for laws, agency policies, and industry norms that protect human reporters, not just corporate margins.
  3. Build solidarity – An isolated reporter is a vulnerable reporter. A connected, informed community is harder to bully — whether by a person or a system.
  4. Redefine “standards” – The profession must resist normalizing unrealistic delivery times and rates that devalue the skill, accuracy, and judgment only a stenographer brings.
  5. Reframe bullying as a medical crisis – Address chronic bullying as a health emergency, not a moral weakness. Illness can be treated; cruelty disguised as “leadership” should be quarantined.

Sidebar: How Bullies Reverse the Narrative

Bullies in court reporting often don’t just intimidate — they manipulate. One of their most effective tactics is reversing the roles so the person exposing wrongdoing becomes the “problem.” Here’s how it works:

  1. You call out unethical behavior
    You point to facts, policies, or conduct that harm the profession, clients, or due process.
  2. They frame you as the aggressor
    Instead of addressing the behavior, they accuse you of being “negative,” “toxic,” or a “bully” for speaking up.
  3. They rally a group to back them
    Using alliances, industry status, or association platforms, they get others to publicly or privately attack you — often without those people even knowing the full context.
  4. You’re left standing alone
    Isolated and outnumbered, you appear to be the one “causing trouble” simply because you refuse to back down from the truth.
  5. They hide behind the crowd
    The real bully is not the lone voice demanding accountability — it’s the one orchestrating a group to harass or ostracize that person.

Bottom line:
Calling out unethical conduct is not bullying. The real bully is the one who uses intimidation, reputation attacks, and group pressure to silence you.

Final Word

The StenoImperium article framed the deadline race as a constant, grueling sprint. In truth, the clock is just one of many bullies in the room. The others are the individuals and systems that exploit fear, normalize cruelty, and reward compliance over integrity.

Until stenographers recognize that personal, systemic, and cultural bullying are all part of the same problem — and treat it as a professional and medical crisis — the profession will remain at the mercy of those who profit from its exhaustion.

The first step is naming it. The next is refusing to run someone else’s race. The final step is building a profession where empathy is a prerequisite for leadership, not a casualty of it.

Disclaimer

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):

Deadlines, Deadlines Everywhere – The Court Reporter’s Race Against the Clock

There’s a cartoon floating around social media called “The Graveyard of Past Deadlines.”
For most people, it’s funny. For court reporters, it’s uncomfortably real.

Unlike many professions, ours doesn’t have the luxury of “getting to it when we get to it.” In court reporting, deadlines aren’t just calendar entries — they’re legal obligations, sometimes tied directly to someone’s right to appeal, or to the outcome of a case. When you miss one, it’s not just a missed date. It’s a professional crisis.

The Unforgiving World of Transcript Deadlines

Every transcript has a clock ticking the moment you take down the record. Some are generous — 8, days, 10 days, 30, 60, even 90 days. Others? You might have hours.

  • Appeals: The appeal clock waits for no one. When appellate rules say “filed in 30 days,” there’s no asterisk for “unless your scopist is behind” or “unless your software crashed.”
  • Expedited Orders: Two-day, overnight, or “need it by tomorrow morning for closing arguments” — expedites are the sprints of our profession.
  • Dailies: The ultimate pressure cooker. Take testimony all day, turn in a polished transcript before the next morning. Repeat until verdict.
  • Regular Workload: Even standard 30-day trial transcripts pile up fast if you have multiple trials, depos, or hearings in the same month.

The thing about deadlines in court reporting is they don’t arrive one at a time, neatly spaced out. They stack, overlap, and multiply. And when one is late, it snowballs.

The Human Cost of Deadlines

Reporters don’t just rearrange their work schedules to meet a deadline — we rearrange our lives.

Date nights are postponed. Vacations are canceled. Kids’ performances and games are missed. Family time is often reduced to a wave from the doorway as we lock ourselves in our offices, headsets on, fingers flying.

We do this because deadlines matter. And yet, the sting comes when you find out the transcript you raced to finish was never urgent to begin with — it sat on an agency’s desk for a week, or the requesting attorney was on vacation the whole time. Our sacrifices are real, even when the rush turns out to be for nothing.

When the System Breaks Down

Many reporters rely on scopists and proofreaders to meet these impossible timelines. But what happens when your trusted scopist starts missing their deadlines?

I’ve had it happen. The final straw was a transcript due in two days that came back — wait for it — 30 days later. By the time I got it, the due date wasn’t just in the rearview mirror. It was over the horizon.

When your support team drops the ball:

  • You’re left scrambling to finish the job yourself.
  • You may have to pull all-nighters to salvage the deadline.
  • Your professional reputation — and sometimes your license — is suddenly on the line.

The Ethical and Legal Stakes

For court reporters, deadlines aren’t just about client satisfaction. They’re codified in:

  • Court rules (often strict, especially in appellate cases)
  • State licensing requirements
  • Contracts with attorneys, agencies, or courts

Missed deadlines can mean:

  • Sanctions from the court
  • Loss of work from attorneys or agencies who can’t risk delays
  • Professional discipline from your state’s licensing board
  • Harm to litigants, especially if an appeal is dismissed for a late transcript

This is why most reporters live in a near-constant state of triage, juggling multiple jobs and timelines while keeping their accuracy uncompromised.

Survival in the Deadline Jungle

Court reporters develop almost military-grade systems to stay ahead:

  • Color-coded deadline calendars for each case.
  • Daily progress quotas (pages per day to stay on track).
  • Backup scopists who can be called in for emergencies.
  • Cloud backups and redundant hardware to prevent tech disasters.
  • Firm policies with scopists and proofreaders about turnaround times.

Still, even the best system can crumble when one cog in the wheel fails.

The Lesson

In this profession, deadlines are not suggestions. They are binding, immovable, and often life-altering for the people whose cases we report.
As court reporters, we don’t just produce transcripts — we hold the record that justice relies on. Meeting deadlines isn’t optional; it’s part of the integrity of the job.

So, when you find yourself staring into “The Graveyard of Past Deadlines,” remember: every transcript is a ticking clock, every missed date a potential landmine. Protect your schedule, guard your reputation, and choose your team wisely.

Because in court reporting, you can be the fastest writer in the world — but if your transcript isn’t on time, the record is meaningless.

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.

***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):

Beyond the Transcript – Rethinking AI in Stenography

When the conversation about artificial intelligence comes up in court reporting circles, it almost always circles back to one thing: transcription.

That’s not surprising — transcription is the obvious application people imagine when they think about language-based AI. But if we stop there, we’re missing a much bigger opportunity.

AI isn’t just about producing a record of proceedings. It can also become a powerful tool for running the business side of being a court reporter.

The Bigger AI Picture

Most of us already use software in our work — email platforms, calendars, research tools, maybe even practice management systems. What many reporters don’t realize is that these tools are increasingly equipped with built-in AI features.

From the platforms we use to manage appointments, to the tools we rely on for organizing contacts, to the services we trust for our professional visibility — AI is quietly moving in behind the scenes.

Where AI is Hiding in Plain Sight

  • Productivity suites like Microsoft 365 and Google Workspace now offer AI assistants that can draft emails, summarize meeting notes, and organize tasks.
  • Client relationship platforms across industries use AI to track and strengthen communication patterns.
  • Research tools can surface definitions, name pronunciations, and topic summaries in seconds — saving hours of prep time.
  • Analytics dashboards can forecast trends from the data you already have, whether that’s workload seasonality or areas where you can improve efficiency.

Why Court Reporters Should Care

Court reporting has always been about more than writing fast and accurately. We balance logistics, client service, time management, and professionalism every single day.

The real opportunity with AI isn’t to replace what we do — it’s to reduce the repetitive, time-consuming tasks that pull our focus away from the proceedings themselves. That could mean faster preparation, better client follow-up, or simply reclaiming time to rest between jobs.

A Shift in Perspective

Rather than asking “How could AI take over my work?”, we should be asking:

  • “What parts of my day slow me down?”
  • “Which tasks do I dread or put off?”
  • “Where am I losing time or missing opportunities?”

These are often the very areas where AI tools — many of which are already built into the software you’re using — can help.

Getting Started Without Reinventing the Wheel

You don’t need to overhaul your tech stack or become a software developer to explore these benefits. Instead:

  1. Check the tools you already use — many have new AI features quietly rolled out in updates.
  2. Experiment in low-risk ways — let AI summarize a long document or draft a follow-up email you can edit before sending.
  3. Keep the human in the loop — AI is there to assist, not to replace your judgment, accuracy, or professional standards.

The Bottom Line

AI in stenography doesn’t have to mean machine-made transcripts. It can mean smarter workflows, better organization, and more time for the work only a human can do.

The next time you hear about AI, look beyond the transcript — you might find tools that make your professional life not just easier, but more rewarding.

Disclaimer

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):

When Robots Win Trophies – What It Means for the Future of Stenography

A shiny robot, arms raised high, grips a golden trophy in triumph. It’s a symbol we’ve seen before — in tech ads, in media headlines, and now in courtrooms. Automation is winning awards, headlines, contracts, and courtroom seats. But the real question we should be asking isn’t how far robots have come, but what we risk losing when they take the prize.

In the race for speed, efficiency, and cost-cutting, courtrooms across the country are replacing certified human stenographers with digital recording devices and AI-powered transcription tools. They’re handing the “trophy” to technology — prematurely.

And while the robot may be holding the trophy, it’s not the one bearing the consequences.

The Trophy Isn’t Accuracy — It’s Profit

Digital reporting companies boast about automation as the future of legal records. They sell a shiny promise of lower costs, faster turnaround, and reduced dependency on skilled labor. But what’s rarely advertised is the true cost:

  • Inaccurate transcripts
  • Delayed records
  • Lost exhibits
  • Ethical violations
  • Due process risks

A robot doesn’t raise its hand to be sworn in. It doesn’t interrupt a witness to clarify muffled speech. It doesn’t catch when an attorney speaks over a witness, or when a judge changes their ruling mid-sentence. But a stenographer does. A human court reporter is the only realtime safeguard in the courtroom — an impartial, licensed, and trained professional who captures the official record as it happens, and who can be held accountable if they don’t.

When the Trophy Becomes a Threat

When robots “win,” the public loses. Not just in terms of record quality, but in legal integrity. Several lawsuits have already exposed the pitfalls of AI-generated transcripts and digital audio that failed to preserve the official record. Imagine a high-stakes deposition — a life-changing trial — resting on the interpretation of glitchy audio or an AI-generated “best guess.”

Now imagine that transcript being used to deny someone justice.

That’s not innovation. That’s negligence.

The Stenographer’s Trophy – Trust

Human stenographers have never needed a trophy. Their reward is trust — from judges, attorneys, and litigants who know that the record is safe in their hands. They train for years, pass rigorous licensing exams, and show up — not just with equipment, but with judgment, precision, and ethical responsibility.

While a robot may win awards for disruption, a stenographer wins something far more valuable: credibility.

The Real Winner Is the Legal System — When We Protect It

This isn’t an anti-technology stance. It’s a pro-accountability one. AI can assist. Recording can back up. But they should never replace the licensed, impartial, and live presence of a human court reporter in legal proceedings. To do so is to hand over the keys to justice to a machine that doesn’t understand — and cannot be held liable for — the consequences of its errors.

Let the robot hold the trophy in a photo op.

But when it comes to the official record of our justice system, let humans win where it matters most.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Who’s Reading the Jurors’ Notes? A Confidentiality Breach Hiding in Plain Sight

After a jury trial concludes, courtroom protocol doesn’t just fade into formality—it matters. So when I recently witnessed a courtroom assistant and clerk casually flipping through jurors’ notepads after the verdict had been rendered, I paused. And so should you.

These weren’t just blank steno pads or unused legal pads. They contained handwritten notes, questions, and doodles from jurors who had just completed their solemn duty in a civil trial. Notes that, by law and tradition, are for the jurors’ eyes only—and should never be read by court staff, attorneys, or the public.

🔐 Juror Notes Are Not the Court’s to Keep

Most courts allow jurors to take notes during trial to help them recall facts and testimony during deliberations. These notes, however, are strictly personal and temporary.

Under California Rules of Court, Rule 2.1031, for example:

“Any notes taken by a juror are for the juror’s personal use and must be destroyed at the end of the trial.”

This is not optional. It is not a suggestion. It’s a safeguard meant to protect the integrity of deliberations and the privacy of jurors’ thought processes.

Once a verdict is reached and the jury is discharged, their notes are not evidence, not public record, and not up for discussion.

🧾 What I Saw

I observed this incident firsthand. After the jury had been discharged, the courtroom assistant remained at her desk, flipping through the jurors’ notebooks one by one. She appeared to read through their handwritten notes, scribbles, and questions—then walked over to the clerk, showed her one of the juror’s notebooks, and read the contents aloud.

She then returned to her desk and continued reading from the remaining jurors’ notepads, periodically commenting, laughing, and speculating aloud to the clerk about what the jurors were thinking. The entire exchange appeared to be casual and recreational—done purely for entertainment.

This behavior wasn’t a matter of court recordkeeping or evidence review. It was voyeuristic, inappropriate, and a violation of juror confidentiality.

Not only is this a clear breach of protocol, it potentially violates juror confidentiality, undermines public trust in the system, and may even expose the court to legal liability if the contents were sensitive.

🧠 Why It Matters

Jurors are asked to serve with impartiality, honesty, and seriousness. In return, they’re promised privacy. When court personnel treat their personal notes like entertainment or curiosity, it damages the dignity of the process and could deter future jurors from full engagement.

Beyond ethical concerns, reviewing juror notes without a legal basis may:

  • Violate court rules
  • Invite appellate scrutiny
  • Jeopardize future cases if revealed

It doesn’t take malice—just a lapse in understanding or oversight—to erode decades of trust in our judicial institutions.

📬 What Should Happen to Juror Notes?

They should be:

  1. Collected (by bailiff or court staff) after deliberations conclude
  2. Immediately destroyed—typically by shredding
  3. Never read or shared with court staff, attorneys, or the public

Any deviation from this practice should be addressed by judicial leadership immediately.

📣 A Call for Accountability

This article is not meant to assign blame to individuals but to call attention to a procedural gap that may be happening in more courtrooms than we realize.

I have formally reported this incident to the supervising judge and court administrator at the Courthouse. As a Certified Shorthand Reporter, I believe courtroom personnel must be held to the same standards of professionalism and confidentiality that we expect from every other participant in the justice system.

If you witness court staff mishandling juror notes, don’t stay silent. Document it. Report it. These aren’t harmless oversights—they’re breaches of trust that can erode public confidence in the entire judicial process.

Confidentiality is not a courtesy—it’s a constitutional principle tied directly to due process and the legitimacy of our verdicts. In an era where technology threatens to depersonalize justice, let’s at least ensure we honor the confidentiality of the people still showing up: the jurors.

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.

***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):

The Era of Aggregation – Lexitas, Veritext, Magna and Others Consolidating the Court Reporting Industry

The High-Stakes Race to Control the Record

The court reporting industry is in the midst of an unprecedented consolidation wave—fueled not by the needs of litigants or legal professionals, but by private equity investors chasing profit margins. As agencies like Lexitas, Veritext, Esquire, and Magna gobble up smaller firms, the very foundation of the profession is shifting. These conglomerates are not just scaling operations—they’re aggressively integrating automated speech recognition (ASR), digital reporting, and artificial intelligence to reduce reliance on human stenographers. For independent agencies, the future now presents a choice: sell, scale, or resist. And for the profession as a whole, the question looms large: will the race to maximize profits come at the expense of due process and record integrity?

The Big Four – Who’s Driving the Consolidation?

  • Lexitas has acquired TP.One (formerly Trustpoint.One) and has completed 31 acquisitions as of mid‑2025.
  • Veritext Legal Solutions welcomed at least six firms in 2025 including Catana Reporting, Scribe Associates, Metro Atlanta Reporters, Huney‑Vaughn, Carol Nygard & Associates, and Reporters on Madison.
  • Magna Legal Services merged with Basye Santiago Reporting in March 2025, growing to a national firm with 800+ employees and over 4,000 court reporters nationwide.
  • Esquire Deposition Solutions, backed by private equity, acquired Prose and Huseby in 2025.
  • The industry remains highly fragmented, with hundreds of small, locally owned firms still in operation, though exact counts vary.

Who’s Consolidating the Industry?

1. Lexitas Expands Again – The TP.One Acquisition

On July 28, 2025, Lexitas announced its acquisition of TP.One Court Reporting, formerly a division of Trustpoint.One. This move marks yet another milestone in Lexitas’ ongoing consolidation of the industry, adding to its now 30+ acquisitions nationwide. Lexitas has built a reputation for absorbing small to midsize agencies and layering them into its tech-enabled infrastructure, offering services from court reporting to process serving and legal staffing.

Lexitas says its goal is to “keep the core” of the agencies it acquires, while enhancing services with new resources. However, that often comes with changes in pay structures, formatting rules, scheduling expectations, and a shift toward a hybrid model that includes digital reporting.

Note: While Lexitas has adopted a hybrid approach—blending human stenographers with digital and ASR-based alternatives—this article does not condone such practices. Many court reporters believe this compromises due process, accuracy, and the integrity of the legal record.

2. Veritext Continues Its Nationwide Rollup

Veritext Legal Solutions has kept pace, completing at least six acquisitions in 2025 alone, including:

  • Catana Reporting (Sacramento, CA)
  • Scribe Associates (Ottawa, Canada)
  • Metro Atlanta Reporters
  • Huney-Vaughn Court Reporters (Des Moines, IA)
  • Carol Nygard & Associates
  • Reporters on Madison (Florida)

Veritext remains one of the most dominant players in the industry, absorbing regional firms to bolster its coast-to-coast network and maintain high-volume national contracts.

3. Magna Legal Services – Merger Over Acquisition

Magna took a slightly different approach, merging with Basye Santiago Reporting in April 2025. This merger brought Magna’s workforce to over 800 employees and more than 4,000 court reporters nationwide. Magna offers a wide array of services—court reporting, jury consulting, trial presentation, and medical record retrieval—positioning itself as a full litigation support partner.

4. Esquire’s Private Equity Play

Esquire Deposition Solutions is gaining steam, powered by its 2023 partnership with Gridiron Capital, a private equity firm. In 2025, Esquire acquired:

  • Prose Court Reporting & Legal Video Services (February 2025)
  • Huseby Global Litigation (June 2025)

These acquisitions reflect Esquire’s targeted approach, expanding into high-demand markets like Florida and the Northeast. Esquire emphasizes remote depositions, tech-forward solutions, and white-glove service.

Esquire operates more than 35 offices and supports 140,000+ depositions per year. While its acquisition volume trails Lexitas or Veritext, its strategy focuses on profitability, streamlined operations, and legal-tech integration.

The Private Equity Factor

It’s not just Esquire that’s backed by private equity—Lexitas and Veritext are, too. All three giants are under the control of major financial investors whose primary goals are growth, scale, and return on investment—not necessarily protecting the traditions of the stenographic profession.

  • Lexitas was acquired by Apax Partners in 2019, accelerating its aggressive nationwide expansion.
  • Veritext has been owned by firms including Pamplona Capital, and now Leonard Green & Partners and CVC Capital Partners.
  • Esquire is partnered with Gridiron Capital (since 2023), fueling its selective acquisition strategy and tech-driven service model.

Private equity backing gives these companies the capital to acquire dozens of smaller firms—but it also shifts their focus toward automation, efficiency, and scalable service models. That means more ASR, more digital integration, and fewer in-person human court reporters.

For stenographers, the question becomes existential: Are we building a profession—or a product?

What This Means for the Industry

FirmPrivate Equity OwnershipImplications
LexitasOwned by Apax Partners (since 2019)Drives aggressive M&A, tech investment, margin optimization
VeritextOwned by Pamplona → Leonard Green & CVCSupported growth via acquisitions, centralization, tech focus
EsquireBacked by Gridiron CapitalExpansion in targeted markets; emphasis on remote & tech-enabled service

How Many Smaller Agencies Have Been Acquired So Far in 2025?

  • Lexitas: Already over 31 total acquisitions, including TP.One, though most occurred before 2025.
  • Veritext: At least 6 acquisitions in the first half of 2025.
  • Magna LS: Completed at least one major merger so far in 2025.
  • U.S. Legal Support and Circle City Reporting: Active with acquisitions or mergers—e.g. Circle City acquired Smith Reporting, Buell Realtime merged with RJW Transcripts, etc.
  • Esquire Deposition Solutions: In 2025, as of mid‑June, had completed three acquisitions:
    • Duffy & McKenna Court Reporters, integrated on June 7, 2025
    • Huseby Global Litigation, integrated on June 21, 2025
    • Realtime Reporters, also fully integrated as of June 21, 2025
  • These additions reflect Esquire’s continued strategy of acquiring established regional agencies in strategic litigation markets.

Experts estimate that many dozens more small‑scale (often unpublicized) transactions occur annually via local agencies or individual buyers in this fragmented sector.

How Many Small Agencies Are Left?

Despite consolidation, the industry remains dominated by hundreds of small, locally‑owned agencies with no single firm holding more than about 5% of national market share. It remains one of the most fragmented legal‑services sectors in North America—even after decades of M&A.

What Do Big Agencies Look For When Acquiring Small Firms?

Across all consolidators, acquisition targets tend to share these traits:

➤ Client Base & Local Relationships

Buyers want agencies with entrenched local law‑firm relationships and repeat clients.

➤ Talent Pool

Trained court reporters and scheduling/operations staff are valuable assets—especially in markets with reporter shortages.

➤ Technology Readiness

Firms with ability to support digital reporting, remote proceedings, or basic tech portfolios are more attractive.

➤ Profitability & Cash Flow

Valued via EBITDA multiples—typically from 1× EBITDA (very small firms) up to 4–6× EBITDA for profitable, scalable targets.

Buyers typically value court reporting firms using EBITDA multiples—a financial metric that stands for Earnings Before Interest, Taxes, Depreciation, and Amortization. It’s a way to measure a company’s true operating profitability without accounting for financing or accounting decisions. Most small firms are valued at 1× EBITDA, while more profitable and scalable agencies with strong recurring revenue can command 4–6× EBITDA in acquisition deals.

How Can a Smaller Agency Position Itself to Be Bought for Maximum Value?

  • Build recurring local client relationships with solid retention and preference.
  • Maintain or grow EBITDA, and keep clean financials for valuation.
  • Adopt technology without over-investment—even basic understanding of digital deposition or remote platforms helps.
  • Retain key team members and reporters, as continuity matters in integration.
  • Work with a specialized M&A advisor—Jackim Woods & Co., for instance, recommends negotiating multiple offers, understanding valuation multiples, and preparing for due diligence proactively.

Strategies for Staying Independent—How to Survive on Your Own

Not every firm wants to sell. Here are survival strategies:

  • Emphasize Personal Service: Hyper-local, white-glove care is something big firms often can’t match. Differentiate through hyper-local service and personal relationships, especially in highly fragmented local markets.
  • Form regional alliances or cooperatives with other small firms to improve scale in scheduling, staffing, or technology.
  • Diversify revenue streams—e.g. add process service, legal staffing, record retrieval, or interpreting.
  • Invest selectively in tech tools (e.g. remote deposition platforms, scheduling software, electronic transcript delivery) to remain competitive. Remote scheduling, transcript delivery, and basic client portals can boost efficiency without compromising quality.
  • Note: Larger consolidators like Lexitas have adopted a hybrid model that combines human stenographers with digital reporting and ASR to reduce costs and increase coverage. However, many professionals in the field—including this author—do not condone this approach, as it undermines accuracy, due process, and the integrity of the record.

Outlook & Implications

The court reporting industry continues its aggressive consolidation in 2025, led by Lexitas, Veritext, Magna, U.S. Legal Support, and others. That trend is driven by:

  • Demand for broader service offerings
  • Technology adoption
  • Reporter shortages
  • Retiring owner‑operators seeking exits

At the same time, hundreds of small firms remain, each with opportunities either to be bought or continue thriving independently if they play smart.

📌 Final Takeaways

  • Lexitas is now a major consolidator (31+ acquisitions), with TP.One being its latest.
  • Veritext and Magna are also acquiring rapidly in 2025.
  • Small agencies—though still plentiful—are increasingly facing an “exit or evolve” decision.
  • Firms seeking to sell should optimize cash flow, client relationships, and tech compatibility for top valuation.
  • Agencies aiming to stay independent should lean into local differentiation, selective tech adoption, and revenue diversification.

The court reporting industry is rapidly consolidating—but it’s not too late for small agencies to thrive, grow, or position themselves for a meaningful exit. The key is understanding what buyers want, what clients need, and where your firm stands. Whether you’re planning your legacy or doubling down on independence, the time to act is now.

Resist: Rise of the Steno Resistance

Stenographers across the country are waking up to the reality that our profession is being reshaped not by those who practice it—but by those who profit from it. Now is the time to stand firm. To organize. To reclaim our value in the legal system. This is not just about saving jobs—it’s about protecting justice. Resist. Reclaim. Report.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

How AI and Digital Reporting Are Undermining Court Reporting – What Every Court Reporter Needs to Know to Protect Their Career

The world is rapidly embracing new technologies, and the legal industry is no exception. Artificial Intelligence (AI) and digital reporting have begun to infiltrate courtrooms and legal offices, promising efficiency and cost savings. But for court reporters, this shift poses a threat to the very core of their profession. As stenographic reporters who have dedicated years honing their craft, many may be wondering: What can I do to protect my career?

The Rise of AI and Digital Reporting

In recent years, AI-driven transcription services and digital reporting technologies have gained popularity. These systems, utilizing automatic speech recognition (ASR) and digital audio recording, are marketed as affordable, fast, and reliable alternatives to the traditional stenographic methods. The idea is simple: replace human court reporters with machines, reducing costs for legal firms and government agencies.

But beneath the surface, these technologies are far from flawless.

AI-based systems may generate transcription quickly, but they often produce a product full of errors, especially in complex legal terminology or fast-paced courtroom dialogue. While proponents of these systems argue that they’re constantly improving, they’re still not perfect. In fact, AI struggles to capture the nuances, tone, and context that a human court reporter—armed with training, skill, and experience—naturally provides.

How This Shift Threatens Court Reporting

For court reporters, the rise of AI and digital reporting signals a troubling future. The push for technological automation in the courtroom is not just about replacing workers but about changing the nature of court reporting itself.

Court reporters know that their job isn’t just about writing down what’s said. They are guardians of the official record—able to capture the exact words, tone, and intentions of the individuals speaking, with the ability to clarify ambiguities. No machine can do this with the precision and understanding of a trained human professional.

However, AI and digital reporting threaten to undermine the legal integrity of the court record. These systems lack human judgment. They fail when handling unclear audio, multiple speakers, overlapping speech, or regional accents. They can’t understand context or provide the professionalism and impartiality that court reporters offer.

What Court Reporters Need to Know

The growing reliance on digital reporting and AI transcription systems isn’t just a passing trend—it’s a movement that could ultimately reshape the legal profession. But this shift doesn’t have to mean the end for court reporters. By understanding the potential risks and taking proactive measures, court reporters can safeguard their careers.

Here are some key actions that every court reporter should take to protect their future:

  1. Embrace Technology—But Stay Ahead
    Court reporters don’t have to reject technology altogether. In fact, many reporters are already using digital tools alongside their stenography machines to streamline workflows. But it’s crucial to remain the expert in the field. Learn how AI and digital reporting work, and understand their limitations. By being tech-savvy, you can better compete and position yourself as a valuable asset in the courtroom.
  2. Advocate for the Profession
    Many attorneys and judges are unaware of the drawbacks of AI-based reporting. Court reporters must advocate for the integrity of the court record and educate others about the limitations of these new technologies. By standing up for the quality and accuracy of stenographic reporting, court reporters can ensure that their craft remains the gold standard.
  3. Focus on Niche Services
    As automation rises, so does the need for specialized services. Court reporters should consider focusing on areas where human expertise is irreplaceable, such as real-time transcription for trials, depositions, and legal proceedings that require extreme precision and speed. By offering niche services, reporters can ensure their value remains essential.
  4. Get Involved in Legal and Legislative Advocacy
    As AI and digital reporting technologies become more embedded in the industry, it’s essential to support legislative efforts that protect the rights of court reporters. Staying involved in legal advocacy groups can help ensure that court reporters’ jobs are safeguarded through regulations and laws that prioritize accuracy, professionalism, and the quality of the official record.
  5. Continue Professional Development
    Just like any other profession, the key to success in court reporting lies in continuous learning. Stay updated with the latest developments in your field, whether it’s new techniques, technology, or legal requirements. By keeping your skills sharp, you’ll be better positioned to adapt to changes and ensure your career remains secure.

Protecting Your Career in a Digital World

The rise of AI and digital reporting should not be seen as a death sentence for court reporters. Instead, it should serve as a wake-up call to stay ahead of the curve. As we move into an era dominated by technology, court reporters must adapt, educate, and advocate. By embracing new technologies while maintaining the human touch, court reporters can protect their careers and continue to thrive in an ever-changing legal landscape.

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.

***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):

AB 711 Passed—But Is It Really a Win? Why This New Law Signals the Next Phase in the Elimination of Certified Court Reporters

The headlines came fast and loud:

“BREAKING: AB 711 HAS PASSED 🚨⁠
Governor Newsom has officially signed AB 711… Attorneys filing motions must now state whether they will provide a certified shorthand reporter… More clarity, fewer conflicts, and a stronger commitment to protecting the record.”

If only that were true.

Behind the confetti emojis and PR spin lies a sobering reality: AB 711 is not a win for the judicial system—it’s a calculated move to offload the state’s responsibility for ensuring accurate court records, and a dangerous turning point in the quiet war being waged against certified court reporters across California.

What AB 711 Actually Does—And Why It’s a Problem

AB 711 requires attorneys filing motions in civil cases to indicate whether they intend to provide their own certified shorthand reporter (CSR). At face value, it sounds like a neutral logistics policy. In reality, it codifies the withdrawal of state accountability.

California law (CCP § 269) has long required a verbatim record in unlimited civil trials, and Rule 2.956 prohibits digital recording unless no CSR is available. But rather than addressing the systemic issue of underhiring and underfunding certified reporters, AB 711 hands the responsibility for the record over to attorneys—essentially turning access to justice into a pay-to-play model.

This bill doesn’t protect the record. It privatizes it.

Don’t Take Our Word for It—Watch It Unfold

Still think AB 711 is harmless?

Just last week, on July 28, 2025, a certified court reporter stood ready in Department 5 at the Spring Street Courthouse. She had been assigned for trial, was present, and prepared to work. But the judge—Karlan Shaller—told the attorneys, “You don’t need a court reporter.”

That moment was documented in a widely circulated exposé titled:
“Judge Tells Attorneys They Don’t Need a Court Reporter for Trial — Even When Certified Reporter is Present and Assigned.”

Although the trial ultimately proceeded with a reporter, the judge’s statement was not a slip of the tongue—it was a signal. It revealed a deeper agenda already playing out behind the scenes.

Just months ago, in Department 30 at Stanley Mosk, another judge presided over an unlimited civil trial without a reporter, despite one being present. That trial now has no certified transcript. No appeal. No accountability.

These aren’t isolated incidents. They are test balloons for a new judicial norm.

AB 711 Fits the Pattern of Erosion

AB 711 doesn’t solve any problem—it enables this erosion to continue, legally.

The judiciary has been building toward this for years. When SB 662—a bill that would have legalized widespread electronic recording—was defeated in early 2024, Los Angeles County Presiding Judge Samantha Jessner issued a controversial general order that gave judges a workaround.

That order authorized electronic recording in unlimited civil, family law, and probate proceedings if no reporter was available. But as we now see, “unavailable” is being redefined in practice to mean “in the room, but ignored.”

And now AB 711 provides the perfect legal cover. Courts can claim they’re merely following procedure—after all, it’s the attorneys’ responsibility now to request or supply a reporter.

The Real Impact on the Legal System

The consequences of this shift are far-reaching:

  • Justice Becomes Tiered: Wealthy clients will have access to private reporters and certified transcripts. Low-income litigants will not.
  • Public Accountability Evaporates: Without an independent officer of the court creating a record, judicial errors, misconduct, or unethical behavior go unchecked.
  • Appeals Become Meaningless: No record means no review. No transcript, no accountability.
  • The State Escapes Responsibility: Courts can continue gutting reporter departments under the guise of “shortages,” all while forcing the burden onto the private sector.

Meanwhile, the court reporting profession—a highly skilled, ethical, and regulated workforce—is being devalued, discredited, and displaced.

Inflated Stats, Misleading Narratives

To justify this trend, courts continue to cite “1.7 million unreported hearings” in two years. But as legal experts have pointed out, most of these are procedural: status conferences, continuances, minute orders. They were never the types of hearings that required transcripts in the first place.

This inflation of statistics is not accidental. It is part of a narrative carefully crafted to depict a crisis—one that doesn’t exist—to pave the way for the so-called “solution” of AI transcription and digital recording.

But the goal isn’t modernization.

It’s monetization.

By replacing certified reporters with court-owned audio files and unregulated transcription services, the courts stand to gain total control over the legal record: when it’s released, how it’s edited, and at what cost. That is a dangerous centralization of power.

What’s Really at Stake

Certified court reporters are neutral officers of the court, sworn to capture and certify proceedings with accuracy and impartiality. They are the custodians of the record—not the court, not the attorneys, and certainly not AI.

Without that independence, we enter an era of justice without a record.

And that’s no justice at all.

In Department 30, we already saw the consequences: a trial without a transcript, despite the law requiring one. In Department 5, we saw a judge test the waters, telling attorneys that a reporter wasn’t needed—when one had been assigned.

AB 711 was the final piece of the puzzle: a bill that shifts the burden off the courts, onto the attorneys, and ultimately onto litigants—while shielding the judiciary from responsibility.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The passage of AB 711 must be a wake-up call.

Judges, bar associations, and legal advocacy groups need to speak out against this quiet dismantling of our justice infrastructure. Reporters must remain vigilant, documenting violations and reporting them through proper channels.

Litigators must now routinely ask: “Is a certified reporter present and available?” If so, the law requires their use. No judge has the authority to waive that.

This isn’t a policy debate anymore. It’s a constitutional one.

When records are incomplete or absent, appellate courts can’t do their jobs. Wrongful rulings go unchallenged. Public confidence erodes.

And the people lose.

Final Word

The court system does not exist to serve itself. It exists to serve justice. And justice must be recorded—fully, accurately, and by a neutral professional. AB 711 may be law, but it is not progress.

To celebrate this bill is to celebrate the erosion of integrity.

If you believe in fairness, in access to justice, and in the right to a record—this is your moment to fight back.

Because the next time a judge says “You don’t need a court reporter,”
you may be the one left with no transcript,
no appeal,
and no voice.

AB 711 Passed—But at What Cost? A Closer Look at the Real Consequences for California’s Legal System

The celebratory posts are already making the rounds: “BREAKING: AB 711 HAS PASSED 🚨” they shout, with confetti emojis and claims that this bill will “streamline court scheduling” and “ensure CSRs are used efficiently.” At first glance, it may sound like progress. But scratch beneath the surface, and AB 711 reveals itself as a bureaucratic sleight of hand that threatens to undermine California’s court reporting profession, destabilize the integrity of civil litigation records, and shift the burden of justice away from the state and onto private litigants.

Let’s be clear: the passage of AB 711 is not a win for court reporters. It’s a strategic abdication of responsibility by the judicial branch, a convenient workaround that dodges California’s long-standing obligation to provide certified shorthand reporters (CSRs) in civil hearings. And while the bill’s supporters paint it as a commonsense reform, the reality is far more troubling—especially for those of us on the front lines of stenographic court reporting.

What AB 711 Actually Does

Under AB 711, attorneys filing motions in civil cases must now declare whether they intend to supply their own certified shorthand reporter for the hearing. Supporters say this will eliminate scheduling confusion and prevent duplicate coverage. But that’s not what this bill is really about. This bill is about shifting the cost and responsibility of maintaining the court record away from the courts—and onto litigants.

Let’s not forget: court reporting is not a luxury. It’s a constitutional necessity. A verbatim record is the bedrock of due process in our adversarial system. And for decades, the state of California—like most states—has funded and provided certified reporters in courtrooms to ensure this fundamental right is upheld.

AB 711 does not “protect the record.” It protects the state’s budget.

A Budget Band-Aid, Not a Solution

This bill is the latest maneuver in a series of legislative and administrative steps designed to phase out publicly provided reporters in civil courtrooms under the guise of efficiency. But what it really reflects is a failure by the judicial system to invest in its own infrastructure.

We have seen this pattern before. Years of hiring freezes, unfilled vacancies, and intentional underfunding of court reporter positions have led to an artificial “shortage”—a shortage created not by a lack of qualified CSRs, but by a lack of court willingness to hire them. AB 711 doesn’t address that root problem. Instead, it circumvents it entirely.

Now, rather than guaranteeing a record, the state asks: “Will you be bringing your own?”

Imagine if the state stopped providing interpreters and told litigants to bring their own if they wanted to understand the proceedings. Or if the clerk’s office stopped filing documents unless parties hired private clerks. That’s the level of absurdity we’re dealing with here.

The Burden on Litigants

Let’s talk about who this bill really affects. AB 711 puts solo practitioners, public interest firms, and self-represented litigants in an impossible position. Wealthy corporate clients can absorb the cost of hiring a private reporter. But small law firms, individual plaintiffs, and low-income defendants cannot.

And what happens when a party can’t afford a private CSR? There’s no guaranteed backup plan. The court is not required to provide one. The hearing may proceed without a record—or worse, with a flawed or incomplete digital recording.

The result? An unequal system where those who can pay get a clear, certified record, and those who can’t are left with ambiguity, potential transcription errors, or no record at all. That is not justice. That is a tiered system where access to the record—and thus access to appeals and accountability—is sold to the highest bidder.

Undermining a Profession

For California’s working court reporters, AB 711 sends a clear and painful message: You are expendable.

This bill codifies the idea that the courts no longer need to ensure a stenographic record in civil matters. It validates years of slow erosion—digitally recorded trials, offloaded deposition coverage, and freelance dependency—that have marginalized the role of the professional CSR.

And let’s dispel another myth: This doesn’t result in “more jobs” for freelance reporters. In fact, it creates chaos. Reporters are being asked to wait on standby in case parties decide they need one. Jobs are being canceled last minute. Schedulers are left juggling calendar conflicts, and CSRs are increasingly being treated like optional equipment instead of essential officers of the court.

In reality, AB 711 erodes the very infrastructure of the profession. It drives a wedge between court-employed reporters and freelancers, while allowing the state to wash its hands of any responsibility to recruit, train, or retain skilled stenographers. It’s deregulation masquerading as modernization.

Digital Recording Is Not a Substitute

Supporters of AB 711 will inevitably point to technology. “We have digital recording now,” they say. “Why do we still need human reporters?”

Because digital recording doesn’t create a certified, admissible transcript. It doesn’t correct misidentifications. It doesn’t stop the proceedings to clarify a mumbled speaker. It doesn’t navigate multiple speakers talking over each other, understand thick accents, or accurately capture emotional nuance.

Digital recording also fails in one critical area: real-time objection handling. Only a live stenographer can mark where in the transcript a legal objection occurred, enabling clean preservation for appeal.

Simply put, technology can supplement—but it cannot replace—professional judgment and instantaneous accuracy. The record is too important to leave to chance or a faulty microphone.

Where Do We Go From Here?

California’s court system didn’t arrive at this crossroads by accident. Years of poor planning and shortsighted cost-cutting led to the slow dismantling of a public infrastructure that once guaranteed fairness in every courtroom. AB 711 is just the latest mile marker on that downward path.

But there’s still time to change course.

We need legislators, judges, and bar associations to take a hard look at what this bill actually enables: inequality in access to justice, the collapse of a skilled profession, and the dilution of the legal record. We need policy rooted not in austerity, but in the belief that every litigant—rich or poor—deserves a full, fair, and accurate record of their day in court.

Court reporters are not optional. They are essential. And until California recommits to that principle, we will continue to see laws like AB 711 passed in the name of “progress,” when in truth they represent systemic retreat.

Final Thoughts

If you’re an attorney, think twice before celebrating this bill. You may find yourself in court one day with no record, no appealable transcript, and no recourse. If you’re a court reporter, let this be a wake-up call: your profession is under legislative attack. And if you’re a citizen, ask yourself what kind of legal system you want—a system that guarantees fairness, or one that only records justice when someone can afford to pay for it.

AB 711 may have passed. But we don’t have to accept it without a fight.

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.

***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):

No, You Never Served Me – The Truth Behind False Cease-and-Desist Claims

In a recent Facebook post, Shaunise Day — founder of Steno-in-the-City ™— claimed that a cease and desist letter had been issued against me and “didn’t work,” adding that “the only way that it will work is if you sue her.” This comment was made in a thread full of public encouragement for others to take legal action against me for my journalism and whistleblowing within the court reporting profession.

Her exact words were:

“This lady is not going to stop. A cease and desist will not matter. We tried that. The only way that it will work is if you sue her. The attorney advised that it will be $450 per hour. INSANE!!!!
I wish there was a way the associations could play a part when it comes to cyberbullying and defamation.”

But here’s the truth:
No licensed attorney ever served me with a cease and desist on Shaunise Day’s behalf.
What was sent was not a lawful legal communication.
And what followed was a formal investigation — not into me — but into the person who unlawfully sent that letter.

Here are the facts.

📩 The Letter That Wasn’t Legal

In 2023, I received a cease and desist letter claiming to represent Shaunise Day’s legal interests. But it did not come from a licensed attorney. It was written and sent by Sharon Williams, who, at the time, was a J.D. — not an attorney, not authorized counsel, and not a member of any state bar.

The letter threatened legal consequences for statements I made about Shaunise’s public activities, business practices, and her involvement with court reporting associations.

Upon review, I recognized the letter for what it was: an improper attempt to intimidate a critic using legal language without the legal authority to do so.

⚖️ California State Bar – Unauthorized Practice of Law — Despite Holding a J.D.

In 2023, I received a cease and desist letter claiming to represent Shaunise Day’s legal interests. The letter was authored by Sharon Williams, a woman with a Juris Doctor (JD) — meaning she attended law school — but who was not licensed to practice law in California.

Holding a JD does not authorize someone to act as legal counsel. Sharon Williams was not admitted to the California State Bar, and therefore was not legally permitted to issue legal threats, act as legal representation, or present herself as an attorney.

The matter was reported to the California State Bar, which opened an investigation and confirmed that Sharon Williams had violated state laws prohibiting the unauthorized practice of law (UPL).

Specifically:

The case was then referred to the California Department of Justice for potential prosecution.

The State Bar found that Williams violated Business and Professions Code §§ 6125–6126, which prohibit the unlicensed practice of law.

As a result, the Bar issued a cease and desist order to Ms. Williams, demanding she stop representing others in legal matters.

🖋️ She Had a JD — But No License, No Authority, and No Standing

It’s important to stress: Sharon Williams may have had legal education. But she was not an attorney — and under California law, that distinction matters greatly. Only a licensed member of the California State Bar can practice law, represent clients, or issue enforceable cease and desist letters.

Therefore, the cease and desist she issued was legally meaningless — and arguably unlawful.

☠️ A Sad and Sudden Ending

Before any criminal proceedings could take place, Sharon Williams tragically passed away in her sleep shortly after the State Bar issued its ruling in November of 2024. While I was deeply disturbed by her actions, I acknowledge that her death was a human loss. I’ve never used her passing for spectacle, nor would I. But the truth must be told.

It is unacceptable — and frankly cruel — for Shaunise to continue referencing this unlawful cease and desist as if it were a valid legal action that “didn’t work.”

It wasn’t valid. And it didn’t fail — it was never enforceable to begin with.

🧨 Why Shaunise’s Post Matters — and Why It’s Dangerous

In her recent post, Shaunise:

  1. Falsely claims a cease and desist was properly issued.
  2. Publicly encourages others to sue me, referencing a $450/hour attorney.
  3. Suggests that associations should “play a part” in dealing with people like me — implying some organized retaliation through professional bodies.

This is not just misleading. It’s dangerous.

  • False legal claims are a form of defamation in themselves.
  • Calling for group retaliation against someone engaged in journalism or advocacy walks a fine legal line toward civil conspiracy and tortious interference.
  • And framing someone as a “cyberbully” simply for exposing public wrongdoing is not protected criticism — it’s reputation damage through innuendo and falsehood.

📢 Let’s Be Clear About What I Do

I write about court reporting, court corruption, transparency, professional ethics, and the dangerous privatization of justice. I report on questionable partnerships between associations and for-profit entities. I use public records, screenshots, and documented statements. I call attention to behavior that undermines the integrity of our profession.

That’s not harassment.
That’s journalism.
That’s protected speech.
That’s whistleblowing.

And it’s desperately needed in this industry.

📚 The Real Legal Lesson Here

SD’s claims that “we tried that” — referring to a cease and desist. But “we” never did. What actually happened is this:

  • An illegal letter was sent.
  • The State Bar investigated.
  • The State Bar confirmed the letter was unlawful.
  • The Bar issued its own cease and desist — not to me — but to the person who tried to pose as an attorney.

And that is the only cease and desist letter in this situation that carried any legal weight.

🛡️ Final Thoughts: I Don’t Want a Fight. I Want the Truth.

I’m not trying to win a popularity contest. I’m not trying to destroy anyone’s career. I’m trying to stop people from misleading associations, exploiting volunteers, misusing nonprofit optics for personal gain, and silencing critics through intimidation.

But when someone lies publicly about sending me a cease and desist — and uses that lie to encourage legal retaliation — I have to respond.

Because facts matter.
Because our profession matters.
And because truth deserves louder voices than threats.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

“The organization known as Steno In The City (a registered trademark) has, to date, made no public statement regarding these concerns.”

“Steno In The City is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or sponsored by Steno In The City.”

“My use of the phrase ‘Steno In The City’ is purely descriptive and used solely to refer to the trademark holder in the context of journalistic critique and commentary. No content on the site implies affiliation, endorsement, or partnership with the trademark holder.”

A Dangerous Shift in California – Why Changes to CSR Exam Requirements Could Gut the Stenographic Pipeline

For decades, California’s Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) exam has stood as the most rigorous licensing exam in the country. It’s a four-voice, 200 wpm realtime test, simulating the demands of real-world litigation. The pass rate is less than 2.5%, a reflection of the exam’s difficulty and the high standards required of stenographic professionals in California.

But now, that system is being undermined. Some schools—starting with Downey Adult School—are refusing to sponsor students for the CSR unless they pass a 225 wpm internal school test first, regardless of their readiness for the actual exam. This isn’t a new rule from the state—it’s a unilateral school policy. And it’s locking out qualified students who’ve already completed their academics and apprentice hours.

Real-World Fallout – The Pipeline Is Breaking

This policy shift isn’t theoretical—it’s playing out in courtrooms and classrooms right now.

Just last week, a student walked into my courtroom in Long Beach. She’s been working toward becoming a court reporter for five years—balancing school, apprenticeship hours, and raising a two-year-old child. She comes from an underprivileged background, has overcome every barrier placed in front of her, and has nearly completed everything required to sit for California’s CSR exam.

She’s a machine writer who has completed all of her academics, nearly finished her apprentice hours, and was aiming to take the California CSR exam this November. She proudly declared herself a “225 student”—meaning she’s writing at a high enough speed to attempt the state exam, which is still 200 wpm. But there was a problem: her school, Downey Adult School, won’t sponsor her unless she passes their internal 225 wpm test first.

She didn’t fail. She just didn’t pass their 225 test yet—a test that’s not required by the state. Now she’s in limbo, even though the state CSR test would be the real measure of her ability. I asked if another school could sponsor her. But when I contacted a reputable program, their owner told me they couldn’t help. Not because the student wasn’t ready, but because schools that step in to help a student who trained elsewhere risk getting blacklisted by their peer institutions.

Let that sink in: a determined young mother, five years into this journey, has completed her academic work, has nearly finished her apprentice hours, and reached the right speed—but is now barred from the profession because of internal politics and a regulatory bait-and-switch.

It’s a systemic chokehold. One that punishes students, not for a lack of skill or preparation, but for attending the “wrong” school or for coming up during a time of regulatory flux. Meanwhile, voice writers and digital recorders can slide into the same industry with virtually no apprenticeship, no formal classroom training, and zero transcript production experience.

The playing field isn’t just uneven—it’s actively being tilted against the students who chose the hardest path.

And let’s be clear – many of these students are working adults, parents, or from communities historically underrepresented in law and government. They are not failing. They are being shut out by shifting goalposts that were moved without their consent or understanding.

California’s schools were not consulted about this change. The shift to RPR standards was “slipped in,” as one school owner put it, without statewide buy-in. And now schools like Downey are enacting these internal policies as if they are state law—cutting off students who are otherwise ready to serve in the courts.

This isn’t about standards. It’s about control. And the people getting hurt most are the very ones who’ve put in the hardest, longest, most expensive work.

Replacing the CSR with the RPR is a Step Backward

Why the shift? The California Court Reporters Board (CRB) is quietly moving to align the CSR with the NCRA’s Registered Professional Reporter (RPR) format.

But let’s be clear: The RPR is significantly easier.

  • Only 3 sections (Literary at 180, Jury Charge at 200, Q&A at 225)
  • Only two voices—not four
  • Modular testing—you can pass one leg at a time and retake the rest later

In contrast, California’s CSR is a two-part, high-stakes performance exam that truly reflects the complexity of live court reporting. Watering it down to match the RPR is not progress. It’s regression.

The NCRA Is Shrinking—Why Are We Following Their Lead?

The NCRA has spent years trying to get states to adopt the RPR as their licensing exam. After all that effort? Only 8 states have adopted it. That’s not momentum—that’s failure.

Meanwhile, the NCRA has rejected voice writers, clinging to outdated politics instead of embracing the broader ecosystem of record-making. It’s no longer leading the profession. Organizations like NVRA are stepping up to fill that gap, offering inclusive certification paths while defending core standards. And in Europe, Intersteno has already embraced multi-method record creation—steno, voice, and digital—and is leading globally.

Why is California, the largest court reporting market in the U.S., taking its cues from a shrinking national body that doesn’t even serve our best interests?

Where Is the NCRA?

That’s the question many professionals are asking.

The NCRA, headquartered in Virginia, is the nation’s leading certification body for stenographic reporters. While the RPR is their flagship national certification, the NCRA has largely remained hands-off when it comes to state-level licensure. But with California now altering its CSR to mirror the RPR format, it’s time for the NCRA to engage—because this change will have national consequences.

If California stenographers are increasingly judged by RPR standards, the NCRA’s own policies and partnerships will influence who gets to work in the largest legal market in the United States. California reporters work high-volume civil calendars, fast-paced jury trials, and complex depositions that require mastery of speed, accuracy, and real-world litigation protocol. We can’t afford to shut out well-trained, practice-ready students over arbitrary internal testing benchmarks—especially when digital reporting companies and AI startups are circling to replace us.

The Real Agenda – Who’s Controlling the CRB?

Look behind the curtain, and you’ll find two powerful plants sitting on the California Court Reporters Board, steering policy in a dangerous direction:

  1. A political proxy: One member of the CRB is a former aide to Assemblymember Lorena Gonzalez, notorious for sponsoring anti-reporter legislation. She has no background in court reporting, no expertise in the field, and no business overseeing the future of this profession. Her presence on the board isn’t by accident—it’s strategic. She’s pushing Gonzalez’s anti-steno agenda from inside the system.
  2. A tech entrepreneur with ties to Bill Gates: Another CRB member is the founder of a tech startup funded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. That’s the same Gates Foundation that has poured billions into ASR (automated speech recognition) technology—technology that seeks to replace human court reporters entirely. With someone in that position of influence, it’s no surprise we’re seeing a push to weaken the CSR and open the door to tech-driven substitutions.

Let’s not kid ourselves: This is not about fairness. It’s about control. It’s about dismantling steno to make room for cheap automation. And the people making these decisions have financial and political interests that are diametrically opposed to the survival of the stenographic profession.

Steno Students Are Being Punished—While Voice Writers Get a Free Pass

While steno students are being blocked by arbitrary new requirements, voice writers are being allowed to take the CSR with no real-world experience, no formal coursework, and no transcript production skills. Some programs are entirely online and can be completed in less than a year. And yet, those candidates face fewer barriers than stenographic students who’ve put in thousands of hours learning a high-skill trade.

It’s insulting. It’s reckless. And it’s happening in the shadows.

What Needs to Happen Now

We need a hard stop and a full investigation into how these changes were allowed to slip through. At a minimum, the CRB must:

  • Clarify publicly whether the 225 requirement is now a statewide rule
  • Disclose all board member affiliations and conflicts of interest
  • Halt any move to adopt the RPR as a substitute or model for the CSR
  • Establish an appeals or waiver process for current students
  • Include California’s schools and working reporters in decision-making

And above all, we need to protect the CSR—not dismantle it to serve corporate interests or political vendettas.

The CSR Is the Standard. Don’t Let Them Erase It.

California’s licensing system works because it’s tough. Because it demands excellence. Because it produces the best-trained, most reliable reporters in the country.

If we let political insiders and billionaire-backed tech investors rewrite the rules, we won’t just lose the CSR—we’ll lose the future of stenography in California. And where California goes, the rest of the country will follow.

This is a fight for the survival of our profession. And it starts with refusing to surrender the CSR. Not to schools, not to compromised board members, and not to national organizations that have lost their way.

How Many CSRs Are There—Really?

As of January 1, 2025, there were 4,587 active California‑licensed court reporters residing in the state ccra.memberclicks.net+7California Courts+7California Courts+7. That figure reflects licensees not in delinquent status and residing within California.

Between fiscal years 2009–10 and 2022–23, the total number of licensees dropped by over 25%, and courts now face a need to hire hundreds of additional full‑time court reporters just to meet legal minimums Los Angeles Superior Court+9California Courts+9California Courts+9.

Did the CRB Manipulate the Numbers?

There are credible reports that the CRB may have intentionally marked around 1,000 court reporters as “inactive” to artificially lower the count of active licensees. This tactic appears to have been deployed around the time the Judicial Council was evaluating ASR/ER (automated speech recognition / electronic recording) technologies for courtroom use.

By reducing the number of “active” CSRs in official reporting, the shortage appeared more acute—a lever used to justify broader reliance on ASR and electronic recording. This manipulation raises grave concerns about transparency and intent during a pivotal policy shift.

Why This Matters

  • Shortage Narrative: With just 4,600 active CSRs reported—but many more likely marked inactive artificially—it’s difficult to assess the real roadway of stenographic capacity in California.
  • Policy Manipulation: If the CRB trimmed its active figures to make ASR look more necessary, that’s not just biased reporting—it’s political manufacturing of a crisis.
  • Impact on Students and Schools: This stunts the case for renewing and sustaining CSR training programs—and strengthens the push for easier pathways like RPR or voice writing.
  • The Tech Agenda Gains Ground: As the shortage is made to look more severe, investment money and policy decision-makers shift toward automation solutions, undercutting the steno profession at its roots.

Context Drives Consequence

  • In 2016, California had about 6,842 CSRs, and by 2021, 5,854—a drop of nearly 1,000 in five years California CourtsLos Angeles Superior Court.
  • Between 2013–14 and 2021–22, the drop was around 19% in total licensed reporters, per Consumer Affairs and Judicial Council data Capitol Weekly.

So the larger picture: If you remove 1,000 names from the “active” roster, it becomes much easier to argue that California needs emergency fixes—like automated reporting—when in fact it may just need better training, retention, and education support.

More Quiet Sabotage as CRB Strips Schools from CSR Pass Lists

As if internal school politics and licensing changes weren’t enough, the California Court Reporters Board (CRB) has made yet another under-the-radar move that weakens the profession’s infrastructure. Without warning or consultation, the CRB removed the names of court reporting schools from official CSR pass lists, severing the public connection between a student’s success and the institution that trained them. Schools discovered the change after the fact—there was no transparency, no vote, no outreach.

This data had long served as a critical benchmark for performance, accreditation, and recruiting. For prospective students, pass rate transparency helped identify which programs were successful. For schools, it validated years of work and provided leverage in securing funding or accreditation. And for the industry at large, it was proof of pipeline integrity.

Now that public accountability is gone—at a time when California has lost most of its court reporting programs and desperately needs new talent to enter the field. The CRB is actively cutting off the profession’s ability to grow, promote itself, and survive. This isn’t just negligence. It’s sabotage.

What You Can Do – Advocate for Fairness—Now

If you’re frustrated, good. Now let’s turn that into action. Because this isn’t just about policy—it’s about people. And right now, a young mother who has dedicated five years of her life to mastering machine shorthand is being blocked from even taking the test she’s spent half a decade preparing for.

She’s raised a child while doing speed drills. She’s worked in courtrooms. She’s hit 225. She’s ready for the November 2025 CSR exam, which may be the last one offered under the current standard before the CRB moves forward with the RPR-aligned changes. And yet her school—Downey Adult School—is withholding its sponsorship.

That’s unacceptable.

✉️ Write to the School

We encourage court reporters, educators, students, attorneys, and industry allies to write letters directly to Downey Adult School asking them to:

  • Allow this student to qualify for the November CSR exam at 200 wpm, the state’s current minimum.
  • Grant her a school-level waiver or exception, given the time, effort, and commitment she has demonstrated.
  • Honor the standard she enrolled under, not impose a shifting goalpost weeks before the exam.
  • Do the right thing—not for numbers, but for equity, integrity, and access to licensure.

📬 Write to the CRB

Send letters to the California Court Reporters Board urging them to:

  • Immediately adopt a grandfather clause for current students who have trained under the CSR standard.
  • Guarantee that all students enrolled before the standard changed will have a fair and reasonable opportunity to test under the requirements they’ve been working toward.
  • Issue written guidance to schools outlining this grandfather protection to avoid more unfair exclusions.
  • Halt any further policy changes until public comment is taken from both schools and students.

This young mother is not an exception—she is the face of your future workforce. If we don’t fight for her now, we’re signaling to every hardworking student: “You don’t matter.”

Let’s make sure she gets her chance. Let’s hold the schools and the Board accountable. And let’s remind them that this profession is built on fairness, accuracy, and truth—starting with how we treat our own.

Disclaimer

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):

Trial Without a Reporter – What I Witnessed in L.A. Court Should Alarm Every Litigator

Judge Tells Attorneys They Don’t Need a Court Reporter for Trial — Even When Certified Reporter is Present and Assigned

Legal Experts Warn of Due Process Violations, Inflated Statistics, and a Strategic Power Grab to Eliminate Human Reporters

“I was in the courtroom when it happened: A judge told attorneys they didn’t need a court reporter for thier trial— even though one was there, ready to work.”

LOS ANGELES — On July 28, 2025, in Department 5 at the Spring Street Courthouse (SSC), Judge Karlan Shaller told attorneys preparing for an unlimited civil trial that they “don’t need a court reporter” — despite being informed that a certified shorthand reporter had been assigned to their entire trial and was present in the courtroom, ready to work.

Although the trial ultimately proceeded with a reporter, the judge’s statement raised deeper concerns — not about whether the record would be preserved by electronic means, but whether the court’s entire strategy had been in bad faith from the beginning. Long before SB 662 was formally defeated, the court had invested heavily in electronic recording infrastructure, confident the bill would pass. When it didn’t, Jessner’s workaround order provided a backdoor — and now, judges are acting as though the law has already changed, normalizing the elimination of human reporters to lay the groundwork for making that legal reality permanent.

Months earlier, in Department 30 at Stanley Mosk Courthouse, presided over by Judge Barbara Scheper, an unlimited civil trial proceeded without a reporter — even though one was present and available. That proceeding now has no official transcript, despite a clear legal requirement under California Code of Civil Procedure § 269 and Rule 2.956.

Court observers say these are not isolated incidents. They are part of a larger, coordinated shift — one that isn’t about staffing shortages or courtroom efficiency.

It’s about power and profit.

“They don’t even want a record anymore — because now they own it.”
— Veteran Court Reporter

California Law Requires Reporters — When Available

California’s governing laws and court rules are unambiguous:

  • CCP § 269(a): Requires certified shorthand reporters to record all trial proceedings in unlimited civil matters.
  • Rule 2.956: Prohibits audio recording in such cases unless expressly permitted — and only when no certified reporter is available.
  • Rule 5.532: Mandates transcripts upon request, prepared and certified by licensed reporters.

When a certified court reporter is present and available, the law requires their use. Judges are not authorized to disregard that requirement or suggest that a transcript is optional.

Presiding Judge Jessner’s General Order – What It Did

On September 5, 2024, then-Presiding Judge Samantha P. Jessner of the Los Angeles County Superior Court issued a general order allowing the use of electronic recording devices in family law, probate, and unlimited civil proceedings — but only when no court-employed or privately retained court reporter was available.

In the order, Jessner claimed that the prohibition against recording in these case types discriminated against low-income litigants, stating:

“Where such fundamental rights and liberty interests are at stake, the denial of [electronic recording] to litigants who cannot reasonably secure a [court reporter] violates the constitutions of the United States and the State of California.”

She called the law “legislative discrimination” and claimed it failed to meet any compelling interest.

Critics — including the California Court Reporters Association (CCRA), labor unions, and legal watchdogs — immediately condemned the order as an illegal overreach and a violation of state law. They argue Jessner was effectively legislating from the bench, creating policy that the California Legislature had explicitly rejected.

The “1.7 Million Unreported Hearings” Narrative

To justify the expansion of electronic recording, court officials have repeatedly cited a staggering figure: more than 1.7 million civil, family, and probate hearings statewide lacked a verbatim record over just two years.

But legal analysts and court insiders say this figure is deeply misleading.

Many of those “unreported” hearings are routine calendar matters — scheduling conferences, status updates, continuances — not full evidentiary hearings or trials. These are events that rarely result in transcript requests or appellate issues.

By padding the data with low-level, non-substantive events, the court has crafted a self-serving narrative to make it appear as though critical proceedings are being lost — when in fact, the vast majority were never the kinds of proceedings where transcripts are traditionally ordered.

“This isn’t about 1.7 million missed trials,” said one legal policy expert. “It’s about inflating numbers to push a predetermined agenda — displacing human reporters and centralizing control of the record.”

Behind the Push – Control, Monetization, and Elimination

This is not just about modernization — it’s about control of the record.

When the court owns the audio, it owns the record. It can:

  • Sell transcripts directly to litigants and attorneys.
  • Restrict or delay access to sensitive or unflattering content.
  • Eliminate independent oversight that certified reporters once provided.
  • Replace ethical, licensed professionals with unregulated contractors or AI.

“They’re not treating the record as optional,” said one veteran court reporter. “They want to own it, monetize it, and weaponize it. That’s why they want us gone.”

Unlike certified shorthand reporters — neutral officers of the court subject to licensing and ethical standards — machine-generated transcripts and digital files are fully controlled by the court itself. This removes one of the last independent checks inside the courtroom.

It’s not just a power shift.

It’s a power grab.

Jessner’s Order Was A Ruse, Not a Remedy

Presiding Judge Samantha P. Jessner publicly framed her September 2024 general order as a compassionate, temporary workaround for under-resourced departments during the court reporter shortage. But critics say that explanation was a calculated misdirection — and that the order was never designed to be a stopgap.

“Jessner’s order was a ruse,” said a senior court reporter. “It was a deliberate step in a long-term strategy to displace us entirely.”

Although the order’s language limited electronic recording to situations where no reporter was available, it created a culture where judges now behave as if certified reporters are optional — even when they are present, assigned, and ready to work.

That’s exactly what happened in Mosk Department 30, where the court proceeded without a reporter despite one being in the room — and nearly happened in SSC Department 5.

Since the day the order was issued, judges across Los Angeles County have increasingly sidelined reporters in favor of audio recordings or no record at all. One such instance occurred on July 28, 2025, when a judge told attorneys in open court that they don’t even need a reporter anymore — despite one being assigned and available.

Justice Without a Record

When courts bypass certified reporters:

  • There’s no transcript. No appeal.
  • No accountability for misconduct or improper rulings.
  • No transparency for the public.

In Mosk Department 30, the result is a trial with no record, no transcript, and no meaningful route for review. That’s not efficiency. That’s erasure.

Legislative Defeat of SB 662 and the Judicial Workaround

In early 2024, California lawmakers considered Senate Bill 662, introduced by Senator Susan Rubio, which would have authorized electronic recording in all civil proceedings, including unlimited civil and family law cases.

The bill would have:

  • Allowed digital recording even when no reporter was present;
  • Required courts to attempt to hire a reporter first;
  • Given certified reporters the right of first refusal to transcribe;
  • Paved the way for expanded AI transcription in trial courts.

The bill faced fierce opposition from court reporters, labor unions, and access-to-justice groups who warned of errors, reduced oversight, and unfair appeal outcomes.

In January 2024, SB 662 was quietly defeated in the Senate Appropriations Committee, never reaching the Senate floor.

But the defeat didn’t stop the judiciary. Just eight months later, Jessner issued her general order, implementing the very policies the Legislature had rejected — without a public vote or legislative authority.

“SB 662 died in committee. Jessner brought it back to life — with a stroke of the pen,” said one former legislative consultant.

🗓️ Timeline: SB 662 and the Judiciary’s Workaround

DateEvent
Feb 16, 2023SB 662 introduced by Sen. Susan Rubio
May 2023Bill passes Senate Judiciary Committee
Jan 2024Bill dies in Senate Appropriations Committee
Sept 5, 2024Judge Jessner issues general order allowing ER in civil courts
Sept 2024 onwardJudges begin bypassing certified reporters — even when present and assigned
Jan 1, 2025Jessner’s term as Presiding Judge ends; succeeded by Judge Sergio Tapia

This Isn’t Negligence. It’s a Strategy.

What’s happening in Departments 5 and 30 isn’t a mistake or miscommunication. It’s a coordinated dismantling of independent court reporting — to consolidate power, control the record, and convert public justice into a revenue stream.

The courts are no longer treating the record as optional.

They’re treating it as merchandise.

It’s time the legal community, lawmakers, and the public say no.

Say no to inflated statistics.
Say no to judicial workarounds.
Say no to trials with no record and no recourse.

Justice must be recorded. And the record must belong to the people — not the system.

What Can Court Reporters Do?

Reporters must stay vigilant. When at courthouses, look into departments, check calendars, and verify whether trials are being held with a certified reporter present.

  • If you see an unlimited civil trial proceeding without a reporter, document what you observed: the department number, judge’s name, date, and whether parties or jurors were present.
  • Politely ask courtroom staff or attorneys if a reporter has been assigned.
  • If you’re available to report and not being utilized, make it known — preferably in writing or on the record.
  • Report the incident to your professional association (like CCRA), the local union, or legal advocacy groups monitoring compliance.
    • Currently, there are no formal legal advocacy groups publicly announced as monitoring compliance with Jessner’s order or California court reporter laws on a systemic level.
    • However, informal monitoring is taking place through:
    • California Court Reporters Association (CCRA)
    • Los Angeles County Court Reporters Association (LACCRA)
    • Individual reporters and watchdogs
    • Whistleblower-led documentation efforts, such as those discussed in this article

This quiet erosion of rights thrives in silence. It’s time to raise our voices — and document everything.

Because when there’s no record, there’s no justice.

Other articles on the subject of AB 662:

The California Court Reporter Crisis and the Controversy Surrounding SB 662: A Look at the Legal Battle, Fraud Allegations, and Potential Constitutional Crisis

A Crisis in the Courts – L.A. County’s Reporter Shortage, Jessner’s Controversial Order, and the Looming Threat of Jury Nullification

Judges in Los Angeles County are Breaking the Law!

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.

***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):

The High Cost of Replacing a Court Reporter

In the staffing world, there’s one truth that never changes: replacing a good worker costs more than retaining one. I learned this the hard way after hiring and firing over 800 people as a staffing supervisor and executive recruiter. But nowhere is this more evident—or more ignored—than in the court reporting industry.

Court reporting agencies today are trapped in a never-ending cycle of recruiting and onboarding. They’re scrambling to cover assignments while facing a dwindling supply of certified, working stenographers. The panic to fill jobs quickly often outweighs careful vetting, mentorship, or long-term planning. It’s a revolving door approach—one that’s bleeding the profession dry and putting justice itself at risk.

The truth? We don’t have a clear picture of how many court reporters are actually working. Sure, thousands hold licenses—but many are retired, inactive, or sidelined for other reasons. Some remain licensed for prestige or backup income, even though they haven’t taken a job in years. Others, unfortunately, have been blacklisted by agencies due to political disagreements, personality clashes, or power struggles—cut off from work entirely despite being skilled and certified.

So, when an agency says, “We’ll just find someone else,” they might believe there’s a deep bench of available talent. But that bench is thinner than they realize.

And replacing a seasoned court reporter isn’t as simple as checking a license and a shorthand speed. Veteran reporters bring something much more valuable: the ability to protect the record under pressure. They know how to handle difficult witnesses, multiple speakers, mumbled testimony, tech glitches, and opposing counsel with an agenda. They manage proceedings with calm authority and produce clean, complete transcripts that stand up in court. These are skills that come not from training alone, but from years—often decades—of experience.

When that kind of reporter walks away, the loss is massive. Not just in output, but in stability.

Replacing them isn’t cheap. There’s the cost of recruiting and onboarding someone new. There’s the time spent training, coaching, and correcting. There’s the risk of mistakes—missed testimony, late transcripts, complaints from counsel. And then there’s the intangible loss: relationships with repeat clients, familiarity with local judges, trust built over time. None of that can be recreated overnight.

The industry also suffers when veteran reporters retire without passing the torch. The next generation needs mentorship, not just technical training. They need to sit out with experienced reporters, get real-time feedback, and learn how to navigate the nuances of legal proceedings that can’t be taught in a textbook. But when older reporters leave the profession burned out, frustrated, or disrespected, they rarely stick around to train their replacements.

That gap is growing. And agencies are pouring resources into trying to close it—often by shifting toward digital or AI solutions that don’t truly replace human judgment or protect the integrity of the record. These alternatives may seem cheaper on paper, but they come with their own hidden costs: appeals due to inaudible audio, mistrials from incomplete transcripts, and legal liability when things go wrong.

Retention should be the priority. But too often, reporters are treated as expendable. Agencies push for more work, faster turnaround, and lower rates—then act surprised when reporters walk away.

It’s not just a staffing issue. It’s a systemic failure.

If we want to preserve the court reporting profession, we have to stop thinking of reporters as interchangeable and start seeing them as the essential officers of the court that they are. That means paying them fairly, listening to their concerns, and investing in long-term solutions that honor both the past and the future of the profession.

Because the real cost of losing a good reporter isn’t just measured in dollars. It’s measured in lost trust, weakened records, delayed justice, and the slow erosion of the human element in our legal system.

And that’s a price we can’t afford to keep paying.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

A Victory for Nevada Court Reporters: Senate Bill 191 Signed, Rate Increases Effective January 2026

In a major legislative win for the stenographic court reporting community, Nevada Governor Joe Lombardo signed Senate Bill 191 into law on July 19, 2025, setting the stage for long-awaited pay increases for certified court reporters working in Nevada’s state district courts. The changes, which take effect January 1, 2026, are more than symbolic—they represent a material recognition of the skill, precision, and constitutional importance of human court reporters in an increasingly automated legal landscape.

While this milestone directly impacts official reporters, the effects are expected to trickle down to freelancers and deposition specialists as market rates recalibrate. It’s not just a pay bump—it’s a professional validation.

Breaking Down SB 191: What It Changes

Senate Bill 191 (2025), sponsored by Senator Daly, makes several critical updates to the Nevada Revised Statutes:

  1. Increased Compensation for official court reporters and reporters pro tempore in district courts, including:
    • Daily appearance fee: Raised from $250 to $395.
    • Transcript rates: For example, transcripts delivered more than 4 days after request increased from $3.80 to $5.50 per page for the original plus one copy.
    • Expedited transcripts (within 24 hours): Jumped from $8.03 to $10 per page.
    • Realtime translation: First day increased from $140 to $300; subsequent days from $90 to $200.
  2. Regulatory Authority Shift: The Certified Court Reporters’ Board of Nevada is now responsible for setting and adjusting fees by regulation, rather than having rates codified in statute (NRS 656.220). Initial fees will mirror those in effect as of December 31, 2025, and may be adjusted within a range of 90% to 125% of the existing rates.
  3. Municipal Court Exceptions: Allows non-certified individuals to operate sound recording equipment in municipal courts, a concession that raises ethical and quality concerns, but is limited in scope.

These changes align Nevada with broader regional and national movements to modernize compensation and stabilize a dwindling workforce.

A Parallel in California – Lessons from 2021

Nevada is not the first state to address stagnant pay for court reporters. In September 2021, California Governor Gavin Newsom signed legislation increasing the per-page statutory rate for regular 30-day delivery from $3.00 to $3.99—the first rate change in over 50 years. That adjustment, while still modest, sparked broader industry shifts in freelance and deposition pricing across the state.

Just like Nevada’s SB 191, California’s increase was fueled by a critical mass of advocacy, hard data on inflation and staffing shortages, and an urgent need to retain qualified reporters. It also signaled a turning point – that state governments were finally listening.

A Moment to Celebrate—and Mobilize

On Saturday, June 14, 2025, members of the Nevada Court Reporters Association (NVCRA) gathered at Café du Central on Spring Mountain Road in Las Vegas to celebrate the passage of SB 191. Over coffee and camaraderie, past and current members reflected on the grassroots efforts that led to this victory and discussed the path forward for professional advocacy.

It wasn’t just a celebratory gathering—it was a strategic inflection point. NVCRA leadership emphasized that ongoing engagement will be necessary to hold the Board accountable as it sets future rates, enforces quality standards, and responds to threats posed by AI transcription and non-certified recording practices.

Why This Matters—For Everyone

While the immediate beneficiaries of SB 191 are official reporters working in court, freelancers and deposition reporters should not underestimate its significance. Statutory rate increases have a domino effect: law firms recalibrate their budgets, agencies adjust contract terms, and reporters gain stronger leverage in negotiations.

In an industry where digital encroachment continues to challenge ethical and procedural norms, rate increases are more than financial—they’re political. They signal that human court reporters are not optional. They are vital.

“This statute validates what we’ve always known—accurate, realtime, verbatim records are not a luxury; they’re a necessity. And they’re worth paying for.”
— NVCRA Member, at the June 14 event

The Devil in the Details: Implementation Watchouts

There are, of course, areas to watch closely:

  • Municipal Court Recording Exception: SB 191 allows non-certified individuals to operate recording devices in municipal court under certain conditions. While framed as an administrative efficiency, this sets a precedent that must be closely monitored to ensure it doesn’t seep into broader judicial venues.
  • Board Regulation vs. Statute: By moving fee-setting authority to the Certified Court Reporters’ Board, the legislature enables greater flexibility—but also introduces potential risk. Reporters must remain active in board rulemaking, as future increases (or reductions) will occur via regulation, not public vote.
  • Delayed Effective Date: While the bill was signed in mid-2025, the new rates won’t take effect until January 1, 2026. That gives counties and courts time to adjust budgets—but it also provides time for opponents to organize. Staying vigilant through the transition period is essential.

What’s Next?

SB 191 is a powerful legislative win, but it’s not the end of the fight. NVCRA and its allies are now focused on:

  • Ensuring fair implementation of the new pay structure;
  • Monitoring fee-setting regulations by the Board;
  • Strengthening freelance reporter protections by using this statutory win as a benchmark for private contract negotiations;
  • Educating attorneys and judges on the differences between certified human reporters and inferior digital substitutes;
  • Training and mentoring new reporters to fill the pipeline with qualified professionals committed to stenographic excellence.

Final Thoughts

Senate Bill 191 is more than a budget adjustment—it is a statement of value. It says that Nevada respects the accuracy of its legal record, the integrity of its court proceedings, and the trained professionals who make both possible.

Like California’s 2021 raise from $3.00 to $3.99 per page for regular and up to $6.00 per page for expedites, Nevada’s increase in 2025 from $3.80 to $5.50 and beyond for expedites is a long-overdue course correction. It empowers not only the individuals behind the steno machines, but also the legal system itself.

Whether you’re an official reporter in court or a freelancer in the field, this victory belongs to you. Use it. Leverage it. Protect it.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Why Save Steno?

“Why save steno?”

It’s a fair question.

At first glance, stenography might seem like just another outdated profession—an analog relic in a digital world. But that’s exactly the misconception that’s threatening the integrity of our justice system, eroding public trust in legal records, and displacing thousands of professionals who don’t just document proceedings—they protect them.

Let’s be clear: Stenographic court reporters are not optional. They’re constitutional.

They’re the human safeguard in a system that hinges on exactness, impartiality, and accountability. They don’t just record what was said. They clarify, confirm, and preserve what was meant. In a courtroom where careers, reputations, parental rights, and sometimes freedom itself hang in the balance, every syllable counts.

Machines Can’t Do What We Do

Automatic speech recognition (ASR) and digital recording companies like to sell a vision: faster, cheaper, scalable. But reality tells a different story—one where machines:

  • Misattribute speakers
  • Drop crucial testimony
  • Fail in noisy environments
  • Miss nonverbal cues
  • Cannot interrupt or clarify when something is unclear

In a 2023 NCRA study, digital systems failed to capture full testimony in 14% of proceedings. That’s not a glitch. That’s a due process violation.

What Happens When the Record Fails?

Let’s spell it out:

  • A missing word in a transcript? That’s grounds for appeal.
  • Inaudible key testimony? That’s a motion to strike.
  • Unverifiable exchanges? That’s a mistrial.
  • Fabricated transcripts? That’s attorney sanctions—and lawsuits.

Now ask yourself: If you were a litigant, would you trust your life to a mic and a machine?

It’s Not Just About the Courtroom

Stenographers don’t just transcribe. We protect the record. We detect when someone is speaking too softly. We pause for clarity. We speak up when the record is in jeopardy. No algorithm does that.

We are the quiet guardians of truth in depositions, trials, hearings, arbitrations, and legislative proceedings. We’re not “just typists.” We are trained officers of the court, bound by ethics, accuracy, and confidentiality.

What’s Being Lost

When you eliminate the stenographer, here’s what else disappears:

  • The human intelligence to understand context
  • The ethical obligation to be neutral and present
  • The real-time access attorneys rely on in court
  • The career pathway for thousands of skilled professionals, many of them women and mothers supporting their families

You don’t save money by erasing humans. You just create new costs—in retrials, mistrials, appeals, and lost trust.

Why Save Steno?

Because once it’s gone, you won’t realize what you’ve lost until it’s too late.

Because this is not about nostalgia. It’s about justice.

Because no machine is more reliable than a trained human reporter—real-time, accountable, and present.

Because your words matter. And only we make sure they live on exactly as they were said.

Call to Action

If you’re an attorney, a judge, a journalist, or a citizen:

  • Demand a certified stenographer in your proceedings.
  • Refuse to accept a “transcript” created by a machine.
  • Support legislation that protects the human record.

The question isn’t “Why save steno?”

It’s “How can we afford not to?”

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

When the Record Breaks – A Deposition Disaster That Proves Why Humans Beat Machines

One slam of the table—and the record vanished. In an era where artificial intelligence and digital tools are creeping into every corner of professional life, the legal system is no exception. But not every innovation is an improvement—especially when justice is on the line. A recent incident during a deposition serves as a stark reminder of why certified court reporters remain essential to the integrity of the legal record.

Last Thursday, a videographer shared an unsettling story from a deposition he had recently covered at a well-known law firm. At a previous session held at the same location, he recalled, the firm opted to use a “digital court reporter”—a non-certified operator relying on recording equipment and automated software to capture testimony instead of a licensed stenographic reporter.

That choice turned into a disaster.

According to the videographer, during that deposition, opposing counsel became visibly frustrated. Tensions flared, and in a moment of anger, the attorney slammed both fists down on the table. The force was significant—enough to shake the flimsy setup supporting the digital equipment.

What happened next is exactly what critics of artificial intelligence and digital reporting have long warned about: the so-called “court reporter” lost a large section of the testimony.

Whether it was due to vibration damage, corrupted files, microphone misalignment, or equipment failure, the fact remains—there is now a gap in the official record. And when critical witness testimony is missing, the consequences can be far-reaching: procedural delays, sanctions, mistrials, or even appeals based on incomplete transcripts.

Imagine a world where the future of a case—perhaps one involving millions of dollars, or even someone’s liberty—rests on a recording system that can be interrupted by something as simple as a table slap. That’s not a risk the justice system can afford to take.

This incident highlights a crucial distinction: a certified court reporter is not just a transcriptionist. A licensed stenographer is a neutral officer of the court, trained not only to capture every word but to maintain control of the proceeding, ensure clarity in the record, and immediately address any issues that might jeopardize its integrity.

When technology fails, a human stenographer steps in—asking for clarifications, marking exhibits, annotating interruptions, and reading back testimony in real time. A machine, no matter how sophisticated, cannot exercise judgment, issue corrections on the spot, or advocate for a clean, usable transcript.

And when the record is incomplete, there’s no rewind button to restore lost testimony. The damage is done.

When testimony is lost due to equipment failure or incomplete capture—like in the case of the slammed table during a digitally reported deposition—the consequences can be severe. Attorneys may be forced to file motions to strike key testimony, or worse, face a mistrial if the missing record involves critical witness statements. In appellate courts, the absence of a complete, certified transcript can undermine the ability to challenge a ruling, effectively waiving the right to appeal. Courts may also impose sanctions on attorneys or law firms for failing to ensure a proper record was made. These aren’t hypothetical risks—they’re real legal landmines that can derail a case, harm a client, or cost a firm its credibility.

This is not just about outdated vs. modern solutions. It’s about reliability, accuracy, and accountability.

According to a 2023 study conducted by the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA), digital recording systems failed to capture complete and accurate testimony in 14% of proceedings that were monitored. The most common issues cited included overlapping speakers, equipment malfunctions, and unintelligible audio—factors that certified stenographic reporters are specifically trained to manage in real time. Additionally, courts in multiple jurisdictions have expressed concern over the reliability of digital records, with some judges issuing orders requiring certified reporters to ensure transcript accuracy. These findings underscore what legal professionals already know: technology is a tool, not a substitute for human judgment, training, and accountability.

Digital recording might have a place in certain low-stakes or budget-restricted situations, but when it comes to depositions—where testimony often sets the tone for trial strategy and settlement value—the record must be unimpeachable. That means using trained, certified professionals who know how to manage a high-pressure environment and deliver a transcript you can trust.

As the legal industry faces increasing pressure to cut costs and streamline operations, this story should be a wake-up call: you get what you pay for. Saving a few bucks on a digital setup can cost your client their case.

Let this be a reminder to attorneys and law firms: if the record matters, hire a real court reporter.

Because in the courtroom or the conference room, there’s no substitute for skill, training, and human judgment.

To protect the integrity of the legal system, attorneys, judges, and law firms must take a stand. If you’re a litigator, demand a certified court reporter—not just for accuracy, but to safeguard your client’s rights and your own professional reputation. Court administrators and policymakers should reject shortcuts that compromise the record and support legislation that mandates licensed, trained professionals in all legal proceedings. The justice system depends on a reliable record. Don’t gamble with anything less.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

When AI Enters the Deposition Room – The Legal and Ethical Minefield of Unauthorized Recordings

In the evolving landscape of legal technology, court reporters are encountering a new and concerning trend: attorneys seeking to record depositions using third-party AI tools like Fireflies.ai. These tools boast the ability to not only record audio but also transcribe, summarize, and even analyze conversations in real time. While this may sound like a convenience for attorneys looking to streamline their workflow, it raises serious legal, ethical, and professional concerns for stenographers — the guardians of the official record.

A recent situation shared among professional reporters highlights the tension. A plaintiff’s attorney attempted to use Fireflies during a deposition, and when the reporter objected, the attorney threatened to call the judge. The reporter stood her ground, called her office, and received clear instructions: do not permit the recording. The attorney ultimately relented — but not without creating a hostile, high-pressure situation that left the reporter wondering, “What is the right thing to do when this happens again?”

This isn’t just an isolated incident. It’s a warning shot.

What is Fireflies.ai — and Why Are Attorneys Using It?

Fireflies.ai is marketed as an AI notetaker that joins meetings (Zoom, Teams, etc.), records them, and generates transcripts and summaries using automatic speech recognition (ASR). The pitch is simple: “Let AI take your notes so you can focus on the meeting.” While that may be fine for brainstorming sessions or internal business calls, depositions are a different story entirely.

Depositions are part of formal discovery governed by legal rules and procedures. Recording them — in any capacity — is not as simple as hitting a button. In fact, outside of explicitly authorized video depositions or dual stenographic/audio capture in some jurisdictions, unauthorized recording is, at best, frowned upon, and at worst, outright illegal or sanctionable.

Why It’s a Problem for Stenographers and the Legal Record

Court reporters are certified officers of the court, bound by ethical obligations, confidentiality standards, and the responsibility to produce a complete and accurate record. Introducing a third-party AI tool into that environment is not a harmless convenience — it’s an intrusion.

Here’s why:

  1. Confidentiality Concerns
    Fireflies and similar apps often route audio through third-party servers, including cloud-based storage providers. That opens up a Pandora’s box of confidentiality issues, especially in cases involving medical records (HIPAA), trade secrets, or sensitive personal matters. Reporters are trained to protect confidentiality. AI bots are not.
  2. Loss of Control Over the Record
    AI doesn’t understand context. It doesn’t recognize when a witness says something off the record or when attorneys stipulate something as inadmissible. It can’t capture tone, nuance, or legal significance. If attorneys begin using AI-generated transcripts as a substitute or supplement to the official record, the accuracy and integrity of that record are jeopardized.
  3. Unfair Competition
    Reporters are already under siege by budget-cutting and ASR-promoting institutions. When an attorney brings in an AI tool that can “transcribe” a proceeding in real time — for free or cheap — it undermines the profession and devalues the role of a human court reporter. It’s akin to hiring a professional photographer for a wedding, then asking your cousin to shoot it with their iPhone “just in case.”
  4. Legal Noncompliance
    Most jurisdictions require that only authorized personnel may record or transcribe depositions. If an attorney wants a video record, they must notice the deposition as such and secure the services of a licensed legal videographer. They don’t get to unilaterally decide to create a side recording just because it suits their workflow.

What Should a Reporter Do When It Happens?

If you’re a reporter and an attorney attempts to use a tool like Fireflies.ai (or any other AI notetaker), here’s a basic framework:

  1. Politely Object Immediately
    Explain that third-party recording is not authorized and may violate procedural rules and confidentiality protections. You are the official record, and any unauthorized recordings are not part of the official proceedings.
  2. Contact Your Agency or Office
    Don’t make a unilateral decision if you’re unsure. Get guidance from your office or the agency managing the deposition. In most cases, they’ll tell you to reject the request.
  3. Put it On the Record
    If an attorney insists or threatens escalation (e.g., calling the judge), make a clear record of the exchange. “Counsel for Plaintiff indicated an intent to record the proceeding using a third-party application. Reporter objected. Counsel stated he would contact the Court. Reporter contacted her office and was advised not to permit any unauthorized recording.”
  4. Know Your Rights and Local Rules
    Every jurisdiction is different, so it helps to be familiar with the rules of court, codes of civil procedure, and any guidance from your certifying body (e.g., NCRA, state licensing board). Many explicitly state that all recordings must be handled by the reporter or noticed videographer only.

What About Private Note-Taking?

Some may argue, “What’s the difference between Fireflies recording the call and me recording it for my own notes?” This is a valid question, but here’s the difference:

  • Note-taking is passive; recording is active replication of the proceeding.
  • Fireflies is not a private notebook; it’s a third-party AI transcription service that stores data in the cloud.
  • Consent matters. Even if local laws allow personal note-taking or recordings, everyone must consent, and it must be disclosed.

Saying “anyone can record without being noticed” is not an argument for permitting it — it’s a warning that covert behavior may already be happening. If anything, it underscores the need for heightened awareness and proactive policies.

What’s the Real Danger?

The real risk is not just that AI will misrepresent what was said. It’s that attorneys — insurance carriers, adjusters, law firms — may increasingly rely on these flawed AI-generated summaries for case evaluation, settlement negotiation, and even trial prep. When the AI misses a critical statement — like a doctor testifying a plaintiff needs future surgery — it can alter the course of litigation.

And when that happens, the finger won’t necessarily point at the law firm or the AI developer.

It may point at the court reporting agency that provided the record — or allowed the AI in the room in the first place.

Final Thoughts: Hold the Line

Stenographers are not just typists. We are certified professionals, neutral officers of the court, and protectors of due process. When attorneys bring in unauthorized AI tools, it’s not about making life easier — it’s about control, cost-cutting, and potentially cutting corners.

So the next time someone tries to sneak an AI notetaker into your deposition, remember this:

  • You are the official record.
  • You are within your rights to say no.
  • And you are not alone.

Hold the line. The integrity of the record — and the future of the profession — depends on it.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Protected: The Booth, the Database, and the Backdoor – How ILCRA’s Free Table at a For-Profit Event May Have Compromised Member Data

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AI Summaries in Litigation – Efficiency or a Lawsuit Waiting to Happen?

The legal industry is being sold a vision of speed and efficiency—powered by artificial intelligence. Companies like Lexitas are rolling out tools like Deposition Insights+, boasting AI-driven transcript summaries, exhibit highlights, contradiction detectors, and even video analysis of witness demeanor. But while the marketing promises sound impressive, the lived reality inside courtrooms and law firms tells a very different story—one of missed details, misplaced trust, and rising liability.

The Case That Should Be a Warning to Everyone

I recently worked on a trial where the entire trajectory of a case was altered by a flawed AI summary.

During the deposition of a medical expert, the doctor testified—albeit in a fragmented, interrupted way—that the injured plaintiff would require future surgery. Anyone familiar with real-world depositions knows how chaotic they can be: objections flying, incomplete thoughts, attorneys talking over one another. In this case, the key medical testimony was not given in a clean, uninterrupted paragraph. But a human brain—a paralegal, associate, or even a seasoned court reporter—would have caught the implication, recognized the context, and flagged it appropriately.

The AI summary did not.

That summary, generated by the law firm and forwarded to the insurance company, missed the need for future surgery entirely. As a result, the insurer viewed the plaintiff’s settlement demand as inflated and refused to negotiate in good faith. The case proceeded to trial. The jury returned a multimillion-dollar verdict—well beyond the policy limits.

What was my trial about? Who pays the excess judgment?

The insurance company blamed the law firm for providing a faulty summary. The law firm blamed the insurance company for failing to negotiate a settlement. And what’s coming next? Plaintiff lawyers are beginning to realize the real party to sue might be the company who marketed and sold the AI summary product in the first place.

This is the next wave of litigation—and many in the industry aren’t ready.

AI Can’t Interpret What It Can’t Understand

In Lexitas’ July 15 press release, they call their new product a “revolutionary” way to accelerate litigation prep and “enhance outcomes.” But if the outcome is a misread case value, a missed opportunity to settle, and a seven-figure excess judgment, that’s not enhancement. That’s malpractice-adjacent.

AI struggles precisely where humans excel—in nuance, tone, and fragmented meaning. Especially in depositions, where testimony unfolds organically and is often derailed by objections, clarifications, or cross-talk, a machine’s ability to summarize is limited. It might catch the words, but not the weight of those words.

That kind of nuance isn’t programmable. It’s earned—through experience, intuition, and context.

Who’s Actually Liable When AI Gets It Wrong?

Lexitas, like other legaltech vendors, may try to disclaim liability for the use of their AI products. But as more law firms adopt tools like Deposition Insights+, they’re exposing themselves to new, untested forms of professional risk.

  • What happens when the AI summary omits a crucial statement that affects case value?
  • What’s the duty of a paralegal or associate to review and verify that summary?
  • Is the law firm liable? The court reporting agency? The AI vendor?

We’re entering a new frontier where the cost of AI errors isn’t measured in minutes saved—but in verdicts lost.

In fact, AI-related malpractice claims are already bubbling beneath the surface, and court reporting agencies may soon find themselves at the center of these lawsuits—especially if they sold the product, promoted it as reliable, or failed to clearly warn users of its limitations.

Legal Professionals: Don’t Trade Skill for Speed

Many paralegals and litigation associates are under pressure—deadlines, clients, discovery burdens. So when AI tools promise to take the heavy lifting off their plate, the pitch can be tempting.

But here’s the truth: You are being replaced, not assisted.

The very tasks that build your litigation intuition—summarizing testimony, tracking contradictions, identifying smoking-gun statements—are the ones being handed over to machines. And when those machines get it wrong, it’s your firm, your client, or your career on the line.

A Word to Court Reporting Agencies: Brace Yourselves

If you’re a court reporting agency jumping on the AI bandwagon, understand what you’re stepping into. You’re not just delivering a transcript anymore. You’re producing a quasi-legal analysis tool—and you may be liable for the consequences when it misfires.

It’s only a matter of time before the first plaintiff’s lawyer sues a court reporting firm for an AI-generated summary that contributed to a failed settlement and excess verdict. If you’re not prepared with disclaimers, usage agreements, and clear client warnings, you’re already behind.

Final Thought: The Cost of Convenience

This isn’t just a debate about technology—it’s a wake-up call for the legal industry. The tools we use matter. So do the jobs they replace, the details they miss, and the risks they create.

Legal professionals and court reporting agencies alike must stop blindly chasing automation and start asking harder questions:

  • Are we improving outcomes—or just shifting blame?
  • Are we protecting our clients—or our bottom line?
  • Are we building a stronger legal system—or eroding it?

Because if we don’t, the next lawsuit might have your name on it.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Why Digital Recorders Are Not Court Reporters—And Why That Matters in California

In the current rush to automate everything from legal research to court proceedings, some stakeholders are marketing digital recording as a valid substitute for stenographic court reporting. While this shift may seem like a matter of “preference” or “cost savings,” let’s be clear: digital recording is not court reporting, and in California, it is not even legal in most settings.

Court Reporting Is a Licensed Profession—Not a Plug-and-Play Job

In California, court reporters are licensed by the Court Reporters Board (CRB) and must pass rigorous testing in transcription speed, accuracy, and legal knowledge. This licensure is codified in Business and Professions Code § 8020 et seq.. To call someone a “court reporter” who is not licensed is not only misleading—it’s unlawful.

Digital “reporters” are not licensed, not regulated, and not held to the same professional or legal standards. In many cases, they are hourly staff who press “record” on a digital device, with no training in capturing testimony, legal procedure, or producing a verbatim transcript. If something goes wrong—a dropped word, overlapping speech, technical failure—there is often no fix. The damage is done.

The Myth of Attorney Stipulation: You Can’t Stipulate Away the Law

Some agencies and attorneys attempt to sidestep the law by claiming, “Both parties stipulated to use a digital reporter.” But stipulation does not equal legality.

Attorneys cannot stipulate away the law.

That principle has been reaffirmed by California courts in various contexts: procedural rules and statutory protections are not waivable simply by agreement. When California Code of Civil Procedure § 2025.330(b) requires that “the deposition shall be conducted under the supervision of an officer who is authorized to administer oaths,” it means a licensed Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR)—not a button-pusher.

The use of an unlicensed digital operator in lieu of a CSR is a violation of California’s Business and Professions Code § 8017, which states:

“A person shall not engage in the practice of shorthand reporting… unless that person holds a valid certificate as a shorthand reporter issued by the board.”

Stipulating around this is like agreeing to use a paralegal in place of a judge. You simply can’t.

Digital Reporting Skirts Due Process

Every litigant is entitled to a complete, accurate, and timely record of proceedings. That record becomes crucial when disputes arise, appeals are filed, or misconduct is alleged. A certified shorthand reporter—by training and licensure—is a guardian of that record.

Digital recordings introduce multiple risks:

  • Unintelligible audio due to accents, noise, crosstalk
  • Failure to identify speakers, especially when parties speak over each other
  • Gaps in recording due to power or equipment failure
  • Post-event transcription delays that can take weeks or months

In short, digital recordings can undermine the factual foundation of justice. If the record is flawed, the outcome of the case can be unjust.

This is more than technical inconvenience—it’s a due process issue under the 14th Amendment and the California Constitution. Litigants deserve a reliable, human-certified transcript—not the gamble of audio files and offshore transcription.

The “Cost Savings” Myth

Agencies pushing digital often claim it’s cheaper than hiring a licensed stenographer. But hidden in that “savings” are steep risks:

  • Increased litigation costs when transcripts are delayed or disputed
  • Appeals and retrials caused by incomplete or inaccurate records
  • Malpractice exposure for attorneys who relied on unverified transcripts
  • Ethical liability for firms that knowingly violated state law or misrepresented the record

It’s a classic case of penny-wise, pound-foolish.

State Law Limits Digital Use—and For Good Reason

California has not blindly embraced digital reporting. In fact, Government Code § 69941 and § 69944 expressly state that electronic recording may not be used in civil proceedings unless no reporter is available, and even then, only with specific Judicial Council approval.

The Judicial Council of California (JCC) has repeatedly reaffirmed that licensed CSRs are the preferred and legally recognized method for capturing the official record in civil courtrooms. No such preference exists for digital reporters because they are not court reporters—legally or practically.

Professional Oversight and Ethical Accountability

CSRs are subject to professional discipline through the Court Reporters Board and must follow a strict Code of Ethics. When a licensed court reporter makes a mistake, they can be held accountable.

Who disciplines a digital operator? Who verifies their training? Who certifies their transcript?

The answer: no one.

Don’t Be Fooled—Digital Is Not a Parallel Option, It’s a Legal Loophole

The industry’s attempt to frame steno and digital as interchangeable “options” is a marketing tactic—not a legal fact. In California, there is no such thing as a “digital court reporter” under the law.

If a proceeding in California does not include a CSR license holder, the resulting transcript may be challenged, stricken, or deemed inadmissible. That puts attorneys—and their clients—at risk.

Call to Action: Protect the Integrity of the Legal Record

If you’re an attorney, know this: your record is only as strong as the person who captured it.

If you’re a judge or court administrator, know this: unauthorized recording undermines the credibility of your courtroom.

If you’re a litigant, know this: your case could be compromised by a flawed record.

And if you’re a court reporting agency, know this: you’re exposing yourself to legal liability by deploying unlicensed workers to perform a protected profession.

In Summary:

  • Digital “reporters” are not licensed court reporters under California law.
  • Stipulating to use them does not make their use legal.
  • Their use jeopardizes due process, opens the door to appeals, and undermines the record.

Let’s not confuse automation with accuracy, or convenience with constitutionality. The stakes in our justice system are too high to leave the record to machines—or to those not qualified to safeguard it.

Disclaimer

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):

Are Paralegals Being Automated Out of the Legal Workforce? A Critical Look at Lexitas’ New AI Tool

In the latest wave of legaltech innovation, Lexitas has announced the launch of Deposition Insights+™, a platform that uses artificial intelligence to perform deep analysis of deposition transcripts and videos. On its face, the tool promises improved efficiency, reduced turnaround times, and stronger litigation outcomes. But beneath the marketing buzz lies a deeper question: Is this technology helping legal teams—or is it slowly replacing the people behind them?

As a court reporter who has worked alongside hundreds of paralegals and young associates, I see a very different narrative unfolding than the one Lexitas is promoting. According to their July 15, 2025 press release, the new platform automates many of the tasks traditionally handled by legal professionals: summarizing testimony, identifying contradictions, tracking exhibit references, and even evaluating witness demeanor. The company frames this as a solution to overworked legal teams, yet it’s hard to ignore the real consequence—the slow erosion of entry-level legal jobs and the de-skilling of essential litigation support roles.

Are Paralegals Really Overworked—Or Being Undermined?

One of the implicit premises behind Deposition Insights+ is that paralegals and young associates are drowning in tedious review tasks, and that AI is swooping in to rescue them. But let’s pause and examine that idea more closely.

Sure, litigation is document-heavy. Reviewing hundreds or thousands of pages of testimony is painstaking work. But it’s also foundational work—this is where new attorneys and paralegals cut their teeth, learn case nuance, and build the sharp analytical instincts required for litigation. Removing that layer of involvement not only shifts knowledge away from human hands, it fundamentally alters the skill pipeline within a law firm.

Paralegals are not begging to be replaced by software. And while some might enjoy time-saving tools, most recognize that automating core responsibilities today may jeopardize their positions tomorrow.

A Trojan Horse in the Litigation Department?

Lexitas boasts that it has already generated more than 100,000 AI-driven deposition summaries. That’s 100,000 jobs not done by paralegals or junior attorneys. Let that sink in.

And yet, many law firms are still contracting with Lexitas for court reporting and transcript services. It begs the question: Why would a law firm that values its own support staff continue to partner with a vendor actively replacing them?

This is more than just a technological update—this is a business model shift. By packaging AI as a value-added service, Lexitas positions itself not just as a service provider, but as a centralized legal analyst, offering tools that sidestep the need for in-house staff. For firms chasing profit margins and client satisfaction, the temptation is strong. But in the long run, they may find themselves disempowered, having outsourced too much of their legal brainpower.

The Slippery Slope of “Enhanced Efficiency”

Lexitas promotes its product with buzzwords like “agentic search,” “customized summaries,” and “behavioral video analysis.” These features sound futuristic, and to some, maybe even magical. But the reality is this: Every feature that replaces a human task replaces a human role.

Consider:

  • The AI assistant that “answers complex questions” across depositions? That’s what paralegals and junior associates are trained to do.
  • The contradiction spotting and key admissions extraction? Those are precisely the kinds of analytical skills lawyers develop over years.
  • The witness demeanor analysis by video? That’s subjective territory traditionally reserved for human intuition—and rightly so.

What happens when these insights are no longer being developed by people, but instead interpreted by algorithms? How will that affect legal reasoning, strategy, or even the integrity of a trial?

A Cautionary Tale for Legal Professionals

Legal support staff should be wary, not wooed, by tools like Deposition Insights+. This isn’t just about helping with workflow—this is about disintermediation, where middle-tier professionals are quietly being made obsolete.

The question isn’t whether AI will replace paralegals. It’s how fast, and whether law firms and legal professionals will realize what’s happening before it’s too late.

Conclusion: Choose Your Vendors Wisely

Legal professionals—especially paralegals, litigation support teams, and junior attorneys—must begin asking the hard questions:

  • Is this tool supporting my work or replacing it?
  • Is this agency aligned with my firm’s long-term staffing values?
  • What happens to my job if these tools become standard?

And perhaps most urgently: Why are we supporting vendors who are actively automating us out of relevance?

It’s time for the legal community to be more intentional about the tools and agencies they rely on. Because in the name of “efficiency,” we may be paving the way for a future without the very people who make justice work.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

The High Cost of Convenience – How Digital Court Reporting Risks Destroying the Profession It Claims to Modernize

In the age of tech optimism, it’s tempting to cheerlead every advancement as progress. But in the court reporting world, the headlong embrace of digital and AI technologies isn’t just modernization—it’s a dangerous gamble with due process, accuracy, and professional livelihoods.

A recent article from Hudson Court Reporting touts the benefits of AI-driven transcription, automated scheduling, and cloud-based storage. While the intentions may be well-meaning, the implications for the court reporting industry—and the justice system as a whole—are far more sobering.

1. Accuracy Isn’t Optional in Justice

At the heart of our legal system is a human record. A real-time verbatim transcript is not just a convenience; it is a constitutional safeguard. Court reporters are trained, licensed, and ethically bound to produce accurate records under pressure. AI and digital recorders, by contrast, have no training, no ethical obligations, and no capacity to ask for a clarification mid-sentence when speakers talk over each other.

According to the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA), digital recording systems failed to capture full and accurate testimony in up to 14% of monitored proceedings. That’s not a margin of error—it’s a liability landmine. When AI misses a key word or a doctor’s diagnosis in a deposition, the fallout isn’t just clerical—it could result in a mistrial, an appeal, or millions lost in a malpractice suit.

2. The Myth of “Supplementing” Court Reporters

Hudson frames AI as merely “supporting” court reporters. But in reality, every dollar invested in AI transcription is a dollar divested from training, recruiting, and retaining live stenographers. Agencies claim to want the best of both worlds, but they’re building an infrastructure that quietly phases out the human experts in favor of cost-savings and convenience. Once AI is “good enough,” it won’t just be a supplement—it will become the default.

This is not speculative. We’re already seeing agencies undercut their certified professionals with subcontracted digital recordings and tech tools passed off as equivalent.

3. Devaluing Human Labor Destroys the Talent Pipeline

Court reporters are retiring faster than new ones are entering the field. Why? Because agencies no longer invest in human capital. They spend their marketing budgets hyping AI, not highlighting the expertise of stenographers. And when a student sees a profession being automated out of existence, they look elsewhere.

Agencies have a moral responsibility—and a business imperative—to protect the pipeline. The more they lean on AI, the fewer skilled professionals will enter the field. In five years, they won’t be replacing retirees with AI—they’ll be praying for a certified stenographer who’s still willing to take a job.

4. Real-Time Reporting Already Exists—It’s Called Stenography

One of the more misleading claims is that AI and tech tools are enabling “real-time transcription.” Certified stenographers have provided real-time feeds for decades. The difference? Steno real-time is trusted in trials, arbitrations, and appeals. AI real-time is a marketing buzzword that buckles under cross-talk, accents, emotion, sarcasm, and complex legal terminology.

What AI provides in speed, it sacrifices in meaning. Machines can’t discern intent. They don’t hear “object to the form” and know that’s a legal objection. They don’t mark exhibits. They don’t interrupt when a speaker’s microphone is off. A human does all that while writing 260 words per minute.

5. Clouds, Cameras, and Convenience Are Not the Core of Our Work

Cloud storage, automation, and video conferencing are helpful tools. But they are adjuncts to a human-led system—not replacements. We’ve already seen what happens when tech is mistaken for a silver bullet: errors multiply, oversight disappears, and accountability vanishes. A transcript created from an inaudible audio file recorded by a $40 USB mic is not the same as a certified legal record made by a trained professional.

Courts and attorneys don’t want excuses after the fact. They want accuracy in the moment. That requires the judgment, training, and reflexes of a live court reporter.

6. Ethical Concerns and Legal Risks

AI systems—especially open-source ones like Whisper—pose privacy and ethical hazards. Who owns the data? Who secures it? Who ensures it’s not scraped, stored, or sold? The legal field thrives on confidentiality. Offloading sensitive testimony to third-party software opens the door to breaches, subpoenas, and data misuse.

Even worse, if a flawed AI transcript causes a legal misstep—who’s liable? The agency? The software company? The reporter who didn’t vet the tech? You can’t sue an algorithm, but you can bet someone will try.

7. The Disappearing Human Connection

Perhaps most troubling is the shift away from the human relationships that have long defined court reporting. Agencies used to cultivate their reporters, match them with the right jobs, and take pride in quality control. Now, too many function as scheduling bots—disconnected from the professionals that make their services possible.

This detachment fuels the trend of undercutting rates, outsourcing work, and treating reporters as replaceable. It erodes loyalty, quality, and ultimately, reputation.

A Call to Agencies: Reconsider the Path Forward

Agencies tempted by tech’s promise need to ask a simple question: Is this sustainable? Will you still be in business when courts and clients realize that AI cannot meet the legal standard of accuracy and reliability? Will you have any reporters left when you finally realize humans are not interchangeable with software?

Technology should make court reporting better. But only when it uplifts, not replaces, the professionals who built this industry.

Conclusion: Progress Without Integrity is Regression

Hudson Court Reporting and others embracing digital shortcuts should tread carefully. There is a line between innovation and elimination. The court reporting industry doesn’t need reinvention—it needs reinvestment in the people who make the record.

Machines can’t swear in witnesses, ensure fairness, or preserve justice. That’s our job.

And we’re not going anywhere.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Why Whisper Can’t Replace Court Reporters in the U.S. Legal System

In a world racing to adopt artificial intelligence, it’s tempting to view new speech-to-text tools like OpenAI’s Whisper as the holy grail of courtroom transcription. Whisper, an open-source ASR (automated speech recognition) model trained on over 680,000 hours of audio, has received widespread praise for its accuracy and flexibility. But before the U.S. court system follows the siren call of automation, it would do well to examine how Canada’s Legislative Assembly of British Columbia approached its adoption of this tool — and what lessons the U.S. legal system should heed.

A recent article in TIRO: The Journal of Professional Reporting and Transcription, entitled “Harnessing Whisper at the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia: A User-Driven Approach to AI-Supported Parliamentary Reporting” details how British Columbia implemented Whisper into its parliamentary reporting workflow. They did not use it to replace human reporters or editors. Instead, they created a hybrid system called Parrot, where ASR supports — but does not replace — trained editorial staff. The results? Faster first drafts, enhanced productivity, and a strong affirmation of the critical role humans play in maintaining accurate, reliable records.

It’s a cautionary tale for the United States, where some courts, agencies, and law firms are aggressively replacing stenographic reporters with ASR and digital recorders. In doing so, they risk sacrificing the integrity of the legal record — and ultimately, the constitutional rights of the people the system is meant to serve.

The Illusion of Accuracy

OpenAI’s own benchmark reports suggest Whisper achieves a word error rate (WER) of around 8.81% in general settings. With human oversight — what’s known as a “human-in-the-loop” approach — that can drop to 7.61%. But even that level of error, applied across hours of legal proceedings, results in thousands of inaccuracies. In a courtroom, where every word matters, every syllable can shift the balance of justice.

By contrast, certified court reporters in the U.S. routinely achieve accuracy rates of 99% or higher. We are trained not only to capture verbatim speech but also to manage cross-talk, regional dialects, technical jargon, and fragmented or interrupted statements — the kinds of nuanced speech that ASR still struggles to comprehend. In fact, ASR models like Whisper tend to fail most spectacularly in exactly the situations where court reporters excel: emotionally charged testimony, overlapping speakers, and highly specialized terminology.

Speaker Attribution Is Still a Major Obstacle

One of the most glaring weaknesses of current ASR tools — including Whisper — is speaker diarization, the ability to accurately identify and label who is speaking. In the British Columbia implementation, this issue was so critical that they had to integrate microphone data from their sound system to correctly attribute speech to the right member of parliament.

Now imagine that problem in a U.S. courtroom, deposition, or hearing. Speaker misattribution doesn’t just cause confusion — it can result in mistrials, sanctions, and appeals. Attribution is not optional. It’s essential. And any system that lacks robust speaker ID is fundamentally unfit for legal use.

Data Privacy and Security

British Columbia also made the wise decision to implement Whisper locally, rather than through cloud servers, in order to protect sensitive data. The U.S. court system, however, is seeing a rise in the use of third-party vendors who upload deposition audio and courtroom recordings to offsite servers — often without the knowledge or informed consent of litigants, attorneys, or even the court.

This practice raises profound legal and ethical concerns. Privileged conversations, sealed testimony, and sensitive criminal or civil proceedings should never be entrusted to cloud servers outside the jurisdiction of the court. In an age of increasing data breaches and cyberattacks, local control isn’t just preferable — it’s essential.

The Myth of Cost Savings

One of the primary drivers behind the adoption of ASR in the U.S. legal system is cost. But this is a false economy. What’s saved in labor is lost in post-processing, appeal litigation, and the credibility of the record. AI-generated transcripts often require extensive correction by attorneys or court staff, shifting the burden — and the cost — onto those already stretched thin.

British Columbia’s approach is a model of responsible integration. They used ASR to free up human editors for higher-level tasks like formatting, research, and verification — not to eliminate their roles entirely. They preserved editorial control and ensured that the final product remained human-reviewed and human-approved.

This distinction is critical: When ASR is implemented with humans, it can improve efficiency. When it’s implemented instead of humans, it compromises accuracy, fairness, and the constitutional right to a complete and correct record.

Due Process Demands a Human Record

The U.S. Constitution guarantees the right to due process, which includes the right to an accurate and complete legal record. This principle is upheld through case law, ethical standards, and procedural rules. If someone is wrongly convicted because a computer failed to capture a key statement, or if a deposition is misinterpreted because an AI mistranscribed medical terminology, who is held accountable?

ASR cannot swear an oath. It cannot be cross-examined. It cannot be held liable. A court reporter can — and does — stand behind the integrity of their record. That is a safeguard worth preserving.

Let Professionals Lead the Way

The most striking thing about the TIRO article is that the professionals implementing the technology were not technologists — they were editors, reporters, and transcription experts. Their deep domain expertise guided every decision. They didn’t blindly adopt AI; they shaped it to serve their standards, not the other way around.

This is the path forward. Rather than letting software vendors dictate how legal records are made, the U.S. court system must empower its stenographic professionals to lead the adoption of supportive technologies. Court reporters are not anti-tech. We are pro-accountability. Pro-accuracy. Pro-justice.

Technology Must Serve Justice, Not Undermine It

Whisper may be an exciting tool. But it is just that — a tool. It is not a replacement for human court reporters, especially in adversarial legal environments where every word counts, every speaker matters, and the consequences of error are profound.

British Columbia got it right. They harnessed Whisper to support their professional team — not to replace them. The U.S. legal system must take note, before it’s too late. We need human-in-the-loop systems, not human-out-of-the-courtroom experiments.

Justice deserves better than a rough draft. It deserves the truth — accurately captured, ethically safeguarded, and professionally delivered.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Not Optional – Why Stenographers Are Essential to the Constitution and Your Freedom

When people talk about constitutional rights, they often think of freedom of speech, the right to an attorney, or protections against unlawful search and seizure. But there’s a quieter, often overlooked guardian of those rights—one whose absence could unravel the very foundation of due process: the court reporter.

We don’t just transcribe proceedings. We are the eyes and ears of the Constitution in the courtroom. Without an accurate and impartial record of what took place, there is no way to ensure justice was served, no foundation for appeal, and no check against corruption. A justice system without court reporters is a system dangerously close to tyranny.

Let’s break down exactly how stenographic court reporters safeguard freedom—and why their presence is not a luxury, but a constitutional necessity.

1. Due Process Is Impossible Without a Record

The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution guarantee that no person shall be “deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.”

But what is “due process” without an accurate transcript?

If a criminal defendant is convicted and wants to appeal, the appellate court doesn’t hear witnesses again. It doesn’t re-try the case. It reads the record. The same is true for civil trials, family court, immigration hearings, and more. The transcript is the foundation upon which justice is reviewed.

If the transcript is incomplete, inaccurate, or missing, then the right to appeal—an essential component of due process—is functionally eliminated.

Without court reporters, litigants—especially the poor, the voiceless, and the unrepresented—are left without a way to challenge injustice. That’s not just a procedural failure. It’s a constitutional violation.

2. Court Reporters Are the Human Safeguards in a System Meant to Serve Humans

Technology can be a powerful aid to justice—but it’s not a substitute for human judgment, ethics, or accountability.

Digital recordings don’t stop proceedings when a witness is mumbling.
Automatic speech recognition (ASR) doesn’t flag inaudible testimony.
AI doesn’t interrupt to clarify the record.

A trained stenographer, however, will immediately speak up when something is unclear, when parties are speaking over one another, or when the record is in jeopardy.

We don’t just transcribe. We protect.

In fact, the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) code of ethics requires reporters to produce an impartial, verbatim record and to maintain the confidentiality of all proceedings. This ethical obligation binds us to fairness in a way no algorithm can replicate.

When proceedings are left to machines—or worse, to private contractors with conflicting interests—the system becomes less about truth and more about expediency. That’s the opposite of justice. That’s how tyrannical systems evolve.

3. The Record Is the Shield Against Government Overreach

Imagine a system where people are detained, sentenced, or stripped of their rights—and there’s no permanent record of what was said. No transcript. No way to prove coercion, bias, or error. Just the word of the powerful against the powerless.

This isn’t theoretical. It has happened in authoritarian regimes throughout history. And it happens today in legal systems where reporters are not present.

In contrast, the United States holds itself to a higher standard—because we have a record.

Court reporters ensure that everything said in a courtroom becomes part of the permanent, reviewable record. If a judge acts improperly, if a lawyer behaves unethically, if a witness recants, the record tells the truth.

That is the cornerstone of accountability in a democratic society. That is the protection against tyranny.

4. Stenographers Ensure Access to Justice for All

Justice must not only be done, but be seen to be done. And for that, the record must be accessible.

When stenographers are present, transcripts can be requested, certified, and used in subsequent proceedings. They can be provided to parties who couldn’t afford counsel or who need to prove that they were wronged.

But with digital audio and ASR, access to the record is often limited, unauditable, and controlled by private entities. In some cases, these systems fail to distinguish between speakers, omit testimony, or produce garbled text that is functionally useless.

Even worse, litigants may not realize the record is flawed until it’s too late—at the appellate stage, when errors are irreversible.

Without a trusted human reporter, justice becomes less transparent, less accessible, and more vulnerable to error and manipulation.

5. Freedom Requires Checks and Balances

In the United States, we pride ourselves on a justice system built on checks and balances. But those checks depend on documentation. The courts cannot police themselves without a record of their actions.

  • No one can be held accountable without proof.
  • No ruling can be reversed without context.
  • No injustice can be exposed without the words that were actually said.

Court reporters are the quiet check on the powerful. We don’t argue, advocate, or interfere. We preserve. We observe. And in doing so, we make sure no one rewrites history.

That is how freedom survives. That is how tyranny is kept at bay.

6. Court Reporting Is Under Attack—And So Is Justice

Despite our critical role, stenographers are being phased out in some jurisdictions—replaced with low-paid digital recorders or AI transcription tools, often to “cut costs.” But the savings are an illusion.

What jurisdictions save in hourly wages, they will pay tenfold in:

  • Appeals
  • Mistrials
  • Delays
  • Civil rights lawsuits

And more importantly, they risk losing public trust in the judicial system.

You cannot automate accountability. You cannot delegate due process to a software company. And you cannot preserve freedom with a faulty record.

They’re Constitutional. We Are Constitutional.

So when we say “Save Steno,” we’re not clinging to nostalgia. We’re defending the rule of law.

We are not just court reporters. We are the human infrastructure that upholds the Constitution every single day.

  • We are how due process is protected.
  • We are how rights are preserved.
  • We are how the truth endures.

Take us out of the courtroom, and you don’t just lose a job. You lose justice.
You lose freedom.
You lose the Constitution in action.

Call to Action

If you’re an attorney, judge, legislator, or citizen:

  • Insist on a certified stenographic reporter.
  • Refuse automated substitutes in legal proceedings.
  • Support legislation that protects the human record.
  • Tell your state courts: Justice needs stenographers.

Because without us, there is no justice.

And without justice, freedom is nothing but a word.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

“Digital Gatekeeping: How Facebook Job Boards Are Quietly Controlling Access to Court Reporting Jobs—and Why It May Be Illegal”

In today’s gig economy, access to work is everything. For freelance court reporters, many of whom operate without the safety net of employment benefits or job security, the ability to secure daily work is directly tied to survival. With the evolution of remote work and social media, traditional job boards have shifted online—particularly to Facebook, where dozens of regionally based groups now serve as informal marketplaces for freelance court reporting assignments.

But what happens when access to these digital job boards is unfairly restricted? What if these Facebook groups—often run not by neutral administrators but by fellow reporters with personal agendas—become gatekeepers to economic opportunity? And what if you’re banned from these groups without explanation, without recourse, and without having violated any rules?

That’s not just unethical—it may be illegal.

A Modern Marketplace With No Oversight

Court reporters across the U.S. rely on Facebook groups like “Los Angeles Superior Court Reporter Job Board,” “Court Reporter Job Board – New Orleans, Louisiana,” or “Texas Court Reporters’ Job Board for Depositions & Official Subs” to connect with agency calendaring professionals seeking coverage. Some groups even flip the model—allowing reporters to post their availability so agencies can reach out to them. These peer-run boards have become a critical lifeline for independent contractors, especially in the post-pandemic era, where in-person networking has diminished and more reporters are working from home or across state lines.

However, unlike traditional job boards (e.g., Indeed or LinkedIn), Facebook groups have virtually no accountability. Administrators—often court reporters themselves—can remove members at will. And they do. In some cases, these removals come after disagreements over industry politics, differing business models, or personal vendettas. Reporters are often banned without warning, without due process, and without having violated any posted rules. The result? They are effectively blacklisted from that region’s primary source of freelance work.

“You’re Out”: No Explanation Needed

Let’s be clear: Facebook groups are considered “private,” and as such, admins have broad authority to control their membership. But when these groups function as de facto professional infrastructure, the stakes are much higher.

Imagine being removed from the one platform in your county where all civil deposition, motions, and trial jobs are posted, simply because you spoke up about unfair agency practices, refused to work for discounted rates, or posted something relevant but not job-related. Suddenly, you’re invisible. You’re deprived of the same economic access afforded to others. You may not have violated any rules—but that doesn’t matter. There is no HR department to appeal to. No regulator. No ombudsman. Only silence.

This isn’t just an inconvenience. It’s an economic penalty. It is restraint of trade—and in certain circumstances, it may cross the line into illegality.

Legal Theories: When Does Gatekeeping Become Unlawful?

The law has been slow to catch up with the way freelance labor is managed on social media, but here are several legal doctrines that could apply:

1. Tortious Interference with Business Expectancy

If an administrator removes you from a job board in order to interfere with your ability to receive work, and you can prove damages, you may have grounds for a civil lawsuit. Courts have recognized that intentional interference with prospective economic advantage—especially when malicious or retaliatory—can be actionable.

2. Discriminatory Exclusion

If removals are based on protected characteristics (race, age, disability, gender), they may violate anti-discrimination laws. Even in private groups, if they function as professional access points, they may be subject to scrutiny under civil rights statutes—particularly if the group is closely tied to employment functions.

3. Unfair Business Practices

In California and other states with robust consumer protection laws, courts have held that businesses—or those controlling access to marketplaces—cannot engage in deceptive, unfair, or exclusionary practices that harm competition or access.

4. Antitrust Implications

If multiple admins or group moderators coordinate to blacklist certain reporters—especially across regional groups or networks—this could potentially raise antitrust concerns. Collusion that limits access to jobs is a restraint of trade, and federal law prohibits this under the Sherman Act and Federal Trade Commission Act.

The Gatekeeper Class

There’s another insidious aspect to this: these groups are often run by a small cadre of well-connected reporters who operate as self-appointed power brokers. They decide who gets in, who stays out, and who thrives. Often, these same individuals are aligned with specific agencies—or even run agencies themselves. The potential for conflict of interest is staggering.

In some cases, reporters have been removed simply for:

  • Expressing criticism of an agency’s rates or ethics,
  • Speaking up in support of labor rights,
  • Starting a competing business,
  • Associating with someone the admin personally dislikes.

This is not professionalism. This is clique culture masquerading as leadership—and it is harming the profession.

A Chilling Effect on Advocacy

Perhaps the most troubling impact of this digital gatekeeping is the chilling effect it has on whistleblowers and reformers. Reporters who speak out about wage theft, unethical practices, or the rise of ASR (automated speech recognition) often find themselves ostracized from job groups run by those sympathetic to the very practices being exposed.

This creates an industry where silence is rewarded, and truth-telling is punished. In a profession already under siege from AI, underbidding, and outsourcing, this kind of internal sabotage is deeply damaging.

What Can Be Done?

If you’ve been removed from a Facebook job group, you’re not powerless. Here are steps to take:

  1. Document everything — Keep screenshots, timestamps, and communication records.
  2. Report the group — Use Facebook’s reporting tools if removal was arbitrary, harassing, or discriminatory.
  3. Consult an attorney — If you’ve suffered financial harm, get legal advice about potential civil claims.
  4. Expose the practice — Shine a light on exclusionary gatekeeping. Write articles. Speak out.
  5. Create alternatives — Build job boards with transparency, fairness, and community moderation. Decentralize the power structure.

✅ YES — You Can Report Ethical Misconduct to the CRB

The California CRB enforces the Professional Standards of Practice for Certified Shorthand Reporters (CSRs). If the group admins hold California CSR licenses, and they are using their position to:

  • Block other licensed reporters from accessing work,
  • Retaliate against dissent,
  • Control the flow of business in a non-transparent way,
  • Favor their own agency or business interests, or
  • Coordinate blacklisting of other CSRs,

This could rise to the level of an ethical violation under the CRB’s jurisdiction.

CRB Violations That May Apply:

  • CCR Title 16 § 2475(b) – Unprofessional conduct includes, but is not limited to, any departure from or failure to conform to applicable laws, rules, or ethical standards.
  • § 2475(c)(1)-(7) – These subsections broadly cover:
    • Fraud or misrepresentation in business,
    • Abuse of authority or position,
    • Unlawful or deceptive business practices,
    • Engaging in conduct likely to harm the public trust in the profession.

❗ Key point: If a CSR is acting as a gatekeeper in a professional capacity (not purely social), and using that power to exclude others from the marketplace in bad faith, it could be reportable.

⚠️ Limitations of CRB Jurisdiction

However, the CRB cannot:

  • Investigate private non-licensees (e.g., unlicensed Facebook group moderators).
  • Enforce federal antitrust laws.
  • Mandate reinstatement into a Facebook group.

If the group admin is not a licensed CSR or if the group is informally structured without a business affiliation, it may fall outside the CRB’s direct reach.

But — if that group is used as a professional tool to control access to freelance assignments in California, and those admins are licensed CSRs, you may have a case.

🔁 How to Report to the CRB

  1. Prepare evidence:
    • Screenshots of removal or banning
    • Group rules (or lack thereof)
    • Examples of posts removed or retaliatory behavior
    • Names and license numbers of the individuals involved
    • Any documentation showing economic impact or collusion
  2. File a Complaint:
    Use the CRB complaint form:
    👉 https://www.courtreportersboard.ca.gov/consumers/complaint.shtml
  3. Write a clear narrative:
    • Explain how their actions are harming licensed professionals
    • Emphasize the economic consequences and lack of transparency
    • If applicable, state that this constitutes an unethical restraint of trade and abuse of position
  4. Follow up:
    CRB may contact you for an interview or clarification.

💼 Bonus: Report to the FTC or DOJ Antitrust Division

If multiple group admins or moderators are:

  • Blacklisting court reporters,
  • Coordinating to suppress competition, or
  • Blocking market access to favor their own businesses or affiliated agencies,

You may also consider reporting to the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) or U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) Antitrust Division.

These agencies investigate anti-competitive behavior, particularly in regulated professions or local monopolies.

🛑 Don’t Forget: You Can Report to Facebook, Too

If these private groups:

  • Block members for retaliatory or abusive reasons,
  • Are run by people with conflicts of interest, or
  • Violate Facebook’s Community Standards (harassment, exclusion, business fraud),

You can report the group directly to Facebook. Enough complaints can lead to admin review, suspension, or even group deletion.

🧩 Strategic Summary

ActionTargetBest Used When
CRB ComplaintCalifornia-licensed CSRsAdmin is a CSR using their license to retaliate, block access, or promote unfair competition
FTC/DOJ ReportAntitrust enforcementEvidence of group collusion, market control, or blacklisting across regions
Facebook ReportPlatform abuseUnprofessional conduct, bullying, or misuse of a professional group
Public ExposureArticles, social media, etc.To raise awareness and pressure admins or agencies to act ethically

If we allow professional access to be governed by social media cliques and unchecked power dynamics, we surrender the integrity of our field to popularity contests. Licensing exists to ensure competence, fairness, and accountability—not to give a few insiders the keys to the kingdom.

If the CRB won’t act on this now, maybe it’s time we demand that they do.

We Deserve Better

Court reporters are not disposable labor. We are licensed professionals entrusted with preserving the record. We deserve access to work that is free from bias, retaliation, and favoritism. It’s time to call out the quiet tyranny of Facebook job group gatekeeping for what it is: a professional barrier, an economic injustice, and a systemic risk to the integrity of our field.

If we don’t fight for fairness within our own ranks, how can we expect others—agencies, legislators, tech platforms—to respect the value we bring?

We must do better. And it starts by demanding transparency and equal access—for all.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Why Human Stenographers Still Outperform AI in the “Cocktail Party” Problem—and Always Will in Legal Proceedings

In the age of artificial intelligence, where voice assistants answer questions, virtual meetings transcribe in real-time, and speech-to-text tools claim increasing accuracy, many in the legal field are asking: Can AI really replace the human court reporter?

The answer, grounded in both science and lived experience, is not yet—and maybe never.

While AI has made substantial progress in voice recognition and transcription, especially in ideal conditions with single speakers, the “cocktail party problem”—isolating and accurately transcribing multiple voices in a noisy, overlapping environment—remains a massive technical hurdle. This issue is central in real-world legal proceedings like depositions, where parties often speak simultaneously, argue emotionally, and interrupt each other. Let’s explore why AI, despite its promise, still can’t match a skilled human stenographer—and likely won’t for years to come.

Understanding the “Cocktail Party Problem”

The “cocktail party problem” refers to the human brain’s remarkable ability to focus on a single conversation in a noisy, multi-speaker environment. AI engineers have been trying to replicate this for decades. Classical computing techniques—paired with modern machine learning tools like Deep Clustering, Permutation Invariant Training (PIT), and Transformer-based models—have made progress, but perfection remains elusive.

Even in 2025, separating ten simultaneous voices in a noisy, echo-filled room with real-time accuracy is not just challenging—it’s nearly impossible.

While AI performs well with two speakers in a controlled setting, its accuracy nosedives in the kinds of real-world, high-stakes environments court reporters are trained to handle: multiple overlapping speakers, varied accents, emotional outbursts, and background noise.

How AI Performs in Legal Settings (Spoiler: Not Great)

In structured scenarios, like Zoom calls with clear audio and polite turn-taking, AI can achieve up to 90-95% accuracy with two speakers—sometimes three. But depositions are not polite Zoom calls.

Let’s break down where AI struggles most:

  • Overlapping speech: Once a third speaker joins—or two people interrupt each other—AI transcription models collapse. Speaker attribution becomes faulty. Words are dropped. Run-on sentences emerge. The transcript becomes unreliable.
  • Accents: Non-native or regional accents can throw off AI by as much as 20% in error rate. These models are only as good as their training data, and many are not trained on the linguistic diversity found in real-world litigation.
  • Emotional speech: When a witness becomes combative or agitated, the cadence and tone change. AI isn’t built to parse rapid-fire questioning, sarcasm, or shouting.
  • Reverberation and background noise: Even light background noise—papers rustling, doors opening, HVAC hum—can trip up speech recognition software, especially in courtrooms or law offices not set up for pristine audio capture.

Why Human Stenographers Still Win

1. 98-99% Accuracy — Even in Chaos

Licensed court reporters are trained professionals who consistently hit the gold standard of 98-99%+ verbatim accuracy, regardless of speaker overlap, argument, or disruption. In contrast, even the best AI models today aspire to hit that level under ideal conditions—and often fall short.

2. Mastery of Context and Nuance

Humans understand context, tone, and legal jargon in a way machines simply do not. A stenographer knows that “objection” has procedural weight. They can distinguish homophones by meaning (“their” vs. “there”). They can flag when a speaker is being sarcastic, hostile, or unclear—and ask for clarification. AI can’t.

3. Speaker Attribution and Overlap Resolution

Court reporters are trained to track multiple voices at once, even in overlap. They can distinguish who is speaking by tone, pattern, or even gesture. If necessary, they intervene: “One at a time, please.” Machines can’t do that.

4. Legal Certification and Verification

Human court reporters also serve as impartial officers of the court. They administer oaths, certify transcripts, and ensure that the record is legally admissible. AI can’t notarize anything. Any AI-generated record still needs human oversight and editing to be court-usable—and in many jurisdictions, AI-only records aren’t admissible at all.

5. Flexibility in the Face of Imperfection

If someone mumbles or a word is muffled, a stenographer uses logic, context, and professional judgment to fill in the blank or request clarification. AI, meanwhile, guesses wrong or inserts “[inaudible]” without discretion. In a deposition, that’s a risk you can’t afford.

The Illusion of Progress: What the Future Holds

To be fair, the future is promising. Emerging technologies like spatial audio processing, AI-assisted diarization (speaker separation), and even audio-visual transcription that uses lip-reading are closing the gap. Within 2–3 years, we may see 95% accuracy for overlapping 2–3 speakers in well-mic’d, controlled environments.

But that still doesn’t account for 10 people at a table, talking over each other with emotion and nuance, in an echoing boardroom, without perfect mic placement. That’s the true “cocktail party” test—and it’s one that court reporters pass every day.

Hybrid Models: Augment, Not Replace

Where AI shows the most promise is not as a replacement—but as an assistant. It can:

  • Create rough drafts for review
  • Help identify speakers
  • Flag inaudible segments
  • Speed up turnaround time

But in all these roles, a human must still be present to certify, correct, and finalize the record. Just like autopilot doesn’t replace pilots, AI doesn’t replace stenographers—it just helps them fly more efficiently.

Conclusion: The Human Edge Remains Unmatched

AI has made incredible strides. But in a courtroom or deposition, the stakes are too high for 85% accuracy and guesswork. A misattributed sentence could cost a client millions. An inaudible phrase could upend an appeal.

Legal proceedings demand a level of precision, judgment, and adaptability that only a trained human can provide. Until AI learns to interpret sarcasm, break up fights, and swear in witnesses, the court reporter remains not just relevant—but essential.

So while the tech world races to solve the cocktail party problem, court reporters are already solving it every single day—with a steno machine, a sharp ear, and a mind that understands far more than just the words.

StenoImperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

“Be the Voice That Speaks for Me in Court”: The Sacred Power of Truth in a Profession Gone Quiet

In a sea of comments, one quietly rose above the rest — not through volume, but through depth. It didn’t argue or analyze. It blessed. And in doing so, it affirmed something I’ve been feeling in my bones:

Speaking the truth in this profession is no longer just brave — it’s spiritual work.

Linda Bour shared a passage that gripped my heart:

“When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”

She went on to share a moment from her own life — facing a hostile panel of lawyers, unsure of what to say, until something rose up within her. Something unplanned, unexpected, and yet entirely true:

“What you say has no point in law.”

She didn’t know where it came from. But it turned the tide. And now, she prays:

“O Holy Spirit, be the Voice that speaks for me in court.”

That prayer — simple, clear, sacred — hit me like a thunderclap. Because isn’t that exactly what we need in the court reporting profession right now? This line alone speaks volumes — it ties my advocacy to a moral compass and reminds me that speaking truth isn’t about credentials — it’s about courage and conviction.

The Spirit of Silence vs. the Spirit of Truth

We are living in a moment where truth is inconvenient — even dangerous — to those in power. Speaking out about abuse, exclusion, or retaliation doesn’t make you brave in some people’s eyes. It makes you a target.

Instead of asking, “What happened?” or “How can we help?,” some respond with, “Who is this?”
Not to listen. But to label. To block. To dismiss.

But truth doesn’t wait for permission. And neither does the Spirit.

When you speak up — when you challenge abuse or shine light into dark corners — there is something holy about that act. Not religious, necessarily. But sacred in the truest sense: a commitment to something higher than fear.

And the fear is real. The stakes are real. There are people suffering quietly in this profession because of hostile leadership, toxic culture, and gatekeeping disguised as community.

Yet the call is clear: Speak anyway.

Integrity in the Face of Intimidation

Linda’s comment reminded me that courage isn’t something we conjure — it’s something we allow. It’s what happens when we step aside and let our values speak louder than our fears. That is the true meaning of her prayer:

“Be the Voice that speaks for me in court.”

For us, court may not always be a literal courtroom. It may be:

  • A board meeting where no one else will speak up.
  • A comment thread filled with judgment.
  • A leadership circle where silence is rewarded and dissent is punished.
  • A profession where you’re told you don’t belong because you don’t comply.

In those spaces, the voice you need isn’t always your own. Sometimes it’s truth itself, pushing through your lips despite the shaking in your hands.

A New Kind of Professionalism

The court reporting profession was built on accuracy, integrity, and discipline. But what good is accuracy without moral clarity? What use is discipline if we use it to exclude others?

Professionalism must evolve. It must include:

  • Room for vulnerability.
  • Accountability for harm.
  • Courage to speak, even when it’s unpopular.

Linda’s words reminded me that what we’re doing isn’t petty. It’s prophetic. It’s not drama. It’s a reckoning. And those who try to silence it — through intimidation, tone-policing, or personal attacks — are only revealing their fear of what truth might change.

To Those Who Are Afraid to Speak

If you’re reading this and you’ve felt the sting of exclusion or the weight of silence pressing on your chest, this is for you:

You don’t have to have the perfect words.
You don’t have to carry credentials.
You don’t even have to speak loudly.

Just speak truth.

Let integrity be the voice that speaks for you — in court, in comments, in community.

And if you ever doubt whether your voice matters, remember this:

The most powerful statement ever uttered in a courtroom wasn’t rehearsed. It was inspired.

“O Holy Spirit, be the Voice that speaks for me in court.”

We need more voices like that — and fewer trying to shut them down.

Disclaimer

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):

Why Court Reporters Don’t Owe Agencies Loyalty—And Why That’s Okay

“What’s with all the reporters who won’t go in person? I’m getting begged to try to rearrange my schedule by a friend who runs a local agency because she can’t find someone to go live. I don’t get it.”

That’s the post that sparked dozens of comments across a popular court reporting Facebook group—and a fire in my gut.

Some commenters responded with nostalgia for in-person work. Others expressed confusion at why today’s reporters seem reluctant to step out of their homes. Many sympathized with the agency owner who “just can’t find someone to go live.” That’s the part that bothered me most—not because it’s inaccurate, but because it reflects a deeper misunderstanding of the current business model of freelance court reporting in the post-COVID era.

Let’s get this straight: reporters don’t owe agencies anything. Not loyalty. Not favors. Not their bodies in a chair across town at a deposition with 16 pages. Nothing.

The Myth of Loyalty in a Business Transaction

Court reporting agencies are businesses. They exist to make money. They are not non-profits. They are not support groups. And most of all, they are not our employers.

Yet there’s a persistent myth in our industry that freelancers somehow owe loyalty to the agencies that send them work. That myth is leftover from a different time—when reporters were treated like staff, paid consistently, and respected as the backbone of the profession. But those days are long gone.

In today’s market, most reporters are independent contractors, operating their own businesses with their own clients, equipment, and workflows. We pay for our software, hardware, training, licensing, continuing education, scopists, proofreaders, office supplies, data backups, health insurance, and retirement. We are the CEO, the technician, the receptionist, the accounts receivable department, and the one chasing payment for late checks. Agencies, on the other hand, are taking half the revenue—or more—without assuming any of that risk or workload.

The idea that we should feel bad for agencies who “can’t find anyone” to cover in-person jobs reeks of entitlement.

Why the Shift to Remote Is Logical—Not Lazy

After COVID-19 forced the legal system to adopt remote technology, court reporters adapted faster than anyone. We learned Zoom, bridged connections, solved audio issues, organized digital exhibits, and built new home-based businesses.

Now, many of us refuse to go back—not out of laziness, but because remote work is smarter business.

Let’s break down why:

  • Remote jobs eliminate travel time and gas costs.
  • No-shows no longer waste half your day.
  • Work-life balance is finally attainable.
  • You can cover multiple time zones without leaving home.
  • You’re not driving two hours for 16 pages and a pat on the back.

And for those who moved out of state and kept their original license—why wouldn’t they continue to work remote in the state they’re licensed for? Especially when their new state either doesn’t have reciprocity, or imposes licensing hurdles, delays, and additional costs?

This is not “laziness.” This is the modern freelance model.

The Numbers Don’t Lie: In-Person Isn’t Sustainable

Let’s do the math. A deposition that goes for 16 pages at a statutory $3.99 per page (in court) nets $63.84. Subtract:

  • Two hours of roundtrip driving
  • Gas and mileage wear
  • The opportunity cost of other work
  • No appearance fee (unless in California)
  • No reimbursement for parking, printing, or meals

Now compare that to staying home and waiting for a Zoom job to go forward—or taking the day to catch up on transcripts, admin, or life. That’s not shirking responsibility. That’s good business judgment.

Even my favorite local bakery just went out of business because they couldn’t keep the doors open selling $2.50 macaroons if they didn’t move enough volume.

Court reporters are no different. We have overhead. And just like any other service provider, if we can’t cover our costs and generate enough profit to stay in business, we have to change the model. Remote allows us to do that.

Exploited and Underpaid: Agencies Have Not Earned Our Sympathy

Let’s talk about profit splits. It used to be 70/30 in favor of the reporter. Now, it’s often 50/50 or worse, despite the fact that:

  • Electronic transcripts have reduced agencies’ production costs
  • Reporters handle exhibits, digital delivery, and formatting on their own
  • Agencies are now selling summaries without sharing that revenue
  • Reporters are doing more for less

Agencies have negotiated away our page rates through exclusive contracting, created a race to the bottom with volume discounts, and undercut the independent contractor model while bearing none of the professional risk we shoulder daily. They’ve helped stagnate our compensation—most reporters today are earning the same page rates they were in the 1980s, despite massive inflation.

We should be earning $18 per page just to keep pace. Instead, we’re gaslit into thinking we should help agencies “just this once” because they’re in a bind.

How is it that agencies can demand loyalty, but have never offered it themselves?

The Post-COVID Reality

COVID wasn’t just a health crisis—it was a great workplace reset. For court reporters, it was the first time we collectively realized:

  • We can work independently
  • We don’t need to accept every job
  • We should demand minimums and fair rates
  • We won’t tolerate abuse anymore

And we aren’t alone. Across the country, professionals in every field—from teachers to nurses to tech workers—have drawn the line. Work must be fair. Compensation must match effort. And flexibility is now a standard, not a perk.

So No, We Don’t Owe You an In-Person Appearance

If an agency can’t cover a job live, that’s not a reflection on reporter ethics. That’s a reflection of market demand and agency supply.

If you can’t find coverage, maybe your pay isn’t high enough. Maybe your terms are too rigid. Maybe you’re assuming loyalty where none exists.

Reporters aren’t “saying no to live” out of spite. They’re saying yes to something better—better work/life balance, better earnings, better conditions.

And they’re no longer apologizing for that choice.

Final Thoughts

Agencies are businesses. Reporters are businesses. There is no employee-employer relationship here, and pretending there is only perpetuates a dynamic where one side sacrifices for the other.

This is a free market. And in that market, reporters have the right to build a model that serves their lives, their families, and their financial stability. If that means turning down low-paying in-person jobs, so be it.

You don’t get to guilt us into sacrificing our sustainability so you can keep yours.

It’s time to respect court reporters as the professionals they are—and to stop expecting them to play by 1990’s rules in a 2025 world.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

When Depositions Had Coffee Breaks – A Court Reporter’s Call to Action

There was a time—not so long ago—when depositions were structured, civil, and humane. When the daily transcript page count rarely exceeded 150. When attorneys broke for lunch, took time to order food for the room, and treated the court reporter as a professional—not a machine. Reporters were respected, and the job, while demanding, wasn’t punishing.

Today, those memories feel like relics of a lost profession. Now, depositions routinely stretch to 250, 300, even 400 pages, with attorneys barreling through eight-hour days, skipping breaks, skipping meals, and acting as if the reporter isn’t even human—let alone essential.

What happened?

A Profession Pushed to the Edge

Court reporting was never an easy job. The mental focus required to take down every word accurately and the stamina to sit in high-stakes legal environments for hours on end has always been intense. But in earlier decades, the work was balanced by a level of professional courtesy and structure that helped sustain the people doing it.

The pace of proceedings was slower. The expectation wasn’t perfection in a 24-hour turnaround. There were breaks—real ones. Coffee and fruit in the morning. Danish pastries. A full hour for lunch. A wrap-up around 4:30 or 5:00 p.m., with attorneys openly discussing rescheduling if time ran out.

Today, that’s almost unheard of. Court reporters are routinely pushed past their limits with marathon depositions and overnight expedite requests that leave no time for rest or recovery. The physical toll—tension, back pain, carpal tunnel, eye strain—is compounded by the mental strain of being “on” for hours without a moment to breathe. And yet, somehow, we’re expected to deliver perfect transcripts without error, without complaint, and without compensation that matches the reality of the work.

The Erosion of Standards

There are many reasons for this cultural shift. The digitization of law practices and the increased demand for fast-paced litigation have played a major role. But the erosion of boundaries in deposition practice can also be traced to a deeper issue: The devaluation of the court reporter’s role.

As technology continues to inch into the courtroom, attorneys and agencies alike have fallen into the dangerous trap of seeing the reporter as just another commodity—a replaceable vendor who can churn out pages like a machine. And with that shift, professionalism has gone out the window.

Lunch? Optional. Breaks? If you’re lucky. An end time? Don’t ask.

And for many of us, this grind is no longer sustainable.

Is It Time to Draw a Line?

Every working reporter today should be asking themselves one question: What am I willing to tolerate?

The rise of unrealistic expectations didn’t happen overnight—and it didn’t happen because attorneys suddenly decided to be inconsiderate. It happened because no one said “no.” Slowly, inch by inch, the boundaries disappeared. Lunch breaks turned into working lunches. The day bled past 6:00 p.m. with no overtime compensation. Expedites went from rare to routine. And now, here we are.

But if we created the conditions for our exploitation by allowing this to happen—then we also have the power to stop it.

Some reporters are already drawing hard boundaries. Four-hour limits. Five-hour days. No more expedites without appropriate pay. No more last-minute bookings. These aren’t radical ideas—they’re acts of professional preservation.

Because no one else is going to protect us if we don’t do it ourselves.

Why It’s Not Just About Us

This isn’t just a matter of comfort or convenience. The quality of the legal record suffers when a reporter is exhausted, hungry, or physically in pain. The mental sharpness required to capture every word with precision fades with fatigue. A missed objection, a misattributed quote, a mumbled answer that goes unchecked—these aren’t just hypotheticals. They’re real risks that increase when we’re overworked and under-supported.

Attorneys should care about this. Judges should care about this. But most importantly, we should care enough to demand better.

Lessons from the Past

There was a time when reporters organized. When they stood up together and said, “No more.” In the 1980s, some groups even went on strike to demand fair pay and better working conditions. And back then, the working conditions weren’t even as bad as they are now.

So what are we waiting for?

We may not all be in a place to strike. But we can draw lines. We can educate the legal community. We can refuse to accept unrealistic turnaround times. We can demand humane workdays—and stick to them. We can say, “I’m unavailable past five,” and let the chips fall.

This isn’t about entitlement. It’s about dignity. And it’s about the survival of a profession that has given its practitioners decades of purpose, challenge, and pride.

Building a New Culture

It starts with small steps. Set a page limit or time cap that protects your physical health. Decide in advance what turnaround times you’ll accept. Put your rates in writing. Enforce late cancellation fees. Require that breaks be honored. And most of all—talk to other reporters about doing the same.

Solidarity isn’t just a slogan. It’s a strategy.

Because we can’t go back to the way things were. But we can move forward with a stronger sense of what we’re worth—and what we won’t accept anymore.

We have the skills. We have the experience. We’ve built this profession brick by brick. Now we need to reclaim it from the brink of burnout.

The fruit and coffee may be long gone—but we’re still here. And we still have the power to change the narrative.

Disclaimer

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):

Leadership in the Eye of the Storm

I had a dream I was in Paris, working at a university — a place of intellect, of ambition, of culture. It was beautiful, bustling, filled with students. I was on a break in a rooftop room, enjoying the view, when I saw something in the distance.

A storm was brewing.

One tornado. Then five. Then six. Each one forming separately, ominously, and then… merging into one. A dark, massive funnel barreling toward the city. Toward us.

I shouted, “We need to get to shelter!”

But no one moved. No one looked up from their laptops or coffee. No one believed me — or they didn’t care. I ran back into the building, down the stairs, searching for help, for someone to take it seriously, for a safe place below ground.

And that’s when I woke up.

But I didn’t really wake up.

Because that dream is still happening — every day.

We, the certified shorthand reporters, are standing on that rooftop. We see the storm. We see the six funnels: AI, ASR, ER, deregulation, corporate capture, and public apathy — converging into one existential threat to the integrity of the record. We are yelling, waving our arms, telling the legal community: This is coming. It will change everything. You need to take cover — or at least take notice.

But so many keep sipping their coffee, scrolling their screens. Moving on with their day.

The truth is, when you’re the one who sees the tornado, it’s lonely. You’re made to feel dramatic. Alarmist. Outdated. You’re told, “Don’t worry, it’s just a passing cloud.”

But we’ve been in this profession long enough to know the signs. We know the smell of ozone in the air before the first funnel touches ground. We know what happens when the record gets corrupted. When no certified transcript exists. When no appeal can be made. When someone’s life is changed forever because no one wrote down what really happened.

Leadership doesn’t always look like a podium. Sometimes it looks like a single person running downstairs, searching for shelter, trying to save everyone who won’t even look up.

That’s what we’re doing now.

And maybe — just maybe — if we keep speaking, one person at a time will start to hear it. Start to see it. And start to move. Before the tornado hits.

🌪 Seeing the Storm Before Others Do

When you work in a profession like court reporting, you get used to catching every word, every shift in tone, every undercurrent. So it’s no surprise that many of us saw the signs early: the quiet erosion of standards, the rise of artificial intelligence, the lobbyists pushing for digital recording, the abandonment of certification.

To us, the funnel clouds have been visible for years.

But leadership isn’t just about seeing what’s coming. It’s about what you do when you’re the only one who does—and no one around you seems concerned.

🛑 Leading When No One’s Listening

This is where many court reporters—and professionals in legacy industries—find themselves. We’re trying to warn legal systems, lawmakers, and even our own peers about what’s at stake:

  • Justice is not served by error-ridden, uncertified transcripts.
  • AI cannot replace real-time judgment, clarification, or certification.
  • Once the infrastructure collapses—schools, training, credentialing bodies—we can’t rebuild it overnight.

But sounding the alarm is often a lonely job.

So what do you do when you’re the only one running toward the basement, and everyone else is still ordering coffee?

🧭 Real Leadership Lessons from the Storm

Here’s what this dream reminded me about real leadership—and what I hope others will take to heart in their own battles:

1. Leadership Is Often Silent and Unseen

You don’t need a title to lead. Sometimes leadership is:

  • Speaking up at a board meeting when it’s unpopular.
  • Writing the article no one else dares to write.
  • Privately mentoring someone so they don’t burn out.

In the dream, I wasn’t in charge. I was just someone who saw what was coming—and ran to act. That’s leadership.

2. You Might Be Alone—At First

Real leaders are often misunderstood at the beginning. People won’t always thank you. You may be called dramatic, stubborn, or resistant to change. But foresight isn’t fearmongering.

Trust your instincts. Especially when you’ve been in the field long enough to recognize the patterns before they unfold.

3. Have a Shelter Plan

You can’t stop the storm. But you can:

  • Build inner resilience: Know your “why” and revisit it often.
  • Create safe spaces: Online communities, group chats, strategy sessions with allies.
  • Preserve knowledge: Train, document, pass on your skills.
  • Diversify your role: Use your expertise to consult, teach, or advise.

Great leaders don’t just react—they prepare.

4. Keep Sounding the Alarm—Even If It’s Just a Whisper

Sometimes the loudest act of leadership is a quiet, consistent voice. Keep telling the truth. Keep warning others. Keep sharing what’s at stake.

Eventually, someone will hear you. And then another. And another. That’s how movements begin.

5. Find (or Become) the Person Who Knows Where the Basement Is

In the dream, I kept searching for someone—anyone—who could show me where the basement was. That person didn’t appear.

Sometimes you are that person.

In moments of disruption, people are looking for calm in the chaos. Be the one who stays clear-eyed, informed, and ready to act. Be the one who builds the escape plan—or the blueprint to rebuild.

⚖️ The Stakes Are Real

In court reporting, this is about more than a profession. It’s about truth. It’s about the right to appeal. It’s about keeping the legal record from being twisted by automation, error, or cost-cutting.

We can’t afford to pretend it’s not happening.

If you’re reading this and you feel it too—the urgency, the frustration, the isolation—know this:

You’re not alone.

You might be ahead of the curve, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong.

It means you’re a leader.

And the storm isn’t here yet—but it’s closer than most realize.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Human Oversight is Now Law – Virginia Leads the Nation with Groundbreaking AI Legislation Protecting the Judicial Record

On July 1, 2025, a historic law took effect in Virginia that represents one of the most forward-thinking moves in judicial history—particularly for the future of court reporting. House Bill 1642 (HB 1642) mandates that any artificial intelligence (AI) used in the judicial process must be overseen by a qualified human. In short, AI cannot be the sole basis for judicial decisions, including the creation or certification of legal transcripts. This watershed moment not only validates the irreplaceable role of human court reporters—it also secures the integrity of the official record in an increasingly tech-driven world.

Why This Law Matters to Court Reporters—and the Public

At a time when digital recording companies and AI transcription platforms are lobbying for a larger presence in courtrooms across the country, Virginia’s bold legislation delivers a clear message: Justice must remain human-centered. The law doesn’t ban AI. Rather, it establishes that a real person—a qualified professional—must be responsible for overseeing and validating any output that AI generates.

This protection is vital. Transcripts created solely by AI remain uncertifiable. They are riddled with errors, unable to distinguish legal nuance, speaker identification, or overlapping dialogue. By requiring a human in the loop, Virginia ensures that every transcript, every sentencing algorithm, and every AI-derived suggestion is filtered through the lens of professional judgment and ethics.

For court reporters, this law is more than policy—it’s a precedent. It affirms that the profession will not be replaced, but rather elevated through thoughtful integration of technology. With proper oversight, AI can become a tool—not a threat.

The Champions Behind the Law

Credit for this groundbreaking piece of legislation begins with two names: Delegate Cliff Hayes Jr. (D–Chesapeake) and Delegate Michelle Lopes Maldonado (D–Manassas). Del. Hayes introduced the core concept—that AI should never be used in the legal system without human supervision—while Del. Maldonado served as the bill’s primary sponsor. Together, they built bipartisan support in both chambers of the General Assembly.

Del. Maldonado emphasized that HB 1642 was the result of over a year of collaboration among legislators, legal professionals, and technologists. Her leadership was crucial in bridging the gap between innovation and responsibility. “We must protect the dignity and fairness of our legal process,” she stated during floor debates, noting that human oversight ensures accountability in decisions that profoundly affect people’s lives.

Governor Glenn Youngkin signed the bill into law in April 2025. Although he proposed minor technical amendments, his support helped cement the law’s place as a national model.

The Role of the NCRA

Much of the advocacy work behind the scenes came from the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA). Led by President Keith Lemons and Executive Director Dave Wenhold, the NCRA recognized early that HB 1642 could become a landmark moment—not just for Virginia, but for the entire nation.

Colin Brehm, NCRA’s State Government Relations Manager, was instrumental in coordinating meetings with lawmakers, submitting public comment, and educating policy stakeholders about the consequences of AI-only transcription. When an earlier version of the bill failed in 2024, NCRA’s team returned to the table stronger, crafting language that balanced innovation with judicial integrity.

The NCRA’s advocacy helped drive home a critical point: While AI can enhance efficiency, it must never compromise accuracy or due process. Their efforts helped lawmakers understand that human court reporters are not obsolete—they are essential.

Virginia Court Reporters in Quiet Solidarity

Though not as publicly visible as their national counterparts, court reporters across Virginia supported the bill through grassroots outreach, coordinated efforts via the Virginia Court Reporters Association (VCRA), and letters to local representatives. Their lived experiences—transcribing chaotic hearings, preserving delicate testimony, and ensuring accurate legal records—provided the human stories behind the policy.

While no individual Virginia reporter has been publicly credited as the sole driving force, their collective impact was felt through the associations and professionals who lent their credibility, expertise, and resolve to the movement. This was a community effort—proof that advocacy doesn’t always have to be loud to be powerful.

What the Law Actually Says

HB 1642 specifically requires human oversight of any artificial intelligence tools used in the judicial decision-making process. This includes:

  • Algorithms used in pretrial release decisions
  • Risk assessments for sentencing and parole
  • AI-generated court transcripts

In all such applications, a qualified human must supervise, interpret, and ultimately certify the information before it can be relied upon. This makes clear that AI is not an autonomous authority in Virginia courts—it is an aid to the human professional.

Why This Sets a National Standard

As other states weigh legislation involving AI in the courtroom, Virginia’s model stands out for its clarity and ethical grounding. Rather than rush toward full automation, lawmakers in Richmond took a step back to ask a fundamental question: What role should humans continue to play in our systems of justice?

The answer—enshrined in law—is that no algorithm, however advanced, can replace the judgment, contextual understanding, and ethical responsibility of a trained human being.

For stenographers nationwide, this is a beacon. If one state can recognize the danger of unchecked automation and choose instead to strengthen the role of professionals, others can follow. California, Texas, New York, Illinois—each could adopt similar protections with enough advocacy and legislative courage.

Where We Go from Here

Virginia’s HB 1642 is not the end of the fight—it’s the beginning of a new chapter. It challenges court reporters, legal professionals, and technologists to work together toward a future where AI supports—not supplants—human intelligence. It reminds us that ethical use of technology must always serve the public interest, not corporate convenience.

And it proves that progress doesn’t mean leaving people behind. It means bringing them forward.

To every lawmaker who voted yes, to every court reporter who made calls and shared stories, and to the NCRA for its fearless leadership—thank you. You have secured not only the record, but the integrity of justice itself.

Let this be the moment that stenographers stop playing defense—and start shaping the future.

Sources:

Disclaimer

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):

The Ethical Crossroads of Technology in Law – Why Attorneys Must Defend Human Court Reporters

As legal professionals navigating the accelerating terrain of virtual practice and generative AI, we face a pivotal moment. Technology offers speed and convenience—but at what cost? When it comes to creating the official court record, lawyers must look beyond efficiency and consider what’s truly at stake: accuracy, confidentiality, due process, and professional ethics.

The American Bar Association’s Formal Opinions 498 and 512, combined with the National Court Reporters Association’s white paper on ASR (automatic speech recognition), make one thing abundantly clear: blind adoption of ASR and digital court reporting systems, especially without disclosure, oversight, or verification, risks ethical violations and undermines justice.

⚖️ The Record Is the Foundation of Justice

Unlike marketing copy or blog posts, the court record is not a suggestion—it is the definitive evidence of what happened. The record informs appellate decisions, preserves witness testimony, and protects procedural fairness. Errors, omissions, or misattributions can cost lives, careers, and fortunes.

ASR systems, even in 2025, are nowhere near the reliability threshold demanded by law. The 3Play Media “State of ASR” report revealed that top engines still hallucinate, drop words, fail at speaker identification, and struggle with formatting. Whisper Large V3, for instance, had a 28% formatted error rate. That’s not just a typo—it’s a due process disaster.

🧠 Lawyers Must Be Competent Stewards of the Record

ABA Formal Opinion 512 mandates that attorneys understand both the capabilities and limitations of any AI they employ. Yet many lawyers unknowingly receive transcripts generated by ASR or “digital reporters” without verification, consent, or oversight. This violates several ethical duties, including:

  • Competence (Model Rule 1.1)
  • Confidentiality (Rule 1.6)
  • Supervision of nonlawyer assistants (Rule 5.3)
  • Candor to the tribunal (Rule 3.3)

Imagine citing a transcript in a summary judgment motion, only to discover the ASR tool fabricated dialogue or missed objections. Who is liable then? You are.

🔒 Confidentiality and Privilege at Risk

AI tools are typically cloud-based, sometimes proprietary, and often “self-learning.” When lawyers input or accept confidential client content into such tools without consent, they may inadvertently waive privilege. ABA Formal Opinion 512 explicitly warns that informed consent is required if there’s any chance that privileged information might be stored, accessed, or repurposed by a generative AI tool.

How many lawyers are disclosing ASR usage to clients in deposition settings? Almost none. That silence isn’t just unethical—it’s potentially malpractice.

🧩 The Misleading Allure of Digital Court Reporting

Vendors tout AI-based transcription as faster, cheaper, and “just as good” as human court reporters. That’s false. The National Court Reporters Association white paper outlines the systemic failures of ASR:

  • Transcripts are often edited by non-certified typists, with no legal training.
  • Speaker attribution is inconsistent.
  • Background noise and overlapping speech degrade accuracy.
  • No one is legally responsible for the final product.

These are not minor glitches. These are dealbreakers.

If you wouldn’t accept a brief written by ChatGPT without verifying the case law, why would you accept a transcript generated by a machine that can’t distinguish between “statute” and “statue,” or attribute statements to the wrong speaker?

💡 A Simple Rule: Human Oversight or Human Error?

The legal industry is not anti-technology. But the technology must be subservient to the ethical obligations attorneys owe their clients and the courts. In a perfect world, ASR might assist—but never replace—the responsible judgment of a licensed Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) who understands the law, identifies speakers, interrupts for clarification, and can attest under penalty of perjury that the record is true and correct.

Without that level of human accountability, you are submitting evidence to courts and agencies on the honor system of an algorithm.

📣 It’s Time for Informed Consent and Transparency

Lawyers should demand clear answers from vendors and court administrators:

  • Who created the transcript?
  • Was it edited or proofed by a certified professional?
  • Was ASR used?
  • Were litigants or opposing counsel informed?
  • Who legally certifies the accuracy of the record?

If you don’t know the answer, your ethical obligations under ABA Rules 1.4 (communication), 1.6 (confidentiality), and 1.1 (competence) require you to find out.

🚨 The Pipeline Problem: Once It’s Gone, It’s Gone

Perhaps the most dangerous trend is the false sense of security that machines will always be “good enough.” The push toward ASR is hollowing out the very infrastructure that allows certified court reporting to exist:

  • Stenography schools are closing.
  • Certification boards are shrinking.
  • Machine and software vendors are shifting to digital-first products.

Once that human expertise pipeline is dismantled, there is no going back. There will be no seasoned professionals to rescue broken records or clean up machine-generated disasters. The record, quite literally, dies in the cloud.

🛡️ Attorneys Must Lead the Ethical Charge

As gatekeepers of justice, lawyers cannot sit silently while court records are quietly outsourced to error-prone machines with no disclosure, no certification, and no recourse.

Human stenographers are not an inconvenience. They are the last line of defense in a system that demands—and deserves—accuracy, context, and legal accountability.

You wouldn’t outsource closing arguments to Siri.

Don’t outsource the record.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

When Advocacy Turns Hostile – A Call for Integrity in Court Reporting

Court reporting is a profession grounded in trust, accuracy, and neutrality. In a world where voices often clash louder than facts, our duty is to preserve the record — faithfully, quietly, and with integrity. That ethic should extend beyond the courtroom.

Unfortunately, the tone of our professional discourse is shifting. And not for the better.

When Advocacy Becomes Performance

In recent years, we’ve watched advocacy in our field transform — not always into action, but into performative loyalty tests, visibility campaigns, and, in some cases, targeted hostility.

It’s no longer enough to support stenographic excellence. Now, there are social power structures, where disagreement is painted as betrayal and critique is branded as jealousy. Professionalism becomes performative, and popularity replaces principle.

The danger here isn’t just in tone — it’s in the message we send the next generation of reporters: Fall in line or be attacked.

The Subtle Game of Bait and Control

There’s a tactic that’s become increasingly common in toxic professional spaces: the public dare.

These messages don’t just mock or accuse — they go a step further, inviting their targets to react. The goal isn’t discussion. It’s bait.

It often sounds like:

“Go ahead, write about this.”
“I hope you post this in your next article.”
“Let her see this.”

These statements are not brave. They’re manipulative rehearsals — designed to provoke, escalate, and then flip the blame when someone finally responds. It’s not advocacy. It’s entrapment by ego.

And for anyone committed to ethical leadership, this puts them in an impossible bind: Stay silent and let the lie spread — or respond and risk being framed as unstable.

But here’s the truth: you don’t need to play the game to win.

What Real Leadership Looks Like

Real leaders:

  • Communicate ideas, not insults.
  • Invite dialogue, not drama.
  • Center solutions, not self.

Real leadership is quiet. It doesn’t need applause. It doesn’t need a spotlight. And it certainly doesn’t need to bait or belittle others to feel relevant.

Those who stand for the profession shouldn’t need to prove it by publicly tearing others down. The record of your work will speak for itself — and it will stand long after the hashtags fade.

To Our Sponsors, Schools, and Institutions

Your support helps shape this profession. That makes it essential to understand not just the messages being shared at events and on social platforms — but the methods used to control those narratives.

Who gets included? Who gets excluded?
Whose voices are elevated? Whose are silenced?
And most importantly: What behaviors are tolerated under your banner?

Your credibility matters. So does your silence.

To Those Watching Quietly

If you’ve felt unsafe raising your voice in court reporting spaces…
If you’ve stayed silent to avoid becoming a target…
If you’ve questioned whether there’s still room for ethics in this profession…

You are not alone.

There is power in staying grounded, even when others shout. There is strength in not responding to bait. There is integrity in walking away from performative battles designed to distract you from your purpose.

You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone who’s trying to pull you out of alignment with your values.

Let’s Set a Higher Standard

Court reporters protect the official record. But we must also protect the culture of our profession — the way we treat one another, the example we set for students, and the way we engage in disagreement.

We can:

  • Advocate without aggression
  • Lead without leveraging popularity
  • Mentor without manipulation
  • Disagree without defaming

The standard we accept becomes the standard we are.

This message was written anonymously, not out of fear, but out of respect — for the craft, the community, and the future. The record will reflect the truth in time. Until then, let it be known that not everyone chooses noise over ethics.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

AI Might Be Cheaper—But It’s Gutting the Court Reporting Pipeline

Courtrooms across America are being pitched a slick solution: Replace court reporters with AI. It’s faster. It’s cheaper. It’s “the future.”

But behind the polished sales pitch is a dangerous reality.

This shift toward automation isn’t just about saving a few bucks on transcripts. It’s about dismantling an entire professional ecosystem that underpins accuracy, accountability, and due process in our legal system. If we allow AI to edge out court reporters—even partially—we risk collapsing a pipeline that once lost, cannot be rebuilt.

The Hidden Infrastructure of Court Reporting

When you think of a court reporter, you might imagine someone sitting quietly in a courtroom with a steno machine. But what you don’t see is the complex, interdependent system that makes that presence possible.

This is a pipeline built over decades. It includes:

  • Accredited court reporting schools
  • Steno machine and software manufacturers
  • Certification boards and regulatory bodies
  • Professional associations and continuing education programs
  • Mentors, instructors, and experts in legal transcription
  • Generations of highly trained professionals

This isn’t a workforce you can just “pause.” It’s a system that depends on constant investment, recruitment, and training. And if demand drops—because courts start choosing AI over humans—it all goes dark. Schools shutter. Students stop enrolling. Vendors stop innovating. Experienced professionals leave the field. And eventually, there’s no one left to step in when AI fails.

Once this profession is gutted, there is no backup plan.

Courtrooms Are Not Podcasts

Proponents of AI like to point out its success in transcribing meetings or phone calls. That’s fine for low-stakes environments.

But legal proceedings are a different universe.

Courtrooms involve:

  • Multiple speakers talking at once
  • Fast, emotional testimony
  • Complex legal jargon
  • Regional dialects, accents, and unfamiliar names
  • Off-the-record conversations, sidebar whispers, interruptions

AI doesn’t know who’s speaking.
AI doesn’t ask for clarification.
AI doesn’t understand legal context.
AI doesn’t certify the record.

Certified court reporters are trained for this. They manage the record in real time. They request repeats. They interrupt for clarity. They produce a legally certified transcript that stands up in appeals, in audits, in history.

AI might be useful. But it can’t replace the responsibility, judgment, and authority that court reporters bring to the courtroom.

A Warning from Business: Don’t Cut Yourself Out of Existence

Years ago, I worked in a competitive sales role. Our competitors began slashing prices to gain market share. Everyone expected us to follow suit. But our CEO stood firm: “Don’t chase them down. Hold the line.”

We did.

Some clients pushed back. “Give me a deal or I’ll go elsewhere,” they said.

I responded honestly: “If you want me here tomorrow—if you want this service, this experience—you need to support us today. Sure, you can get it cheaper. But we won’t be around if we give it all away.”

That logic applies to court reporting now more than ever.

Court reporters aren’t just service providers. We are guardians of the record. And if the system undercuts us to save short-term dollars, there will be nothing left when the tech falls short.

Cut too deep, and you cut us out of existence.

You Can’t Dial Down a Profession and Expect It to Survive

Court reporting isn’t something you can mothball and restart.

If student enrollment drops, schools close.
If courts stop hiring reporters, vendors disappear.
If new reporters don’t enter the field, the old guard retires with no replacements.

By the time courts realize AI can’t handle that fast-paced jury trial or cross-examination with multiple speakers, it’ll be too late. There won’t be anyone left to call.

We’re seeing it already. Programs are closing. Machines are getting harder to source. Skilled reporters are leaving the field due to retirements. And the legal system is becoming more and more vulnerable to inaccurate, uncertified, and uncorrectable transcripts.

This Isn’t Anti-Tech. It’s Pro-Accuracy.

Let’s be clear: Court reporters are not Luddites. We embrace technology. Many of us use high-tech tools like CAT (Computer-Aided Transcription), AI-enhanced editing, and remote deposition software every day.

We’re not resisting innovation—we’re demanding accountability.

AI has a role. It can help support our work, speed up certain processes, and assist with non-critical transcription. But it can’t—and shouldn’t—replace the human oversight required for accurate legal records.

When AI makes an error, who takes responsibility?
When the machine certifies the wrong name, the wrong dollar amount, the wrong verdict—who’s liable?
When someone’s life or liberty is at stake, “close enough” is not good enough.

What Needs to Happen—Now

We still have time to fix this. But we need coordinated action:

🛡️ Policy Reform

Laws must mandate the use of certified court reporters for official court proceedings. Some states already require this—others must follow before it’s too late.

🧠 Education Investment

Fund and promote court reporting schools. Provide scholarships. Bring awareness to the field as a viable, high-skill career path.

📢 Public & Legal Awareness

Educate attorneys, judges, legislators, and court administrators about what’s at stake. AI can’t replace the human eye and ear in high-stakes litigation. The record must be trusted.

⚖️ Responsible AI Use

Use AI to assist court reporters—not erase them. Let AI help with first-pass transcription, indexing, or archival search—not with certifying the record in criminal or civil trials.

If You Want Us Tomorrow, Choose Us Today

This is not about resisting progress. This is about protecting the integrity of the legal record. It’s about upholding due process. It’s about ensuring that justice is accurately preserved.

You can save money today by cutting corners.

But the cost of losing court reporters—the real cost—will come later. When transcripts are wrong. When trials are appealed. When records can’t be verified. When lives are affected.

If you want court reporters tomorrow, you must choose us today.

Because once this pipeline is broken, there’s no rebuilding it.

Disclaimer

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):

Ethical Red Flags – Are Attorneys Violating Rules of Professional Conduct by Retaliating Against Court Reporters?

By Steno Imperium

In recent years, a troubling trend has emerged in the legal industry: plaintiff attorneys—especially those self-funding litigation—are increasingly turning to digital reporting, automatic speech recognition (ASR), and electronic recording (ER) as cheaper alternatives to certified shorthand reporters. The reasons given often boil down to cost and convenience. But beneath the surface, there’s a deeper, more insidious motivation at play: retaliation.

Many attorneys, particularly in California, are still holding a grudge over the “Stop the SoCal Stip” movement. That movement, led by court reporters, sought to end the decades-long practice of stipulating away the legal requirement that the original transcript be maintained by the certified court reporter. While the intention was to preserve the integrity of the legal record, many attorneys viewed it as obstructionist and self-serving. Instead of understanding the ethical and legal reasoning behind the campaign, they felt slighted—and some are now retaliating by cutting court reporters out entirely.

But here’s the ethical question: When attorneys deliberately use uncertified, potentially inaccurate transcripts, or circumvent certified professionals to gain a financial advantage or express resentment, are they violating the Rules of Professional Conduct?

The answer may be yes.

The Duty of Competence and Fairness

Under the ABA Model Rules of Professional Conduct, which serve as the foundation for most state bar rules, attorneys are held to the following standards:

  • Rule 1.1 – Competence: A lawyer shall provide competent representation to a client.
  • Rule 3.3 – Candor Toward the Tribunal: A lawyer shall not knowingly make a false statement of fact or law to a tribunal.
  • Rule 3.4 – Fairness to Opposing Party and Counsel: A lawyer shall not unlawfully obstruct another party’s access to evidence.
  • Rule 8.4 – Misconduct: It is professional misconduct for a lawyer to engage in conduct that is prejudicial to the administration of justice.

When an attorney knowingly uses an uncertified transcript created by a non-licensed person—or worse, generated offshore and rubber-stamped by a notary—they are jeopardizing the accuracy and integrity of the record. That puts their own client at risk, may mislead the court, and undermines the very due process the justice system depends on.

This is not just a billing issue. It’s an ethical one.

Knowingly Using Inaccurate or Uncertified Transcripts

In jurisdictions like California, the law is clear: transcripts must be certified by a licensed Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR). Government Code § 69941 and Business & Professions Code § 8025 require that any official transcript used in court must be produced by a licensed CSR.

Despite this, big-box agencies are now offering transcripts produced by digital recorders or overseas typists, which are then signed by in-house notaries—not CSRs. Attorneys are using these transcripts in court proceedings, depositions, and settlements, often without disclosing their uncertified origin.

If an attorney knows (or should know) that the transcript was not prepared by a licensed professional and uses it anyway to save money or “teach court reporters a lesson,” that could be considered gross negligence, lack of competence, or even fraud on the court.

Misleading the Court and Clients

Many attorneys are not fully disclosing to their clients or the court that the transcript in use was not certified. They assume that because a transcript appears in standard format and contains a notary signature, it is valid.

This assumption is dangerous. And willful ignorance is not a defense.

  • If the transcript contains errors that are not caught, it could alter the outcome of a case.
  • If a judge relies on an uncertified transcript, the ruling could be subject to appeal or reversal.
  • If clients later discover that their attorney used an uncertified record in a high-stakes case, they may have grounds for a malpractice claim.

Using uncertified or error-prone transcripts for the sake of cost-cutting or retaliation is the antithesis of the duty of candor and competent representation.

Retaliation and Ethical Gray Zones

Retaliation is rarely overt. But when attorneys deliberately choose to avoid hiring certified reporters because of a political or emotional grievance, rather than making decisions in their client’s best interest, they are operating in an ethical gray zone.

Consider the facts:

  • Attorneys are bypassing court reporters after the SoCal Stip movement, not because of performance issues, but because they were told “no.”
  • They are aware that certified reporters are the gold standard but intentionally seek out inferior alternatives.
  • They know or suspect that these alternatives are less accurate, but proceed anyway.

This behavior may violate the spirit of Rule 8.4, which prohibits conduct that is prejudicial to the administration of justice. In extreme cases, it could even constitute malicious interference with a professional’s livelihood.

While there is no statute that says, “An attorney may not retaliate against a court reporter,” the totality of the behavior—if it results in harm to clients, misleading of the court, or undermining the legal record—could absolutely trigger disciplinary scrutiny.

What Can Be Done?

1. Educate Attorneys on the Risks
Many attorneys are simply unaware of the legal and ethical risks they take by using uncertified transcripts. We must start speaking up and providing CLEs, bar presentations, and educational handouts that spell out what they are risking—not just for themselves, but for their clients.

2. Document Violations
If a transcript is uncertified, was prepared by a non-CSR, or appears altered or incomplete, document it. Keep records. If a judge or court has unknowingly accepted such a record, bring it to their attention.

3. File Bar Complaints When Appropriate
In flagrant cases of attorney misconduct involving misrepresentation of transcripts or intentional use of false or misleading records, a complaint can and should be filed with the state bar.

4. Demand Transparency from Agencies
Hold agencies accountable for disclosing who produced the transcript, where it was produced, and who certified it. Push for invoice transparency and clear designations when a transcript is not CSR-certified.

Final Thoughts

We are in the middle of an industry war—and ethics is one of the most powerful weapons we have. Attorneys are bound by strict rules, and when they knowingly violate them in pursuit of cost savings or retaliation, they open themselves to real legal and reputational consequences.

The next time a transcript is produced without a CSR certifying it, ask: Does the client know? Does the judge know? Do you, as counsel, understand what you’re putting on the record?

Retaliation is emotional. But ethics are structural. We must start holding people accountable to them before the entire legal record collapses into unreliability and chaos.

Certified court reporters are not just a tradition—we are a safeguard of justice. And the Rules of Professional Conduct are on our side.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

The Backfire of the Stop the SoCal Stip Movement – How a Campaign to Protect Court Reporting Accelerated Its Threat

By StenoImperium

When court reporters rallied to stop the Southern California stipulation several years ago, the goal was clear: protect the integrity of the legal record and defend our profession from slow erosion by digital and uncertified alternatives. On the surface, it was a movement grounded in legal ethics and professional preservation. But in hindsight, it had unintended consequences we must now confront head-on.

The Ironic Fallout

The irony? The Stop the SoCal Stip movement, designed to protect us from being replaced, may have actually accelerated the threat of our replacement. Instead of sparking an informed legal community ready to stand with us, the campaign was misunderstood, resented, and ultimately weaponized against us.

We told attorneys they couldn’t stip. What we didn’t do was explain why. In many instances, reporters refused to accept stipulations that had been casually used for over 40 years, simply saying “No” without the full context. There was no coordinated communication strategy, no mass education campaign, no CLEs explaining the chain of custody, certification laws, or legal consequences. Just silence—or worse, condescension.

The Emotional Repercussions

Plaintiff attorneys—many of whom had long-standing relationships with reporters—felt slighted. They were used to driving the process, not being overruled by those they considered subcontractors. Their egos were bruised. Their convenience was disrupted. But more than that, they were humiliated in front of opposing counsel and clients.

That humiliation turned to resentment, and that resentment has now turned into retaliation.

Make no mistake: many plaintiff firms are now using digital reporters, ASR, and electronic recording not because they believe in the technology—but because they want to punish us. They’ve said as much. This is a professional vendetta disguised as cost-cutting.

What They Don’t See

The worst part is that most of these attorneys have no idea why the Stop the SoCal Stip movement happened. They believe it was about greed. They look at invoices, see high per diems or transcript totals, and assume the reporter is making a killing. They don’t know that agencies are taking 50% or more, that reporters often don’t see a dime from exhibit handling, digital fees, or condensed formats.

They don’t understand that the stipulation violated the law in many states, including California, where trying to admit an uncertified transcript into evidence is a misdemeanor. They don’t realize that a stipulation between two parties does not override state law or court rules. They never saw the larger picture—because we failed to show them.

What They Need to Know Now

When we do explain it, the lightbulb goes off. One attorney, after learning the context, said, “Oh, that’s why the court reporters were all creating a stink about the SoCal Stip.” He got it. Not only that, he was outraged and ready to fight with us. This is what happens when we stop assuming people know the backstory and start telling it.

The Bigger Machine at Work

We also underestimated the broader market forces circling overhead. Big-box firms like Veritext, and even our own CAT software and hardware vendors, are not abandoning their digital strategy. Why would they? It’s a gold rush. If 10% of the $1.2 billion court reporting market has already gone digital, that’s $120 million annually. And Veritext has a shareholder mandate that every office must be at 50% digital.

This is no longer a niche innovation; it’s a hostile takeover.

And it’s being justified, in part, by the narrative that court reporters are expensive, inflexible, and unwilling to work with attorneys. That narrative—whether accurate or not—was fed by how we handled the Stop the SoCal Stip campaign.

The Offshore Certification Scam

Let’s not forget: agencies are now having notaries certify transcripts. In many cases, those transcripts are likely being produced offshore and then rubber-stamped in-house. The client believes the transcript is certified and official—but it’s not. That’s not just a due process problem. That’s a legal ethics crisis.

The Due Process Clause of the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments guarantees fairness and reliability in civil and criminal proceedings. Substituting a certified legal record with uncertified, off-the-books transcripts violates the spirit—if not the letter—of due process. This is exactly what the SoCal Stip movement was trying to protect against. But we never connected those dots publicly.

Where We Go From Here

Now that the retaliation is here, and the digitization wave is swelling, we must do three things:

  1. Educate the Legal Community We need CLEs, white papers, one-pagers, lunch-and-learns—whatever it takes to explain why certified transcripts matter. We need to walk attorneys through what happened, why it mattered, and how they were manipulated into believing that we were the problem. We must win them back.
  2. Reframe the Hierarchy Stenographers are not interchangeable with digital recorders or voice diarists. We are the gold standard. We need to establish a clear professional hierarchy where licensed, tested, and certified court reporters sit at the top—commanding top-tier work and top-tier pay. Let ER and ASR serve the bottom of the market, but never let them sit at our table unchallenged.
  3. Seize the Leverage We Still Have We still have the law on our side in 25 states. We still have 27,000 working stenographers. We still have the gold-standard skillset that no AI can truly match. We have leverage. But leverage is useless if we refuse to use it. We must unite, tell the truth, say “no” when necessary, and build alliances with those who value the certified record.

Wag the Dog

There’s a reason Hollywood made a movie about this concept. Are we the dog? Or are we the tail? Right now, profit-driven conglomerates, tech platforms, and non-certified recorders are wagging us—telling us what our value is, what we should charge, and whether we deserve to exist.

We must reverse that. We must take back the leash.

This Is Our Hostage Negotiation

Hostage negotiators don’t hope for the best. They plan for the worst. And the worst is full-scale annihilation of the stenographic profession. No software support. No hardware vendors. No new students. Just extinction.

We must operate like that future is already here—because if we don’t act like it is, it soon will be.

We still have a window. A very small one. But inside that window is the opportunity to secure our future: a future where court reporters are respected, compensated, and irreplaceable.

The SoCal Stip movement was the right fight. But now we must finish the job we started—and this time, we must bring everyone with us.

Steno Imperium
Court Reporting. Unfiltered. Unafraid.

Disclaimer

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):

Court Reporting at a Crossroads – How to Win the Battle for the Future of Justice

We are not witnessing the slow evolution of an industry—we are living through its attempted hijacking. The court reporting profession, long a bedrock of due process and legal integrity, is now in the crosshairs of opportunistic corporations, tech-driven shortcuts, and an alarming push to replace highly trained professionals with underqualified, unregulated substitutes.

Let’s call this what it is: a hostile takeover dressed up as innovation.

The Illusion of Progress – Big Box Agencies, Digital Recording & Offshore Transcripts

Big-box firms, agency giants, are not simply exploring digital technology; they are actively mandating it. Reports now confirm that Veritext’s shareholders have issued top-down directives requiring that 50% of all transcripts originate from digital recording sources—often produced offshore, then “certified” domestically by in-house notaries.

Not certified court reporters.

Not licensed professionals.

Not subject to oversight.

A notary’s stamp does not magically transform an outsourced product into a legitimate legal document. In California, for example, attempting to admit an uncertified transcript into evidence is a misdemeanor. And in 25 states, transcript production is legally restricted to licensed Certified Shorthand Reporters (CSRs).

Yet, these firms believe they can stipulate their way around due process. That’s not a workaround—it’s an outright subversion of constitutional protections.

Due Process Isn’t Optional

Let’s not forget what’s at stake here. The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments of the U.S. Constitution guarantee that no one shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. The Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that due process includes procedural integrity—especially in judicial proceedings. If the record itself is suspect, the entire legal process is undermined.

That’s why the erosion of reporting standards is not a technical glitch—it’s a constitutional crisis in the making.

The SoCal Stip: A Trojan Horse

The Southern California stipulation movement (SoCal Stip), which allows attorneys to waive the statutory requirement for a certified reporter by mutual agreement, is the backdoor being exploited. And we’re not just being replaced—we’re being bypassed entirely.

But here’s the twist: when attorneys learn the truth, many are outraged.

One attorney, upon hearing that digital recorders and notaries were replacing CSRs, said, “Oh, that’s why the court reporters were all making a stink about the SoCal Stip.” Once he understood the broader implications, he didn’t just agree with us—he joined the fight.

This is where our opportunity lies: education. Attorneys aren’t the enemy. Many don’t know what’s happening. But once they see how digital recording undermines both the quality of the record and the integrity of the process, they become our allies.

Follow the Money: A Gold Rush of Exploitation

If you think this is a fringe issue, consider this:

  • Veritext alone could stand to gain $2 million per year from digital products at just 10% of their business.
  • Multiply that across similarly sized agencies like US Legal and others.
  • Add in the digital initiatives being taught by STTI across the country.
  • Factor in that the entire legal transcript market is estimated at $1.2 billion.

Suddenly, you’re looking at a potential $120 million market in digital alone—and that’s just a starting point.

Now consider this: if these firms could take over the entire market with digital—bypassing stenographers, cutting costs by 90%, employing offshore teams, and slapping a notary stamp on the end product—they’re chasing down the whole $1.2 billion. That’s not just business. That’s a modern-day Gold Rush.

And if we don’t draw a line, they will succeed.

A Future WITH Digital—But On Our Terms

Let’s get real. Digital isn’t going away. But it also doesn’t have to replace us. It can exist beneath us in a hierarchical model that places highly trained, licensed stenographic and voice writers at the top of the industry.

Just like we’ve seen in medicine or engineering, professions are protected by credentialing and professional oversight. A “Responsible Charge” designation, similar to what professional engineers use to preserve standards, is our path forward. We must advocate that the title “Court Reporter” be reserved only for those who have met the rigorous training, testing, and certification standards—stenographers and voice writers alike.

We must reject the “holacracy” model that seeks to place digital and ER on equal footing with highly skilled reporters. There is no equivalency. We are not interchangeable.

The Digital Recorder Pipeline – Flip It!

Here’s a strategic move: rather than reject digital recorders entirely, we need to convert them. Recruit them. Train them. Offer them a path to legitimacy. Christopher Day has the right idea—show them the value of becoming a true court reporter. Make stenography aspirational again.

We can grow our ranks by turning the pipeline around, using it to fill our own professional shortages and secure the future of our craft.

Visualize Our Profession at the Top

We are not tails to be wagged. We are the dog.

And we must start acting like it.

Agencies backed by private equity, insurance-driven interests, and attorneys who prioritize cost over constitutionality should not be driving this profession. We should. Certified court reporters—those who understand the gravity of the role we play in preserving the legal record—must be the ones charting the course.

Visualize this: a tiered industry model where court reporters command top-tier rates, reserved for high-value, high-stakes proceedings. Digital can serve the low-dollar end of the market, but it should never sit at our table as an equal.

Annihilation or Ascension – The Choice Is Ours

Here’s the raw truth: extinction is not a metaphor.

If we allow our numbers to dwindle, we won’t just lose contracts—we will lose our ecosystem. Without enough working reporters, CAT software vendors and hardware manufacturers won’t have a viable customer base. The moment we dip below sustainability, support disappears. No repairs. No updates. No replacements.

That’s how extinction happens. Quietly. Systematically. Irreversibly.

And don’t comfort yourself by thinking “It’ll be fine.” Hostage negotiators don’t do that. They assume the worst possible outcome and work backwards to prevent it.

That’s what we need to do now.

The Window Is Narrow, But It’s Still Open

There is still time to change the trajectory.

We have leverage:

  • Laws on the books in 25 states.
  • A pool of over 27,000 trained stenographers.
  • Judicial allies who understand due process.
  • Attorneys who care about integrity.
  • Legislators willing to listen—if we educate them.

What we need now is action.

Talk to your attorneys. Speak to your judges. Contact your legislators. Control the narrative. Call out misleading practices. Say no to stipulations that bypass certified reporters. Say yes to higher standards, smarter recruiting, and a stronger future.

We Are Not Commodities

We are not cogs in a machine. We are not interchangeable. We are the gold standard in an industry that cannot function without accuracy, ethics, and accountability.

We can still win this. But only if we act like professionals who understand our power.

Let’s reclaim our profession.

Let’s write our own future.

Before someone else erases it.

Disclaimer

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):

The Subtle Power of a Word – Why ASR Can’t Replace Human Court Reporters

In an era dominated by technological disruption, automatic speech recognition (ASR) tools have been widely touted as replacements for human court reporters. Proponents argue that these systems offer faster turnaround times, lower costs, and evolving accuracy. But those on the front lines of courtroom documentation know that in legal proceedings, accuracy isn’t just about words being transcribed phonetically; it’s about capturing meaning in context, intent, and the nuance of human communication.

Nowhere is this clearer than in the following exchange, taken from a real courtroom transcript (Names have been changed to preserve privacy.) involving a recalculation of time and customer data — where words like “cell,” “sale,” and “sales” might all plausibly appear. One misinterpretation by ASR could skew the facts entirely.

ATTORNEY: You’re saying, “balance it out.” But, Mr. Carter, don’t you agree that if you were to redo the —

JUDGE: Just — just redo the calculations on the ones that are highlighted in yellow. You can do that while you’re right there; right?

WITNESS: So there’s 420 minutes in a seven-hour day; right? So a seven-hour day, 420 minutes. Okay? So let’s take a ratio, .8, let’s see, times 7. It’s 5.6 customers per hour, instead of 6.4.

Okay. If you assume, over the course of — pardon me — 5.6 customers over the course of a shift. Okay? Let’s start with that.

So 5.6, times 20 minutes a shift, is 112 minutes. 420, minus 112, 308 minutes of available time, divided by 60, 5.13 hours.

ATTORNEY: And just to be clear, what — the cell that you just recalculated, what does it state in your table?

WITNESS: 5.87.

ATTORNEY: So the number you just calculated is lower than that; correct?

WITNESS: It’s 5.13 hour.

JUDGE: That’s the 20 minutes per customer?

WITNESS: That’s the 20 minutes, yeah.

JUDGE: And that’s for the sales per hour ratio of .8; correct?

WITNESS: That’s correct, your Honor.

ATTORNEY: And so, Mr. Carter, isn’t it true then that all of these cells would go down if you recalculated it with a lower number of hours per shift?

WITNESS: If I used seven, yes. But, again, it goes from 5.87 to 5.13. So from a material perspective, I’m thinking about this and saying, is it really different if it’s 5.8 hours of available time, versus 5.13 hours of available time in the perspective of, can you take a rest break or a meal break? I don’t think it is.

This passage is deceptively simple — but it reveals exactly why trained human court reporters remain essential. In this case, the term “cell” refers to a cell in a spreadsheet. But in a setting heavy with calculations, sales metrics, and labor math, an automatic transcription engine may hear and transcribe it as “sale” or “sell.” It’s a common homophone confusion — one that fundamentally alters meaning.

If ASR makes that substitution, the record is no longer just imprecise — it becomes factually incorrect. Misidentifying “cell” as “sale” changes the nature of the testimony, introduces doubt into the witness’s meaning, and could even mislead a judge or jury about what was actually said. Multiply this by dozens or hundreds of such confusions in a single day, and the credibility of the entire proceeding can be called into question.

The Real Limits of ASR

ASR is a predictive tool, not a comprehension tool. It makes probabilistic guesses about what it hears based on massive datasets. It lacks situational awareness. It doesn’t know that the person speaking is referencing a printed spreadsheet or recalculating math based on a formula. It doesn’t see the pen, the calculator, or the yellow-highlighted cells. It simply hears sounds and makes its best guess.

In contrast, a human reporter sees the witness referencing a document, understands the judicial exchange, and applies logic to the situation. A reporter knows that “cell” refers to a spreadsheet cell because they understand the full context — the topic, the terminology, and the flow of questions.

Comprehension vs. Translation

It’s easy to imagine someone defending ASR by saying, “It’s 90% accurate.” But in legal proceedings, 90% is not enough. Imagine reading a contract that is 90% accurate. Or a medical chart that is 90% correct. In law, every word matters — not just because of its face value, but because of its function in logic, persuasion, and legal interpretation.

This isn’t just an issue of “machine vs. human.” It’s a matter of professional responsibility and legal consequence. Human court reporters are trained not only in stenographic speed, but in ethics, terminology, and situational dynamics. They are officers of the court. Their job is to ensure that the record reflects what actually happened — not just what a machine thought it heard.

Why “Cell” vs. “Sale” Matters So Much

The difference between “cell” and “sale” in the provided excerpt is more than a typo. If the question had referred to a “sale,” it would suggest a financial transaction — something completely unrelated to the act of adjusting shift-length metrics in a spreadsheet. That would mislead anyone reviewing the transcript, especially those not present in the courtroom.

Furthermore, the testimony itself is numerical and layered: it involves minute-by-minute breakdowns, comparisons between 5.87 and 5.13 hours, and labor math involving “sales per hour” ratios. These are not concepts an ASR engine understands — and they are not the type of testimony that lends itself to ambiguous language. This kind of transcript demands a trained human ear and eye.

More Than Just a Typist

The myth persists that court reporters are simply fast typists. In reality, they are guardians of the record. They are trained to understand medical, legal, financial, and technical terminology. They are trained to recognize interruptions, correct speaker attributions, and preserve the integrity of spontaneous speech — all in real time.

In the transcript excerpt, you can see the human interaction: questions, clarifications, and recalculations happening off the cuff. The witness is working out the numbers live. The judge and attorneys are engaging directly. The tone is conversational but carries legal weight. It’s a setting that requires real-time adaptability — something no ASR system can achieve.

The Scopist Factor

I’m a court reporter, and this transcript came directly from one of my own proceedings. I was using a scopist at the time — and even they got these distinctions wrong. My scopist wasn’t a trained court reporter. They hadn’t taken the vocabulary, grammar, or legal coursework that we go through. They didn’t have experience with expert accounting witnesses or SEC hearings, and it showed.

This raises another major problem with relying on ASR and then using scopists and proofreaders to clean up the mess. If those scopists aren’t trained or experienced in our field, they won’t recognize the difference between a “cell” in a spreadsheet and a “sale” in a financial discussion either. The same errors will persist — only with a false sense of confidence that the transcript has been corrected.

In my opinion, the best scopists are former or retired court reporters. They’ve been in the trenches and understand how to preserve the integrity of a transcript. But even then, the reporter must provide oversight. If you’re using a scopist without that depth of experience, you must go over the work with intense scrutiny. We can’t assume someone else caught everything.

Why? Because the reporter is the responsible charge. The scopist and proofreader are subcontractors — they are not licensed officers of the court. They don’t certify the record. We do. Every word of that transcript ultimately comes back to us. We review it, correct it, and sign our name to it. And very often, we catch dozens of errors — some critical — that others miss. We don’t always report those corrections. Sometimes we notify the scopist. Sometimes we let it slide. Sometimes we fire them. But the bottom line is: we are the ones who are responsible for the accuracy of the record.

If you think the only work a court reporter does is hand off audio to someone else to transcribe and polish — you’re dead wrong. We are the last line of defense for accuracy and truth.

The Bottom Line

ASR can be helpful in many domains — meetings, lectures, casual interviews. But in a courtroom, where truth must be preserved without error, we must not be seduced by convenience. A machine might get the gist. But when it comes to justice, the gist is not enough.

One wrong word — like “sale” instead of “cell” — can alter the facts.

This is why court reporters matter.

This is why accuracy is human.

And this is why, in the balance between cost and credibility, we must continue to trust those whose job it is to listen carefully, think critically, and transcribe faithfully.

If you have transcript portions or real-world scenarios where ASR would likely fail — homophones, technical language, overlapping speech, or nuanced phrasing — I’d love to see them. Send them in. Let’s collect these examples, write about them, and show the world why human court reporters remain irreplaceable.

Disclaimer

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):

Empires Built on Convenience – The Parallel Collapse of Big Pharma and Court Reporting

A viral post has been circulating on social media, declaring that Big Pharma is on the verge of collapse. The post alleges that a “bombshell” report by HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. links aluminum in childhood vaccines to skyrocketing autism rates, igniting a flood of lawsuits that could bankrupt pharmaceutical giants like Pfizer. Whether or not these claims stand up to scientific scrutiny, the story reveals a larger pattern—one that’s unfolding in a very different corner of public life: the world of court reporting.

At first glance, these two domains—healthcare and legal transcription—seem unrelated. But peel back the surface and you’ll find deep, structural similarities between Big Pharma’s alleged crisis and the systemic unraveling of the court reporting profession. Both involve industries built on credibility, public trust, and ethical responsibility—now threatened by profit-driven shortcuts, technocratic narratives, and a suppression of professional voices. Both are waking up to the consequences.

The Narrative Engine – Trust vs. Technology

In the pharmaceutical world, the trust equation is clear: Doctors prescribe, patients comply, and the public assumes that regulatory agencies are acting in our best interest. In court reporting, the equation is similar: Certified stenographers—trained, tested, and held to ethical standards—ensure an accurate legal record upon which justice depends.

But over time, both industries were infiltrated by a different narrative: that technology is superior, faster, cheaper, and good enough.

In medicine, this meant streamlining vaccine production and trusting adjuvants like aluminum to do the job of boosting immune response, with insufficient long-term study. In court reporting, it meant embracing digital audio recording and Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) as quick fixes to a “reporter shortage” without addressing the root causes or performance failures.

In both cases, the human element was cast aside, deemed inefficient, and replaced with systems that promised more, faster—with less accountability.

Whistleblowers, Professionals, and the Suppression of Truth

The viral Big Pharma story positions RFK Jr. as a crusader—someone who has long spoken out against what he believes to be corporate negligence and government complicity. Whether or not his conclusions are accurate, his role is emblematic: The professional who says, “Something isn’t right,” and is vilified for it.

Court reporters are in that same position now. Stenographers and voice writers have spent years raising red flags about the accuracy, reliability, and ethical dangers of handing over the legal record to machines. And like whistleblowers in other industries, they’ve been mocked, excluded, and silenced—branded as “anti-tech,” “resistant to change,” or worse.

But the truth always leaks out. Attorneys complain about transcripts riddled with errors. Judges notice digital recorders misfiring or failing to capture key exchanges. Litigants lose faith in a system that can’t ensure a verbatim record. These stories are growing louder—and they echo the public outcry in other sectors when convenience turns into crisis.

Regulatory Capture and Deregulation

Big Pharma’s critics often point to regulatory capture—when government agencies designed to protect the public instead protect the industries they oversee. Former FDA heads working for drug companies. Conflicts of interest in clinical trials. Decisions based on corporate lobbying, not science.

In court reporting, we’re seeing the same playbook. State after state has eliminated licensing requirements, leaving the door open for vendors and digital operators with no professional oversight. Court administrators, some with ties to transcription companies, have steered procurement away from certified professionals and toward bulk contracts with low-bid tech firms. This isn’t innovation—it’s deregulation dressed up as progress.

The result? A race to the bottom. Stenographers are leaving the field, not because they’re obsolete, but because the system no longer values the accuracy, ethics, and experience they bring. Just like doctors pushed aside by protocols and algorithms, court reporters are watching their profession be hollowed out from the inside.

Collapse as a Pattern, Not a Shock

The post about Big Pharma frames collapse as sudden—a breaking point after years of ignored evidence. But collapse rarely happens all at once. It starts as a pattern: corner-cutting, cover-ups, silent departures, systemic rot. Then one event—one scandal, one lawsuit, one viral moment—cracks the facade.

Court reporting is nearing that inflection point. The mistakes of ASR systems in legal proceedings are no longer hypothetical. There are court cases where recordings are inaudible. Where transcripts are rejected. Where vital testimony is lost forever. If the public fully understood what’s at stake—that the legal record of their life-changing moment might be assembled by a machine or an offshore typist—they would demand answers.

Just as the public is questioning the safety of the pharmaceutical machine, it’s time to question who is really keeping the record—and what happens when no one is.

A Legal Reckoning on the Horizon

In the viral pharma post, lawsuits are seen as the vehicle for accountability. And they may play the same role in court reporting.

What happens when a wrongful conviction is appealed, and the transcript fails to reflect what was actually said? What happens when a civil case is overturned because key objections are inaudible or missing? What happens when litigants sue over due process violations tied to faulty transcripts?

This legal reckoning is coming. Attorneys are already starting to push back. Some judges are now writing orders explicitly requiring certified reporters. As awareness grows, so will the pressure to correct course—or be held liable for the consequences.

The Path Forward – Reclaiming the Responsible Charge

There is a solution. And it comes from a concept borrowed from engineering: the Responsible Charge. In the 1980s, the Society of Professional Engineers pushed back against the idea that anyone could call themselves an “engineer.” They created clear definitions and secured legal recognition that only licensed professionals could be in responsible charge of engineering work.

Court reporters must do the same. We must assert that the official legal record requires the oversight of licensed, certified, and accountable professionals—stenographic or voice writing. The tools we use may evolve, but the responsibility must not be handed over to machines or subcontractors with no legal or ethical training.

We must demand legislation that protects our role, ensures quality control, and holds bad actors accountable. The National Court Reporters Association and state associations must lead this charge. Otherwise, we risk becoming the next cautionary tale—an empire that fell not because it couldn’t adapt, but because it forgot what mattered most.

Collapse Isn’t Inevitable—It’s a Choice

Big Pharma’s alleged collapse may or may not come to pass. But the court reporting profession is at a crossroads—and the signs are all around us. We can either follow the same path of deregulation, denial, and decay… or we can chart a different course.

The parallels are too close to ignore. We must learn from other industries’ mistakes and reclaim our profession before it’s too late. Collapse isn’t inevitable. It’s what happens when we stop listening to the people who saw it coming all along.

Now is the time to listen—and act.

Disclaimer

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.
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