The Case for Court Reporter Cost Transparency and Industry Reform

For decades, court reporters have been the silent guardians of the record, producing precise, certified transcripts that serve as the cornerstone of justice. Yet the profession now faces not only existential threats from automation and artificial intelligence, but also growing hostility from its most crucial stakeholders: attorneys and the courts themselves. At the root of this conflict is a growing resentment over the rising costs of court reporting services—costs that attorneys believe are inflated, excessive, and unfair. But few understand the truth behind those numbers: that the people doing the actual work, certified court reporters, are rarely the ones benefitting from these bloated invoices.

This article makes the case for legislative reform to correct that imbalance, reestablish fairness in cost structures, and preserve the integrity of our justice system.

I. The Growing Backlash from Attorneys

In recent years, plaintiff attorneys in particular have expressed outrage over court reporting costs, especially in California. Many are self-funding litigation and say that deposition expenses are eating into their ability to pursue justice for clients. They are:

  • Using automatic speech recognition (ASR) for realtime because it’s cheaper
  • Stipulating to waive court reporters in civil trials
  • Sharing and copying transcripts with no regard to copyright or contractual restrictions

The backlash intensified after certified reporters successfully fought to stop the Southern California stipulation, a move seen by some attorneys as an attempt to hold them hostage to a costly, outdated system.

For over 40 years, attorneys relied on a stipulation to “relieve the court reporter of her duty under the Code to maintain custody of the original transcript.” This allowed attorneys to share transcripts freely and avoid paying multiple copy fees. When the reporter community pushed back on this stipulation—known in the industry as “Stop the SoCal Stip”—and demanded adherence to the rules that protect transcript integrity, many attorneys felt blindsided and resentful. They viewed it not as a legal safeguard but as a financial squeeze.

But the reality is more complex.

Behind the scenes, many large, corporate-run ‘big box’ agencies are fully aware that their inflated price structures are the driving force behind attorneys seeking cheaper alternatives like ASR, digital reporting, and electronic recording. In fact, this shift is not accidental—it’s a market that these big box agencies have helped create and are now perpetuating.

Why? Because cutting out the certified court reporter means they no longer have to share 50% of their profits. Instead, they can recruit and train their own internal workforce, pay them $10/hour, and still charge clients the same or more—while delivering a product that is uncertified and lacks the integrity of a licensed professional record. It’s not about innovation; it’s about maximizing profit through elimination of skilled labor.

This distinction is important. Many smaller, independent, court reporter–owned agencies continue to operate with integrity, transparency, and respect for the licensed professionals who make the legal record possible. These agencies tend to pay fair per diems, involve reporters in transcript-related revenue, and prioritize the quality and certification of the record over cutting corners. The real threat comes from consolidated mega-firms prioritizing growth and profit over professionalism and truth.

II. The Real Cost Breakdown

Many attorneys believe that the $3,000 or $5,000 deposition or trial bill they receive is going straight into the pocket of the court reporter. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Most certified freelance reporters in California are paid less than 50% of the invoice total. Here’s a closer look at where the money actually goes:

  • Per Diem Fees: Trials are often billed at $3,500 to $5,000 per day by agencies, yet the reporter might receive only $700 to $1,500.
  • Transcript Add-Ons: Condensed transcripts, concordances, exhibit handling, and delivery charges are frequently itemized and billed to attorneys, but the reporter sees none of this income.
  • Digital Access Fees: Some agencies charge for digital portals and online viewing, keeping 100% of those fees while the reporter receives nothing.

The agency, acting as a middleman, is profiting more than the professional performing the actual work. This lack of transparency is not only unfair—it is deceptive.

III. Origins of the Per Diem System

The per diem model emerged in California when civil courtrooms privatized official court reporters. Without a salary or benefits, freelancers were expected to cover their own health insurance, retirement, self-employment tax, and professional development costs. The per diem was meant to compensate for the lack of a W-2 paycheck.

Initially, agencies charged a flat administrative fee of $50 for a half day or $100 for a full day for trial in court. But over time, those agency fees ballooned, outpacing inflation, professionalism, and fairness. Now some agencies charge up to $3,000 just to schedule a reporter for one day.

IV. Proposals for Reform

The solution is not to dismantle the profession or accept the flawed premise that ASR can replace human expertise. Instead, we need structural and legislative reform. Below is a proposed framework:

1. Agency Price Transparency Requirement

Like hospitals and insurance companies, court reporting agencies should be required to disclose:

  • The court reporter’s invoiced per diem
  • The agency’s service markup or fee
  • Any separate charges for transcripts, exhibits, portals, or other services

Each invoice should include a “Court Reporter Compensation Disclosure” so attorneys can see exactly where their money is going.

Modeled After: Hospital Price Transparency Rule (CMS-1717-F2), requiring hospitals to disclose standard charges for items and services.

2. Per Diem Profit Cap (10% Rule)

Agencies should be limited to charging no more than 10% of the court reporter’s invoiced per diem as an administrative fee. This mirrors best practices in other industries:

  • Entertainment Industry: Talent agents representing actors or writers typically receive a capped 10% commission.
  • Real Estate: Brokers may receive a percentage of the transaction, but they are legally required to disclose their compensation.
  • Recruiting & Staffing Firms: Many are limited in markup percentage under contractual agreements, especially when sourcing W-2 contractors.

In each case, transparency and fairness are core tenets. The middlemen are compensated, but not at the expense of the professionals doing the work. There is no reason court reporting agencies—serving as glorified scheduling platforms in many cases—should be allowed to mark up services 100% to 200% or more.

3. Revenue Sharing Requirement for Add-Ons

If the agency is going to bill separately for:

  • Condensed transcripts
  • Word indexes
  • Exhibit scanning and storage
  • Digital delivery and online access

Then the reporter should receive a minimum of 50% of that income. This ensures the person who performed the work is compensated fairly, and it discourages agencies from unethically monetizing every element of the job without consent.

4. Fair Contractor Classification

The law should recognize that a certified court reporter operating as a 1099 independent contractor is absorbing costs normally borne by an employer, such as:

  • Medical insurance
  • SSI contributions
  • Payroll taxes
  • Continuing education and licensing

The per diem is not just a “rate for showing up”—it is the substitute for all the compensation and benefits of a salaried employee. Any reforms to classification should protect this model or incentivize salaried alternatives.

5. Attorney Education and Disclosure

All attorneys using freelance court reporters should be given a one-page notice explaining:

  • What per diem covers
  • How much the reporter is paid versus how much is billed
  • That certain services (condensed, exhibits, digital access) are agency-billed add-ons, often without compensation to the reporter

This builds trust and allows attorneys to make more informed decisions—including the option to book certified reporters directly.

6. Waiver Disclosure Requirement

If attorneys stipulate to waive a certified court reporter in civil proceedings, the law should require them to:

  • Sign a form acknowledging they are waiving the accuracy and certification of the record
  • Accept legal responsibility for any errors or omissions in the ASR-generated transcript
  • Disclose to clients that uncertified transcripts may compromise appeals, admissibility, and the official record

This protects consumers (litigants) and ensures transparency in decision-making.

V. Why This Matters

The unchecked rise in agency profits, combined with the use of uncertified ASR transcripts, is hollowing out a critical profession. Reporters are leaving the field, and students are discouraged from enrolling in schools due to the perceived instability and unfair treatment.

Attorneys are justifiably upset about costs. But we must help them understand that:

  • Court reporters are not setting the prices
  • Agencies are the ones inflating the costs
  • The solution is not to eliminate reporters but to eliminate the markup

VI. Call to Action

To save the court reporting profession and restore trust in our justice system, we must demand legislative reform now. Here are the next steps:

  • Draft model legislation: The Court Reporter Transparency and Equity Reform Act (CRTERA)
  • Partner with bar associations, plaintiff advocacy groups, and labor rights organizations
  • Educate lawmakers and court administrators on the problem
  • Empower reporters to speak directly to attorneys with truth and data

It is time to demystify the court reporting industry and shine a light on who is profiting, who is laboring, and who is getting left behind.

Let us restore fairness, professionalism, and integrity to the record.

Court Reporting – The Delta Force of Professions

There’s a joke circulating among court reporters lately: “We’re basically Tier One operators. We made it through Delta Force school—with punctuation.” And you know what? It’s not far from the truth.

In the elite world of U.S. military special operations, Delta Force selection is infamous. The washout rate is staggeringly high—typically 90 to 95 percent. Candidates are subjected to the most grueling physical, mental, and psychological challenges imaginable. Only a handful survive the brutal gauntlet to become Tier One operators.

Now consider court reporting school.

We may not carry rifles, but we do wield stenographic machines. We may not run combat drills in the woods, but we run five-minute takes at 225 words per minute—and do it over and over and over again until we pass, or collapse from sheer frustration. And statistically speaking, we’re right there with Delta: roughly 90% of students who enter court reporting school never graduate.

It’s time the world recognized the mental toughness, discipline, and elite focus it takes to become a court reporter. Because whether you’re a stenographer using a machine or a voice writer using your vocal cords, what we do is not just difficult—it’s extraordinary.

The Washout Rate That No One Talks About

Let’s start with the numbers. Most court reporting programs advertise graduation rates in the single digits. Some even lower. For every 100 students who start out starry-eyed, dreaming of a six-figure career and job flexibility, only 5 to 10 will ever graduate, pass the state exam, and begin working professionally.

Compare that to other professions. The graduation rate for law school? Over 80%. Nursing school? Around 85%. Even med school clocks in at about 84%. But court reporting? We’re down in the Delta Force zone—95% attrition. Why is this not discussed more widely?

Because people assume typing is easy.

Because they think we “just sit there.”

Because the public, and even some in the legal profession, have no idea what it takes to train your brain to process live speech at hundreds of words per minute, make instantaneous punctuation decisions, and create an accurate record in real time—without missing a beat.

The truth is: Court reporting is one of the most mentally taxing and technically specialized careers in the world.

The Mental Gauntlet

Just like Tier One operators undergo psychological stress testing, court reporting students face daily mental fatigue. It’s not just fast fingers—it’s a constant balance of rhythm, accuracy, and interpretation. Imagine listening to three people talk over each other, in legalese, with heavy accents, in a loud courtroom—and your job is to capture every single word.

If a name is said once and never repeated, you still have to get it. If a judge mumbles a ruling, you can’t miss it. If an attorney gets aggressive, rapid-fire, shouting objections mid-question, you better not flinch.

You can’t blink. You can’t zone out. You can’t daydream. You are the record.

Court reporting school is the proving ground for this level of mental acuity. It breaks most people. Only the toughest make it through.

The Physical and Emotional Toll

Like Delta Force candidates carrying 70-pound packs across mountainous terrain, court reporting students carry their own weight: financial burdens, anxiety, and the relentless pressure of “getting out of school.”

It’s not uncommon for students to spend four, five, or even seven years in school—enduring the heartbreak of missing a test pass by just a few words. Again and again.

Students practice until their wrists ache. They skip vacations, work side jobs, and sacrifice social lives—all for the dream of writing at 225 words per minute with 95% accuracy, live.

That kind of dedication takes Tier One grit.

Reframing the Narrative

So why don’t people respect the profession?

Because we haven’t told this story. We’ve let others define us. We’ve allowed automation companies and court administrators to dismiss us as “typists.” We’ve accepted the notion that we’re easily replaceable by artificial intelligence or digital recorders.

Enough.

We need to reframe our profession as one that requires the same elite-level training and excellence that society reveres in other fields—like aviation, medicine, and yes, special forces.

We are Responsible Charge professionals. Just as licensed engineers are in charge of the safety and oversight of construction projects, court reporters are in charge of the official record. We don’t just hit “record” and hope for the best. We evaluate context, punctuate meaning, and preserve the integrity of the judicial process. No machine can do that. No app can understand sarcasm, dialect, or intent the way a trained human ear can.

We Are Tier One

When you make it through court reporting school, you don’t just get a certificate—you earn your stripes. You’re one of the few, the elite, the trained. You can walk into a courtroom and handle a 200-page murder trial transcript without fear. You can write real-time for judges and deaf attorneys. You can cover high-profile depositions, arbitrations, and board meetings with confidence.

You are the record.

Like Delta Force operators who may never speak openly about their missions, court reporters work in the background. Quiet professionals. Invisible until needed. And absolutely indispensable.

A Call to Arms

This is not just a moment for celebration—it’s a moment for rallying. We need to:

  • Tell this story in our schools, to keep students motivated.
  • Share this message with the legal community, so they understand what we do.
  • Use it in recruiting, marketing, and media outreach.
  • Advocate for legislation that recognizes our professional status, including licensing, training standards, and transcript certification protections.
  • Band together across modalities—machine writers and voice writers—to protect and preserve the integrity of our profession.

We have nothing to be ashamed of. We are not antiquated. We are not obsolete. We are elite.

Final Thought

So next time you hear someone ask, “Isn’t court reporting being replaced by computers?”—look them square in the eye and say:

“You ever heard of Delta Force? Only 5% make it through. Court reporting school is just as tough. And we don’t carry guns—we carry the truth.”

Now pat yourself on the back, Tier One. You’ve earned 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):

How Court Reporting Can Survive and Thrive in the Age of AI and ASR

In a world increasingly dominated by artificial intelligence (AI), automated speech recognition (ASR), and digital recording, many traditional professions face an existential threat. Court reporting — once considered the gold standard of legal recordkeeping — is among them. However, recent reflections from one of AI’s most influential pioneers, Geoffrey Hinton, the so-called “Godfather of AI,” suggest a way forward. His insights not only reaffirm the enduring value of human skill and accountability but also illuminate a survival strategy for stenographic court reporters in an increasingly automated landscape.

The Existential Risk — and Opportunity — in AI

Geoffrey Hinton, a cognitive psychologist and one of the original architects of deep learning, has recently become one of the most vocal critics of the technology he helped create. He warns that unregulated and rapidly advancing AI poses a significant existential threat to humanity. In an interview on The Diary of a CEO podcast, Hinton didn’t mince words: “We should recognize that this stuff is an existential threat and we have to face the possibility that unless we do something soon we’re near the end.”

But amid his ominous predictions, Hinton made an unexpected observation: some jobs will endure — not because they resist automation ideologically, but because they involve uniquely human traits. He specifically mentioned plumbing as one such profession — a job that combines cognitive skills with physical dexterity, problem-solving, and real-time decision-making in dynamic environments.

That description might sound surprisingly familiar to stenographic court reporters.

What Is a Stenographer — Really?

Too many outside the profession — and some decision-makers inside it — see court reporting as mere transcription. That misconception is one of the greatest threats to its survival. But in reality, a court reporter’s job is multidimensional: it combines realtime speech capture, legal knowledge, ethical judgment, formatting and producing official records, working with complex software, and serving as the officer of the court in charge of the integrity of the record.

And it’s time we clarify this once and for all:

Stenographers are professionals who capture the spoken word in real time to create a verbatim record.

They can use a steno machine (keyboard) or a steno mask (voice). Both modalities — machine writing and voice writing — are forms of stenography. Both rely on a trained human, real-time input, a specialized dictionary, CAT software, and rigorous standards for producing the official transcript.

Both are stenographers.

What sets us apart — and secures our professional identity — is our role as the Responsible Charge. Like licensed engineers in the 1980s who fought to preserve their standing when the title “engineer” was being diluted, we too must define our function. The Society of Professional Engineers published Responsible Charge statements to distinguish credentialed professionals from unqualified imitators. Similarly, many regulated professions — from engineering to architecture — have a Responsible Charge: someone who ensures oversight, accountability, and coordination of all subcontracted work.

Court reporters are that for the legal record. We ensure the integrity of the transcript from start to finish. We don’t just input data; we verify, certify, and take responsibility for the final product. That duty is not automatable. It requires a human, licensed professional with training, ethics, and a sworn obligation to accuracy.

Becoming the Plumber of the Legal Industry

If Hinton is right, then we must stop framing court reporting as an analog job in a digital world. Instead, we should reframe it as the plumbing of the legal system — essential, physical, and difficult to automate. Like plumbing, court reporting isn’t just about tools or technology. It’s about skill. It’s about judgment. It’s about the trust society places in you to ensure everything flows properly — and that nothing gets lost, misdirected, or contaminated in the process.

Just as plumbers crawl under sinks and troubleshoot complex systems in real time, court reporters operate in high-pressure situations: criminal trials, depositions, motion hearings, arbitrations, and more. And just as a leaky pipe can flood a house, a corrupted record can ruin a trial, jeopardize due process, or cost someone their freedom.

Adaptation and Innovation & The Dual Path Forward

To survive, court reporting must embrace a twofold strategy: adaptation and education.

1. Embrace Technology as a Tool, Not a Threat

Court reporters must integrate smart tools like AI, ASR, and machine learning — not to replace their job, but to augment it. Use AI to clean audio files before scoping. Use ChatGPT to summarize transcripts or prepare indexes. Embrace digital exhibit platforms and cloud backup solutions. These are not threats to our job — they are enhancements to our performance.

Imagine a doctor refusing to use robotic assistance during surgery or a pilot rejecting autopilot. The tools don’t replace them — they make them better. Court reporters deserve the same innovation.

2. Educate Judges, Attorneys, and Lawmakers

We must spearhead efforts to educate the legal community about what court reporters actually do — and what’s at stake when we’re replaced by unverified digital methods. That includes advocating for legislation that requires a certified human stenographer (machine or voice) to oversee any legal transcript used in court.

The public doesn’t know that many ASR “transcripts” used in courts are uncertified, error-ridden, and unauditable. It’s up to us to expose the truth, provide examples, and offer a professional standard that technology alone cannot meet.

Unity in Stenography – Steno Machine + Steno Voice

It’s time to end the artificial division between machine writers and voice writers. We must recognize that both use sophisticated software and produce certified, verbatim records under oath. What sets both groups apart from AI and ASR is human accountability. As our numbers dwindle, and demand surges, our ability to stand united becomes a core survival tactic.

Voice writers aren’t our competitors — they are our colleagues. If we fail to ally, AI and digital will fill the gap, and neither of us will survive. Together, we can reinforce the foundation of the profession, widen the pipeline, and fulfill the demand.

Messaging Matters – Rebranding the Profession

To thrive, court reporting must rebrand itself as a skilled, elite, and resilient profession, not an outdated relic. That means:

  • Telling stories of courtroom drama where only the reporter caught the key phrase.
  • Publishing transcripts of AI errors that could have derailed justice.
  • Highlighting moments when a court reporter saved a record — and a case.
  • Rebranding ourselves as the Responsible Charge — emphasizing our unique accountability and oversight role in the creation of the legal record.

Hinton said, “Someone like a legal assistant, a paralegal – they’re not going to be needed for very long.” If we act like data entry clerks, that’ll be our fate too. But if we act like the plumbers of the court — indispensable, vigilant, human — we will endure.

The Path to Resilience – What We Must Do Now

  1. Invest in training — not just in steno schools, but in legislative advocacy, tech tools, and courtroom confidence.
  2. Mentor the next generation — because if we don’t pass down our knowledge, no one else will.
  3. Unite under a national identity — a coalition of stenographers using voice and machine alike.
  4. Spearhead legislative reform — that mandates human oversight of legal transcripts.
  5. Market ourselves boldly — because silence is a vacuum that AI vendors will happily fill.

The Future Is Ours — If We Claim It

Geoffrey Hinton has spent decades building the machines that now threaten to displace millions. And even he, at the peak of technological knowledge, believes that some jobs — like plumbing — will remain. Court reporting is one of those jobs. But only if we fight for it, modernize it, and redefine it as indispensable.

We are the stewards of the record. No machine can replace our presence, our discernment, or our oath. If we lean into that — not away from it — we won’t just survive the age of AI.

We will outlast it.

#SavingSteno #CourtReportingMatters #HumansOverAI #RealtimeHeroes #StenoSurvivors #VoiceAndMachineTogether #TheRecordMatters #UnitedWeSteno #AIWontReplaceUs

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 AAERT-Certified Digital Reporters Are Not the Answer to the Court Reporter Crisis

In response to our recent article, “When ‘No Options’ Isn’t an Option: The Quiet Collapse of Court Reporting in West Texas,” a well-intentioned reader offered the following comment:

“There is an entire national organization of certified digital reporters, i.e., not recorders, named AAERT—the American Association of Electronic Reporters and Transcribers at aaert.org. Peruse the website of ethics, bylaws, policies and procedures, testing protocol with the Best Practices Guide of 285 pages, from which the test is administered, which must be mastered to pass the test. So if you are having court reporter shortages, you may wish to investigate this opportunity that has been around since 1985. They may be able to help with your backlog.”

This is a common suggestion being repeated across the country—especially by those seeking short-term fixes to a long-term crisis. But the suggestion deserves a deeper look, because while it sounds like a helpful workaround, it misses the core issue and carries long-term risks that many in the legal field don’t fully understand.

The Heart of the Problem is the Court Reporter Shortage

No one denies that we are facing severe shortages of certified court reporters in many parts of the country. Courts in rural areas, like West Texas, are struggling to find enough stenographers to keep up with demand. Retirements are accelerating. Job openings are going unfilled.

But just because there’s a shortage doesn’t mean any available substitute will do.

This isn’t a matter of just finding someone to “take notes” or “record audio.” It’s about protecting the accuracy, integrity, and legal credibility of the official court record. And not all reporting methods are created equal.

AAERT and Digital Reporters – What They Do (and Don’t Do)

AAERT—the American Association of Electronic Reporters and Transcribers—has been around since 1985 and offers certification for digital court reporters and transcribers. Their members typically operate recording equipment in courtrooms, monitor proceedings, and then transcribe the audio later. Their website offers a code of ethics, best practices guide, and a 285-page study manual.

That all sounds reassuring on the surface—but here’s where the fundamental differences emerge:

  1. AAERT “reporters” are not live, realtime professionals.
    They operate equipment. They don’t produce realtime transcripts. They don’t interrupt to ask for clarification. They don’t capture the record verbatim as it’s happening.
  2. There’s no legal certification of accuracy at the moment the record is made.
    With a stenographer, the record is created live, by a licensed, sworn officer of the court. The person who creates the record is the one certifying its accuracy—right then and there. With digital recording, that chain of custody is broken. The audio is captured by one person, often transcribed by another, and then certified post hoc—if at all.
  3. They are not trained to the same standards as certified court reporters.
    A 285-page study guide may sound impressive, but it pales in comparison to the 2–4 years of schooling, 225 WPM testing requirements, realtime captioning expertise, and state/national licensing that stenographic reporters must complete to earn their title.

We Aren’t Facing a Tech Problem. We’re Facing a Prioritization Problem.

The commenter’s suggestion is based on a common (and dangerous) assumption: that this crisis is about tools. It’s not.

It’s about value.

Court reporting is being deprioritized by budget-conscious administrators and policy makers who don’t realize the long-term implications of replacing skilled professionals with machines and post-processors. They’re being sold a narrative that something is better than nothing—when in reality, substandard records can do more harm than good.

Judges and attorneys still overwhelmingly want live, certified reporters in their courtrooms. But they aren’t always aware how close the profession is to collapse—and they often don’t understand that once stenographic infrastructure disappears, it’s gone for good.

We can’t “pause” court reporting and pick it up again later. We can’t let schools close, manufacturers go under, and software companies fold—and then expect to reboot the entire ecosystem if AI or digital recording fails to deliver.

A Chain of Custody You Can’t Afford to Break

Legal records are only as strong as the system that creates them.

With a court reporter:

  • The record is created and certified in real time.
  • The reporter is trained to handle interruptions, overlapping voices, difficult terminology, and non-verbal cues.
  • The integrity of the record is protected from the moment of capture.

With digital systems:

  • Audio may be unclear, corrupted, or incomplete.
  • The person transcribing the record might not have been present.
  • Edits, omissions, or misattributions can go unnoticed—until it’s too late.

Let’s be honest: an audio recording is not a transcript. And a machine that records without context cannot deliver the same accountability or accuracy as a trained human expert.

So What Should We Be Doing?

Instead of pivoting to alternatives that weaken the legal record, we need to double down on preserving—and investing in—the profession that works.

Here’s how:

  • Fund and support stenographic schools. Many programs are full and thriving. Voicewriting is helping fill gaps quickly. The pipeline is there—but it needs backing.
  • Retain and reward working reporters. Raise rates, offer bonuses, and create incentives for certified reporters to work in rural areas or underserved courts.
  • Educate the legal community. Judges, clerks, and attorneys need to understand that not all “reporters” are created equal—and that realtime, certified professionals offer irreplaceable value.
  • Redirect funding toward sustainable solutions. Instead of spending millions building digital infrastructure, reinvest in training and keeping the gold-standard method alive.

This Isn’t About Gatekeeping. It’s About Standards.

We’re not dismissing the efforts of those certified by AAERT or those who operate digital systems with care and professionalism. But let’s not confuse accessibility with equivalence.

Digital recording may fill gaps in an emergency. But it’s not a replacement for the work of a licensed, realtime court reporter—nor should it be treated as one.

So, to answer the original question: yes, we’ve heard of AAERT. But we also know what’s at stake. If the legal system truly wants to protect the integrity of the record, we can’t afford to lower the standard.

We must protect, fund, and grow the profession that has served the justice system for over a century—before we replace it with something that simply sounds like a solution.

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 Scopist Crisis – A Silent Threat to the Integrity of Court Reporting

In the world of stenographic court reporting, where accuracy and efficiency are paramount, one of the most underdiscussed yet increasingly destructive challenges is the growing difficulty in finding competent, trained, and reliable scopists. As stenographers continue to be overburdened with heavy workloads, fast-paced turnaround demands, and the need for real-time precision, the role of the scopist should be one of support and professional collaboration. Unfortunately, in recent years, it has instead become a source of deep frustration, costly mistakes, and growing mistrust.

This is not just a small, isolated problem—it’s becoming a crisis that undermines the integrity of our work, our deadlines, and ultimately, our profession.

Scopists Are Supposed to Be Our Safety Net

Court reporters often rely on scopists to catch errors, smooth out awkward phrasing, correct untranslates, and elevate a rough draft into a certified, professional transcript. In theory, the scopist should be the skilled second set of eyes—a professional who understands not only grammar and punctuation, but also the nuances of legal terminology, transcript formatting, and the reporter’s unique software and personal preferences.

But increasingly, that ideal isn’t matching reality.

Many reporters, including myself, have noticed a growing disconnect between what we expect from a scopist and what we actually receive. I’m on StenoCat32, and it has become painfully obvious that a surprising number of scopists who apply for work are not proficient with the software, fail to grasp even the most basic comma rules, and return transcripts riddled with errors—sometimes worse than if they had never touched them at all. Worse yet, they often miss obvious mistranslates, don’t run spellcheck, and fail to follow any reasonable style or format guide.

A Flood of Unqualified Applicants

I receive emails almost daily from individuals claiming to be experienced legal transcriptionists, often with resumes that tout years of experience but little to no court reporting background. The messages are often polite and professional in tone, with phrases like “attention to detail” and “strong understanding of legal terminology.” Yet when tested or assigned a trial job, these same candidates often return work that shows a complete lack of real-world skill.

Many of these inquiries are also from overseas applicants—some of whom are applying from countries with no direct exposure to U.S. legal proceedings, transcript formatting rules, or even proper American punctuation norms. It’s not unusual to see transcripts come back with British-style punctuation, improper spacing, or confusion over basic U.S. legal terms. While outsourcing has a place in many industries, it does not belong in the realm of certified court reporting without strict oversight and hands-on training. Our legal system depends on accurate, timely, and jurisdiction-specific transcripts.

The Risks Are Too High

Imagine this: A court reporter turns in their rough draft to be scoped overnight. The scopist doesn’t recognize a misstroke and lets “hearsay” stand as “hearse A.” The scopist also deletes paragraphing without explanation, introduces punctuation errors, and fails to fix “statue” where “statute” was clearly intended. The court reporter, relying on their scopist, certifies the transcript without catching all these mistakes.

Now that transcript is entered into the record—full of errors, legal misunderstandings, and formatting missteps. The court reporter is liable. The attorney is disadvantaged. The judge may lose faith in the reporter. And the profession takes yet another hit to its credibility.

We’re living in a time when ASR (automatic speech recognition) is knocking on the courtroom door, digital recording companies are promising faster and cheaper “solutions,” and the court reporting profession is under constant scrutiny. We cannot afford to allow incompetence to flourish in our support systems.

Software Matters

One of the biggest problems is that many scopists aren’t proficient in the software the reporter uses. StenoCat32, for example, is a powerful CAT (computer-aided transcription) system that offers extensive customization, job dictionaries, global tables, and style settings. But someone unfamiliar with the platform can easily override important global entries, change format settings unintentionally, or leave behind dozens of untranslated steno strokes.

Reporters using other systems—like Case CATalyst or Eclipse—report similar issues. A scopist who doesn’t know the software is like a surgeon’s assistant who doesn’t know how to hand off instruments—it’s dangerous, inefficient, and leads to mistakes.

Training in specific software platforms should be a baseline requirement—not a bonus. Yet too many scopists either bluff their way into jobs or assume that generic transcription experience is transferable. It’s not.

The Scopist Shortage Within a Reporter Shortage

Court reporting already faces a national shortage of trained professionals, with some counties in states like Texas, California, and Florida experiencing chronic vacancies. And now we’re seeing the same trend trickle down to scopists. The experienced, veteran scopists who built their reputations working with top-tier reporters are retiring or leaving the field. What’s left is a shallow pool of freelancers—many of whom are not adequately trained, not software-literate, and not committed to the level of professionalism this job requires.

This isn’t about gatekeeping—it’s about maintaining standards in a profession that is literally built on the word “verbatim.”

What Needs to Change

  1. Certification and Testing
    There should be a voluntary national scopist certification, at minimum, with software-specific modules and real-world scoping samples required. Reporters should be able to hire from a verified directory of trained scopists, the same way court reporters are vetted through state licensing boards.
  2. Software Proficiency
    Scopists must be fluent in the CAT software they claim to work in. A 10-minute test scoped in the reporter’s software of choice should be mandatory before hiring.
  3. Higher Pay for Quality
    Just as court reporters charge premium rates for realtime work or daily copy, there should be an industry-wide shift to pay top dollar for trained, responsive, skilled scopists. If scopists are treated like disposable vendors, we can’t be surprised when they don’t deliver excellence.
  4. Collaboration and Communication
    Reporters and scopists should be working as partners—not strangers exchanging files in a vacuum. Better communication around preferences, job dictionaries, and expectations is key.
  5. Domestic Priority
    While some overseas scopists may be excellent and capable of learning, there should be a prioritization of domestic professionals who understand U.S. legal culture and language. At the very least, these applicants should undergo additional vetting and legal terminology testing before being considered.

A Call for Professional Integrity

Court reporters are under more pressure than ever to deliver flawless work in record time. We cannot do that without reliable, trained, and intelligent support. Scopists are not optional—they are essential—but only when they are competent and conscientious.

If the scopist community wants to be seen as true professionals, they must be held to professional standards. Reporters must also raise their expectations, share feedback, and demand better—not just settle out of desperation.

It’s time to restore excellence to the team behind the transcript. Because our words matter—and every person who touches them must treat them with the same care, precision, and pride.

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.

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Protecting the Integrity of the Legal Record Nationwide – A Formal Request for NCRA to Lead on ASR Policy Reform

A National Model Law to Regulate the Use of ASR and Preserve Human Oversight in Legal Proceedings

As part of this effort, I respectfully ask that NCRA spearhead a coordinated legislative campaign across all 50 states, using this proposal as a model law. NCRA can play a vital role by providing state associations with a standardized legislative template, policy talking points, and limited strategic support in advocating for adoption within their jurisdictions. By empowering local leaders with consistent resources, messaging, and guidance, NCRA can ensure a unified national response that protects the profession and upholds the integrity of the legal record in every courtroom, across every state.

LETTER TO NCRA LEADERSHIP

StenoImperium

June 26, 2025

To:
NCRA Board of Directors
c/o Marcia Ferranto, CEO
National Court Reporters Association
12030 Sunrise Valley Drive, Suite 400
Reston, VA 20191

Re: Proposal to Establish a National ASR Licensing and Oversight Policy Initiative

Dear NCRA Board of Directors,

I am writing to propose that NCRA take a national leadership role in advancing legislative protections around the use of Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) and AI in court reporting. Specifically, I propose that NCRA adopt and promote a model law prohibiting the use of ASR-generated transcripts in legal settings unless certified by a licensed stenographic or voice writing reporter.

The rapid and often unregulated proliferation of digital reporting and ASR threatens the integrity of our profession. These technologies, when used without qualified oversight, result in flawed records, erode public trust, and endanger due process. However, when responsibly managed by trained, licensed professionals, technology can enhance accuracy and efficiency.

I believe NCRA is uniquely positioned to spearhead a national policy initiative that defines this boundary and preserves the essential role of human accountability in legal recordkeeping.

Enclosed is a policy proposal and model framework for a national initiative titled the Court Reporter Certification and Automated Transcription Integrity Act. It is designed for flexible adoption by state legislatures, licensing boards, and judicial councils.

I respectfully request that NCRA consider adopting this model as part of its national legislative priorities, and that it provide support to state associations seeking to implement this framework at the local level.

I would be honored to assist in developing this initiative further, in collaboration with the Government Relations and Legislative Affairs Committee.

Thank you for your leadership, your advocacy, and your ongoing commitment to protecting our profession and the integrity of the legal record.

With respect and appreciation,

StenoImperium, CSR

📘 ENCLOSURE: NATIONAL POLICY PROPOSAL

Proposal Title:
Court Reporter Certification and Automated Transcription Integrity Act – National Model Framework

🔹 Proposal Summary

This proposal recommends the adoption of a national model law by NCRA and its affiliate associations to ensure that ASR and AI-generated transcripts may only be used in legal proceedings when reviewed, certified, and controlled by a licensed stenographic or voice-writing court reporter.

🔹 Core Principles

  1. ASR is a tool, not a substitute.
    Only trained, licensed professionals may use ASR within their authorized duties.
  2. Certified human oversight is mandatory.
    No ASR transcript may be considered official without review and certification by a licensee.
  3. Unlicensed ASR use is unauthorized practice.
    Any legal transcript produced by AI or ASR alone is inadmissible and illegal.
  4. Human responsibility cannot be outsourced.
    The final transcript must be tied to a human who bears legal and ethical responsibility.

🔹 Model Policy Language for States

“No transcript generated by Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) or artificial intelligence shall be considered official, admissible, or certifiable for use in court or deposition proceedings unless reviewed, signed, and certified by a licensed stenographic or voice writing reporter authorized in the state where the proceeding occurred.”

🔹 Implementation Strategy

  • Create a downloadable legislative toolkit for state associations
  • Provide model bill language and talking points
  • Offer training webinars on how to advocate for the policy
  • Encourage collaboration with bar associations and state licensing boards
  • Leverage NCRA’s Government Relations Committee for lobbying support

🔹 Benefits to NCRA and the Profession

  • Reinforces NCRA’s leadership in ethical tech policy
  • Protects the role of licensed reporters in every state
  • Helps prevent job displacement by unregulated automation
  • Preserves the accuracy and reliability of the legal record
  • Rebuilds trust with the legal community

To this date, 9/1/2025, I’ve received no response from the NCRA.

An Urgent Call for Federal Action – Protecting the Legal Record in the Age of ASR

To the NCRA Board of Directors and Executive Leadership:

As our profession stands at a technological crossroads, we are faced with a choice: lead the conversation on responsible innovation—or watch from the sidelines as automation reshapes our industry without us. This letter is a call to action, urging the National Court Reporters Association to take the lead on a federal initiative that would preserve human oversight in legal transcription across the United States.

We know the threat: Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) and AI-driven tools are rapidly replacing live, licensed professionals in courtrooms and depositions. These technologies are being deployed without proper regulation, certification, or accountability—often marketed as cheaper, faster, and “good enough.” But good enough is not justice.

Errors like “five oh two” misinterpreted as 5:02 a.m., or key legal terms garbled by AI, are no longer hypothetical—they are showing up in real transcripts, in real courtrooms, with real consequences.

This isn’t just a professional issue. It’s a constitutional one. It’s a due process issue. It’s a national threat to the integrity of the legal record.

Introducing the Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act

To address this crisis head-on, I have developed a federal legislative and regulatory proposal: the Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act. Its purpose is simple, but powerful: to ensure that no legal transcript used in a federal court, agency, or federally funded program may be accepted unless it has been reviewed and certified by a licensed human court reporter or voice writer.

It is built around a core truth: ASR is a tool—not a substitute.

What the Proposal Does

✅ Requires Licensure-Based Oversight

All transcripts used in federal proceedings—civil, criminal, administrative, or immigration—must be certified by a licensed stenographer or voice writer. This ensures human accountability.

🚫 Prohibits Unsupervised ASR

Transcripts generated solely by ASR without human certification would be inadmissible in federal courtrooms or federally funded programs, such as legal aid services.

🏛 Regulates Through Agencies

The DOJ, AOUSC, LSC, and other federal bodies would implement uniform certification and quality standards through rulemaking.

💰 Conditions Federal Funding

Any state court or agency receiving federal funding for transcription services must comply with these certification standards. This gives the proposal teeth and reach.

Why NCRA Should Lead This

NCRA has long positioned itself as the national voice for preserving the integrity of the record and the protection of licensed court reporters. But the threat of digital encroachment is now bigger than any one state. We need a national standard. We need a federal firewall.

This is your opportunity to:

  • Reassert national leadership over the professional and ethical boundaries of transcription.
  • Rally your membership base and affiliated state associations under a unified cause.
  • Educate federal legislators and judicial leaders about the risks of unchecked ASR adoption.
  • Be the organization that modernizes court reporting without surrendering its soul to automation.

Strategic Path Forward

I propose that NCRA:

  1. Endorse the Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act as model policy.
  2. Include this initiative in your 2025 Government Relations legislative priorities.
  3. Coordinate with federal lobbyists and legal policy groups to identify congressional sponsors (e.g., Rep. Hank Johnson, Sen. Dick Durbin).
  4. Submit formal petitions or letters to federal agencies like the DOJ, AOUSC, and Legal Services Corporation urging the adoption of certification rules.
  5. Mobilize members and state leaders to support this campaign with testimony, outreach, and data.

The Stakes Are Clear

Without a federal safeguard, ASR-generated transcripts will continue to be adopted as the default—cheap, fast, and dangerously flawed. And once the federal government legitimizes uncertified AI-based transcripts, states will follow.

But with NCRA’s leadership, we can reverse this trend. We can protect consumers, elevate standards, and ensure that the legal record in this country remains what it has always been: a professional, certified, and accountable product of human expertise.

We do not need to fear technology. We need to govern it. Let’s show the country what real leadership looks like.

With appreciation and urgency,
StenoImperium, CSR
Court Reporter | Advocate | Technologist

There is a path forward for a federal-level law or regulation, and while court reporting is traditionally regulated by the states, there are strategic federal entry points that can support or mandate national standards. Here’s how you can approach it:

🇺🇸 FEDERAL STRATEGY: Enacting National Protections for the Legal Record

🏛️ Goal:

Pass a federal law or regulation that:

  • Requires licensed human oversight for any transcript used in federal courts or federally funded legal proceedings.
  • Prohibits ASR-generated legal transcripts from being admissible unless certified by a licensed professional.
  • Establishes a national legal record integrity standard across jurisdictions.

🔹 Option A: Congressional Legislation

📜 Proposed Title:

Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act

📘 What It Would Do:

  • Mandate that any transcript used in federal courts, administrative hearings, or federally funded legal programs (like legal aid or immigration proceedings) must:
    • Be certified by a licensed stenographer or voice writer.
    • Be inadmissible if produced by ASR without human oversight.

✅ Potential Impact:

  • Covers all federal courts (U.S. District, Circuit, Bankruptcy).
  • Influences state systems that rely on federal standards or funding.
  • Applies to agencies like the EEOC, DOJ, USCIS, and federal contractors.

🏛️ Congressional Committees to Target:

  • House Judiciary Committee (Subcommittee on Courts)
  • Senate Judiciary Committee
  • House Education & Workforce Committee (for vocational licensure)
  • House and Senate Appropriations (for funding conditions)

🔹 Option B: Federal Agency Regulation

If legislation is too slow, advocate for regulatory action via federal agencies.

🔧 Agencies That Could Set Rules:

  1. Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts (AOUSC)
    → Can issue rules of procedure and contracting standards for U.S. courts.
  2. Department of Justice (DOJ)
    → Can mandate transcript standards in civil rights and criminal prosecutions.
  3. Federal Communications Commission (FCC)
    → Already regulates captioning and transcription accuracy for public access.
  4. Department of Labor (DOL)
    → Could tie workforce development grants to licensure protections.
  5. Legal Services Corporation (LSC)
    → Could mandate licensed professionals for legal aid-funded transcript work.

🧩 Federal Language Sample (for Congress or AOUSC)

Section X – Human Certification of Legal Transcripts

No transcript generated through Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) or artificial intelligence technology shall be accepted by any federal court, agency, or federally funded legal program unless reviewed, certified, and signed by a licensed court reporter or certified voice writer legally authorized to perform such duties in the jurisdiction of record.

The Attorney General and Director of the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts shall issue regulations ensuring compliance with this requirement across all federal proceedings.

🏛️ Possible Federal Champions:

  • Sen. Dick Durbin (IL) – Chair of Senate Judiciary
  • Rep. Hank Johnson (GA) – Chair of Subcommittee on Courts
  • Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (RI) – Advocate for court modernization
  • Rep. Robert C. “Bobby” Scott (VA) – Vocational protections champion

Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act

Proposal Summary for Congressional and Agency Consideration

Title: Federal Legal Record Integrity and Certification Act

Objective: To protect the accuracy, reliability, and admissibility of transcripts used in federal legal proceedings by requiring that any transcript generated using Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) or artificial intelligence (AI) be reviewed, certified, and signed by a licensed human professional.

Background: With the rapid deployment of ASR technology in the legal system, the absence of trained human oversight has resulted in serious transcription errors, diminished due process, and a lack of accountability. Inaccurate transcripts threaten the fairness of federal trials, administrative hearings, and legal aid services. This proposal ensures that all federal legal records uphold the highest standards of integrity.

Key Provisions:

  1. Licensure-Based Oversight Requirement:
    • Any transcript used in a federal court, agency, or federally funded proceeding must be reviewed and certified by a licensed stenographer or voice writer.
  2. Ban on Unsupervised ASR Transcripts:
    • No transcript generated solely by ASR may be accepted in federal legal contexts unless it has been reviewed and certified by a licensed human professional.
  3. Agency and Court Regulation:
    • The Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts (AOUSC), Department of Justice (DOJ), Legal Services Corporation (LSC), and other relevant agencies shall implement standards enforcing this rule.
  4. Funding Conditions:
    • Federal grants to state courts or agencies for transcription services shall require compliance with human certification standards.

Federal Language Sample:

No transcript generated through Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) or artificial intelligence technology shall be accepted by any federal court, agency, or federally funded legal program unless reviewed, certified, and signed by a licensed court reporter or certified voice writer legally authorized to perform such duties in the jurisdiction of record.

The Attorney General and the Director of the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts shall issue regulations ensuring compliance with this requirement across all federal proceedings.

Implementation Pathways:

Option A: Congressional Legislation

  • Sponsor legislation through the House Judiciary Committee or Senate Judiciary Committee.
  • Tie to federal standards for admissible evidence or legal procedural integrity.

Option B: Federal Agency Rulemaking

  • Request AOUSC and DOJ to issue procedural standards.
  • LSC may adopt policy through its internal contracting and compliance mechanisms.

Benefits:

  • Restores trust in the federal legal system
  • Preserves due process and fair trial rights
  • Sets a national standard that can influence states
  • Prevents the erosion of qualified court reporting jobs

Supporters May Include:

  • National Court Reporters Association (NCRA)
  • American Association of Electronic Reporters and Transcribers (for licensed professionals)
  • Federal and state bar associations
  • Public defenders and civil rights advocacy groups

Next Steps:

  • Meet with congressional staff for sponsors (e.g., Rep. Hank Johnson, Sen. Durbin)
  • Draft outreach letters to DOJ, AOUSC, and LSC
  • Mobilize NCRA to formally support the proposal at the federal level

When “No Options” Isn’t an Option – The Quiet Collapse of Court Reporting in West Texas

In a rural county in West Texas, the justice system is running out of voices.

What once was a team of eight court reporters is now down to six — and that number is about to shrink even more. In a neighboring county, six positions will be reduced to four by the end of this year. Judges are scrambling. Reporters are stretching themselves thin to fill gaps. And despite a public job posting on MyTexasCSR.com, one local district court has received zero applicants. Now, that court is in talks with Verbatim to install digital recording equipment.

This isn’t a staffing issue. It’s a crisis.

And it’s not just happening in West Texas — it’s happening across the country. Courts are defaulting to digital not because it’s better, but because they believe it’s the only option. But is it?

What “No Options” Really Means

The phrase “there are no other options” is often used to justify a downgrade in service — in this case, swapping licensed professionals for microphones and software. But that phrase does something dangerous: it erases the real, human professionals who are still here, still willing, and still fighting to do this work.

The reporters in these counties haven’t disappeared. They’re stepping in where they can — but they’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsupported. “Some of us are filling in when needed,” says Melissa, a reporter in West Texas, “but it’s unsustainable.”

And she’s right. A patchwork of temporary help isn’t a solution. It’s a warning flare.

Digital Recording Isn’t a Fix — It’s a Gamble

When courts install digital recording systems, they often treat it as a neutral change — a technical upgrade, a budget-friendly solution. But here’s what they’re not telling the public:

  • No one is certifying the record.
  • There’s no one to read back.
  • There’s no accountability for errors.

In criminal court, that can mean the difference between freedom and incarceration. In civil court, it can cost parties tens of thousands in misinterpreted testimony. And in every case, it undermines public trust in the integrity of our legal system.

Microphones don’t create transcripts. People do. And the fewer people we have in those roles, the more broken our records become.

Why Are Reporters Leaving?

Let’s be honest: court reporting is a demanding profession that requires certification, continuous education, and skill. But when states fail to promote training, refuse to invest in student recruitment, and allow digital vendors to undercut the profession, reporters have little incentive to stay — let alone recommend the field to others.

In Texas, there are talented reporters willing to work — but they can’t cover every courtroom across every county without backup. And the younger generation isn’t stepping in fast enough, because we’ve failed to show them that this is a future worth pursuing.

What Needs to Change

We need a coordinated, national effort to:

  • Tie ASR/digital tools to licensed professionals only — so that machines don’t replace people, but instead serve them.
  • Fund court reporting programs and student support — especially in rural areas where the talent pipeline has dried up.
  • Document and expose the consequences of digital-only solutions — because the public deserves to know the risks.
  • Pass legislation state by state to define who is authorized to produce a legal record.

Most importantly, we need to push back against the false narrative that “there are no options.”

There are always options — they just require investment, vision, and will.

Melissa’s Message

Melissa’s story is just one of many, but it highlights the urgency of this moment. The decisions being made in small counties today will ripple across our entire judicial system tomorrow. And unless we act now, we may not have any qualified record keepers left to bear witness.

“I appreciate all you do,” she wrote. “Thank you for fighting the good fight.”

Let’s keep fighting — for Melissa, for Texas, and for every courtroom on the brink of silence.

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):

ASR in Court Reporting – Tool, Threat, or Transformation?

In the rapidly shifting landscape of court reporting, one debate keeps rising to the surface: Is there room for ASR in a profession built on human accountability? As court reporters face mounting pressure from digital alternatives, the idea of incorporating Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) — not just as a tool, but as a legitimate method of capturing the legal record — is sparking necessary and sometimes uncomfortable conversations.

Is ASR a threat? Could it be a helpful aid? Or, if deployed responsibly by a trained professional, could it become part of the solution to the court reporter shortage?

Let’s examine all sides.

⚖️ The Heart of the Debate: What Counts as a “Method”?

Stenography and voice writing are the two traditional, legally recognized methods of capturing a verbatim record. Each requires:

  • Rigorous training
  • Certification/licensure
  • Ethical responsibility
  • A human being present to oversee and correct in real time

ASR, on the other hand, is not a method — it’s a technology. It does not hold licensure. It does not have accountability. It does not understand context. And, most crucially, it does not sign and certify the record.

This foundational distinction is vital to the profession’s identity. If court reporters begin equating ASR with steno or voice writing, the lines between professional and machine-made transcripts blur — and the legal system risks confusing automation for expertise.

🚨 The Danger of ASR as a Standalone Method

Today, ASR is being sold and implemented in courts and depositions as a full-service solution, not merely a recording device. Companies tout it as faster, cheaper, and “good enough” — often with minimal or outsourced human correction afterward.

This is where many court reporters draw the line.

ASR is, by its very nature, probabilistic. It’s built to guess based on models, not understand intent or meaning. In court, where lives and liberty are on the line, even a 5% error rate can change outcomes. From misheard times like “five oh two” to misunderstood homophones or inaudible exchanges, context is everything — and machines don’t understand context.

Without a trained, licensed professional in Responsible Charge overseeing the process, these transcripts lack legal, ethical, and linguistic integrity. And yet, in jurisdictions where no licensure is required or budgets are tight, ASR is being sold as a complete replacement.

💬 A New Argument: What If a Stenographer Uses ASR?

Here’s where the conversation gets more interesting. A colleague recently posed a thought-provoking question:

“I use RSR (respeaker speech recognition) as my ‘machine.’ I sweat over my transcripts. I don’t use ASR as a full solution, but I’m treated as though I do. What if trained court reporters were allowed to use ASR as one of their tools?”

This raises a legitimate question: If ASR is used responsibly by a trained, certified stenographer — as part of their workflow, not in place of it — does that change the equation?

It just might.

✅ ASR As a Tool in a Human Workflow: Conditions for Responsible Use

Under very specific conditions, ASR could enhance the work of a stenographer, rather than undermine it. Here’s what that might look like:

  1. The stenographer remains the Responsible Charge.
    The human reporter is present (or monitoring live), legally responsible, and ethically bound to accuracy. The transcript bears their name and certification.
  2. ASR is used only as a supplementary tool.
    It might be used in scoping, auto-punctuation, or generating a rough draft — but never as the primary capture method. Steno or voice writing still drive the original record.
  3. All editing and proofing are done or directly supervised by the certified reporter.
    No outsourcing to non-certified contractors. No AI-only editing pipelines.
  4. It’s disclosed transparently.
    Attorneys and courts are told that AI assistance was used, not misled into thinking it’s a purely human-generated record.

When these standards are met, ASR becomes a modern tool in the court reporter’s arsenal — like a spellchecker or a transcription aid — not a substitute.

⚠️ The Slippery Slope: Risks Even With Responsible Use

But here’s the catch: even responsible use of ASR by stenos can lead to dangerous outcomes if not carefully defined and regulated.

  • Legitimizing ASR may backfire.
    Courts and agencies might say, “If a steno can use ASR, why not just use ASR alone?” The nuance of human oversight is often lost on administrators looking to cut costs.
  • It muddies the brand.
    The profession’s greatest strength is its claim to human accuracy and real-time correction. The more ASR enters the workflow, the less distinct that strength becomes in the eyes of clients.
  • The certification problem.
    If no one knows whether a transcript was produced via steno, voice, or AI-assisted ASR, how can courts trust the integrity of the record?

If ASR were permitted only under the control of licensed stenographers, and its use by unlicensed individuals or digital reporters were prohibited, could this strategy effectively curb the growing trend of agencies replacing certified court reporters with digital and ASR-based alternatives?

✅ WHY THIS STRATEGY COULD WORK

1. It reframes ASR as a professional’s tool, not a substitute.

By tying ASR use to licensure, you redefine it not as a replacement for human professionals, but as a supplementary instrument used under licensed authority — just like steno machines or CAT software.

This:

  • Delegitimizes digital-only solutions
  • Creates a legal distinction between “authorized” and “unauthorized” ASR use
  • Keeps human accountability front and center

2. It exposes the liability of unlicensed ASR use.

Once you draw that legal boundary, courts and agencies are forced to confront:

  • Who is certifying the record?
  • Who is responsible if it’s wrong?
  • Who can testify to its accuracy?

Right now, ASR vendors are dodging liability because no one is asking those questions. Licensure laws would bring them into the light.

3. It gives state licensure boards and court systems a foothold to push back.

This strategy could empower court reporting boards and bar associations to say:

“ASR use is fine — if and only if it’s under a license. Otherwise, it’s the unauthorized practice of law.”

That flips the script from defensiveness to regulatory offense.

4. It creates a clear consumer protection argument.

It’s not about blocking technology — it’s about protecting due process and the accuracy of the legal record. When framed that way, it appeals to judges, lawyers, and even legislators.

🚫 CHALLENGES TO IMPLEMENTATION

1. Most states don’t regulate digital reporting — yet.

You’d need:

  • New legislation or regulation in each state
  • Active enforcement mechanisms
  • Licensing boards willing to take a stand

States like Florida, Texas, and Arizona have let the digital takeover happen with little resistance. That culture needs to shift.

2. Vendors will fight back hard.

Digital reporting agencies like Verbit, U.S. Legal, and Planet Depos make massive profits from unlicensed ASR workflows. They will:

  • Lobby against licensing restrictions
  • Claim “innovation is being stifled”
  • Use access-to-justice and cost arguments

You’ll need solid PR, legislative alliances, and organized advocacy to counter them.

3. Courts are already over-reliant on digital.

If there aren’t enough licensed professionals to meet demand, courts will resist laws that limit ASR use. This is why growing the licensed workforce — including steno and voice — is key.

🧭 WHAT A MODEL POLICY COULD LOOK LIKE

Here’s what you might advocate:

“ASR shall only be used in the creation of legal transcripts when operated, reviewed, and certified by a licensed stenographic or voice writing court reporter. Any transcription or record generated through ASR or AI without licensed oversight shall be inadmissible in court, uncertifiable, and considered the unauthorized practice of court reporting.”

You can go further:

  • Require ASR audits by state licensing boards
  • Mandate that all transcripts be certified by a licensed reporter
  • Define digital-only records as unofficial or non-binding

🔥 BOTTOM LINE

Yes — promoting ASR as a tool strictly limited to licensed professionals, and banning its standalone use by unlicensed digital reporters, could strike a powerful blow to the unchecked spread of machine-made transcripts.

It reframes the entire debate around ethics, professionalism, and due process — instead of just technology.

If you’d like, I can help you draft:

  • A model state regulation or bill
  • A white paper or advocacy brief
  • A public campaign or association policy proposal

🧭 Where Do We Go From Here?

The court reporting community must take charge of this conversation before the tech companies define the narrative for us.

We should:

  • Promote tech-literate stenos, who understand and responsibly use new tools — without surrendering ethical control.
  • Reject any definition of ASR as a “method” of court reporting. It’s a tool, not a profession.
  • Encourage licensing bodies to set clear rules around tech-assisted workflows, ensuring certified reporters remain at the helm.
  • Educate the legal community about the differences between human-controlled and machine-controlled transcripts — and the dangers of automation without oversight.

🔥 Final Thought

ASR in the hands of a trained, licensed stenographer can be a tool for efficiency.
ASR in place of a trained stenographer is a tool for disaster.

Court reporters don’t have to fear technology — but we must not surrender to it. The profession’s survival depends not on rejecting tools outright, but on insisting that humans stay in charge.

The future isn’t just about how we capture words — it’s about who takes responsibility for them. And until a machine can swear an oath and take the stand, that responsibility must remain with us.

By: StenoImperium
Court Reporting is a profession — not a program.

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 a State Association Leaves the State – Why ILCRA’s Move to Florida Is a Red Flag for Court Reporters Everywhere

In a surprising development that has left many court reporters scratching their heads, the Illinois Court Reporters Association (ILCRA) recently announced that its headquarters has officially moved—not to another city in Illinois, but to Altamonte Springs, Florida. According to the notice, all future correspondence should now be sent to:

Illinois Court Reporters Association
222 S. Westmonte Dr., Ste. 111
Altamonte Springs, FL 32714

This is the second time in recent years that ILCRA has changed its headquarters address, previously moving from Illinois to Broadlands, Virginia. The pattern of shifting operations out of Illinois raises serious concerns about transparency, governance, and control of one of the state’s most important professional associations for stenographic court reporters.

What’s Going On?

At first glance, this might appear to be an administrative change—simply a new mailing address. But seasoned observers of the court reporting profession recognize the bigger picture. When a state association outsources its core functions—membership management, finances, event planning—to a third-party association management company (AMC), it can result in a fundamental shift in control. The address change to Florida strongly suggests that ILCRA is now being run, at least administratively and possibly financially, by an out-of-state management company based there.

Why Florida? Why Not Illinois?

This move is especially concerning because of the stark contrast between the two states. Illinois is one of the top four states in the country in terms of court reporter population and certified professionals. It has strong certification requirements, an active court reporting community, and historically has been a leader in the steno profession.

Florida, on the other hand, is an unregulated state. It has never required licensing for court reporters. There are no certification or registration requirements, and much of Florida’s judicial system has already transitioned to digital audio recording and outsourced transcription services. In many courts across Florida, live stenographic reporters are no longer used.

The decision to move the headquarters of a premier Illinois professional association to a state that has not only failed to protect the profession—but has functionally moved away from it altogether—is baffling and dangerous.

Enter Dave Wenhold

This is where the name Dave Wenhold comes in. Wenhold, the current Executive Director of the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA), has long been involved in the business of managing associations—especially within the court reporting field—through entities like the Miller/Wenhold Association Management firm and its various iterations.

His name is familiar to those in the profession because of past controversies. Wenhold’s firms have been linked to multiple state associations, and not always with positive outcomes. Most notably, the New York State Court Reporters Association (NYSCRA) experienced what some members called an “erasure of records” and a loss of financial oversight during Wenhold’s tenure. According to whistleblower accounts, records were lost, bank accounts were drained, and the board was left in disarray. One former leader stated, “We had no records from the time of Dave’s management.”

ILCRA appears to be following a similar trajectory, with the heart of the association now relocated hundreds of miles away to a state that has nothing to do with Illinois court reporting. While ILCRA’s board of directors may remain local in name, the operational control may no longer be in their hands.

The Dangers of Out-of-State Management

When an association outsources operations to an AMC located out-of-state, it introduces serious concerns:

  1. Loss of Local Accountability: Members lose the ability to walk into an office, call a local administrator, or meet with staff in person.
  2. Financial Transparency Issues: Who has access to ILCRA’s bank accounts? Who signs the checks? Are financial statements independently audited?
  3. Legal Liability: Is ILCRA still legally registered as a nonprofit corporation in Illinois? Or is it now administratively operating under the umbrella of a Florida or Virginia entity?
  4. Mission Drift: The further operations move from Illinois, the easier it becomes to drift from the core mission of serving Illinois reporters specifically.

This Isn’t Just About Mail

Many professional associations do hire outside firms to handle tasks like conference planning, website maintenance, or dues processing. But the mailing address is a symbolic and practical cornerstone. It reflects where records are kept, where correspondence is received, and often where the corporation is administratively controlled.

ILCRA’s decision to move its headquarters to Florida, of all places, is a symbolic detachment from its Illinois roots. This is not about a P.O. box; it’s about centralizing control in the hands of a third-party company—likely the same management group that has faced scrutiny in other jurisdictions.

The Role of the Board: Are They in Control?

In a properly functioning nonprofit, the board of directors is responsible for overseeing operations, approving budgets, and ensuring that the organization stays true to its mission. But when day-to-day operations are handed over to an AMC, boards often become rubber stamps rather than watchdogs.

If ILCRA’s board is now relying entirely on out-of-state administrators for membership communications, financial transactions, and records management, then they must be held accountable. Members should demand clarity on these critical questions:

  • Who is the Executive Director of ILCRA?
  • Is ILCRA still registered as an Illinois nonprofit?
  • Are any Illinois-based staff employed?
  • What are the terms of the contract with the AMC?

How This Affects You

If you’re an Illinois court reporter, this move directly affects your professional home. ILCRA is your voice at the state level. It advocates for legislation, supports education and certification, and provides critical networking and continuing education opportunities. If those functions are being steered by non-reporters in another state, how confident can you be that your interests are being prioritized?

Even if you’re not based in Illinois, this trend should concern you. What happens to one state association can easily spread. If AMC management can shift the mailing address, financial control, and records of an association without full transparency, then other associations could be next.

What You Can Do

  1. Ask Questions: Reach out to the ILCRA board and request a copy of their current AMC contract.
  2. Check Records: Look up ILCRA’s nonprofit status and tax filings via the Illinois Secretary of State and IRS 990 databases.
  3. Get Involved: Attend the annual convention this September and ask these questions publicly.
  4. Elect Accountable Leaders: Support board candidates who demand transparency and oppose outsourcing core functions out-of-state.

Conclusion: This Is a Warning Sign

The relocation of ILCRA’s headquarters to Florida is more than a logistical update. It signals a potential hollowing out of member-led control and a dangerous overreliance on third-party management. The same patterns that caused chaos in other state associations are now quietly repeating in Illinois. It’s up to court reporters—members, students, and advocates alike—to sound the alarm before it’s too late.

ILCRA belongs in Illinois. Period. Any move away from that mission should be met with scrutiny, transparency, and swift corrective action. Especially when it’s moving to a state that has never protected the profession, never licensed reporters, and has already let digital recording take over the courtroom.

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):

Crushing it with Carol!

Victory for Integrity – What the NCRA Election Teaches Us About Leadership and Toxic Culture

The results are in: Carol Reed Naughton has been elected Vice President of the National Court Reporters Association. In a race marked by contrasting philosophies and campaign styles, the outcome speaks volumes—not just about two candidates, but about the character of the steno community itself. Despite the manipulation, drama, and toxicity that crept into the election, integrity triumphed. This moment is more than a win for Carol—it’s a declaration that our profession refuses to normalize dysfunction.

The numbers speak for themselves: Carol Naughton won with 976 votes—an overwhelming 73.5% of the vote—compared to just 352 votes (26.5%) for Margary Rogers. It wasn’t just a win; it was a landslide. The message from the membership was clear: values matter. Several readers shared that while they had already made their decision, the information shared in these articles helped them recognize critical red flags—“timing, tactics, and content”—they might have otherwise overlooked. That clarity may have contributed to the crushing margin of victory.

And for every court reporter who’s ever felt disillusioned, bullied, or silenced by toxic circles within our industry, this win is for you.

“In Toxic Cultures, the Strong Don’t Survive—The Corrupt Do”

As Cynthia Mathieu, Ph.D., so aptly put it, “In a toxic culture, the strong don’t survive; the corrupt do.” That chilling reality plays out again and again in organizations where power is rewarded over principle, where popularity outweighs professionalism, and where those with the courage to speak up are pushed out, not uplifted.

But not this time.

In this election, we saw firsthand how one candidate openly bypassed the vetting process, downplayed past financial mismanagement, and ran a divisive campaign fueled more by visibility than values. The other followed the rules, earned the trust of the Nominating Committee, and focused her message on accountability and service. In an environment where dishonesty often hides behind performance and popularity, the steno community chose substance over spectacle.

That matters. That means something.

Toxic Leadership and the Toll of Misalignment

Toxic cultures thrive when there’s a gap between what leadership says it values and how it actually behaves. When the face of leadership is performative, but its actions are controlling, self-serving, or retaliatory, it creates an environment where honest people begin to suffer. They burn out. They lose trust. They get sick—mentally, emotionally, physically.

We saw evidence of that during this campaign. Members who dared to question Margary Rogers’ track record—her financial mismanagement during her tenure at MCRA, her refusal to relinquish control even after stepping down, her “strategic” bypassing of the NomCom—were met with backlash, not dialogue. People who raised valid concerns were painted as haters, not as advocates for due process.

It’s not strength that thrives in that environment. It’s survival instinct—rooted in manipulation, optics, and control.

And yet, good people spoke up. They told the truth. They did the hard thing.

They voted for the kind of leadership that doesn’t just say it values ethics—it lives it.

The Real Cost of Pretending to Fit In

This election revealed a deeper truth: those who align with toxic values may rise faster—but not higher. Not with the community watching. The moment we start compromising our own ethics to “fit in” with those who prize visibility over responsibility, we lose ourselves. Many in our field have felt that erosion—slow, creeping, but devastating. We become who the toxic culture needs us to be to survive: silent, compliant, and eventually, complicit.

But not this time.

This time, the profession saw through the tactics. We honored truth over tribalism. We validated process over manipulation. And we made space again for people who care—really care—about this profession and its future.

For the Misfits and the Courageous: You Belong Here

To those who’ve ever been alienated for doing the right thing, know this: You are not alone. This election proves that the steno community is capable of discernment, unity, and strength. There may be pockets of toxicity still lingering—small circles that thrive on control and drama—but the greater body of reporters has spoken, and they chose accountability.

To the whistleblowers, the quiet leaders, the behind-the-scenes workers, the ones who prioritize service over self-promotion: we see you. And we are stronger because of you.

This is a moment of healing for our industry. A moment to reaffirm that leadership is not about clout; it’s about responsibility. It’s not about controlling narratives—it’s about building trust.

Healing, Then Rising

Let’s also acknowledge that standing up in toxic environments comes at a price. It’s exhausting to keep proving yourself, to constantly explain your values, to rationalize why you can’t just “go along” like others do. It can fracture your sense of self.

Sometimes, the real strength lies in stepping back, healing, and staying true to your deeper values. You are not weak for refusing to adapt to a culture that asked you to betray yourself.

That is what makes Carol’s win so powerful. Not only did she refuse to stoop to smear campaigns or performative tactics—she remained steady, transparent, and gracious throughout. In doing so, she modeled the kind of leadership this profession deserves.

And the community responded.

The Road Ahead

This election wasn’t just a test of popularity—it was a test of ethics, discernment, and will. And while one election result doesn’t wipe away the toxicity that still exists, it does light a new path forward.

Let this be the turning point where we no longer normalize performative leadership. Where we stop rewarding those who weaponize charm while abandoning duty. Where we don’t shame the “misfits” who leave when environments become harmful—but celebrate them for their courage.

Let this be the beginning of a new culture—one rooted in values, not vanity.

Because the steno community is watching. And this time, we chose right.

This victory shines brightly because of you—every voice that spoke up, every vote cast with clarity, every person who chose values over noise. Carol Naughton now leads the way, lighting a path toward a future grounded in ethics, service, and integrity. The storm has passed—and the road ahead is brighter because we chose to walk it together.

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):

“Five-Oh-Two” & The Invisible Danger in ASR Court Transcripts

In a recent deposition, a witness gave what seemed like a minor detail in their testimony — but that detail reveals a significant flaw in the use of automatic speech recognition (ASR) systems in legal settings. The witness said:

A: “Well, in theory, you know, he’s just flagging shifts, but if, for example, you flag a shift that says, okay, this is at five hours and two minutes, if the opportunity was at four hours into the shift, and they chose not go then, and they chose not to go at four hours and 15 minutes, four hours and 30 minutes, four hours and 45 minutes, and they went at five oh two, well, it’s a different context under looking at whether or not the opportunity was provided.”

At first glance, this seems like just another rambling sentence in a long day of testimony. But take a closer look at how the witness phrased the critical time marker: “five oh two.” They did not say “five hours and two minutes” directly the second time. They didn’t say “5:02.” They said it casually, imprecisely, in natural speech — the way people often do in everyday conversation.

A human stenographer understands this. A certified reporter, trained in real-time transcription, hears “five oh two” in context — surrounded by references to four hours, four fifteen, four thirty — and knows intuitively that the speaker is referring to five hours and two minutes into the shift, not 5:02 p.m. or a case number 502 or section 502 of a penal code.

But an ASR engine?

More likely than not, it would transcribe “five oh two” as “5:02” — a time of day. That’s not just a small formatting difference. That’s a potential misrepresentation of fact. If a legal argument hinges on when a decision or action took place during a shift, that subtle difference could change the interpretation of intent, timing, or negligence.

And here lies the deeper issue: ASR has no idea what the speaker meant.

The Illusion of Accuracy

Automatic speech recognition relies on massive language models that predict likely words and phrases based on sound patterns and statistical frequency. It doesn’t understand language. It doesn’t grasp context. It doesn’t know the difference between “five-oh-two” meaning a timestamp, a duration, a quantity, or an arbitrary number.

And yet, to the untrained eye, the transcript it produces looks perfect. It’s grammatically clean. It’s punctuated. There are no spelling errors. It creates the illusion of accuracy. But in court, illusion isn’t good enough. The record must be precise, contextual, and verifiably accurate. There is no room for interpretation errors masquerading as clarity.

This is why court reporters — real humans — remain critical in the courtroom and deposition suite.

Stenographic Intelligence vs. Artificial Guesswork

When a trained court reporter hears “five oh two,” they aren’t just hearing sounds. They’re interpreting meaning based on the surrounding discussion, the pace of questioning, the subject matter of the case, and even the tone of the witness. They know if a case involves shift work. They know if the line of questioning is about timing. They don’t just take down words — they take down meaning, word for word, as spoken, in context.

Compare that to ASR, which hears “five oh two” and might decide to write:

  • “5:02”
  • “502”
  • “five or two”
  • “five O two”
  • “five-oh-two”

None of these are inherently wrong in other contexts. But only one of them is right in this context — and ASR is guessing.

Worse yet, once that transcript is turned over as official, the error is baked into the legal record unless a human proofreader — usually at extra cost and time — combs through and identifies the mistake. Even then, what happens if the human doesn’t catch it? Or what if there’s no recording to verify?

What happens when a case outcome depends on that timing detail?

The Legal Stakes of “Five-Oh-Two”

Let’s assume this scenario plays out in a wrongful termination case involving labor violations. An employee was supposed to be offered a break or medical attention four hours into a shift. The employer claims the opportunity was provided, just not accepted. The timeline matters. If the employer didn’t offer that opportunity until five hours and two minutes into the shift, that’s potentially a breach.

If the ASR transcript says “5:02,” a defense lawyer might argue that it simply reflects an evening timeline, perhaps during a night shift. But if a court reporter correctly captures “five-oh-two” as referencing five hours and two minutes, in context with four-fifteen, four-thirty, and four-forty-five, that paints a different picture entirely.

A single transcription choice could sway the case.

That is the real-world risk of replacing trained reporters with automation.

Verbatim is Not Enough

ASR fans often argue that the technology is “good enough” and “always improving.” They point to better error rates in ideal conditions. But court isn’t ideal. Court is full of accents, background noise, people talking over one another, legal terminology, emotional outbursts, and, most of all, real-life ambiguity.

“Good enough” isn’t the standard. “Verbatim” isn’t even the standard. The standard is accuracy, context, accountability, and reliability. That can only come from a human professional who knows what’s at stake.

Court reporters don’t just write what people say — they preserve what they meant, precisely, under oath, on the record. They make judgment calls, distinguish dialects, clean up mumbling, and even ask for clarifications. ASR does none of that. It can’t. And until it can, it doesn’t belong in charge of the record.

The Cost of Convenience

The push to replace reporters with machines is usually driven by cost — not quality. But how many cases can we afford to get wrong before the costs of those mistakes outweigh the savings?

If you’re a lawyer, litigant, or judge reading this: Don’t accept convenience over clarity. If a case mattered enough to file, it matters enough to record right. And if you’re a court reporter, don’t stop advocating. The next time someone says your job could be done by a computer, just say:

“Really? Ask it what ‘five oh two’ means.”

And see how many answers you get.

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 Strategic Bypass or a Pattern of Evasion? A Deeper Look at Margary Rogers’ Candidacy for NCRA Vice President

In every election, voters are asked to weigh more than personalities—they are tasked with evaluating qualifications, character, and a candidate’s respect for process. This year’s NCRA Vice Presidential race demands that kind of scrutiny. Two candidates stand before the membership: one, Carol Reed Naughton, nominated through the official Nominating Committee (NomCom) process after years of consistent service and transparency; and the other, Margary Rogers, a sitting board member who chose to bypass that process entirely, entering the race by petition. While that path is technically allowed, the implications behind the decision—and her track record—warrant a serious second look.

A Campaign That Started with a Circumvention

Rogers publicly stated during the NCRA VP Town Hall that skipping the NomCom process was “strategic” and intentional. That alone raises questions. The NomCom exists not just as a procedural formality but as a safeguard—a vetting mechanism to ensure those aspiring to leadership have been properly evaluated and deemed fit to lead. Rogers’ bypass of this vetting was not born out of exclusion. She didn’t apply. She didn’t interview. She simply circumvented, strategically.

Strategic… or calculated?

Members must ask: Why avoid a process designed to test readiness and suitability for leadership? Is it because she would not have passed that test? Or because she didn’t want to be asked tough questions about her past leadership conduct?

The Fiscal Toll of Skipping Steps

Margary’s petition campaign doesn’t come without cost—literally. Every ballot initiative, including one triggered by a vacated board seat, costs the Association over $1,600. If Rogers wins the Vice Presidency, her current director seat will become vacant, requiring yet another election and another hit to the Association’s budget. All of this at a time when NCRA resources are better used fighting legislative threats, promoting certification programs, and advocating for stenographers nationally—not cleaning up the financial side effects of political maneuvering.

For an association that prides itself on fiscal responsibility and transparency, it’s an ironic twist that one candidate is putting financial strain on the organization before even taking office.

A Troubling Legacy in Maryland

The deeper concern lies not in how Rogers entered the race—but in how she left her last leadership role. During her presidency at the Maryland Court Reporters Association (MCRA), the numbers simply don’t support her self-promotion.

Public comments from the current MCRA president paint a far different picture than the one Margary has pushed. She claims she tripled membership during her tenure. In reality, the numbers showed only minor fluctuations—42 members at the start of 2022, a peak of 47, and a decline to 36 by the time she left.

More alarming than the numbers is the fiscal wreckage she left behind.

In her final year, MCRA had over $13,000 in its coffers before its annual conference. After the conference—planned and executed under Rogers’ direction, by her own admission—the bank account dropped to just $204.18. The association was left with over $6,000 in unpaid liabilities. And while Rogers insists she was off the board in July, email documentation and firsthand accounts confirm she remained in control of conference planning through at least September.

This is not just mismanagement. It’s financial negligence. And it left the next generation of MCRA leaders scrambling to salvage the association, rebuild funds, and regain control over its digital assets—including its Facebook page, which Rogers reportedly refused to relinquish until very recently.

Character, Not Just Credentials

Leadership isn’t about ambition. It’s about stewardship.

Rogers’ defenders argue that her visibility, passion, and community-building efforts warrant recognition. But passion alone does not make a person fit to lead an organization like the NCRA. When a leader refuses to submit to standard procedures, misrepresents results, mismanages finances, and clings to control even after their term has ended, what does that say about how they will act when given more power?

Would the same fiscal mismanagement seen at MCRA repeat itself at a national level? Would the same resistance to transparency and bypassing of norms be tolerated when NCRA’s reputation is at stake?

Dirty Campaigning and Public Fallout

Throughout this election, Rogers’ campaign has also been marred by accusations of misinformation, manipulation, and coordinated attacks on those who question her qualifications. Past and current MCRA officials who’ve spoken out have done so reluctantly, many hoping to avoid internal division. But as facts surfaced—facts about finances, leadership decisions, and post-term behavior—it became impossible to remain silent.

The public comments now live online for any NCRA member to read, including a 30+ thread in response to Carol Reed Naughton’s detailed statement. These aren’t partisan potshots. They’re firsthand accounts from people who worked with Rogers, served alongside her, and were left to clean up after her.

The Clearer Choice

Carol Reed Naughton is not a flashy candidate. She’s not playing to social media or stirring up drama. She’s doing the work—quietly, steadily, and transparently. She followed the process. She submitted herself to the NomCom and earned the official nomination. Her board service has been marked by collaboration, not conflict. And most importantly, her leadership is rooted in ethical standards, fiscal responsibility, and respect for the Association’s mission.

This is not about one person’s charisma versus another’s. It’s not about optics or who can rally the most Facebook supporters. This is about the future of the NCRA.

Will we elect someone who skipped the vetting process, mismanaged a state association into near insolvency, and continues to stir controversy wherever she goes?

Or will we choose a candidate who leads with integrity, values process, and has the experience necessary to move the profession forward responsibly?

Your Vote Matters—Choose with Clarity

This year’s VP race isn’t just a fork in the road for the NCRA—it’s a stress test for the organization’s values. Members must decide whether leadership is earned through process and merit, or seized through tactics and theater.

If you believe in vetting.
If you believe in accountability.
If you believe in financial responsibility.
Then cast your vote for Carol Reed Naughton.

Because leadership should never be a strategic bypass. It should be a path walked with integrity.

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 Leadership Becomes a Target – Clarifying the Role of Advocacy and the NCSA Chair

By: StenoImperium Editorial Board
Posted: June 23, 2025

It’s easy to throw stones from behind a pseudonym. It’s harder to lead with integrity, transparency, and vision.

A recent blog post circulating under the name Frank N. Sense accuses the current Chair of the National Committee of State Associations (NCSA) of unethical behavior for sponsoring a bylaw amendment and encouraging members to participate in NCRA’s election process.

Let’s be clear: what’s being portrayed as scandalous is, in reality, responsible leadership in action.

✅ Participation Is Not a Conflict—It’s the Process Working

Sponsoring a bylaw amendment does not disqualify a person from continuing to serve in a leadership role. In fact, NCRA bylaws encourage member participation, innovation, and dialogue through the amendment process. The accusation that a leader sponsoring a bylaw is in “a big, fat conflict” lacks any basis in law, ethics, or organizational governance.

It is not a conflict of interest for a member—whether in a leadership role or not—to support a policy change and also remind the community to vote. That’s what advocacy looks like in any healthy democratic organization.

🧠 Misleading the Community? Let’s Look at the Facts

The email cited in the blog post allegedly only referenced the VP election—yet the accusation is that it somehow sneakily confused that with the bylaw vote coming weeks later. That logic collapses under scrutiny. You cannot “confuse” readers by mentioning one event without even naming the other.

More importantly, the message did not come from NCSA or NCRA official channels—it was distributed via the Deposition Reporters Association (DRA), which is an independent organization and fully within its rights to encourage civic engagement among its members.

The only thing this email did was encourage participation. That’s what we want from our leaders—whether they’re supporting amendments or opposing them.

🧼 Let’s Call This What It Is: A Smear Campaign

The over-the-top language in the blog post—“smell the rat,” “big, fat conflict,” “underhanded advocacy”—is not the language of reasoned concern. It’s the language of fear tactics and political theater. These attacks aren’t about ethics. They’re about silencing those who challenge the status quo.

Calling for the resignation of a dedicated volunteer leader over their participation in the amendment process is not just overreach—it’s anti-democratic. We should be able to disagree on amendments without demanding people step down for having an opinion.

🕵️ This Isn’t About Names—It’s About Standards

Whether a blog is anonymous or signed, what matters most is the quality of the argument, the clarity of the facts, and the integrity behind the message.

The blog post in question—written by “Frank N. Sense”—doesn’t rely on data, sourcing, or procedural analysis. It leans entirely on inflammatory rhetoric, vague innuendo, and sweeping accusations.

Anonymity can serve a valid purpose. It can protect whistleblowers, foster candid dialogue, or allow dissenting views to be expressed without fear of retaliation. That’s one reason StenoImperium exists.

But when anonymity is used not to question power but to undermine responsible leadership without evidence, that’s not advocacy—it’s sabotage. It’s not about transparency or reform. It’s about creating confusion and manufacturing scandal where none exists.

So let’s not get distracted by pen names or blog titles. Let’s look at what’s actually being said—and whether it holds up under scrutiny.

🧭 What Kind of Profession Do We Want?

Court reporting is in a pivotal moment. We need serious conversations, informed debates, and respectful disagreements. Not kangaroo-court accusations wrapped in blog rants designed to incite outrage and defame those working hard for the profession.

Instead of shouting “conflict!” every time someone dares to lead, we should be asking:

  • Are they transparent?
  • Are they ethical?
  • Are they open about their views?

In the case of the NCSA Chair, the answer is yes on all counts.

We’re better than this. Let’s act like it.
Let’s uphold truth, transparency, and the democratic principles this association was built on.

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 Truth Hurts, Especially on Event Day

On June 20th, the very day of a well-publicized industry gathering, an article I authored was published and distributed. It wasn’t timed accidentally. It was intentional. Not malicious—but intentional. Because accountability doesn’t take a day off, and public relations doesn’t outrank professional integrity.

For those asking, yes—I knew the event was scheduled. I also knew that many court reporters, students, and even vendors might attend without understanding the full context of the brand behind it. The timing of my article was meant to give those individuals a moment of pause. A chance to make an informed decision.

If that upset you, I suggest asking yourself why. If a piece rooted in factual documentation and analysis “ruined” the day, maybe the problem isn’t the timing—it’s the content.

I received a message from someone who said, “Seriously? I get an email from you regarding the branded, non-reporter entity known as Steno In The City (registered trademark) the very day of her conference? This is wrong.”

No, what’s wrong is holding a public event, asking for support, donations, and visibility—while actively avoiding scrutiny, transparency, and compliance. What’s wrong is calling something a “conference” when it isn’t registered, reported, or structured as one under state or nonprofit law. What’s wrong is silencing whistleblowers and painting any challenge as a personal attack.

And make no mistake—inside that room, there was buzz. You don’t write “this is wrong” in real-time unless something is being passed around, whispered about, or screen-shared during the breaks. That message didn’t come from quiet reflection; it came from a group reaction. That means the article hit its target. It landed. It disrupted.

I wouldn’t be surprised if, in the wake of that disruption, there were statements made from the stage or behind a mic that framed me as a “hater,” “bitter,” or “toxic.” That’s what happens when someone used to applause is met with accountability. They reframe criticism as persecution. They invoke phrases like, “I’m still standing,” or “After all I do for this community,” as if scrutiny is a betrayal rather than a basic standard of leadership.

This is a tactic. It’s performative martyrdom. It emotionally manipulates supporters into defending a figure instead of examining facts. And it works—on those who prefer personality over principle.

🗣️ Why That Works in Her Circles

This approach bonds her followers emotionally and discourages critical thinking. If she frames herself as a martyr, any legitimate critique becomes “hate,” and those who raise concerns are seen as toxic or jealous.

While we can’t confirm exactly what Shaunise Day said or how she framed it without direct evidence, my intuition aligns with a recognizable pattern she and her supporters have followed in past situations:

🧠 Likely Reaction Pattern (Based on Public Behavior)

  • Victim framing:
    Yes — it’s highly plausible she portrayed herself as being attacked, especially on the day of her event. She’s previously used emotionally charged language when facing critique.
  • Deflection and dramatization:
    She likely didn’t address the article’s content directly, but instead reframed it as a personal attack or “jealousy.” This helps deflect from any real questions of transparency or legality.
  • Performative resilience:
    A line like “I’m still standing” or “I keep going no matter who tries to tear me down” fits her public style — dramatic, affirmation-based, and meant to reinforce her image as a strong, unshakable leader.
  • Moral superiority:
    Positioning herself as the selfless giver (“after all I do for this community…”) and critics as ungrateful, bitter, or even evil (e.g. “that devil”) would not be surprising. She has a history of invoking righteousness and persecution in response to criticism.

Let me be clear: Criticism is not cruelty. Transparency is not sabotage. And truth doesn’t lose its value just because someone else is trying to sell a narrative.

It’s also worth clarifying the difference between what I did—and what a campaign candidate does. There have been murmurs that the timing of my article was somehow equivalent to sending campaign emails on the day of voting. That’s a false equivalency.

Here’s a clear breakdown:

TopicMy Blog ArticleMargary’s Campaign Emails
RoleIndependent journalist/bloggerActive candidate
IntentPublic commentary and critiqueDirect solicitation for votes
AudienceGeneral/public readership (with optional subscription)Targeted members using email for campaign purposes
TimingCoincided with a private/commercial event (not a regulated election)Sent during the 24-hour voting window of a professional election
Regulatory impactNo legal constraints on publication timingSubject to expectations of procedural fairness in a member election

In U.S. political elections, there are clear restrictions on campaign messaging during the voting period to ensure fairness and prevent undue influence. While NCRA isn’t legally bound to the same rules, ethical expectations still apply. A candidate sending multiple reminders—especially within the voting window—raises questions about equity and process.

I’m not running. I’m not campaigning. I’m not seeking influence over the ballot box. I’m shining a light on institutional behavior and leadership dynamics. That’s not electioneering. That’s accountability journalism.

I have no obligation to schedule truth around someone else’s party.

If your defense of this situation rests on phrases like, “She does so much for us,” or “She’s still standing,” I urge you to consider what kind of leadership model you’re supporting. Charisma and choreography do not replace compliance and credibility.

What I wrote wasn’t mean-spirited. It was necessary. And judging by the reaction inside that room on June 20th, it struck exactly the nerve it needed to.

And for the record: You’re unsubscribed.

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Steno In The City® is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is unaffiliated, unsponsored, and not endorsed by Steno In The City®or Shaunise Day.
  • References to “Steno In The City” are purely descriptive and used for editorial critique under fair use.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.
  • The organization known as Steno In The City (a registered trademark) has, to date, made no public statement regarding these concerns.
  • 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.

***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 Campaign Emails Cross the Line – A Closer Look at the NCRA Vice President Race

The National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) has always stood as a professional beacon in the court reporting industry, grounded in ethics, transparency, and member representation. With the 2025 elections underway, the role of Vice President carries particular weight—especially during a time when our profession faces existential threats from automation, declining enrollment, and internal division.

So when campaign communications land in inboxes at 9:07 p.m. the night before the election, it matters how candidates present themselves—not just in policy, but in tone, integrity, and respect for the process. Unfortunately, Margary Rogers’ recent campaign email—sent to a wide distribution of voting members—raises several red flags, in my humble opinion, that deserve a closer look.

Full disclosure: I don’t personally know either candidate. I didn’t attend the town hall or participate in any pre-election discussions. I come to this moment not as a loyalist to one name or another, but as a concerned voting member responding to what landed in my inbox.

❖ An Email Received, But Never Subscribed To

Let’s start with the basics. Many NCRA members, including myself, received a campaign email from Margary Rogers, candidate for Vice President. The message was lengthy, formatted like a press release, and filled with links to promotional materials, text reminders, and endorsements. It was framed as a direct appeal for votes and came across more like a full-scale political campaign than a collegial invitation to support a peer.

The first problem? I never opted in. I never subscribed to receive promotional emails from this candidate, nor did I provide my personal email for campaign communications. So how did she get access? While this may feel intrusive, it’s important to clarify that it is not illegal. Under the federal CAN-SPAM Act, campaign or informational emails—especially those related to nonprofit associations—are not considered commercial spam and do not require prior opt-in. As long as the email includes accurate sender information, a physical address, and an option to unsubscribe, it generally complies with the law.

That said, this isn’t just about legality—it’s about fairness. If one candidate was allowed to use NCRA’s member contact data to launch a strategic email and texting campaign, while the other wasn’t given the same access or tools, that calls into question the equity of the process.

It appears that the candidate is using NCRA’s membership data—something that, to my knowledge, should only be made available under strict and equal-access guidelines. That begs the question: Was the same access and opportunity afforded to all candidates?

❖ Is This an Abuse of Member Contact Information?

Let’s clarify an important point: There is no inherent wrongdoing in using NCRA membership contact data during campaign season—if it’s done equitably.

Under NCRA policy, all vetted candidates are expected to receive equal access to the same communication tools—such as visibility in the Journal of Court Reporting, bios on the Election Center, and permission to communicate with voting members. The association does not prohibit candidates from sending direct emails or organizing text message reminders, as long as all candidates are given the same opportunity.

But here’s where it gets concerning: I received a campaign email from Margary Rogers. I did not receive one from her opponent.

That discrepancy is not just anecdotal—it points to a potential imbalance in how campaign access was offered, explained, or utilized.

This raises several critical questions:

  • Was Margary offered a list or contact channel that the other candidate was not?
  • Did both candidates know they could send campaign emails or text reminders?
  • Did the Election Committee provide the same guidance and tools to both sides?

Because here’s what matters:

  • ✔️ There’s no problem with using NCRA member contact data—if all candidates had access and were made equally aware of how to use it.
  • ❗ There is a problem if only one candidate used that access to launch a comprehensive outreach campaign, while the other remained silent—possibly because they weren’t informed, empowered, or resourced to do the same.

That’s not just a campaign strategy issue—it’s a matter of election integrity. The NCRA Election Committee is charged with maintaining a level playing field. If only one candidate made it into members’ inboxes, while the other didn’t, the membership deserves an explanation.

❖ A Campaign Laced with Subtle Smears

Substance matters, but so does tone. And in this case, the tone of Margary’s email was troubling.

Amid the long list of credentials and enthusiastic endorsements, the email makes a jarring pivot into subtle mockery of the opposing candidate—though without naming them directly:

“As cliché as it may sound on a flyer by the opponent’s supporters that ‘If you vote for the other candidate, you vote for both,’ DO NOT believe that… I know many of us Court reporters are not good at math, but you cannot vote for both candidates…”

This was clearly intended as a joke—but at whose expense? Not only does it trivialize the intelligence of court reporters (a deeply educated and highly skilled profession), but it casts unnecessary aspersions on the opposing candidate’s supporters, reducing their message to “cliché flyers” and implying they’re misleading voters.

It’s one thing to make a strong case for your own qualifications. It’s another to undermine others in the process. The email crosses that line repeatedly. Phrases like “not just about board meetings,” “legacy over ladder climbing,” and “choose the one who serves with sincerity” all subtly cast doubt on the character or motives of the opposition—without directly naming them or allowing a fair rebuttal.

This isn’t just poor form. It’s a concerning glimpse into the kind of leadership approach the candidate may bring to the boardroom: one more focused on marketing and optics than unity and ethical restraint.

❖ Style Over Substance?

The email reads like a polished PR document, complete with a Zoom background, campaign flyer, Google Forms sign-up, hashtags, and graphics. While well-designed campaign materials are not inherently problematic, they raise concerns about style eclipsing substance—especially in a volunteer-led professional organization.

We are not electing a brand. We are electing a Vice President who will help steer the future of our profession, act as a steward of member interests, and protect the integrity of our national body. Flashy deliverables, social media outreach, and cross-promotional buzz should not distract us from what really matters: the candidate’s track record, decision-making skills, and ethical grounding.

❖ The Shaunise Day Factor

While the email doesn’t mention her, it’s worth noting that Margary Rogers has shown ongoing support for and association with Shaunise Day—a controversial figure in the stenographic community. Day has repeatedly hosted events that raised questions about financial transparency, nonprofit compliance, and professional credentialing. Her leadership style and brand-driven visibility have sparked divisiveness within the industry.

The association between the two is not speculative. In 2019, Margary Rogers and Shaunise Day were both featured at the “Steno in the City” (a trademarked name) event in Washington, D.C., where Rogers was credited with assisting with event logistics, decor, and sponsorship. Additionally, Shaunise Day authored an article in the Journal of Court Reporting while Rogers served as chair of the NCRA Membership Committee. These instances reflect more than passing collaboration—they suggest a consistent professional alignment.

To be clear, association alone is not disqualifying. But it does warrant scrutiny—especially when one of the few other candidates for leadership in NCRA seems to align herself, directly or indirectly, with someone who has actively challenged institutional norms while skirting ethical lines.

If elected, will Margary bring that same media-first, influencer-style, rules-optional approach to the NCRA boardroom? Or will she enforce the very standards that some of her allies appear to flout?

We need leadership that defends the professional, regulatory, and legal integrity of our association—not alliances that weaken it.

❖ Who Is This Really About?

The most concerning part of the email is the feeling that this campaign is about elevating a persona rather than serving the profession.

Lines like:

“This is not about one more year. It’s about long-term, sustainable leadership. It’s about creating policy, driving change, and ensuring that your voice as a court reporter is heard, represented, and respected.”

…sound great on paper. But what do they actually mean in practice? What policies? What changes? What concrete actions have already been taken? It’s easy to invoke change and inclusivity as buzzwords. It’s harder to demonstrate tangible impact.

Let’s not confuse visibility for vision.

❖ The Vote Is Yours—Make It Count

Ultimately, members of the NCRA have a personal and professional obligation to vote for the candidate who reflects the values we believe should guide this association into its next chapter.

For me, that does not include Margary Rogers—not because she lacks credentials, but because her campaign choices reflect troubling patterns: email overreach, veiled attacks, influencer-style branding, and alignment with problematic industry figures.

Here’s Margary’s email so you can read and decide for yourself:

❖ Addendum: A Second Campaign Email

A credible source familiar with both campaigns confirmed that NCRA did not provide either candidate with a list of member email addresses specific to this election. One candidate gathered emails manually using ProLink—NCRA’s public-facing membership portal—copying member-by-member only those emails that individuals had chosen to make visible. The other, however, appears to have leveraged broader access to NCRA’s membership data.

Notably, a member who has not been active in ProLink—and hasn’t had a profile listed in years—received multiple campaign emails. This strongly suggests that internal database access beyond public tools was used. Given that Margary Rogers previously chaired NCRA’s Membership Committee, it is plausible that she retained access to the internal member database. While NCRA may not have formally granted her permission to use that data for campaign purposes, the outcome appears to reflect unequal access to voter contact information.

Further, I personally did not receive any campaign messages from the candidate who used ProLink, likely because I had removed my profile after receiving excessive spam. The discrepancy in outreach—both in quantity and reach—now appears less a matter of strategy and more a matter of access.

On the morning of June 23, at 5:47 a.m. Pacific (8:47 a.m. Eastern), just before the official 9:00 a.m. Eastern voting window opened, a second email from Margary Rogers was distributed to members. Nearly identical in tone, structure, and content to the first, the email again included the controversial line about reporters “not being good at math,” as well as repeated personal promotion tactics.

This second email establishes a pattern—not just a one-time outreach. While this likely does not violate federal law (such as the CAN-SPAM Act), it does raise procedural and ethical concerns, particularly if the Election Committee:

  • Did not clearly state whether repeat campaign emails were allowed
  • Did not offer equal tools, templates, or distribution opportunities to all candidates

Timing: The message was sent on the first morning of voting (June 23), reinforcing campaign messaging during the 24-hour voting window. While not illegal under NCRA’s rules, it raises ethical concerns if only one candidate is using repeated direct outreach.

Reinforces Unequal Visibility: You now have confirmed receipt of two campaign emails from Margary Rogers. You’ve received zero emails from her opponent. This further underscores the earlier point: whether or not member contact tools were made equally available, their use clearly was not equal in execution.

Its arrival at the very start of voting highlights not just message repetition, but a deliberate use of timed campaign outreach—raising further questions about balance, tone, and strategy in this election cycle. In addition to email outreach, Margary Rogers has also solicited members’ phone numbers via a Google Form for the purpose of sending text message reminders to vote. While creative campaigning is not inherently wrong, this adds another layer of concern: Were all candidates made aware that they could collect phone numbers and launch a coordinated text campaign? If not, the issue of unequal access—and unequal execution—continues to deepen.

DISCLOSURES

  • Steno In The City® is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is unaffiliated, unsponsored, and not endorsed by Steno In The City®or Shaunise Day.
  • References to “Steno In The City” are purely descriptive and used for editorial critique under fair use. 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.
  • 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.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.
  • The organization known as Steno In The City (a registered trademark) has, to date, made no public statement regarding these concerns.

The Future of Court Reporting & Why the Fight Is Now—And Why You Should Step Into Your Place & Join

A student recently asked me: “What are the chances of AI putting court reporters out of work in the next five to ten years?”

The honest answer? It’s a tricky question. Because we’re not looking at a slow fade—we’re standing at a tipping point. The next one to three years will determine everything.

There’s serious money—venture capital and equity investors—pouring into replacing us with AI and ASR (automated speech recognition). These investors are betting on big profits. Their pitch is simple: replace most human reporters, use AI to cut costs, and allow a smaller number of trained professionals to “fill in the gaps.” It’s a future where we play a partial or reduced role.

But here’s the truth they don’t understand: court reporting doesn’t work that way.

The System Only Works as a Whole

You can’t keep a handful of professionals around “just in case.” This isn’t like scaling a call center. Once the infrastructure goes—schools, software, machine manufacturing, certification bodies—it implodes. You can’t just switch it back on.

The real risk isn’t five or ten years away. The real risk is now. And that’s what makes this moment both dangerous and full of opportunity.

The Legal System Still Wants Us—They Just Don’t Know What’s at Stake

Lawyers love us. Judges rely on us. The legal system values accurate, certifiable, realtime records. But most of them don’t fully realize how precarious this moment is.

They assume we’ll always be here. They assume we’re being replaced by choice, not under pressure.

There are a few judges—some high-ranking, some retiring—who are eager for automation. But most want human reporters in their courtrooms. The problem is: they aren’t being vocal enough. And many simply don’t know how close we are to losing the profession entirely.

Reporters Are Working. Too Hard to Fight.

The irony is painful. Court reporters are so in-demand—so focused on producing transcripts—that we barely have time to advocate for ourselves.

Meanwhile, lobbyists, grassroots groups, and behind-the-scenes warriors are fighting. But it’s a small group, and the burden is heavy.

And here’s the kicker: we know our value better than anyone. But if we’re the only ones fighting to preserve it, the system could disappear before people realize it’s gone.

Here’s Where You Come In

You asked about your future. And here’s my answer: if you become a stenographic court reporter today, and you put in the work, you could be one of the most in-demand professionals in the legal system within a few years.

Because once they realize that AI can’t meet courtroom standards—and trust me, that realization is coming—they’ll turn back to us. And there won’t be enough of us left.

The few who remain? They’ll write their own rates. And yes, I firmly believe that a top-tier realtime-capable reporter could earn seven figures a year as an individual. You’ll have more work than you can handle. That’s the power of supply and demand.

Why Now Is the Best Time to Enter

  • Steno schools are full. Enrollment is booming. Some even have waitlists.
  • Voicewriters are expanding our pipeline—getting skilled professionals into the field faster.
  • There’s still an ecosystem—machines, software, mentors, training. That infrastructure still exists… for now.

But it won’t if we wait. Once it crumbles, we won’t get a second shot. That’s why the fight is now.

But Make No Mistake—You’ll Need to Be Excellent

The future won’t be kind to mediocre reporters.

You’ll need to be as sharp as someone with 20 years of experience. You’ll need 100% realtime capability. You’ll need to know your software better than tech support. And speaking of tech support—buy two or three machines. You’ll want backups. If the manufacturers disappear, you’ll be your own support team.

I recommend Eclipse—currently the only CAT software integrating AI as a tool for reporters to output perfect realtime. It’s not about using AI to replace us. It’s about making us even better. That combination—human skill + smart software—is unbeatable.

You’ll be like the million-dollar reporter: the only person in the room with machine-augmented human accuracy. No AI system can match that. No robot can improvise, adapt, or make judgment calls in realtime.

This Is a “Go Big or Go Home” Moment

Some reporters might accept proofreading AI transcripts for pennies. They might step into the “hybrid” role the tech companies envision.

I won’t. I’d rather sell real estate than work as an editor for machines. This profession deserves more. And so do you.

But we still have a chance. A small one. And that chance is today—not five or ten years from now. That’s why I’m fighting like hell right now. Not just for me. For you. For the future of this field.

🔥 Where Should Our Money Go Right Now?

We are at war—not with each other, but with a tidal wave of AI-driven disruption backed by deep-pocketed investors and policy shifts happening fast behind the scenes.

That means every dollar matters.

It’s time to ask ourselves: Are we funding what’s fun—or what’s strategic?

Right now, we need every available dollar going toward the only thing that will truly protect this profession: legislative advocacy. That means lobbyists. That means organized legal pressure. That means association coffers filled with resources to fight bills, craft protective language, and make sure AI doesn’t write us out of the law.

If you’re spending hundreds on glam events, luxury parties, and high-priced “experiences,” just remember: that money doesn’t go to fighting for your future. It doesn’t fund lobbying. It doesn’t fund education. It doesn’t fund our survival.

It funds someone else’s brand.

Now’s not the time to party in style—it’s time to show up, suit up, and fight for this career. We need all stenos on deck, focused, aligned, and supporting the efforts that will actually preserve the job you love.

The Million-Dollar Opportunity (Yes, Really)

Let’s talk about the upside—because yes, there is one. And it’s enormous.

If you commit to this profession now, learn to write realtime with 100% accuracy, master your CAT software, and position yourself as a highly skilled, dependable reporter, you’ll be entering the market at the exact moment when demand for qualified professionals is exploding—and supply is shrinking.

Once the legal system realizes that AI can’t deliver what we can, they’ll turn back to us. But by then, the number of truly excellent reporters will be much smaller. Those who remain—the elite realtime-capable reporters—will be able to set their rates, pick their clients, and command top dollar.

I believe a single, independent reporter with top-tier skills could reasonably earn over a million dollars a year. That’s not hype. That’s basic economics: scarcity + high demand = premium value.

But it only works if you go all in.

  • Become better than your software.
  • Know your CAT system inside and out (Eclipse is leading the way with AI integration).
  • Buy backup machines.
  • Be as good as someone with 20 years of experience, even if you’re fresh out of school.
  • Be the only thing AI can’t compete with: a realtime human expert with perfect accuracy.

You won’t just survive in this industry—you’ll own your future.

Final Thoughts

If you’re thinking of becoming a court reporter, let me tell you this: You’re not too late. You’re right on time.

But this window is closing fast.

Train hard. Get mentored. Master your software. And join the few of us still standing when the dust clears. The profession may be smaller—but for those who remain, it will be stronger, more respected, and more rewarding than ever.

And you?
You’ll be ready.

DISCLOSURES

  • All content herein reflects the author’s personal commentary, protected under the First Amendment.
  • Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.

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.

All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.

Save Steno Now, or Lose It Forever – Why Court Reporters Can’t Be Replaced by AI

In courtrooms across the country, an invisible but critical line of defense is under threat. Not from outside interference, but from quiet decisions being made in budgets and boardrooms—decisions that say: “AI is cheaper. Let’s use that instead.”

On the surface, this might seem practical. Artificial intelligence is making strides in transcription. Court reporting is expensive. Why not automate it?

But here’s the reality: if we allow AI to replace human court reporters—even in part—we don’t just lose jobs. We lose an entire professional infrastructure. And once it’s gone, we can’t get it back.

This is not just about keeping a profession alive. This is about preserving a system that safeguards truth, fairness, and justice. If we let it collapse, we won’t be able to rebuild it when we realize what we’ve lost.

AI Is Cheaper—But It’s Not Better

No one disputes that AI-based transcription has come a long way. It can transcribe meetings, phone calls, and podcasts with decent accuracy. But a courtroom is not a podcast. It’s a high-stakes, high-pressure environment where people speak fast, interrupt, mumble, whisper, cry, or shout. Multiple speakers talk at once. The terminology is dense, the context nuanced.

AI doesn’t stop proceedings to ask a witness to repeat a name. It doesn’t clarify who’s speaking when voices overlap. It doesn’t understand legal context, nor does it carry legal accountability.

AI can support, but it cannot replace, the role of a certified court reporter. And when it tries to, justice becomes less accurate, less reliable, and ultimately, less fair.

Once It’s Gone, It’s Gone

Some say: “Let AI take over the easy cases. Keep humans for the hard ones.” But that’s not how this works.

Stenographic court reporting isn’t just a job—it’s a professional ecosystem. It includes schools that train new talent. Manufacturers who build and maintain specialized machines. Software companies that innovate. Certifying bodies that enforce standards. Experienced professionals who mentor and teach.

This ecosystem only functions when there’s consistent, widespread demand for human court reporters. If we let demand dip—even moderately—the whole infrastructure begins to collapse. Schools close. Machine production halts. Software stagnates. Certification becomes irrelevant.

And then, when courts inevitably hit the limits of AI—when it fails in complex trials or appeals—there will be no professionals left to fill the gap. No schools. No tools. No fallback.

🧩 It’s Not Just a Job—It’s a System

This profession isn’t declining—it’s rebuilding.

Today, stenographic schools are overflowing with new students. Many have waitlists due to increased interest and enrollment. The addition of voicewriters—trained professionals who use speech recognition as a tool, not a replacement—has expanded the pipeline, helping qualified graduates enter the field faster.

The result? We are now on track to replenish our numbers and meet the demand created by retiring reporters.

The shortage is no longer the threat.

The real danger is this: that we’ll be replaced before we’re ready—before this revitalized workforce even has the chance to serve. The risk is not in capacity, but in being sidelined by AI tools that are not built to uphold the same legal, ethical, and accuracy standards.

If You Want Us Tomorrow, You Have to Choose Us Today

Let me tell you a story.

I used to work in sales at one of the world’s largest technology distributors. At one point, our competitors engaged in a full-blown price war, trying to undercut us into extinction. Everyone expected us to slash prices just to survive.

Our CEO told us: no price cuts. Hold the line. Stay true to our value.

My customers weren’t thrilled. They said, “Give me a better deal or I’ll go to your competitors.” But I told them, “If you want me to be here tomorrow—if you want us, this company, to be here—then buy from me today. Sure, you can get it cheaper. But you won’t have me tomorrow. You won’t have this service, this expertise, this partnership. We can’t survive if we give everything away.”

That message landed. People realized: the real value wasn’t just in the price—it was in the relationship, the reliability, the long-term support.

The same principle applies to court reporting today. You might think AI is cheaper—but if you want us tomorrow, if you want reliable, human, legally certified transcripts, you need to stand with us now. Because we won’t be here if you don’t.

This Isn’t Anti-Technology—It’s Pro-Human Accuracy

Court reporters are not technophobes. We’ve embraced innovation for decades. Our machines are specialized computers. Our software integrates real-time delivery, digital archiving, and cloud-based tools. Many of us already use AI to assist with transcript review and formatting.

We are not against technology—we are against careless replacement.

We believe in human-led, tech-assisted transcription. Let AI support the work—flag errors, speed up reviews, help with post-processing. But the foundation must remain human. Because only humans can understand the moment, the context, the stakes.

Why It Matters to Everyone

This isn’t just a professional turf war. This affects every lawyer, every judge, every defendant, and every victim. It affects appeals, verdicts, civil rights, and legal accountability.

Imagine a witness misquoted. An objection missed. A confession transcribed incorrectly. AI doesn’t raise its hand to clarify. It doesn’t know what’s at stake. And it certainly doesn’t sign a legal certification guaranteeing the transcript’s accuracy under penalty of law.

Court reporters do.

What Needs to Happen

To protect this vital profession and its role in justice, we need real action:

  1. Legislative Safeguards
    Courts and lawmakers must require certified human court reporters for official proceedings. Not as a luxury—as a standard.
  2. Investment in Training
    We need funding and outreach to support court reporting schools. The next generation must see this career as viable and valuable.
  3. Public Awareness Campaigns
    Judges, attorneys, and the public need to understand: this isn’t about resisting change. It’s about preserving what works—and protecting what matters.
  4. Professional Collaboration with Tech
    Let’s keep improving tools for reporters. Let AI assist—not replace—the professionals who carry legal responsibility for the record.

You Only Get One Shot at This

If we give up on stenographic court reporting, we won’t get it back. It will disappear quietly. The schools will shutter. The machines will go out of production. And when AI fails—as it inevitably will in complex, nuanced proceedings—there will be no one left to take over.

It’s a simple truth, one we all recognize in business, in justice, in life:

You get what you pay for.

So here’s the plea:

If you want us tomorrow—if you want accurate, human-made, legally certified transcripts—you need to stand with us today. Not after it’s gone. Not after a failed appeal. Not after a broken system.

Today.

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.

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When Integrity Meets Intimidation – The Case of the Fearless Stenographers Conference

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California’s Anti-SLAPP Law – Shielding Whistleblowers from Legal Intimidation

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Whistleblowers, Retaliation, and the Dark Reality of Gang Stalking

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Why Is She Still Here?

When Branding Outshines Accountability in Court Reporting

We’ve all asked it: “Why is she still here?” How does someone with no stenography credential, a trail of unanswered questions about labor practices, and a habit of quashing criticism remain a fixture in our profession?

Below is a candid look at the forces that keep her brand afloat—and what we can do to change the story.

1. The Marketplace Loves a Good Logo

In today’s attention economy, image often outranks substance. A slick website, vibrant social feeds, and high-energy events create the illusion of authority. For outsiders—or newcomers eager for motivation—that polish can look like leadership. Meanwhile, those of us doing the real work behind courtroom doors lack the time (or desire) to curate a brand narrative.
Result? The loudest voice, not the most experienced one, dominates.

2. Silence Is Her Co-Pilot

Many stenos see the red flags—unpaid “volunteers,” corporate donations funneled into a for-profit venture, inflated success stories—but choose silence. Some fear backlash or ostracism; others just want to avoid drama. Every time we stay quiet, her platform grows taller. Silence isn’t neutrality; it’s passive endorsement.

3. Critics Become the Villains

Push back and you’re labeled “negative,” “jealous,” or “toxic.” Legal threats—like the recent trademark complaint leveled at my blog—turn the tables, framing the whistle-blower as the bully. It’s classic intimidation: shift focus from the allegations to the person raising them, and the real issues vanish from the feed.

4. There’s Money on the Table

Sponsorships, speaking fees, affiliate sales—profit flows to the person controlling the spotlight. Why abandon a cash-generating brand? Until the community stops clicking, sharing, and attending, the incentives favor staying put, credentials or ethics be damned.

5. Gatekeepers Aren’t Watching

Regulators, associations, and schools rarely police the “influencer” fringe. Unless a clear violation surfaces—tax fraud, false licensure—there’s little external pressure to step aside. That leaves accountability in our hands.

So, Why Is She Still Here?

Because the equation works:

Polished branding – scrutiny + community silence = sustained influence and profit

How We Change the Math

  1. Speak—Publicly and Persistently
    Share verifiable facts, ask hard questions, and refuse to be shamed for demanding transparency.
  2. Withdraw Unpaid Labor
    Volunteering for a for-profit brand without clear benefits fuels exploitation. Value your expertise.
  3. Redirect Attention
    Promote authentic steno voices—working reporters, reputable schools, nonprofit mentors—so genuine expertise rises.
  4. Demand Receipts
    Where do donations go? Are events insured? Who benefits financially? Transparency should be the baseline, not a special favor.
  5. Support Each Other Legally & Morally
    If someone faces a SLAPP*-style threat, rally. Show that intimidation tactics backfire by amplifying, not squelching, the conversation.

Final Word

She’s still here because the system rewards brand optics over professional substance—but only as long as we allow it. The moment enough stenos decide that ethical practice matters more than flashy marketing, the spotlight shifts. Let’s make that shift together.

Stenos, stay loud, stay factual, and above all, stay united.

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Steno In The City® is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is unaffiliated, unsponsored, and not endorsed by Steno In The City®or Shaunise Day.
  • References to “Steno In The City” are purely descriptive and used for editorial critique under fair use.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.
  • The organization known as Steno In The City (a registered trademark) has, to date, made no public statement regarding these concerns.
  • 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.

***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 Critique Gets Censored – My Experience With a Trademark Complaint

On June 19, 2025, I received an official complaint from WordPress regarding my blog, StenoImperium.com. The complaint was filed by an individual named Shaunise Day, who owns the brand “Steno In The City,” and it alleged that my use of the name in my blog content constituted trademark infringement.

This situation raises a larger issue about intellectual property, fair use, and how trademark law can sometimes be used not to protect a brand from confusion — but to stifle criticism, silence voices, and intimidate people who speak out.

Let me explain what happened, what the law actually says, and why this should matter to anyone who publishes commentary, criticism, or creative work online.

The Complaint – What Was Alleged

According to the report submitted to WordPress, Shaunise Day claimed that I was “misrepresenting the trademarked name” Steno In The City on my blog. She cited a U.S. trademark registration (Reg. No. 7703040, registered Feb. 25, 2025) and a filing date in April 2024.

It’s worth noting that the trademark for Steno In The City was only filed in April 2024 — immediately after I published my first exposé article raising serious questions about the brand’s operations. Looking back, it’s clear this wasn’t spontaneous — she’s been laying the trap for over a year. Since then, there’s been a slow, calculated pattern: curating a polished brand image, reframing criticism as “harassment,” and eventually weaponizing a newly minted trademark to try to shut me down.

This isn’t brand protection — this is legal strategy used to silence dissent. It’s a premeditated move that says more about controlling public perception than it does about protecting intellectual property.

She asserted that my use of the phrase in posts, articles, and blogs created “consumer confusion.” No specific examples were given — just the broad accusation that I was somehow impersonating her brand or benefitting from it.

Let’s be clear: I have never claimed to be Steno In The City. My blog is called StenoImperium — a name that is entirely distinct. I do not use her logo. I do not use her branding. I do not claim partnership or affiliation in any way.

What I have done is discuss the activities, public events, and decisions of her brand — sometimes critically, always honestly. That is not infringement. That is protected speech.

What Trademark Law Actually Says

United States trademark law is designed to prevent consumer confusion and stop one business from profiting off the brand identity of another.

It does not prevent people from talking about a trademarked name.

If someone writes a blog post about how Amazon treats its workers, or a think piece about Nike’s global labor practices, they’re allowed to name those companies. That’s called nominative fair use — and it’s protected under the First Amendment.

To be clear, fair use of a trademark generally involves:

  • Referring to the trademarked entity by name for identification purposes.
  • Not using the mark as your own branding or logo.
  • Not misleading the public into thinking you’re endorsed or affiliated.

That’s exactly the standard I’ve followed. My references to “Steno In The City” have been made to identify the subject of my discussion — not to impersonate it.

Lack of Trademark Notice

One detail I want to highlight is that at the time of my writing, nowhere on the Steno In The City website did the trademark appear with a ® symbol or other notice that the name was federally registered. No disclaimer. No ownership mark. Nothing to indicate that I was using a federally protected name.

Copy and pasted from the SITC website to show no claim of the trademark, no disclaimer, nothing.

While such notice is not legally required for a trademark to be valid, it is required to pursue certain types of damages in court — especially those related to willful infringement.

This absence of notification reinforced what I believed at the time: that the name was being used as a brand, yes, but not one that had formal protection. I used it only to discuss what it publicly represents — not to exploit it.

Is This Really About Trademark… or About Silencing Critics?

What troubles me most is not the trademark claim itself, but the broader context of how it came about.

This is not the first time I have been the target of aggressive behavior from individuals connected to the Steno In The City brand. Over time, I have documented a growing pattern of online hostility, monitoring, and boundary-crossing behavior that, at best, feels like intimidation — and at worst, borders on harassment.

I won’t make sweeping claims of “cyberstalking” or “gangstalking” here — those are serious accusations that require serious legal evidence. But I will say this: when someone files a legal complaint not because they’re trying to protect a trademark, but because they want to remove unflattering commentary, that’s censorship disguised as IP enforcement.

And it’s not okay.

The trademark system should not be a weapon to suppress criticism. It should not be used to scare independent writers into silence. Yet increasingly, that’s what’s happening — not just to me, but to countless creators, journalists, and bloggers who dare to question public brands.

This trademark complaint appears less about actual brand confusion, and more about suppressing uncomfortable but truthful speech.

What I’ve Done to Address It

Because I care about integrity and clarity, I’ve taken several proactive steps:

  • I’ve ensured that my website, StenoImperium, does not use the phrase “Steno In The City” in its branding, navigation, or promotional content.
  • I’ve added a clear disclaimer: “Steno In The City is a registered trademark of its respective owner. StenoImperium.com is not affiliated with or endorsed by that brand.”
  • I’ve reviewed my content to ensure that every reference to the trademark is for commentary or journalistic purposes only — not for promotion, not for confusion.

In other words: I’m doing everything the law expects of a responsible writer. I’m honoring the trademark while exercising my right to speak truthfully about public matters.

Why This Matters

This story isn’t just about me. It’s about the fragility of free expression in the digital age — and how easily our speech can be chilled by legal overreach.

When powerful voices use legal systems to intimidate smaller ones, it erodes public discourse. It sends a message that critique must be soft, that facts must be filtered, and that brands are above accountability.

We must push back against that.

I will continue to speak openly, honestly, and ethically about the world I work in — including the court reporting community and the brands that shape it. I encourage other independent voices to do the same.

Because speech is not infringement.

Truth is not defamation.

And critique is not a crime.

What Is a SLAPP?
SLAPP stands for Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation. It refers to legal threats or lawsuits designed not to win on legal grounds, but to intimidate critics into silence. Common in cases involving journalists, whistleblowers, or activists, SLAPPs misuse trademark, defamation, or copyright law to scare people away from speaking out. Many states have anti-SLAPP laws to protect public discourse from these tactics.

Looking back, it’s clear this wasn’t spontaneous — she’s been laying the trap for over a year. The trademark for Steno In The City wasn’t filed until April 2024 — conveniently, just after I published my first exposé. Since then, there’s been a slow, calculated pattern: curating a brand image, reframing critique as “harassment,” and finally weaponizing a newly minted trademark to try and shut me up.

This isn’t brand defense. This is legal entrapment designed to chill speech, and it couldn’t make her intentions any clearer.

On Branding, Profit, and Silencing Critics

It’s become increasingly clear that this individual’s priority is not accountability — it’s brand protection. Rather than address legitimate concerns about labor practices, nonprofit claims, and the exploitation of court reporters and students, she has chosen to focus her energy on controlling her public image.

Let’s be honest: this is a for-profit business operating under the guise of “community building.” That fact could not be more apparent. Many of us have supported her brand, shared her content, attended her events — often unpaid — believing it was for the good of the profession. But what are we actually supporting?

This person is not a stenographer. She has not worked in the field. From what I understand, she was a student who did not complete the program — part of the nearly 90% of students who don’t graduate from court reporting school. And yet, she’s positioned herself at the center of a profession she’s never been licensed in, building visibility, credibility, and financial gain on the backs of working stenos.

She expects the steno community to promote her brand, elevate her image, and support her endeavors — all while she profits. And now, faced with critique, instead of responding with transparency or reflection, she files a trademark infringement complaint in an apparent attempt to silence me.

This is not about confusion or brand misuse — it’s about control. It’s about preserving profit. It’s about stopping someone who’s asking uncomfortable questions.

If that doesn’t raise red flags, I don’t know what will.

I urge my fellow stenographers and students to take a closer look at where your support is going — and whether it’s truly building the profession, or just building a business for someone who is not part of it.

Instead of being open to accountability or taking responsibility for the serious concerns raised about her business practices — such as allegedly using unpaid labor improperly, misrepresenting a for-profit enterprise as a nonprofit, soliciting sponsorships under false pretenses, and running questionable “auctions” that some believe resemble gambling — her response has been to turn her energy toward silencing me.

Rather than addressing these public interest issues, she has chosen to target my livelihood, initiate a trademark complaint, and engage in what I believe is a pattern of harassment — including online monitoring, intimidation, and attempts to damage my reputation. I view this as a deeply unethical and potentially unlawful response to fair criticism.

So I ask: Is this the kind of leadership and behavior you want to align yourself with? If you’re aware of these allegations — and you continue to assist, promote, or support this activity — at what point does that become complicity? If these actions are part of a coordinated effort to silence critics and operate outside the law, some may reasonably ask whether that crosses the line into something even more serious — like organized misconduct or racketeering.

I leave that question open. But I won’t stop speaking about what I see. If you’ve ever faced similar attempts to silence your voice through misuse of trademark, copyright, or intimidation tactics, I see you — and I stand with you. Don’t back down. Know your rights. And keep speaking.

– StenoImperium

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Steno In The City® is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is unaffiliated, unsponsored, and not endorsed by Steno In The City®or Shaunise Day.
  • References to “Steno In The City” are purely descriptive and used for editorial critique under fair use.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.
  • The organization known as Steno In The City (a registered trademark) has, to date, made no public statement regarding these concerns.
  • 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.

***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 Day Without a Court Reporter 🚨

Imagine waking up tomorrow and no steno court reporters exist—not a single shorthand operator, no schools, no mentor networks, no equipment, no institutional backbone. What follows isn’t a tech-forward utopia, but a digital heist that collapses under its own weight.

1. The Disappearance of the Ecosystem

  • No manufacturers: Without makers of stenotype machines and realtime CAT (Computer‑Aided Transcription) software, there’s no gear to buy or maintain. Digital hardware may exist—but it’s not built for the demands of live court environments.
  • No schools: With court reporting programs shuttered, there’s no talent pipeline. Who will learn machine shorthand or CAT?
  • No mentors/arbiters: Seasoned reporters retire or vanish, leaving no one to teach accuracy, ethics, courtroom etiquette, or dispute resolution.
  • No associations: With NCRA chapters, state associations, and benchmarking bodies gone, there’s no unifying voice to set and maintain professional standards.

Once all that’s gone, you can’t rebuild overnight. Unlike digital platforms that can be spun up quickly, court reporting relies on decades of skill and structure.

2. Fragile Artificial System

In our hypothetical “day zero,” digital “reporters” step in—but not to save the day. What users find is:

  • Greedy agencies: Profit-driven firms hire low-cost digital talent. High wall-plugging costs? They’ll cut corners.
  • Careless recruitment: Digital reporters without rigorous training flood in. Repeatable mistakes corrupt legal records; communications collapse.
  • High churn: When budgets tighten or demand drops, these workers vanish. There’s no bench, no fallback—only holes in the schedule.
  • No accountability: Without training, certification, or enforceable standards, blame is diffused. Who takes responsibility for inaudible testimony or misattribution?

What remains is a deeply brittle network: superficially digital, but functionally rudderless.

3. The Loss of Institutional Knowledge

Court reporting isn’t just typing. Consider:

  • Realtime correction: Stenos instantly clean transcripts, add punctuation, capture speaker IDs and nonverbals.
  • Courtroom control: Stenos are trained to politely ask for clarity, remind participants not to cross-talk, or request rephrasing—while digital recorders passively record.
  • Speaker identification: Steno software learns voices over time and applies contextual intelligence. Digital has none of that nuance.
  • Immediate playbacks: Need to replay a question minutes earlier? Steno CAT systems allow instant retrieval; digital systems rely on slow file searches.

When shorthand skill vanishes, our legal system loses these invisible yet vital safeguards.

4. A Costly, Cyclical Replacement Model

Proponents of digital training often tout speed and low cost—but have you considered:

  • Digital recruiters must spend repeatedly on training every blank-slate hire.
  • Onboarding cycles cost time and money—each time turnover happens.
  • Without cohesion, there’s no consistency in transcript quality, formats, or speed of delivery.

This churn isn’t innovation—it’s clearing out equity for expense.

5. Institutional Collapse & Risk Exposure

With the ecosystem dismantled, two things become so much harder:

  • Litigation integrity: Errors, inaudibles, misidentifications and missing testimony destabilize legal outcomes and may invalidate testimony.
  • Access to justice: Court costs go up. Minority communities or individuals are pushed out. A regressive access divide emerges.

What starts as cost-cutting ends in legal fragility and societal harm.

What Happens After the “Day Without Steno”

Picture this scenario unfolding over days, weeks, months:

Day 1–30:

  • Agencies scramble to fill slots at the cheapest rate.
  • Schools stay closed because there’s no demand for steno grads.
  • Digital reporters work underprepared—errors spike.

Month 2–6:

  • Grievances surface: poor transcript quality, delays, inaudibles.
  • Attorneys demand fixes: turnbacks, on-site audiographers.
  • Agencies raise prices, blame budget; demand goes down or cases are canceled.

Year 1:

  • Systemic distrust sets in. Clients no longer rely on “on-record” status.
  • Legislature probes transcript integrity; hearings held.
  • A patchwork like freelance stenographers reemerges—but skills and resources are lost and expensive.

Year 2:

  • A “reboot” is debated—but steno schools, skilled mentors, and tool manufacturers are long gone.
  • Restarting steno education or software development would cost hundreds of millions, take years—and still wouldn’t replace courtroom experience or trust.

Alternatives & Why They’re Inadequate

  • Voice‑recognition AI: Fails in accent recognition, overlapping speech, technical vocab. Accuracy? Volatile at best.
  • Tribunals pushing digital-only transcripts: The reopening of education and manufacturing is far too late.
  • “Hybrid” digital + remote steno: Might patch holes, but central ecosystems remain decimated.
  • Full return to steno: Desirable—but cannot be instantaneous without infrastructure in place.

Resilience doesn’t come after collapse—it’s built beforehand.

A Call to Action: Don’t Let a Day Come Without Court Reporters

  1. Support what remains: Donate to surviving steno schools, associations, mentor networks.
  2. Advocate in public: Educate clients, legislators, law schools, judges about what’s at stake.
  3. Invest in equipment & toolchains: Sponsor development of CAT and steno gear to ensure longevity.
  4. Promote training pipelines: Create apprenticeships, fund scholarships, incentivize placement.
  5. Hold systems accountable: Demand quality and standards—no variance in transcript integrity.

The future of justice depends not on digital gimmicks, but on real skills, institutional knowledge, and a fully functional, human-centered ecosystem.

Conclusion

A world without stenographic court reporters is not futuristic—it’s a failed experiment, stripped of craftsmanship, structure, and fairness. What’s left is a brittle, expensive, unaccountable labor model built on cheap assumptions. Unless we act now—with awareness, support, and strategic investment—our “day without court reporters” becomes permanent.

The message couldn’t be more urgent: Our fragile ecosystem won’t survive a digital heist. Without steno, there’s no foundation—and restoring it later is an order-of-magnitude harder than preserving it today.

Want to help?

  • Reach out to local steno schools or surviving reporters: mentor, teach, or simply donate.
  • Write to law firms and bar associations: push for hybrid rules mandating steno support.
  • Share this article. Awareness is step one.

Because when stenos disappear… we all go with them.

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.

***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 Day Without a Court Reporter – A Legal System on the Brink

Imagine a day in America where courtrooms are silent, not due to lack of proceedings, but because the protectors of the record have vanished. Not a single court reporter—no stenographers, no realtimers, no veterans with decades of institutional knowledge—is present to capture what’s being said, argued, decided. If this sounds like the dystopian premise of a film, think again. It’s already happening.

Just as the 2004 satirical film A Day Without a Mexican showed how essential, yet invisible, a marginalized group is to a society’s daily functioning, the disappearance of court reporters exposes a fragile legal ecosystem poised for collapse. “If you haven’t been paying attention to what’s been happening in the stenographic court reporting industry in the past decade,” one advocate warns, “then you are about to be hit by the proverbial bus… more like an atomic bomb extinction-level event.”

For decades, stenographic court reporters have held together the integrity of court records with a precision no digital recorder can replicate. Yet behind closed doors, powerful interests—backed by Silicon Valley money and private equity—have been waging a silent war against them, replacing trained professionals with digital recorders and AI-transcription models, all in the name of cost-saving and modernization. It’s a tech solution in search of a problem, and the consequences are starting to show.

Let’s be clear: digital court reporting is not equivalent to live stenography. As StenoImperium documented, Planet Depos and other mega-agencies recruited “digital reporters” off the street, only to discover a 320% turnover rate. Their new hires couldn’t meet the rigorous demands of accurate legal transcription. They tried to recruit trained stenographers to edit the mess—at cut rates. This revolving door of underpaid, undertrained labor results in massive inefficiencies, poor-quality transcripts, and delayed justice.

Worse, the so-called “shortage crisis” that helped fuel the digital takeover was largely a fabrication. The infamous 2013 Ducker Worldwide study predicted a shortfall of 5,500 court reporters by 2018, especially in California. But by 2024, California still boasts over 6,500 licensed stenographers—only a modest dip from 2012. The doom-and-gloom graph used by agencies to justify their pivot to digital was based on fictional data, no real census, and not a single interview with working court reporters. As Steno Imperium exposed, “It was invented, fabricated, concocted, made-up, complete fiction to fit their sales narrative.”

When you replace the tried-and-true human experts with algorithmic approximations, you lose more than people—you lose standards, ethics, oversight. Court reporters are trained professionals who manage realtime feeds, preserve decorum, and ensure an accurate, secure record. In contrast, digital systems require post-production editing by anonymous proofreaders and scopists—many overseas—who weren’t present during the proceeding and are not accountable for the final transcript. This breaks the chain of custody and jeopardizes appeals. As one court reporter noted, “Once you’ve got missing or incomplete transcripts, you might as well kiss your appeal goodbye.”

But this story gets darker. There’s a shortage—not of court reporters, but of the support systems that make their work sustainable. The manufacturing of steno machines is in decline. CAT software vendors are closing shop or switching focus to AI. Associations are dissolving. Schools are shutting down. Mentors are aging out, with no one to replace them. Once that expertise disappears, it’s gone forever.

If the traditional model is cast aside without a safety net, what’s left?

Greedy middlemen. Legal service agencies now gouge attorneys while paying court reporters less. Steno Imperium uncovered an agency that charged an attorney over $1,900 for a transcript the reporter invoiced at just over $200. That’s not inflation—that’s exploitation.

And then there’s accountability—or rather, the lack thereof. With digital recording, there’s no one to clarify who’s speaking, ask for repetitions, or flag audio issues in real time. There’s no guardian of the record, no ethical firewall, no licensed professional on the hook if something goes wrong. In high-stakes litigation, that should terrify us all.

So what happens next in a world without stenographers?

Turnaround times explode. Transcripts take weeks, sometimes months. Appellate courts are left in limbo. Trial outcomes can’t be reviewed. Legal errors go unchecked.

Access to justice erodes. Communities that rely on accurate, affordable court records—especially marginalized ones—are the first to suffer. Digital systems fail to meet ADA compliance. Language access becomes a nightmare. Costs soar.

And finally, institutional knowledge dies. Stenography is not a plug-and-play job; it is a craft, passed from master to apprentice. Without schools, mentors, or standardized licensing, there’s no way to rebuild the profession once it’s gone. As one advocate put it, “The extinction of stenographers would mean the extinction of a vast body of knowledge on the creation of the verbatim record.”

This is not inevitable. But we must act—now.

  • Restore funding to steno schools and associations.
  • Enforce title protection and prevent digital encroachment in states where it’s illegal.
  • Pass legislation that secures the stenographer’s role as deposition officer.
  • Demand the NCRA reassert its stance against fake shortages and misleading data.
  • Sue agencies and government bodies that install recording devices without legal authority.

Because a day without court reporters is more than just quiet courtrooms—it’s the beginning of a legal system where truth is fungible, justice is delayed, and democracy is weakened.

We still have time to stop it. But we won’t get a second chance.

The Silence Is Deafening – ILCRA’s Quiet Retreat from Controversial Event Raises Bigger Questions

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SITC and the Court Sponsorship Scandal – Legal Violations, Misused Funds, and Calls for Accountability

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Saving Court Reporting – Why Canada’s Loss Is America’s Opportunity to Help

In a decision that’s been widely criticized as shortsighted and damaging, the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology (NAIT) has paused admissions to Canada’s only accredited Captioning and Court Reporting diploma program. This move, while perhaps appearing as a logistical or budgetary adjustment on the surface, poses an existential threat to the integrity of Canadian courts, accessibility services, and public media. It also offers the U.S. a rare opportunity to play a supportive role in preserving a profession vital to democracy and inclusion.

The NAIT program isn’t just another academic credential—it’s a rigorous, elite pipeline that trains the country’s most reliable human record-keepers. Students who are accepted often wait years for entry, only to spend two full years in intensive training, learning the art of real-time stenography: a skill that allows them to transcribe every word in fast-paced, overlapping conversations with near-perfect accuracy. Graduates earn the Certified Shorthand Reporter designation, a credential required for courtrooms, real-time TV captioning, and communication access for people with disabilities. Without this program, Canada has no domestic infrastructure to support the development of these professionals.

Why Court Reporting Matters

Imagine a murder trial where a key piece of testimony is muddled by cross-talk. Or a deaf patient attending a high-stakes consultation without real-time captioning. Or a government hearing where the transcript contains critical omissions. These are not hypothetical scenarios. They are real risks when trained stenographers are replaced with automated transcription tools, which routinely miss subtle speech nuances, misinterpret voices in noisy environments, and fail to request clarification when something is unclear.

Court reporters don’t just type—they verify, clarify, and deliver transcripts that hold legal weight. They are the responsible charge, the final authority over the accuracy of the record. They’re neutral, real-time arbiters of record, and their work underpins due process, journalistic integrity, and accessibility. The NAIT program’s suspension places this entire ecosystem at risk.

A Profession in Crisis

The Canadian Hard of Hearing Association has called this situation a “national crisis” in terms of accessibility. This isn’t just a matter of curriculum—it affects real people every day: those who rely on accurate captions in medical settings, in classrooms, and in courtrooms. It’s being glossed over as a niche issue when it’s a foundational one.

NAIT’s stated reasons for pausing the program—such as insufficient international student enrollment—are particularly troubling. This career requires a strong grasp of the English language and the ability to transcribe with grammatical precision at extremely high speeds. It was never designed as a mass-market program, and to hold it to those metrics is to fundamentally misunderstand what it trains people to do.

Claims of low graduation rates also deserve context. Court reporting students graduate not on a fixed timeline, but when they reach 225 words per minute with 95 percent accuracy—a standard upheld for public safety and legal reliability. That takes time, and rightfully so. Despite the difficulty, the program has consistently maintained a waitlist.

And as for job security? Many graduates have jobs lined up before they even finish the program. Since 2007, I’ve worked in closed captioning, CART, legal proceedings, and more—because this career opens doors, not closes them.

Artificial intelligence is not capable of doing what we do. NAIT’s decision, led in part by Tamara Peyton, appears rash, poorly researched, and out of sync with the school’s responsibility to serve the public good.

The North American court reporting profession is already grappling with a looming crisis: a massive wave of retirements with no new generation ready to take over. In Canada, nearly half of the approximately 7,900 court reporters are over the age of 50. The situation is similarly dire in the U.S., where estimates suggest a shortage of more than 5,000 reporters in the coming years. Yet instead of doubling down on training and recruitment, NAIT’s pause effectively shutters the only pipeline for new professionals in Canada.

This is not just a Canadian problem—it’s a cross-border issue that invites American institutions, courts, and organizations to reflect on the importance of this craft and consider how to lend support.

What Is the NCRA Doing?

The National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) is the professional body that accredits court reporting programs in North America. NAIT is the only Canadian institution that holds this prestigious accreditation. Losing this program would mean losing NCRA’s presence in Canada and a critical North American training partner.

Contrary to earlier impressions, the NCRA has taken formal action. On June 3, 2025, NCRA President Keith R. Lemons, FAPR, RPR, CRR (Ret.) sent a letter to NAIT President Laura Jo Gunter and Alberta Minister Myles McDougall, urging them to reconsider the decision to pause the Captioning and Court Reporting (CCR) program. In the letter, the NCRA emphasized that cancelling the program would worsen Canada’s shortage of court reporters and captioners—roles essential for justice and communication access, especially for the deaf and hard of hearing communities. They offered to collaborate with NAIT on hybrid or alternative delivery models to keep the program viable.

That same day, the NCRA received a supportive response from the office of Alberta Legislative Assembly member David Eggen, who confirmed that he had also contacted the Minister of Advanced Education to advocate for the program’s continuation.

While this advocacy effort was not widely publicized at first, it now stands as a meaningful step that reflects the NCRA’s recognition of the crisis and willingness to act.

Still, further engagement and visibility are needed. NAIT has not yet reversed its decision, and more robust, public-facing support remains critical to keeping this program alive.

How the NCRA Can Further Help

Here are five practical and impactful steps the NCRA can and should take to support NAIT and the profession:

1. Public Advocacy

The NCRA should release a formal statement urging NAIT to reinstate its court reporting program. They must frame this issue as a matter of justice, accessibility, and professional integrity. Engaging the public and policymakers in this conversation is essential to building pressure on institutional decision-makers.

2. Institutional Support

If NAIT is pausing the program due to budgetary or administrative constraints, the NCRA can offer direct support: sharing resources, providing teaching materials, and possibly co-developing online components to reduce overhead. A North American educational partnership could ease institutional burdens while keeping the program alive.

3. Student Pathways

Students currently enrolled or accepted into NAIT’s program are left stranded. The NCRA should facilitate transfer agreements with U.S. programs, offer scholarships or funding for displaced students, and clarify credentialing options so Canadian students can still enter the profession.

4. Economic Impact Studies

The NCRA can commission research on the cost of losing human stenographers in Canada—from legal liability and transcription errors to increased reliance on foreign or AI-based services. Data-backed arguments can strengthen advocacy efforts and demonstrate the program’s value beyond academia.

5. Cross-Border Collaboration

The NAIT crisis is an opportunity to deepen U.S.-Canada professional ties. The NCRA could lead in forming a Canadian Court Reporting Advocacy Task Force, offer joint conferences and training, and expand its international focus to ensure Canada remains a stakeholder in the profession.

How the U.S. Can Support

American institutions and professionals can also step up. This isn’t about taking Canadian jobs—it’s about reinforcing a vital profession across borders:

  • U.S. schools could open their programs to Canadian students virtually
  • Employers and government agencies can reinforce demand for human transcription
  • NCRA-accredited programs can help temporarily absorb displaced students
  • U.S. captioning and legal services can amplify the message: trained humans are irreplaceable

More Than Just Jobs—A Matter of Justice

This is not just about career training; it’s about democratic infrastructure. Without qualified human court reporters, the legal system becomes vulnerable to error, manipulation, and bias. Without live captioning, millions of people with hearing loss lose access to communication. Without CART providers, equitable access to education and healthcare vanishes.

NAIT’s decision strips away a vital support beam from Canada’s legal and media systems. But worse still, it sends a message that precision, accessibility, and truth aren’t worth investing in. That’s unacceptable.

A Call to Action

NAIT’s decision to suspend the only accredited stenography program in Canada overlooks a crucial truth: court reporters do more than work in courts. Many provide real-time captioning and transcription for people who are deaf or hard of hearing, serving in hospitals, classrooms, and beyond.

This is not a convenience issue. It’s a matter of basic human rights.

For nearly two decades, I’ve delivered weekly transcripts in scenarios with layered speech, thick regional accents, and fast-paced conversation—linguistic challenges that routinely stump AI. These skills can’t be replicated by machines. The program’s removal not only fails students, but fails the public.

NAIT is considering turning this rigorous, credentialed program into a non-credit course or cutting it entirely. Either option erodes a vital public service and leaves over 3 million Canadians who rely on captioning and CART services without future support.

🚨 Why this matters:

  • Certified captioners provide critical access in education, healthcare, government, and media
  • AI transcription tools still lack the nuance and reliability for high-stakes contexts
  • Eliminating this program means Canada loses its only training ground for skilled, human captioners

We cannot allow accessibility to be sidelined by short-term metrics or administrative miscalculations.

Take action now. Contact the following to voice your concerns:

Please also copy the Canadian Hard of Hearing Association (CHHA National) in your correspondence.

Help protect our collective right to equitable communication.d inclusion.

NAIT must reinstate the Captioning and Court Reporting diploma. The NCRA must rise to meet this moment. And American professionals must lend their voices to protect a profession that safeguards justice and inclusion on both sides of the border.

If we let this program vanish without a fight, we trade accuracy for error, inclusion for exclusion, and a proud Canadian profession for outsourced guesswork. But if we act together—decisively and vocally—we can save more than a school. We can save the standard.

Let’s make sure the guardians of the record are not silenced. Because when they are, the truth is the first casualty.

DISCLOSURES

  • 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.
  • Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions. All views expressed are based on publicly available information, direct experience, or opinion. Nothing on this site is presented as legal or professional advice.

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“Posted Anonymously” – What the Surge of Hidden Voices Reveals About Court Reporting’s Online Culture

In recent months, a noticeable shift has taken place across Facebook Groups dedicated to court reporters. Posts are no longer proudly authored with names and credentials. Instead, a growing number are tagged with the familiar gray label: “Posted anonymously.”

At first glance, it might seem harmless—perhaps someone asking a sensitive question or navigating a difficult situation. But scroll long enough, and a troubling pattern emerges: reporters are afraid to speak openly. They worry about backlash, gossip, being reported to their agencies, or worse—being doxxed and targeted.

The rise of anonymous posts in these groups isn’t just a behavioral shift; it’s a red flag. It signals a deeper, systemic dysfunction within the online culture of court reporting—and a growing obsolescence of the platforms we once trusted to connect and support us.

Behind the Anonymity: Fear, Not Privacy

The “post anonymously” feature on Facebook was designed as a way to encourage open dialogue about personal or vulnerable issues. But in court reporting communities, it’s become a shield against professional retaliation.

Reporters use it to:

  • Ask questions about struggling with software or realtime translation without being seen as “incompetent”
  • Vent about low pay, overwork, or agency politics
  • Express concerns about the future of the profession, AI, and outsourcing
  • Share experiences of burnout, harassment, or unethical practices

The fact that these posts are anonymous doesn’t make them less important. In fact, it makes them more urgent. What does it say about a profession when members can’t ask for help or express doubt without fearing consequences?

A Profession That Eats Its Own

Many who work in court reporting will quietly admit what some say out loud: the culture can be brutal. Gossip is rampant. Bullying goes unchecked. People take screenshots of group posts and share them in backchannels. In extreme cases, reporters have been tattled on to their agencies or clients, resulting in job loss or damaged reputations.

This behavior doesn’t just create a toxic atmosphere—it actively undermines the profession’s future. Talented new reporters, overwhelmed by the hostility, either go silent or leave. Experienced reporters stop mentoring, choosing self-protection over engagement.

An anonymous poster recently wrote, “I love the work, but I’m terrified of the people. I’ve never seen a profession where everyone is so eager to destroy each other.” And judging by the number of supportive comments (and the fact it was posted anonymously), they’re far from alone.

Facebook Isn’t Helping—It’s Part of the Problem

Once a vibrant hub for sharing knowledge and community support, Facebook Groups for court reporters are now increasingly dysfunctional. That’s not just due to the toxic culture—they’re also suffering from platform decay.

  • Posts get buried or disappear entirely
  • The search function is nearly useless
  • Engagement is low unless a post is dramatic or inflammatory
  • Group moderation is often inconsistent or absent altogether

These issues make the platform functionally obsolete for professionals who need timely, reliable, and safe spaces to learn and grow. And when you combine that with the social toxicity, it’s no wonder people are opting for anonymity—or leaving entirely.

Anonymity Is a Warning Sign

When a professional community sees a surge in anonymous interaction, it’s not a sign of strength. It’s a symptom of deep psychological unsafety.

Anonymity is supposed to encourage vulnerability—but here, it’s being used to avoid punishment. Reporters don’t trust the space. They don’t trust their peers. And many no longer trust that their honest questions or opinions won’t be weaponized against them.

This isn’t sustainable. A profession where people must hide to participate is a profession at risk.

What the Court Reporting Community Can Learn From This

There’s a choice to be made—individually and collectively. Do we continue to tolerate a culture where fear rules the conversation? Or do we take steps to rebuild a professional environment where respect, mentorship, and real support are the norm?

Here’s where we can start:

  1. Acknowledge the Problem
    We can’t fix what we refuse to name. The culture of gossip, bullying, and retaliation is real—and harmful.
  2. Call Out the Behavior
    Silence protects bullies. When toxic behavior is normalized, everyone suffers. If you have tenure or influence, use it to support those who speak up.
  3. Create Safer, Smaller Spaces
    Consider moving discussions to private, moderated platforms like Discord, Slack, or even invite-only groups with strong codes of conduct.
  4. Protect Anonymity—but Address the Cause
    Anonymity can be valuable, but it shouldn’t be the only safe option. The goal should be a culture where names aren’t a liability.

The Bigger Picture

Court reporting is already under pressure—from automation, shrinking budgets, and public misunderstanding of the profession’s value. The last thing it needs is self-inflicted damage through a hostile online culture that isolates and intimidates its own members.

The explosion of anonymous posts isn’t just a curiosity—it’s a message. People are desperate for help, for connection, for safety. The fact that they don’t feel they can get that under their own name should alarm everyone who cares about the future of this profession.

Facebook may still be the most active platform for court reporters right now. But if this trend continues—if fear continues to outweigh trust—it won’t matter how many members are in the group. The real conversation will be happening elsewhere, behind closed doors, in whispered chats, or not at all.

And if that happens, we won’t just lose a Facebook Group—we’ll lose one of the few remaining spaces where this fractured profession could still come together.

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):

California Court Reporters Board Strips School Names from CSR Results — A Troubling Move for the Industry

The California Court Reporters Board (CRB) has quietly enacted a policy change with major implications for the court reporting industry and education community: it has removed the names of schools from official pass lists of the California Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) exam.

This administrative decision may seem minor on the surface, but it has sparked significant concern among the few remaining court reporting schools in the state—many of whom are already struggling under regulatory burdens. The omission of school names from CSR reports severs a critical connection between student outcomes and the institutions that trained them, undermining transparency, accountability, and the future of court reporting education in California.

A Move Without Warning

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the CRB’s decision is that it came without any advance notice or communication to the schools affected. Programs that have worked for years to prepare students for the CSR exam were not informed of the change, nor given an opportunity to provide feedback. The decision was simply implemented, leaving educators to discover the shift on their own.

Historically, these pass lists served multiple purposes. Not only did they confirm who passed the rigorous licensing exam, they also publicly recognized the institutions that trained those candidates. This transparency has long been a benchmark of credibility and performance for schools. Now, that institutional recognition has been erased.

Why the School Name Matters

For schools, public identification in CSR pass lists is more than just a matter of pride—it’s a vital part of their operations. School-specific pass rates are essential for:

  • Marketing and student recruitment: Prospective students use this information to evaluate which schools have successful track records.
  • Program credibility and reputation: Employers and court systems often look at graduate outcomes to assess the quality of training programs.
  • Accreditation efforts: Accrediting agencies and state education regulators use outcome data—including licensure pass rates—to determine program effectiveness and viability.

One court-reporting school in California even used its track record of student performance on the CSR exam to achieve full accreditation. That would be virtually impossible under the new CRB policy, which anonymizes data and leaves schools without public proof of success.

The Disappearance of Court Reporting Schools in California

The change in reporting comes at a particularly precarious time for the court reporting industry. While the overall number of vocational and trade schools in California has remained relatively stable or even grown in some sectors, the number of court reporting programs has sharply declined over the last two decades.

At one time, California was home to more than a dozen court reporting schools. Today, there are only 7 or 8 still operating in the state. That contraction is not due to a lack of student interest or industry demand—the need for court reporters remains high, and many positions go unfilled. Instead, schools have closed or relocated because of increasingly hostile business conditions created by the state’s regulatory environment.

A Difficult Place to Operate

Court reporting programs—most of which are private vocational institutions—have faced repeated audits, high compliance costs, and the unpredictable demands of the California Department of Education. Accreditors have pulled out of the state entirely in some cases, unable to navigate the regulatory red tape. Without accreditation, many schools lose eligibility for financial aid programs, insurance recognition, and other support systems, forcing them to shut down.

Unlike traditional public or nonprofit educational institutions, private court-reporting programs operate on tight budgets and depend heavily on transparency to remain competitive. Public performance data, like CSR exam outcomes, helps them validate their existence in a niche but vital field. Removing that information from public view could deliver the final blow to some of the state’s last-standing programs.

A Self-Defeating Policy

The timing of this change couldn’t be worse. California—and the country more broadly—is in the midst of a court reporter shortage. Retirements are outpacing new entries to the field, and the pipeline of qualified graduates is drying up. According to industry associations, the demand for court reporters is not expected to slow down any time soon, especially in civil and criminal courts where live stenographers remain essential.

In this context, the CRB’s policy of withholding school data is not just bureaucratically shortsighted—it’s potentially damaging to the long-term viability of the profession. With fewer schools and fewer students, the industry needs every possible incentive to attract new talent. Highlighting where students succeed could help encourage future enrollment. Instead, the state is opting to obscure that information, making it harder to promote and defend these critical educational programs.

A Lack of Transparency Hurts Everyone

Transparency in education helps all stakeholders: students can make better-informed decisions, schools can market their success, employers can trust the competency of graduates, and state agencies can monitor the effectiveness of licensing pipelines.

Without this visibility, it becomes harder to assess whether educational programs are effective. It also reduces accountability for both the schools and the board itself. If pass rates dip, no one can trace whether it’s due to declining instruction quality or increased difficulty in the exam. If rates improve, schools can’t showcase their success to new students or accreditors.

It’s also worth noting that the CRB, as a state agency, has an obligation to support and sustain the court reporting pipeline—not stifle it through administrative opacity.

The Way Forward

If California is serious about addressing the court reporter shortage and maintaining a robust pipeline of well-trained professionals, it must reverse this policy. The CRB should:

  • Reinstate school names in CSR result reports, at least on a quarterly or annual summary basis.
  • Engage with court reporting programs before implementing policy changes that affect them.
  • Support transparency by providing historical data so schools and the public can monitor progress over time.

Moreover, broader state leadership—especially within the Department of Consumer Affairs and the Legislature—should investigate how regulatory decisions are influencing school closures in high-need fields like court reporting.

The removal of school names from CSR exam results may have seemed like an administrative formality to the CRB, but it has real consequences for the few remaining court-reporting programs in California. At a time when the industry is fighting to survive and rebuild, this decision undercuts the very institutions working to train the next generation of professionals.

If not reversed, this policy risks accelerating the decline of court-reporting education in California—at the exact moment the profession needs it most. Transparency and partnership, not secrecy and silence, are what the industry deserves.

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 Success – How to Train Like a Division I Athlete and Pass the CSR the First Time

When aspiring court reporters hear horror stories about the Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) exam—like students who sit for it seven times before passing—it can stir up fear and doubt. One student recently asked a seasoned 20-year veteran of the field if those tales were true: “Seven times???? Would like to pass the first time.”

The court reporter’s reply was candid, grounded, and full of both personal insight and tough love. She admitted to passing the CSR on her second try, but her first attempt was sabotaged not by a lack of skill, but by her insistence on using a typewriter. “Stupid move on my part,” she said bluntly. That alone is a powerful lesson: success often hinges on both preparation and making smart, up-to-date choices with technology and strategy.

But the bigger takeaway from her story is how you approach school, practice, and professional development. According to her, “Plenty of people pass their first time.” The deciding factor? Discipline. Focus. A willingness to work smarter—not just harder—and a refusal to settle for mediocrity.

The Myth of the Endless Journey

The CSR isn’t some impossible mountain that only the lucky few can summit. Yes, test anxiety is real. Yes, nerves can get the best of even the most prepared student. But blaming the test, the school, or fate isn’t the path to success. Preparation is.

The veteran recalls pulling the steno notes of a fellow student who had been in court reporting school for ten years and wasn’t making progress. What she saw shocked her: “Her notes were a mess, didn’t resemble any correct steno outlines, and lots of shadows. She was writing slop.”

That student eventually quit—not because she lacked intelligence, but because she lacked discipline and a willingness to self-correct. And, unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. “There are a lot of students like her,” the reporter explained. “With no work ethic, without the need to perfect their writing, and will show up every day and write pure slop.”

In court reporting, simply showing up isn’t enough. Mastery requires more than time—it demands excellence.

What It Means to Train Like a Division I Athlete

The most striking part of this veteran’s insight wasn’t the warning about bad habits—it was the secret to her own success: “I approached school like a D1 athlete.”

For those unfamiliar, Division I athletes are the elite of college sports. Their days are tightly scheduled around training, practice, competition, and recovery. Every rep, every drill, every meal is intentional. The margin for error is thin, and expectations are high. That’s exactly the mindset the court reporter brought to her training.

Here’s what that looks like when applied to court reporting school:

1. Laser-Focused Training Time

“I gave it 120% every day. My time in class was laser focused.” This is key. It’s not just about how much time you spend practicing—it’s about how well you use that time. Passive listening, sloppy shorthand, distracted practice sessions—those won’t get you anywhere.

In class, treat every speed-building drill like a game-day performance. Minimize distractions. Analyze your weaknesses. Seek feedback. Push yourself to write with accuracy and purpose.

2. High Standards and Self-Imposed Goals

“I kept my standards high and I was very hard on myself in terms of expectations for progress.”

Elite performers don’t wait for external deadlines. They set personal benchmarks and push to exceed them. Make your own timeline for passing each speed test. Track your errors. Record your dictations and play them back critically. Push yourself harder than any instructor ever will.

3. Smart Recovery and Downtime

After school, the veteran would pack up and head to a movie or lunch with friends. “I never took [my bag] out to practice.” To some, this might sound like slacking—but it’s actually strategic.

Just like athletes need recovery days, your brain needs downtime. When you work intensely during class, stepping away afterwards helps consolidate memory, avoid burnout, and keep your passion alive. That only works, of course, if your class time is truly effective.

4. Train with Purpose, Not Panic

There were times when this seasoned reporter did take her bag home and practice—“when I was falling behind my self-imposed schedule.” That’s an important nuance. Practicing outside of class wasn’t a daily grind; it was a tactical move when progress slowed.

Many students panic and start practicing blindly, drilling the same mistakes into muscle memory. Instead, practice with intention. Address specific weaknesses. Use dictations that challenge your accuracy. Practice isn’t about clocking hours—it’s about gaining skill.

The Bottom Line – It’s About You, Not the Test

The CSR is hard—but not impossible. The stories of people failing it seven times are real, but they’re not inevitable. They’re often the result of poor habits, low standards, and an unwillingness to course-correct.

This veteran reporter didn’t sugarcoat the reality: “I can tell you exactly why someone would take that long to get through school and why people fail. That’s easy to answer.”

The answer isn’t some mystery. It’s discipline.

How You Can Build the D1 Mentality

Here are some steps to adopt the elite mindset of a Division I athlete in your court reporting journey:

  • Structure your time: Create a daily and weekly schedule that prioritizes practice, feedback, and skill-building.
  • Measure progress: Keep a journal of your test results, accuracy rates, and steno errors. Reflect weekly.
  • Eliminate distractions: When you’re working on speed or accuracy, turn off notifications, close other tabs, and fully commit to the session.
  • Train your mind: If you struggle with test anxiety, explore mindfulness, therapy, or even hypnosis. Mental resilience is trainable.
  • Find your “team”: Surround yourself with peers and mentors who hold themselves to high standards. Avoid the echo chamber of “good enough.”
  • Recover smart: Rest days and rewards aren’t laziness—they’re part of long-term performance sustainability. Just don’t let them become avoidance.

Aim Higher

Anyone can go through the motions of court reporting school. But if you want to pass the CSR on the first try—or simply graduate faster—you’ll need more than attendance and effort. You’ll need drive. Standards. Precision. Grit.

Think like a D1 athlete. Every class is a competition. Every test is a proving ground. And every minute spent writing should serve a purpose. That’s the difference between someone who passes the CSR once—and someone who never gets there.

Show up. Lock in. And aim higher.

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 Hidden Cost of AI and Digital Reporters is A Looming Crisis in the Court Reporting Industry

In the rush to embrace new technologies, the court reporting industry is undergoing a disruption that, for many professionals, feels more like destruction. AI transcription tools, digital reporters, and automated editing systems are being marketed as sleek, efficient solutions to modern demands. But behind the scenes, the very people who hold the system together—scopists, proofreaders, and certified court reporters—are being pushed out, underpaid, and overworked. The result is a deteriorating standard of transcript quality and a looming crisis of workforce attrition that threatens the entire profession.

The False Promise of “Faster and Cheaper”

Tech vendors and some reporting agencies are touting AI and digital audio systems as faster and more cost-effective than traditional stenographic reporting. But anyone actually working with these transcripts knows better. Yes, the initial capture might be immediate. But getting from rough digital file to final, usable transcript is anything but fast. The process of reviewing, correcting, and editing AI-generated content—or audio-based recordings transcribed by unskilled operators—requires immense human labor, often more than it would take to simply do the job right the first time through stenographic methods.

Proofreaders and scopists are now being handed what can only be described as messes: raw files riddled with inaccuracies, lacking punctuation, filled with untrans and dropped sentences. These aren’t polished drafts in need of a final check. They’re barely coherent transcripts that require hours of editing—and often without the benefit of audio or the original steno file. These workers are effectively being asked to do multiple jobs for the rate of one—and many are saying no.

Proofreaders Are Quitting. Here’s Why.

The fallout is predictable: skilled scopists and proofreaders are quitting in droves. The work has become thankless and unsustainable. What used to be a vital second set of eyes on a nearly-final document has devolved into being the sole quality control checkpoint for entire transcripts—often at sub-minimum wage rates. One former court reporter, now working as a proofreader, recently described earning just $8 an hour due to the volume of errors per page and lack of formatting in the files she received.

This isn’t proofreading—it’s unpaid scoping. And it’s being done under unrealistic expectations, inadequate pay, and without the professional respect the role deserves. If this trend continues, there will be a serious shortage of proofers and scopists willing to work under these conditions, compounding delays, increasing costs, and further degrading the quality of legal transcripts.

Replacing Reporters? A Dangerous Misconception

Let’s be clear: scopists and proofreaders are essential, but they cannot replace court reporters. Court reporters are the official custodians of the record. Their real-time transcription, accuracy, and ability to manage proceedings are what ensure the integrity of legal documentation. Replacing them with unregulated digital recording systems or AI tools, then attempting to “clean it up later,” not only shifts legal responsibility away from the point of capture but also introduces a minefield of errors and inconsistencies.

Scopists and proofers work downstream, and they do not hold legal responsibility for transcript accuracy. Expecting them to retroactively reconstruct what happened in a deposition or courtroom—often with partial information—is both unfair and impractical. Moreover, the professionals being handed this burden aren’t being paid enough to justify their role becoming the new frontline of accuracy.

Technology That Takes Us Backward

Ironically, this technological “advancement” is a giant leap backward. Fifty years ago, in the 1970s, dictation machines and typists were the norm. Court reporters would dictate their notes, and typists—paid fairly for their time—would transcribe them. In 1970, transcript rates averaged around $3.00 per page. Adjusted for inflation, that’s about $18 per page today. In that economic context, the cost of having multiple humans touch a transcript—reporter, typist, editor—was manageable.

But today’s transcript rates haven’t kept up with inflation, while expectations have ballooned. The industry is now attempting to achieve the same level of quality at one-third of the cost, with three times the workload, and none of the skilled infrastructure in place. It’s a financial model that is fundamentally unsustainable. What worked 50 years ago at fair wages doesn’t work today at cut-rate prices.

The Illusion of Savings: Triple the Cost, Triple the Trouble

While AI and digital solutions are sold as cost-cutting measures, the real-world math tells a different story. Instead of paying one highly trained court reporter to scope and deliver a polished transcript, firms are now paying:

  1. A digital recorder or minimally trained “reporter” to capture audio;
  2. A scopist to interpret and organize the text;
  3. A proofreader to do extensive editing and corrections;
  4. Additional time for corrections, quality reviews, and fixing missed content.

All told, that adds up to more time, more labor, and more cost—often two to three times what a single steno reporter would charge to produce a transcript that requires minimal revision. The perceived savings evaporate quickly, and the additional burden placed on support professionals threatens to collapse the system entirely.

The Economics of Exploitation & How Profit-Driven Disruption is Reshaping the Transcript Pipeline

The driving force behind the AI and digital reporting movement isn’t the professionals who actually create the record—it’s the national agencies, vendors, and software companies like Stenograph and Procat, many of whom have never set foot in a deposition or courtroom. These decision-makers build tools based on abstract workflows, not firsthand experience, and they lack a true understanding of the skill, responsibility, and precision that court reporters bring to the job. Their motivation is clear: reduce costs by eliminating highly skilled reporters and replace them with cheaper labor and digital tools, assuming the transcript can still be cobbled together downstream. But they grossly underestimate the complexity of the work and the economic chain it supports. By cutting court reporters, they believe they’re saving money—when in reality, they’re destabilizing a fragile, interdependent system of subcontracted professionals who are now re-evaluating their worth.

Scopists and proofreaders, traditionally supporting court reporters by editing already-clean steno files, are now being asked to clean up disorganized, error-ridden transcripts produced by AI and digital recorders. This isn’t just scoping anymore—it’s reconstructive transcription, and many scopists are demanding higher rates accordingly. While a court reporter’s scoped file might command $1.25 per page, the cleanup required for digital/AI transcripts often justifies $4.00 per page or more. And here’s the ripple effect: scopists now know they can earn more working on AI/digital jobs, so they’re less inclined to accept lower-paying work from court reporters, unless those rates rise too. Reporters, in turn, are being squeezed from both ends—expected to deliver quality while paying more to subcontractors who are understandably unwilling to shoulder the burden without fair compensation. The economics are shifting rapidly, not by design, but as a consequence of a profit-driven system that failed to account for the real labor behind the transcript. But once that shift occurs, court reporters themselves will have no choice but to raise their rates to cover the increased subcontracting costs—and that introduces a new layer of economic tension.

Attorneys and law firms are already pushing back on what they perceive as skyrocketing court reporting fees, but what many don’t realize is that reporters themselves are often still earning what they earned 30, even 50 years ago. The real cost increases are coming from the big national agencies—many of which are now doubling or tripling rates to clients while failing to pass any meaningful portion of that markup downstream to the professionals doing the work. So while the legal industry is being told that technology is the path to savings, what’s actually happening is a redistribution of cost and profit that leaves the professionals underpaid, overburdened, and increasingly unwilling to stay in the game. It’s not just inefficient—it’s unsustainable.

So while the legal industry is being told that technology is the path to savings, what’s actually happening is a redistribution of cost and profit that leaves the professionals underpaid, overburdened, and increasingly unwilling to stay in the game. It’s not just inefficient—it’s unsustainable. And for many court reporters, it’s starting to feel intentional. The big national agencies and vendors profiting from this shift aren’t merely ignoring the fallout—they’re accelerating it, creating conditions so unworkable that experienced reporters are being squeezed out by design. Whether by negligence or strategy, the outcome is the same: the quiet elimination of skilled stenographers under the guise of innovation.

The Real Consequence: Decline in Quality and Professional Pride

Seasoned proofreaders are now voicing frustration and burnout. Many express disbelief at the lack of quality in the work they’re handed—some of it coming not just from digital reporters, but even from credentialed steno reporters who’ve abandoned scoping altogether to save money. This erosion of pride and professionalism is disheartening. Longtime reporters once took ownership of every transcript that carried their name. Now, there’s a growing trend of outsourcing the bulk of the work to others, and paying them poorly to do it.

This commodification of skill is driving experienced professionals away—and once they’re gone, they won’t return. We’re not just losing manpower; we’re losing institutional knowledge, quality control, and the mentorship that once raised the bar for newcomers in the field.

The Path Forward: Reinforcing Standards, Not Replacing Them

The court reporting industry must take a hard look at what’s happening. Technology can be a tool, but it should never be a substitute for skill, ethics, and responsibility. We must:

  • Uphold standards for what constitutes a “proofed” transcript;
  • Pay scopists and proofers fairly for the work they’re being asked to do;
  • Educate clients about the differences between digital and stenographic reporting;
  • Reinvest in training and support for new reporters, encouraging quality over shortcuts.

We must also reject the dangerous idea that AI or digital tools can fully replace human oversight. They can supplement the process, but without skilled hands guiding them, they will never be capable of meeting the high standards legal proceedings demand.

Quality Can’t Be Automated

The foundation of justice is a clear, accurate, and timely record. That record is only possible because of the professionals who create, refine, and verify it at every stage. As the industry leans into automation and outsourcing, it risks losing the very precision and trustworthiness that give transcripts their value.

If we continue down this path, we won’t just be replacing humans with machines—we’ll be replacing integrity with convenience, and professionalism with chaos. And that’s a price none of us can afford.

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.

***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):

  • All content herein reflects the author’s personal commentary, protected under the First Amendment.
  • Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.

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.

One Man, Many Hats – Is It Time to Talk About Dave Wenhold’s Role Across Court Reporting Associations?

In most industries, transparency and neutrality are non-negotiable values—especially when it comes to leadership in professional associations. But in the court reporting world, one man holds a surprising amount of influence: Dave Wenhold, Executive Director of both the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) and the Illinois Court Reporters Association (ILCRA).

What’s more? Wenhold, through his firm Miller Wenhold Association Management, has held executive roles in multiple state and industry associations—including the New York State Court Reporters Association (NYSCRA) —spanning industries, states, and causes far beyond stenography.

This reality has led many professionals to ask an uncomfortable but necessary question:

Is this structure fair to the rest of the profession? Or are we looking at a conflict of interest hiding in plain sight?

A Leadership Overlap That’s Too Close for Comfort

Being Executive Director of both the national and one of the most prominent state associations is unusual. It’s not illegal. It’s not necessarily unethical on its face. But it’s definitely unprecedented—and more importantly, it’s loaded with risk.

The NCRA is tasked with serving all states equally. It creates national policy, directs federal advocacy, is entrusted with distributing attention and resources across all its state-level partners, and helps guide the strategic future of the stenographic profession. ILCRA, meanwhile, advocates for a single state’s interests of one specific region.

With one individual at the helm of both, how can members be sure the national agenda isn’t being influenced by local priorities? Are other states receiving the same level of access, attention, and support that Illinois might be?

Multiple Associations, Divided Attention?

Dave Wenhold serves as the Executive Director for multiple associations beyond the NCRA and ILCRA. Through his firms, Miller Wenhold Association Management, and Miller Wenhold Capitol Strategies, he holds executive roles in various organizations across different industries.

For instance, he has also been involved with the New York State Court Reporters Association (NYSCRA). According to a detailed account on Stenonymous.com, concerns were raised during his tenure about record-keeping and management practices, leading to operational challenges for the association after his departure.

In addition to these roles, Wenhold’s firm manages or has managed associations such as:

This list is not exhaustive, as the full number of associations for which Dave Wenhold directly or indirectly serves as Executive Director is not publicly known.

This extensive portfolio raises fair questions about the potential for divided attention and the ability to dedicate sufficient focus to each organization’s unique mission.

While holding executive positions in multiple organizations is not inherently unethical, it does necessitate a high level of transparency, accountability, and clear delineation of responsibilities to ensure that each organization’s interests are fully represented and protected. The concerns raised highlight the importance of evaluating governance structures and leadership roles to maintain trust and effectiveness within professional associations.

That’s a broad list, with very different missions. It’s entirely fair to ask:

Do Other States Get a Fair Shake?

If you’re a board member or active volunteer in another state association—say, Texas, Florida, or New Jersey—you might rightly wonder:

  • Does Illinois get faster response times from the NCRA because of this relationship?
  • Does ILCRA get inside access to planning, marketing, and member services that others don’t?
  • Are national strategies ever influenced by ILCRA’s local priorities?

Even if decisions are made in good faith, the perception of favoritism is real—and perception alone can be damaging.

How much bandwidth does one person—or one management company—really have?

Can one executive simultaneously advocate for the national interests of court reporters, oversee local chapter affairs, and maintain focus on entirely unrelated fields—all while staying up to speed on stenographic policy battles, member needs, and emerging threats like digital transcription encroachment?

This Isn’t Just About Optics—It’s About Oversight

Every professional association exists to serve its members. That includes:

  • Safeguarding their dues
  • Fighting for their interests
  • Protecting the integrity of the profession

But when so much administrative power is concentrated in one person—or one firm—accountability becomes difficult. Mistakes can be repeated across organizations. Conflicts can go unchecked. Priorities can become blurred.

And worse: members often don’t even know it’s happening.

How Much Is Too Much for One Executive?

In nonprofit governance, executive compensation is always a critical metric. It should reflect:

  • The scope of responsibility,
  • The time commitment,
  • Industry norms for similar-sized organizations,
  • And the nonprofit’s financial capacity.

But when an executive holds multiple paid roles, the conversation shifts from what’s fair to what’s appropriate. That’s especially true in the case of Dave Wenhold, who is not only the Executive Director of the NCRA, but also of the ILCRA—and several other unrelated associations.

NCRA Compensation: What the Public Records Show

According to the NCRA’s IRS Form 990 filings, Wenhold’s compensation as of the latest reports was:

  • 2021: $304,500
  • 2022: $305,000

These filings are public and reflect the industry-appropriate salary for the Executive Director of a national professional association with over $3 million in annual revenue.

That, on its own, might not raise eyebrows.

But What About ILCRA?

Unlike NCRA, the Illinois Court Reporters Association (ILCRA) does not publicly disclose what it pays Wenhold or his firm. ILCRA is a smaller, state-level nonprofit, and although it is subject to similar nonprofit regulations, it has not published any Form 990s with salary details easily accessible to members or the public.

This lack of transparency leaves key questions unanswered:

  • Is he paid by both NCRA and ILCRA simultaneously?
  • Are members aware of how much of their dues support this administrative arrangement?
  • Does he receive additional income from other associations?

Without clear disclosure, the overlap of compensation and roles becomes not only unusual—but also potentially unprecedented in this industry.

Total Compensation and Influence—How Much Is Too Much?

We know from public records that Dave Wenhold earns over $300,000 per year from NCRA alone. When estimating his total compensation, we must also account for his roles in ILCRA and numerous other associations managed under his firms, including Kautter Wenhold and Miller Wenhold Association Management.

If he receives even modest compensation—say, $30,000–$60,000 per year—from each of 8 to 12 additional associations, his total annual earnings could range from $500,000 to over $1 million. This would place him among the highest-paid association executives in the nonprofit space.

Beyond earnings, such an arrangement raises serious governance questions:

  • How can one person dedicate adequate time to each organization’s needs?
  • Are these groups truly receiving independent, strategic leadership, or a template approach recycled across clients?
  • Is the influence of any one individual—especially in fields with shared lobbying, ethics, or workforce concerns—becoming disproportionately powerful?

At this level of income and influence, the profession must demand transparency, rigorous oversight, and clear separation of responsibilities.

What’s Typical—and What Isn’t

In most nonprofit sectors, especially among larger, fully funded organizations, it is not standard for an Executive Director to hold multiple concurrent paid executive roles, particularly within related fields. It’s one thing to be a part-time executive for a small, local group; it’s another to be the full-time, six-figure-paid leader of a national association while simultaneously leading a state affiliate and others.

Best practices, as outlined by governance watchdogs like BoardSource, emphasize:

  • Undivided loyalty to the organization, especially when full-time compensation is involved.
  • Clear disclosure of all other paid roles to avoid even the appearance of a conflict.
  • Board oversight to ensure that the executive’s other engagements don’t detract from their primary responsibilities.

This concentration of influence, decision-making authority, and potentially duplicated compensation is not typical—and certainly not transparent.

NCRA’s Performance Under Scrutiny

Adding to the concern, the NCRA has seen a steady decline in membership under Wenhold’s leadership. The profession itself is under siege, yet the national organization tasked with defending it appears to be shrinking in size, budget, and impact.

  • The organization is reportedly facing a budget shortfall.
  • NCRA sold its headquarters and is now renting, a move some critics compare to corporate asset stripping, as it reduces long-term stability in favor of short-term liquidity.
  • The JCR (Journal of Court Reporting), once a robust industry publication, now includes few to no third-party ads outside of NCRA self-promotion.
  • There is growing criticism over lack of technological innovation, member engagement, and responsiveness to grassroots advocacy.
  • Concerns have also been raised about tone-deaf messaging and inconsistent strategic direction, which some say have alienated younger and mid-career reporters.

Meanwhile, NCRA has been criticized for failing to take a strong enough stance against digital reporting—a growing threat to the profession. Perhaps most troubling is NCRA’s lack of visibility and involvement in major legislative efforts in California, which has the largest court reporting population in the country.

If the national association isn’t showing up in the most critical legislative battles, and its membership and visibility are declining, then what exactly are members paying for?

A Wake-Up Call for State Boards and Members

This issue should spark serious reflection within the court reporting community:

  • Should the NCRA’s Executive Director be allowed to simultaneously manage a state association?
  • Should there be disclosure requirements about what other associations a national executive serves?
  • Should each state be entitled to a level playing field when seeking attention, funding, or support from NCRA?

In many other professions, this kind of overlap would be viewed as a governance risk—something to fix, not normalize.

What Can Be Done?

Here’s a roadmap for reform:

  1. Demand transparency. Every association should disclose any overlapping leadership roles, especially those involving national and state-level groups.
  2. Push for policy. NCRA should adopt a policy preventing its executive leadership from simultaneously holding paid roles in regional or state organizations within the same field.
  3. Audit vendor relationships. How are contracts awarded? Are they reviewed periodically? Do members have a voice?
  4. Encourage leadership diversity. Rather than centralizing control, we need to nurture a new generation of leaders from across the country.

Loyalty to the Profession, Not Just the Person

This conversation isn’t personal—it’s principled. Dave Wenhold may be a capable executive. But the issue isn’t whether he can handle the work. It’s whether the structure itself serves the best interests of the profession.

A thriving, credible court reporting field depends on balanced leadership, clear boundaries, and true member representation. If we let convenience override fairness, or familiarity override scrutiny, we undermine the very trust that keeps our associations strong.

It’s time to take a hard look at how power is distributed in our profession—and to make sure every court reporter in every state gets a fair seat at the table.

Final Thought: Equity Over Convenience

Leadership must reflect the values of the profession it serves—accuracy, impartiality, integrity. That applies as much to how our associations are run as it does to how our transcripts are produced.

One person can’t be everywhere. One firm shouldn’t be at the center of everything. The appearance of control, influence, or favoritism—even if unintended—is enough to warrant review.

Members deserve assurance that their associations are being run with focus, fairness, and fidelity to their mission. And when one person or firm holds a dozen titles across overlapping organizations, that assurance becomes harder to provide.

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.

***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):

  • All content herein reflects the author’s personal commentary, protected under the First Amendment.
  • Nothing here constitutes legal advice. Readers are encouraged to review the facts and form independent conclusions.

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.

It’s Just a Cocktail Party — Or Is It? Why ILCRA’s Partnership with SITC Deserves Scrutiny

Beneath the Cheers: What a Cocktail Party Can Really Cost a Profession

A respectful reply to a comment submitted in support of the entity known as Steno In The City‘s (registered trademark) event partnership with ILCRA

THE COMMENT:

*”Since this blog is labeled as a safe space, let me ask, could there possibly be a different perspective to consider in regard to the scrutiny of this matter? For example, many non-profits contract with private businesses in order to throw events and such for social networking opportunities. When I looked at the posts it is clear that the $75 ticket is going directly towards the food, drinks and access to the venue. Just because ILCRA is a non-profit does not entitle them to use any event space for free. Food and drinks also come with a price tag. The event is in no way marketed as a fundraising event, nor does it suggest that funds will be distributed to any specific cause other than providing a space and food/drinks to those who voluntarily purchase a ticket.

I do not believe that ILCRA allowing SITC to help organize a social gathering is illicit. The work SITC has done to promote the court reporting industry is invaluable, and their events are notoriously upscale and high quality. Maybe ILCRA wants to partner with an org that has the same goals, which is to advance the industry of court reporting. Sometimes it’s okay to let things be fun. We don’t have to put a magnifying glass on everything, especially not a cocktail party.”*

Thank you for the comment — you raise points that many people might also be wondering, and it’s important that this conversation happens in a transparent and respectful way. So let’s take a closer look at the assumptions here and break down why this is not just “a fun social event” but a partnership that raises serious legal, financial, ethical, and data privacy concerns.

Let’s walk through this point by point, clearly and without judgment:

✅ CLAIM: “Nonprofits often contract with private businesses to throw events.”

🔴 WHAT’S WRONG:

You’re absolutely right — nonprofits do contract with caterers, venues, and vendors. But that’s not what’s happening here.

This isn’t just about ILCRA paying a vendor. In this case:

  • A third-party for-profit business SITC (short for Steno In The City)is:
    • Branding the event as a co-host
    • Collecting payments from ILCRA’s members
    • Collecting personal data (names, emails, etc.)
    • Potentially profiting from this arrangement

This is not a standard vendor relationship — this is a joint branding and financial arrangement with a private entity. That’s legally and ethically different from hiring a caterer.

✅ CLAIM: “The $75 ticket just covers food, drinks, and venue.”

🔴 WHAT’S WRONG:

Even if that’s true — that doesn’t justify sending money and data through a private business without transparency, oversight, or board authorization.

Unless:

  • There is a written contract outlining the financial arrangement,
  • ILCRA has reviewed the pricing and receipts, and
  • All proceeds and expenses are tracked for members to see,

Then ILCRA cannot claim this is a simple cost-recovery event. It may actually violate:

  • IRS rules for 501(c)(6) nonprofits (regarding private benefit)
  • Nonprofit fiduciary duty laws
  • State regulations on charitable event reporting and financial accountability

Even for a cocktail party, nonprofits must account for every dollar collected in their name.

✅ CLAIM: “It’s not a fundraiser.”

🔴 WHAT’S WRONG:

The issue isn’t whether this is labeled a fundraiser — the issue is where the money goes and how it’s handled.

  • If SITC is receiving money via its own platform,
  • If there is no public disclosure of how the funds are used,
  • If ILCRA is promoting the event but has no financial oversight,

Then ILCRA is opening itself up to questions about misuse of its name, lack of board supervision, and possible inurement violations.

Fundraising or not — if money is being collected under the ILCRA brand, members deserve transparency.

✅ CLAIM: “SITC has promoted court reporting and runs high-quality events.”

🔴 WHAT’S WRONG:

Even if past events were enjoyable, reputation and aesthetics do not exempt anyone from scrutiny.

The concern is that:

  • SITC’s founder is currently under active investigation (I can’t disclose the details)
  • There are allegations of data misuse, wage violations, unauthorized nonprofit fundraising, gambling, and more.
  • ILCRA is associating its name and members with this entity before those investigations are resolved

This is not about whether an event looks upscale — it’s about whether ILCRA should legitimize a partnership with someone facing serious and unresolved legal allegations.

✅ CLAIM: “It’s just a cocktail party — don’t put a magnifying glass on everything.”

🔴 WHAT’S WRONG:

This is the most dangerous assumption of all.

Even a cocktail party becomes serious when:

  • Member data is collected by a third party
  • Money is routed through a for-profit business
  • A professional association’s name and reputation are attached
  • There’s an ongoing investigation into the person hosting it

Professional associations must scrutinize every public-facing activity — especially ones involving finances, branding, and member trust.

Calling it “just a social event” doesn’t make the risk go away.

✅ ADDITIONAL CONCERN: Ongoing Investigations Into SITC’s Founder

While the event may be described as a simple social gathering, it’s important to consider the broader legal context involving the individual co-hosting and facilitating the event.

In addition to the pending COPE complaint filed with the NCRA, there are active and documented investigations into the actions of SITC’s founder by multiple agencies:

  • The California Department of Justice, for the hiring of an individual to impersonate an attorney on her behalf;
  • The Louisiana Attorney General’s Office, for violations related to improper sponsorship solicitation practices;
  • The California Department of Justice, for violations related to improper sponsorship solicitation practices; and gambling violations.
  • The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), which has confirmed an open case relating to cross-state cyberstalking and organizational misconduct; transnational criminal gang activity.
  • California Division of Labor Standards Enforcement (DLSE), concerning the use of unpaid volunteers to perform labor for commercial benefit – a potential wage-hour law violation.
  • And the U.S. Department of Labor under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA), concerning the use of unpaid volunteers to perform labor for commercial benefit — a potential wage-hour law violation.
  • Important Note: These matters are the subject of active investigations and are based on allegations. To date, no criminal charges have been filed. The individual is entitled to the presumption of innocence until proven otherwise under the law. This discussion is offered solely in the context of organizational risk, and fiduciary responsibility, and professional ethics, not as a presumption of guilt.

These investigations are not speculative or anecdotal. They are based on formal complaints, documented communication with agencies, and direct confirmations. The existence of these ongoing inquiries underscores why ILCRA — as a professional nonprofit bound by fiduciary duty — should be exercising extreme caution before associating its name, membership, and data infrastructure with this individual or her organization.

All of the allegations outlined herein are based on Shaunise Day’s own public admissions and documented activity across her social media platforms, where she has personally posted evidence of the events, practices, and representations in question.

In March 2025, a formal and confidential complaint was submitted to NCRA through the COPE process. That complaint included detailed allegations and supporting documentation of the above-listed allegations and investigations. NCRA Executive Director Dave Wenhold was directly informed of these matters at that time in his NCRA leadership capacities, and at the time, he was also the ILCRA Executive Director.

At no point was confirmation given that these concerns would be escalated to ILCRA leadership — and to be clear, COPE matters are confidential. However, given that Mr. Wenhold was fully informed of the nature and scope of the allegations in March 2025, he was in a position to ethically and prudently advise against any formal partnership with the subject of the complaint while serious legal and ethical concerns remained unresolved.

While he may have been limited in what he could disclose due to COPE rules, he was not prevented from exercising sound judgment or advocating that ILCRA avoid affiliations with individuals under known investigation — especially when those affiliations involve handling member funds and personal data.

🚨 Volunteer Labor and Wage Violations

✅ 1. Federal Law (Applies in Chicago): Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA)

The FLSA, enforced by the U.S. Department of Labor, strictly limits the use of unpaid volunteers to:

  • Nonprofit or governmental organizations,
  • For public service, religious, or humanitarian objectives,
  • Where the individual freely offers services without coercion and without expectation of compensation (for non-profits only)

🔴 For-profit businesses may not legally use volunteers to perform work that benefits the company.


Even if someone says they’re “volunteering,” if they’re doing productive work (e.g., planning events, staffing tables, promoting a brand), they are considered employees and must be paid at least minimum wage.

Under both federal (FLSA) and Illinois law, a for-profit entity cannot legally use unpaid volunteers for work that benefits the business.

Even nonprofits must be careful, but a for-profit like the entity known as Steno In The City (registered trademark) using unpaid labor for event work could be in serious violation of Illinois labor law, especially if the work replaces what would otherwise be paid labor (e.g., registration, marketing, set-up, etc.). If the $75 admission is run through SITC, then her for-profit can’t use volunteers for the event.

These labor law concerns are not isolated to a single event or jurisdiction. Based on available documentation and first-hand reports by Day herself, SITC has held events in multiple states — including California, Louisiana, Texas, New York — as well as internationally in Cancun, Mexico, where unpaid individuals were used to perform event-related labor (such as marketing, setup, logistics, and staffing).

Under both federal law and each of these states’ respective labor codes, for-profit businesses may not legally use volunteer labor. These actions may constitute systemic wage and hour violations, particularly under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA) and equivalent state labor laws. Investigations are ongoing in some jurisdictions, and complaints have been submitted to various agencies.

* Important Note: These matters remain under investigation. The subject of these allegations has not been formally charged and is entitled to the presumption of innocence. This information is shared in the context of risk disclosure, member protection, and nonprofit governance standards, not as a legal conclusion.

✅ BONUS CONCERN: What About Data Privacy?

This wasn’t addressed in the comment, but it’s critical:

  • The SITC site collects names, emails, phone numbers, job titles — all of which are considered personally identifiable information (PII).
  • If ILCRA encourages members to register through this system, they are jointly responsible for what happens to that data.

Under:

  • Illinois Personal Information Protection Act (PIPA)
  • FTC Safeguards Rule
  • And basic ethical responsibility,

ILCRA must ensure that members’ data is:

  • Collected legally
  • Stored securely
  • Not shared, sold, or misused

🤝 Final Thought — A Safe Space for Truth

This space is a safe one — for truth, for accountability, and for the court reporting community to ask difficult questions and expect honest answers.

Enjoyable events and fun moments are important — but fun doesn’t override fiduciary duty. Ethical leadership means ensuring every member’s data, trust, and money are protected, no matter how casual the setting may seem.

This isn’t just a cocktail party — it’s a liability event in the making.

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**(“Steno In The City is a registered trademark of its respective owner. StenoImperium.com is not affiliated with or endorsed by that brand.”)

“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.”

Gatekeeping, Fear, and the Silencing of Dissent is a Hot Crisis in the Court Reporting Community

“Who are you?”
“Because I want to know if it’s [someone I don’t like] — before I block you.”

These words, or variations of them, have become increasingly common in our profession — not in jest, but as a genuine litmus test for who gets to speak.

Let’s be clear: This is not professionalism. This is not leadership. This is gatekeeping fueled by fear, power, and personal vendettas. And it’s silencing people who are raising valid concerns about the wellbeing of our industry — and our colleagues.

When Identity Matters More Than the Message

There is a deeply corrosive pattern forming: when someone raises questions about workplace abuse, toxic culture, or mismanagement within our state and national associations, they’re often not met with dialogue. They’re met with suspicion.

Not: “What are your concerns?”
But: “Who are you?”
Not: “Can we address this?”
But: “Is this [insert name]? If so, I’m blocking you.”

This isn’t about safety. It’s about power and punishment.

If someone’s words are true, they’re true regardless of who said them. If someone is raising concerns respectfully and constructively, they deserve to be heard — regardless of whether you personally like them, or whether their name has been whispered in backchannel chats and Facebook DMs.

What we are seeing is a culture where personal bias overrides professional integrity — where truth-tellers are preemptively excluded, simply because they’ve previously challenged power.

Fear as a Strategy

This behavior — questioning people’s identities to determine whether they’re worthy of being heard — is not neutral. It’s a form of social control. It’s the profession’s way of saying: “We don’t want to talk about the message. We want to silence the messenger.”

It tells others:

  • Speak out, and you’ll be blocked.
  • Disagree publicly, and you’ll be exiled.
  • Challenge leadership, and you’ll be labeled “toxic.”

This keeps people silent. It keeps them compliant. And it protects those in power from accountability.

When Leaders Act Like Mean Girls

It’s alarming that much of this behavior is coming from individuals in leadership — people who sit on boards, run state associations, or serve in public official court management roles. These are the same individuals tasked with ensuring ethical standards, transparency, and inclusion in our profession.

But instead of modeling those values, they’re asking:

“Is this someone I’ve blacklisted?”

When our professional spaces operate like high school lunch tables — where only those who conform are allowed a seat — we all lose. The culture becomes hostile, defensive, and unsafe.

Especially for:

  • New professionals.
  • People of color.
  • LGBTQIA+ reporters.
  • Those struggling with mental health or burnout.
  • Anyone who doesn’t fall in line with dominant personalities.

This isn’t just interpersonal drama. It’s a systemic issue. And it’s hurting people — personally, professionally, and sometimes irreparably.

What We Need Instead

We don’t need to agree on everything. But we do need to stop weaponizing identity as a way to silence people. Here’s what a healthy profession does instead:

  • Engages with the message, not the messenger.
  • Asks questions in good faith.
  • Welcomes dissent as a tool for growth, not a threat to power.
  • Models professionalism even — and especially — when it’s uncomfortable.

If you disagree with someone’s views, say so — respectfully, factually, constructively. But when you start the conversation with “Who are you?” and end it with “If you’re someone I don’t like, you’re gone,” you’ve already abandoned any pretense of integrity.

A Final Word to the Silenced

If you’ve been on the receiving end of this — if you’ve been blocked, dismissed, or interrogated simply for asking hard questions — you’re not alone.

You’re not the problem. You’re part of a much-needed reckoning.

Keep speaking. Keep documenting. Keep showing up.

The profession won’t change because those in power suddenly grow a conscience. It will change because those who’ve been shut out stop asking for permission and start building something better — out loud, together.

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The Digital Deception – How Non-Stenographic “Court Reporters” Are Undermining Legal Proceedings in Texas

Across Texas, a troubling trend is gaining traction within the legal system — and it’s eroding trust in a profession that is foundational to justice: court reporting. For attorneys and legal professionals, especially those involved in depositions, the issue is no longer just about finding a court reporter. It’s about ensuring that the person showing up is actually a qualified, licensed professional — not an unlicensed technician operating a recording device under the misleading label of “digital court reporter.”

This isn’t a minor miscommunication or an innocent mistake. It’s a calculated business decision by certain court reporting firms to maximize profits at the expense of legal integrity, courtroom accuracy, and state law. And it’s wreaking havoc on the legal community in Texas.

The Rise of “Digital Reporters” — and the Collapse of Standards

In recent years, some court reporting agencies have begun substituting certified stenographic court reporters with so-called “digital reporters.” These individuals are not licensed court reporters, do not take down the record in realtime, and often lack the legal training and ethical grounding that certified stenographers undergo. Many are simply trained to press “record” and capture audio.

The problem? In Texas, that’s not just a questionable business practice — it’s a legal violation.

The Texas Government Code and Texas Rules of Civil Procedure are clear: depositions require licensed shorthand reporters. These are professionals who have passed stringent testing, are held to high ethical standards, and are equipped to produce verbatim transcripts under pressure, in real time, with accuracy and impartiality. Sending someone without that licensure — and without disclosure — is not only unethical but illegal.

Firms Skirting the Law — and Undermining the Profession

Court reporting firms that use digital operators in place of certified stenographers are knowingly bending, if not outright breaking, the rules. Their motivations are simple: profit and market share. By paying a digital operator a fraction of what they’d pay a licensed reporter, they slash their overhead while charging the same fees to law firms. It’s a bait-and-switch — and many attorneys don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late.

These firms often don’t notify counsel ahead of time that a deposition will be taken by a digital reporter. In some cases, they cancel at the last minute or falsely claim that a licensed reporter backed out, when the reality is they never had one scheduled. Meanwhile, the responsibility — and the stress — falls on attorneys and their staff, who are left scrambling to find a legitimate replacement or determine whether the deposition can proceed legally at all.

This strategy is not just underhanded; it’s dangerously deceptive. It damages reputations, delays proceedings, and casts doubt on the reliability of the entire legal transcript process. Some depositions — even complex, high-stakes expert depositions — have had to be repeated due to unusable transcripts produced by digital reporters. Trials have seen evidence thrown out. Legal budgets are strained, and clients are left footing the bill for rework.

Misinformation and Misleading Practices

One of the most disturbing aspects of this trend is the deliberate obfuscation of the truth. Attorneys are often told the firm has a “reporter” lined up, only to discover at the deposition that the person is merely operating a recording device. These operators often begin with a disclaimer script that forces counsel to object immediately or lose the ability to contest the use of the transcript later — catching attorneys off guard, especially those unfamiliar with these deceptive practices.

Even worse, firms are violating the Texas Rules of Civil Procedure by treating nonstenographic depositions as if they were stenographic. Under the rules, a deposition that is not taken by a licensed court reporter cannot be read and signed by the witness in the same way a stenographic transcript can. But that doesn’t stop some firms from sending these transcripts for review, pretending they are equivalent, further muddying the legal waters and jeopardizing case integrity.

The Human Cost: Misplaced Blame and Professional Disrespect

This bait-and-switch practice doesn’t just hurt attorneys — it unfairly tarnishes the reputation of real court reporters. When attorneys receive poorly transcribed or unusable transcripts, they often blame the “reporter” — not realizing they were never working with a real one to begin with. The result is a growing mistrust of the profession, all while certified reporters, who have spent years honing their craft, find themselves sidelined in favor of cheaper, unqualified alternatives.

Meanwhile, legal professionals are inundated with last-minute calls and emails from frantic colleagues trying to fix the mess left behind by these deceptive firms. Schedulers, paralegals, and attorneys are all caught in the fallout — juggling caseloads, managing court deadlines, and now being forced to double-check whether their deposition will even be legally valid.

Attorneys Must Take a Stand — and Educate Their Clients

Attorneys in Texas need to be vigilant. It’s not enough to ensure your own depositions are covered by licensed professionals — you must also inform your clients that the opposing party may be hiring these unlicensed digital operators. Many lawyers are shocked when they realize that even if they hire a legitimate firm, the transcript from their opponent’s deposition could still be flawed or unusable if taken by a digital reporter.

The defense starts with awareness. Attorneys should ask explicitly whether a licensed Texas Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) will be covering a deposition — and they should get it in writing. They must object on the record when an unlicensed person is presented as a reporter, and they must educate clients about the downstream risks of allowing such transcripts into evidence.

It’s not about attacking individuals who work as digital recorders — it’s about defending the integrity of the judicial process, the rule of law, and the right to accurate, reliable transcripts.

Time for Accountability

The Texas legal community cannot remain passive while these deceptive practices persist. State regulatory bodies must enforce existing laws and hold firms accountable for substituting digital reporters under false pretenses. Bar associations, court reporting associations, and litigation support professionals should speak up, share experiences, and support transparency.

Legal proceedings rely on an accurate, impartial record. Allowing unqualified individuals to masquerade as licensed professionals is not just a regulatory breach — it’s a betrayal of the justice system. It compromises outcomes, undermines trust, and disrespects the hard-working professionals who do the job the right way.

This must stop — and it must stop now.

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When the Boardroom Becomes a Crime Scene – Abuse, Silence, and Accountability in the Court Reporting Profession

“Workplace intimidation isn’t just a toxic culture — it’s a weapon. And when it ends in death, the boardroom becomes a crime scene. Or does it become the place of cover-up?”

This isn’t about corporate America. This is about our boardrooms — the association board members, the state and national court reporting organizations, the regional leaders, and the official management in superior, district, and federal courts.

These are the spaces that shape the profession. They set the tone. They decide what is prioritized — and what is quietly ignored. And too often, they look the other way when the culture becomes dangerous.

Let’s say it plainly: a culture of fear and silence within our own institutions has ended lives. First it destroys someone’s spirit — then, tragically, their body may follow. When that happens, it’s not just a tragedy. It’s a failure of leadership.

Not Neutral. Complicit.

Workplace abuse — whether through bullying, intimidation, exclusion, or retaliation — is not a personality conflict. It is systemic harm. And when those in power stay silent, when whistleblowers are ostracized, and when grievances are ignored or dismissed as “drama,” the system is no longer flawed — it’s complicit.

In the court reporting profession, this shows up in chilling ways:

  • Board members retaliating against dissent.
  • Leadership gatekeeping opportunities for those who question the status quo.
  • Court offices punishing vulnerability or honesty with isolation.
  • Associations minimizing mental health crises or workplace stressors until it’s too late.

These patterns don’t happen by accident. They persist because the people with power let them.

“Who Is This?” – When Silence Isn’t Enough, Discredit Comes Next

As I’ve raised these concerns publicly, I’ve received a recurring type of response. Not thoughtful disagreement. Not evidence-based debate. But vague, passive-aggressive comments like:

“Who is this?”
“Who created this page?”

These aren’t sincere questions. They’re tone-policing. They’re gatekeeping. They’re attempts to discredit the person so they don’t have to address the message.

It’s a tactic we see often when someone dares to speak out — especially someone without a formal title or protected position. The implication is that only people with status are allowed to raise uncomfortable truths. But let me be clear:

You do not need a title to tell the truth.
You do not need a badge to bear witness.
And you certainly don’t need permission to speak about harm.

These kinds of comments don’t just derail important conversations — they reinforce the very power dynamics that have allowed workplace abuse to thrive unchecked. And they prove the point: when you challenge silence, intimidation will often try to take its place.

The Real Responsibility of Leadership

Every board member, every court reporting association leader, every official in a management role — you hold lives in your hands. Your job is not just to maintain procedure or protect tradition. Your duty is to protect people.

That includes:

  • Funding initiatives for mental health, harassment prevention, and psychosocial safety.
  • Ensuring grievance systems are safe, anonymous, and taken seriously.
  • Demanding transparency about toxic behavior — even when it comes from within the board.
  • Recognizing that power dynamics are not neutral — they favor the abuser when silence reigns.

Culture starts at the top. And if fear is growing in the profession, look upward. Look at who benefits when people are afraid to speak.

Human Cost, Not Just Professional Risk

Let us remember the human toll: the colleague who stopped showing up. The professional who took their own life. The person who was mocked after speaking out about mistreatment. These are not abstractions. They are real people — and their pain was real.

To make fun of the person who died from workplace abuse is not just cruel — it’s a second violence. To dehumanize them is to absolve the system that harmed them.

Empathy — not policy — is the first step to change. Because we don’t leave jobs. We leave people. And in this field, far too many are leaving in silence, in shame, and sometimes, for good.

Time to Reckon

It’s time for association boards and court leadership to stop hiding behind bureaucracy. This profession deserves better. It needs better.

Accountability is not just a buzzword. It’s a shift in power. It means:

  • Listening to survivors.
  • Investigating misconduct — even when it’s uncomfortable.
  • Naming the harm — not erasing it.
  • Choosing justice over reputation.

This profession was built on precision, ethics, and truth. We can’t afford to abandon those values inside our own institutions.

When abuse happens in our ranks, the boardroom doesn’t get to claim innocence. It must face the mirror. Because the next time harm is ignored, the legacy won’t be one of leadership — it will be one of complicity.

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Who Benefits? The Unanswered Questions About the Money Behind ILCRA’s Partnership with SITC

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Who Owns the Guest List? How ILCRA’s Event Partnership with SITC Puts Member Data at Risk

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A Storm Behind the Skyline: Why Is ILCRA Partnering with Steno in the City?

As the Illinois Court Reporters Association (ILCRA) prepares for its much-anticipated Summer Kickoff Cocktail Party on June 20, 2025, many in the court reporting community are raising serious questions—not about the event itself, but about its co-host: Shaunise Day and her brand, Steno in the City.

At first glance, the collaboration may seem like a vibrant show of professional unity. But beneath the glittering promise of cocktails and camaraderie atop the Willis Tower lies a growing unease, fueled by a barrage of allegations and controversies tied to Day and her ventures.

Mounting Accusations: A Recap of the Concerns

A series of articles published by StenoImperium—a watchdog platform focused on ethics in court reporting—have outlined a deeply troubling pattern of alleged misconduct. These include:

  • Violations of state volunteer and solicitation laws, specifically in California and Louisiana.
  • Improper use of volunteers, allegedly circumventing labor laws for the benefit of private LLCs.
  • Ethical breaches, including operating under the guise of educational support while running a for-profit enterprise.
  • Accusations of organized retaliation against critics and whistleblowers.
  • Alleged involvement in racketeering-like behavior, including concerns about business registration, raffles, gambling, tax evasion, and misuse of funds.
  • Cease-and-desist tactics issued by unlicensed or improperly represented legal entities.
  • Claims that whistleblowers have been threatened, harassed, and stalked for raising red flags.
  • Use of influencer manipulation tactics to whitewash or deflect criticism from legitimate professional concerns.

These allegations—spanning from early 2024 to mid-2025—paint a deeply concerning portrait of an organization that appears to operate in contradiction to the ethical standards expected in the stenographic community.

The Professional Cost of Ignoring Red Flags

It’s one thing to innovate within the profession. It’s another to do so at the apparent expense of legality, transparency, and respect for both the workforce and the law. The continued silence or complicity of major organizations in the face of these red flags is causing fractures within the community.

By continuing to partner with individuals and organizations under serious ethical scrutiny, professional bodies may be damaging their own reputations, alienating long-standing members, and setting a dangerous precedent for future collaborations.

Why the Silence?

ILCRA has not publicly responded to these allegations, and the decision to partner with Day for a flagship event suggests either a lack of awareness or a conscious choice to overlook these issues. If it’s the former, transparency and due diligence must be urgently revisited. If it’s the latter, the question becomes more pressing:

Why would any self-respecting court reporter or court reporting organization partner with someone facing this level of controversy?

Court reporters uphold the integrity of the legal record. They are guardians of truth, accuracy, and ethics. If those values are not reflected in our leadership and collaborations, then what message are we sending to the next generation of reporters—or to the public at large?

It’s not about cancel culture or personal grudges. It’s about integrity, accountability, and the credibility of a profession that depends on trust.

(** “This site does not claim to be affiliated with Steno In The City. My usage is strictly nominative and journalistic. I was unaware of any active federal registration as no ® symbol or trademark notice appears on the SITC brand’s website.”)

Court Reporting at a Crossroads: Why Are Organizations Partnering with Entities That Exploit the Profession?

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The Manufactured Court Reporter ‘Crisis’ and the Dangerous Push for Unlicensed Transcription

A recent promotional article by transcription service TranscribeMe boldly declares: “The U.S. Court Reporter Shortage Creates A Need For Transcription Services.” Their argument leans heavily on a misrepresented “crisis” in the court reporting industry to justify replacing licensed, certified court reporters with unlicensed transcriptionists.

This approach is not just misguided—it’s dangerous. It threatens the accuracy of the official record, undermines the authority of the courts, and ignores the certified professionals who are already solving the problem the right way.

Let’s set the record straight.

The Court Reporter ‘Shortage’ Is a Myth, Not a Crisis

The idea of a catastrophic shortage of court reporters has been pushed aggressively by tech companies and digital transcription startups eager to grab market share. But when we examine the actual data—as StenoImperium’s latest blog post does thoroughly—the numbers paint a very different picture.

StenoImperium debunked this “crisis” using data from state licensing agencies and court systems, showing that the number of working court reporters in the U.S. has remained relatively steady. While there are natural retirements happening (as with any profession), these are being replaced at a sustainable pace, especially as new certified voice writers are entering the field.

Yes, there is a dip. But it is a small, manageable one—not the drastic cliff some articles would have you believe. Court reporters are also working longer and delaying retirement specifically to uphold the profession and the justice system. These are not signs of an industry in collapse—they are signs of professionals stepping up to meet demand.

Court Reporters Are the Responsible Charge

One concept TranscribeMe entirely overlooks is the idea of Responsible Charge—a legal and ethical principle in court reporting that says only a qualified, licensed reporter can take ownership of a transcript.

As detailed in numerous StenoImperium articles, the court reporter isn’t just a notetaker. They are a sworn officer of the court, responsible for:

  • Administering oaths
  • Maintaining the chain of custody of the record
  • Certifying the accuracy of transcripts
  • Enforcing procedural rules during depositions

They are the “Responsible Charge” for that legal proceeding. Without them, the record has no legal standing. An unlicensed transcriptionist—no matter how fast they type—has neither the training nor the authority to assume this role.

Importantly, court reporting agencies themselves cannot assume the role of Responsible Charge. Only a licensed, certified court reporter present at the proceeding can legally take ownership of the record. Agencies may coordinate logistics or billing, but they have no legal standing to certify transcripts, administer oaths, or protect the integrity of the record—that authority belongs solely to the reporter.

TranscribeMe’s proposal that “transcriptionists create the rough draft and court reporters just proof” ignores this vital legal function. Court reporters do not simply review the work of others—they create and take responsibility for the record.

The Real Solution Emerges – Certified Voice Writers

What TranscribeMe fails to mention is that the industry already has a tested and scalable solution to expand the workforce: voice writers.

Voice writers are trained professionals who use speech recognition technology and masks to repeat every word spoken in a courtroom or deposition. Their output is real-time, highly accurate, and—most importantly—certified.

As the National Verbatim Reporters Association (NVRA) has demonstrated, voice writing programs are already producing new certified court reporters at a pace that matches or exceeds current retirement trends. States like Florida, Georgia, and Texas have embraced voice writers as a critical part of their reporting workforce.

This is a technological solution that preserves the integrity of the record while expanding capacity.

Unlicensed Transcription Undermines the Justice System

Let’s be clear: what TranscribeMe proposes is not a supplement to court reporting—it’s a replacement of it, using unqualified individuals.

Consider the risks:

  • No certification: Transcriptionists are not required to pass any rigorous, court-sanctioned exams like the CSR or RPR.
  • No oath-giving authority: They cannot swear in witnesses—making any transcript they touch legally void.
  • No real-time interaction: They don’t know who is speaking unless someone tells them. They can’t interrupt for clarity. They can’t control the record.
  • No Responsible Charge: There’s no one legally accountable for the transcript’s accuracy or authenticity.

By outsourcing to transcriptionists, we’re not easing a burden—we’re compromising justice.

The Tech Narrative is Profitable—but Flawed

TranscribeMe and similar services push a seductive narrative: let automation and gig workers take over, and the courts will run smoother. But this vision is built more on profit motive than public good.

Their argument is economically self-serving: they reduce costs by hiring uncredentialed labor, then market that product back to overwhelmed legal systems as a “modern solution.”

In reality, this “solution” creates layers of confusion, inconsistency, and risk. Errors from unlicensed transcriptionists could have profound consequences—reversals on appeal, wrongful convictions, or disputes that never get resolved because the record is incomplete or invalid.

Technology should support certified professionals—not replace them with underqualified labor.

Court Reporters Are Already Adapting and Innovating

Far from being resistant to change, the court reporting community is already embracing modern tools—on its own terms:

  • Realtime captioning
  • Remote deposition platforms
  • Digital exhibit handling
  • Computer-aided transcription
  • Voice writing with speech-to-text integration

What differentiates this from TranscribeMe’s model is that every innovation is still under the command of a certified professional. The Responsible Charge never leaves the hands of a trained reporter.

True Heroes: The Reporters Holding the Line

Perhaps the most overlooked fact in this debate is the incredible effort made by current reporters to stay on the job longer to stabilize the field. Many professionals who could retire are staying in the trenches—not because they have to, but because they care deeply about the legal system.

They are mentoring students, assisting with training programs, and doing what tech companies won’t: putting in the time to preserve the gold standard of legal transcription.

These individuals are the real heroes of the profession—not the untested, unaccountable transcription gig economy workers being passed off as a “solution.”

We Demand Accountability

If transcriptionists truly want to be involved in the legal record, then they must do what certified reporters have done for decades:

✅ Pass licensing exams
✅ Be subject to ethics boards
✅ Undergo continuing education
✅ Accept legal responsibility for their work
✅ Be present, in real-time, as the record is made

Without those credentials, they do not belong in a courtroom. Period.

Conclusion: A Clear Choice for the Future

We are at a crossroads. The path forward is clear:

  • We must reject the false narrative of a catastrophic shortage.
  • We must call out unlicensed transcription as a legally risky shortcut.
  • We must support certified reporters and voice writers as the sustainable solution.

As StenoImperium rightly put it: “The profession is not dying. It is transforming—and court reporters are leading the way.”

The legal record deserves nothing less than the highest standard of integrity. Let’s make sure the guardians of that standard—the certified reporters—stay in charge.

The California Court Reporting Crisis and How the System Undermines Its Own Professionals

For decades, California Certified Shorthand Reporters (CSRs) have been regarded as the gold standard in legal recordkeeping — professionals trained to produce accurate, legally compliant transcripts under some of the strictest standards in the nation. But today, those very professionals are being quietly edged out of their own market, forced into unsustainable in-person work while remote opportunities are siphoned off to out-of-state reporters — many of whom are unfamiliar with, or outright ignore, California’s formatting and transcript laws.

This isn’t just a labor imbalance. It’s a systemic failure that, if left unaddressed, threatens the integrity of legal records and the viability of court reporting as a career in California.

The Out-of-State Problem is a Matter of Compliance

It’s becoming increasingly common for California jobs — even realtime and state jurisdiction work — to be covered by out-of-state reporters. In many cases, these reporters hold California licenses, but live and work remotely from other parts of the country. The issue isn’t their physical location, per se, but their compliance — or lack thereof — with California’s mandatory transcript formatting requirements.

California has very specific guidelines: from margins and font size to line counts and index formatting. These rules are codified in law and enforced by the California Court Reporters Board (CRB). Or at least, they’re supposed to be.

Yet more and more transcripts are showing up on dockets that blatantly violate these standards — some formatted illegally in multiple ways. Whether due to ignorance on the part of the reporter or reformatting by the agency, the end result is the same: the client receives a noncompliant record, and California CSRs are left fuming over the erosion of professional standards.

The CRB’s Inaction is a Regulatory Gap with Real Consequences

In a profession where licensing is meant to safeguard the integrity of the judicial process, the failure of the CRB to enforce its own standards is especially alarming. When attorneys practice law in California without a license, they’re investigated, referred to the California Bar, and potentially prosecuted by the Department of Justice. There are teeth behind the law.

Not so with the CRB.

The Board has openly stated that it lacks jurisdiction over unlicensed reporters and that it has limited enforcement capacity even when complaints are filed against licensed ones. This regulatory paralysis has created a gaping hole in accountability. Unlicensed individuals — including digital or voice reporters without a CSR — may report jobs illegally, and licensed reporters can repeatedly submit noncompliant transcripts without meaningful consequence.

The result? A chilling message to California CSRs: Your hard-earned license means less every day.

California CSRs Are Being Squeezed from Both Ends

This enforcement vacuum isn’t happening in a vacuum. While remote jobs are handed out to reporters who may not even live in California — and who may not follow California law — those of us who do live here are pushed into increasingly burdensome in-person coverage. Commutes of three to five hours a day are becoming routine. Jobs we wouldn’t normally accept are now the only ones offered. Meanwhile, we see remote coverage lists go out, often just minutes after being told no remote work is available.

This two-tiered system is not just inconvenient. It’s unsustainable.

We live in one of the most expensive states in the country. Our housing, fuel, insurance, and operating costs far outpace those of the out-of-state reporters now undercutting us on price. And while we’re held to rigorous standards — including passing one of the toughest skills exams in the nation — others can backdoor into the system via limited reciprocity or remote credentialing, without ever demonstrating their ability to meet California’s operational requirements.

Solutions & What Needs to Change Now

1. Strengthen CRB Enforcement Authority
The CRB must be given enforcement capabilities equivalent to other professional boards. If unlicensed individuals are taking depositions in California or licensed reporters are submitting noncompliant work, there must be clear investigatory and disciplinary processes — and they must be enforced consistently. Legislative pressure and industry advocacy can help ensure this becomes a reality.

2. Require Full Skills Testing for All California Licenses
The practice of granting partial reciprocity — especially when it allows voice reporters to bypass the skills portion of the California CSR exam — undermines the integrity of the license. No matter how a reporter qualifies, they should be required to pass the same test and demonstrate the same proficiency in California-specific formatting, procedures, and realtime capability.

3. Audit Transcripts and Agencies
Agencies operating in California should be subject to random transcript audits to ensure compliance with CRB rules. If agencies are reformatting transcripts after delivery — thus introducing illegal formatting — that should be grounds for disciplinary action. Furthermore, agencies should be required to disclose which reporters worked on a given job and whether formatting was altered in-house.

4. Implement Transparency in Job Assignment
Agencies need to establish clear and equitable policies for job assignments. Remote work should not be exclusively routed to out-of-state reporters while in-state CSRs are pushed into time-consuming in-person work. Balanced scheduling — and even modest in-person commitments from fully remote reporters — could help distribute workloads more fairly.

5. Create a Reporter Advocacy Coalition
California reporters must band together to form or bolster existing coalitions that advocate for policy reform, regulatory enforcement, and fair labor practices. This coalition could coordinate lobbying efforts, organize outreach to the CRB and legislators, and promote awareness of these issues within the legal community.

We Can’t Afford to Be Silent

This isn’t about pitting steno against voice, in-state against out-of-state, or seasoned reporters against newcomers. It’s about ensuring that the rules — and the value of the California CSR — actually mean something. If we continue down the current path, we won’t just lose jobs — we’ll lose credibility, consistency, and the ability to define our own profession.

And for those who say, “If you can’t beat them, join them”? That’s not a solution. It’s surrender. We shouldn’t be forced to leave California or abandon hard-earned standards just to survive.

The question isn’t whether the system is broken. It’s whether we’re ready to fix it.

The future of court reporting in California depends on it.