In California, court reporters have long been the gold standard of litigation support. Armed with years of training, specialized certification, and a deep understanding of our state’s stringent formatting and transcript requirements, California Certified Shorthand Reporters (CSRs) provide a critical service to the justice system. But lately, many of us who live and work in this state are finding it harder than ever to maintain a sustainable career — not because we lack skill or work ethic, but because we’re being systematically edged out of remote opportunities in favor of out-of-state reporters.
The issue isn’t just a logistical one. It cuts deep into questions of legality, professional ethics, and the long-term survival of California’s court reporting workforce.
The Disconnect – Why Are Out-of-State Reporters Handling California Work?
Despite clear rules and regulations set by the California Court Reporters Board (CRB), transcripts from California jobs are increasingly being prepared by reporters living elsewhere — including realtime work and jobs under state jurisdiction. The reasons for this are varied: lower overhead for agencies, greater remote availability from out-of-state reporters, and a nationwide push to fill perceived shortages.
But in many cases, the result is transcripts that are non-compliant with California’s formatting requirements — including line spacing, margins, font, and index rules — which, under state law, is not just a technical error, but an ethical and potentially legal violation.
If you’re a California CSR, you know the formatting standards are non-negotiable. We’re tested on them. We’re accountable for them. And if we fail to meet them, we risk disciplinary action from the CRB. Yet the market is now flooded with transcripts that are clearly noncompliant — even from reporters who hold a California license.
How does that happen? In some cases, the reporters may be unaware their formatting is off, especially if they passed the written exams but never worked extensively in California. In others, large agencies may be reformatting transcripts after delivery, intentionally or unintentionally breaking the rules. Either way, the accountability is blurred — and that’s a big problem.
The In-Person Dilemma – Unsustainable Expectations for Local Reporters
As remote jobs are increasingly assigned to out-of-state reporters, California CSRs are being funneled into in-person work. On paper, that sounds fair — someone needs to be physically present, after all. But in practice, it’s not that simple.
Many of us are being asked to cover depos that require three-, four-, or even five-hour roundtrip commutes. Jobs we wouldn’t normally accept — due to distance, duration, or scheduling challenges — are suddenly the only ones on offer. Meanwhile, remote lists go out with dozens of jobs that we aren’t offered, even after explicitly asking to be considered.
The pressure to take in-person work isn’t just frustrating. For those of us juggling family responsibilities, health concerns, or simply trying to preserve a decent quality of life, it’s completely unsustainable. The result? Burnout. Disillusionment. And a creeping sense that we’re being punished for living in the very state we were licensed to serve.
Rates and Cost of Living Sets Up An Uneven Playing Field
One major elephant in the room is cost. Reporters living in California simply can’t compete with those based in states with significantly lower living expenses. Our housing, gas, insurance, and general overhead are drastically higher — yet agencies often offer flat rates for jobs, regardless of where the reporter lives.
This creates a downward pressure on rates, particularly for remote work. Out-of-state reporters are sometimes willing to accept California jobs at rates no local CSR could afford to work for. The long-term consequences of this practice are obvious: fewer working opportunities for in-state professionals, greater attrition, and a weakening of the very standards we worked so hard to establish.
Is Reporting the Solution? Accountability vs. Community
So, what can be done?
One possible route is to begin reporting noncompliant transcripts to the CRB. It’s a serious step, and it should never be taken lightly — but if the law is being broken, and the quality of our professional environment is suffering as a result, silence isn’t a solution. In many cases, the offending reporter may simply be unaware of the formatting rules, particularly if they’ve never worked regularly in California. A courteous heads-up to the agency or reporter could fix the issue without escalating it.
But when the violations persist, or when agencies knowingly use incorrectly formatted transcripts to cut costs, it becomes a systemic issue that the CRB must address.
Still, we need to balance accountability with empathy. Many out-of-state reporters are just trying to make a living, and it’s the agencies — not always the individual reporters — who are bending the rules. This isn’t about pitting steno against voice, or in-state against out-of-state. It’s about enforcing consistent standards across the board, so that no one is disadvantaged simply for doing things the right way.
A Call for Industry-Wide Reform
We need an honest, structured conversation among all stakeholders: reporters, agency owners, attorneys, and regulatory boards. The current approach — quietly shifting remote work to cheaper, out-of-state labor while forcing in-state CSRs into unreasonable in-person assignments — is short-sighted and self-destructive.
Agencies must ask themselves: Is this sustainable? Is it ethical? Is this how we treat the professionals who’ve upheld the industry for decades?
One potential solution is to establish clearer criteria for job assignment — balancing remote vs. in-person expectations among all reporters, and creating transparent policies for scheduling. For instance, local reporters might be offered remote work equally with out-of-state CSRs, and those who take predominantly remote work could commit to periodic in-person jobs, ensuring fairness.
Another approach is to push for stricter enforcement of CRB standards, including random transcript audits and clearer accountability for agencies that alter formatting post-production.
And most importantly, the licensing pipeline needs review. If reciprocity is being granted to reporters without requiring the full California skills test, we risk diluting the value of the CSR credential. California’s standards exist for a reason — to protect the integrity of the transcript and ensure the highest quality of legal recordkeeping. If they’re not upheld equally, what’s the point?
Don’t Leave California Behind
It’s heartbreaking to hear from skilled, dedicated California CSRs who are thinking of relocating just to stay afloat. We should be building a future where California court reporters can thrive here — not be forced to choose between their home and their profession.
Remote work should be an opportunity for inclusion, flexibility, and efficiency — not a tool to undercut local professionals. If we want to preserve this career in California, we must build a system that values our credentials, compensates us fairly, and respects the realities of modern work.
Because if we don’t fix this soon, we won’t just lose jobs. We’ll lose a generation of reporters who love their work but can no longer afford to do it in the state they call home.
In April 2025, the Los Angeles Superior Court introduced a revised form titled “Order Appointing Court Approved Reporter As Official Reporter Pro Tempore.” This form, as the name suggests, formalizes the appointment of a court-approved reporter as a temporary official reporter for proceedings. But the revised form has sparked confusion and concern among court reporters, particularly because it now includes a section asking for agency information—even when the reporter is already on the court’s approved list.
This change has raised an important question within the court reporting community: If the court reporter is the official responsible for the record, why is the agency’s information even being requested?
To understand why this issue matters, we first need to unpack the role of a court reporter, the purpose of agencies, and why the concept of responsible charge is so central to the integrity of the court record.
The Role of the Court Reporter: More Than a Scribe
Court reporters serve a critical function in the judicial system. They are not mere transcribers or passive observers—they are officers of the court charged with creating and maintaining the official verbatim record of proceedings. This includes not only capturing every spoken word but also noting nonverbal cues, interruptions, and other essential details that could impact the record.
Importantly, the reporter’s duties are not limited to what happens inside the courtroom. They are also responsible for the timely preparation of transcripts, responding to appellate deadlines, certifying the accuracy of the record, and ensuring that the record can withstand legal scrutiny. The reporter holds the ultimate responsibility and liability for the integrity of that record.
This is why the concept of responsible charge matters so much. When we say the reporter is the “responsible charge,” we mean that the reporter—not any third party—is accountable for the accuracy, timeliness, and reliability of the record.
The Role of the Agency: Administrative, Not Legal
Court reporting agencies, on the other hand, provide critical—but fundamentally different—services. Agencies typically handle the business side of reporting: scheduling, marketing, billing, and producing copies of the reporter’s work. They are administrative intermediaries, not legal authorities.
An agency might help facilitate communications between a reporter and a law firm, or between the reporter and a client who needs a transcript. But the agency does not create or control the official record. It does not sign the certification page of the transcript. It does not bear responsibility if a record is incomplete or defective. That burden falls squarely on the court reporter.
The New Form: A Misstep?
Given this clear distinction, the new “Order Appointing Court Approved Reporter As Official Reporter Pro Tempore” form raises concerns. Specifically, why does the form now require agency information for reporters who are already vetted and included on the court’s approved list?
If a reporter is on the court’s approved list, it means they have already met the qualifications, licensing, and experience requirements set by the court. They have been deemed competent to handle official proceedings. In theory, once appointed as a reporter pro tempore, they are stepping into the shoes of an official court reporter, taking on full responsibility for the record.
Asking for agency details on the same form creates a troubling implication: that the agency has some role in the official record. This is not only inaccurate but potentially misleading. It muddies the chain of accountability and raises the risk of confusion if issues arise later in the appellate process or if questions come up about transcript production.
Why This Matters for the Integrity of the Record
Legal records are only as trustworthy as the systems that produce them. One of the key strengths of the U.S. court system is that it maintains clear lines of accountability: judges, clerks, attorneys, and court reporters all have distinct duties. Blurring these lines, even unintentionally, can have serious consequences.
If agencies are perceived—incorrectly—as having a role in maintaining or certifying the official record, it could:
Undermine confidence in the record’s accuracy.
Confuse attorneys or litigants about where to direct inquiries.
Lead to delays if appellate deadlines are missed because communications were sent to an agency instead of the responsible reporter.
Expose agencies to potential legal claims they were never intended to shoulder.
A Better Approach: Focus on Reporter Accessibility
If the court’s goal in requesting agency information is simply to improve communication—particularly in urgent cases like appeals—there’s a simpler and more appropriate solution: make the court reporters themselves more reachable.
Some practical options include:
Require reporters to provide a direct phone number or email address when they join the approved list.
Maintain an up-to-date public directory of approved reporters with their contact details.
Establish a court-managed messaging system where attorneys and parties can reach the reporter directly in time-sensitive cases.
If a reporter repeatedly ignores deadlines or becomes unreachable, the solution is not to involve agencies—it is to remove that reporter from the approved list until they can meet their obligations.
The Real Role of Agencies—and Why It Shouldn’t Expand
Agencies play an important and legitimate role in the court reporting ecosystem. They help reporters manage their businesses, provide valuable logistical support, and make sure transcripts get into the hands of those who need them. But their function is commercial, not legal.
Expanding their footprint on official court forms risks:
Confusing their role.
Diluting the reporter’s legal responsibility.
Introducing new points of failure in the legal process.
Agencies are not the “responsible charge,” and the system works best when that line remains clear.
Conclusion: Keep the Record Clear
The revised “Order Appointing Court Approved Reporter As Official Reporter Pro Tempore” form should reflect the reality of court operations: the reporter is the custodian of the record, and the agency is a logistical partner, not a legal actor.
If the court is struggling to get timely responses from reporters, the solution lies in improving the court’s directory, enhancing communication protocols, or tightening oversight of the approved list—not in putting agencies on official forms where they don’t belong.
At a time when public trust in the legal system is under pressure, clarity and accountability have never been more important. We should not let administrative convenience blur the bright line between those who create the official record and those who simply help deliver it.
The bedrock of any functioning democracy is a transparent, accountable, and impartial judicial system. At the heart of that system lies a critical, often overlooked figure: the stenographic court reporter. These highly trained professionals are not simply typists; they are the living guardians of the verbatim record, ensuring every word uttered in court is captured, preserved, and available for scrutiny. Yet, in recent years, a troubling trend has emerged across the United States: courts are replacing these human safeguards with electronic recording devices, consolidating control of the legal record within the very institutions the record is meant to check.
At first glance, the shift toward electronic recording is often justified as a cost-saving measure. Faced with budget constraints, many jurisdictions have deemed stenographic court reporters expendable, replacing them with microphones and digital recorders. California led the charge, privatizing court reporters in civil cases more than a decade ago. Since then, other states—including Colorado, Texas, Washington, and Florida—have followed suit. Even more concerning, states like Massachusetts and Wisconsin have eliminated stenographic court reporters entirely in favor of electronic recording across all courts, including in high-stakes criminal proceedings.
This transition is not merely a logistical or financial decision. It represents a profound transformation of the very mechanism that safeguards judicial integrity. When courts themselves control the creation, storage, and production of the legal record, a dangerous conflict of interest is created. The record ceases to be an independent, inviolable account of proceedings and instead becomes a tool wielded by the institution it is supposed to hold accountable.
A Conflict of Interest Embedded in the System
The judicial system was never intended to be its own watchdog. By its nature, the court is a party to the legal process—it rules on motions, makes findings of fact, and interprets the law. Allowing it to also control the recording and preservation of the proceedings removes a critical layer of independence. The record of what was said in court is often the only evidence of whether justice was served, whether a judge acted impartially, or whether a defendant’s rights were protected. If the court owns the record, it controls the narrative—and that is the essence of tyranny.
Consider the chilling example of the Darrell Brooks case in Wisconsin. After Brooks was charged with injuring a woman with his vehicle just a week before the Waukesha Christmas parade tragedy, there was no record of his bail hearing. The recordings from the day before, the day after, and the day of his hearing were all conveniently “missing.” Had a stenographic court reporter been present, an independent transcript would have existed, impervious to deletion or manipulation by those who might wish to avoid accountability. Instead, the court—being both the decision-maker and the keeper of the record—was left free to explain away the absence without consequence.
This is not merely a clerical failure. It is a systemic vulnerability. The possibility that a record might be lost, edited, or selectively produced undermines public confidence in the courts and creates the appearance—if not the reality—of corruption. An impartial record cannot exist if it is owned by the same body that has a vested interest in the outcome of the proceedings it documents.
The Importance of Chain of Custody and Accountability
Stenographic court reporters are more than passive observers; they are sworn officers of the court who bear legal and ethical responsibility for the integrity of the record. Every transcript they produce comes with a certification that the reporter personally witnessed, captured, and preserved the proceedings without alteration. Their work involves a meticulous chain of custody that ensures the record has not been tampered with—from the moment the words are spoken to the final production of the transcript.
By contrast, electronic recordings are impersonal and detached. Audio files pass through multiple hands—court clerks, unlicensed transcribers, data storage personnel—each link adding the possibility of error, omission, or manipulation. Often, to save money, these recordings are outsourced to overseas transcription services, where accountability is practically nonexistent. Should a critical error or breach occur, there is no professional licensure, no malpractice insurance, and no regulatory body to hold accountable.
In essence, the shift away from stenographic court reporters dissolves the protective framework that has historically shielded the legal record from bias, negligence, or corruption. It transforms the record from an independently verified document into an institutional artifact, subject to the whims and pressures of the very system it is meant to monitor.
A Decentralized Record Is a Safer Record
Another overlooked danger of centralized, court-controlled electronic records is the security risk inherent in concentrating vast amounts of sensitive data in a single repository. Stenographic court reporters maintain decentralized archives of their notes and transcripts, often preserving them personally for decades. This redundancy acts as a safeguard against catastrophic loss—whether from natural disasters, cyberattacks, or bureaucratic negligence.
When the court system consolidates all records into a central database, it creates an irresistible target for hackers, corrupt insiders, or simple administrative error. Once the data is compromised, it is compromised for everyone. The decentralized nature of stenographic recordkeeping is not an inefficiency; it is a critical security feature that ensures no single point of failure can erase the record of justice.
Real-world cases underscore this point. Individuals exonerated years after conviction have sometimes relied on the personal archives of court reporters who retained their notes long after official records were lost or destroyed. In such instances, the decentralized, independently maintained record was the difference between continued injustice and freedom.
The Slippery Slope Toward Absolute Power
The maxim “absolute power corrupts absolutely” rings especially true in the context of the judiciary controlling its own record. If courts are allowed to own and manage the official record without independent oversight, the potential for abuse is not hypothetical—it is inevitable. The record of proceedings is the raw material from which appeals, complaints, and accountability mechanisms are built. Controlling that material allows the court to influence, obstruct, or erase those mechanisms entirely.
In an era where trust in public institutions is already fragile, further eroding transparency in the judiciary is a perilous path. While technological advancements can and should be used to aid human recordkeepers, they must not replace them. The irreplaceable element of human accountability, professional ethics, and personal responsibility cannot be replicated by machines.
The gradual dismantling of stenographic court reporting is not simply a modernization effort—it is an erosion of one of the last independent safeguards in the judicial process. We must recognize the grave implications of placing the power to create, control, and alter the legal record solely in the hands of the court. To do so is to hand unchecked power to an already powerful institution, removing one of the few remaining checks that ensure fairness and justice.
A Call to Protect the Record
The record of court proceedings is not merely an administrative formality; it is the lifeblood of justice. To entrust its creation and custody to the very institution it holds accountable is to invite the abuse of power, diminish public trust, and imperil the rights of litigants and defendants alike.
We must resist the siren call of short-term cost savings and technological convenience. Instead, we must reaffirm our commitment to an independent, accurate, and impartial record—one safeguarded by trained, licensed, and ethically bound stenographic court reporters. Anything less is not merely a bureaucratic shift; it is the dismantling of a vital pillar of democracy.
Because when the court owns the record, the court owns the truth—and in a system without independent truth, justice itself becomes an illusion.
In a world where the average American worker eyes retirement at 65, a unique and determined group of professionals defy the trend. They are the veteran court reporters—many in their late 60s, 70s, and even pushing 80—who continue to transcribe the wheels of justice with relentless dedication, sharp skill, and a passion that refuses to wane. Often overlooked, these seasoned stenographers are the very backbone of an industry that was once predicted to face a severe shortage by now. And yet, the crisis hasn’t fully materialized—not because the predictions were entirely off, but because these professionals never left.
The 2013/2014 Ducker Worldwide study once warned of a looming shortage in court reporters due to aging professionals and a lack of new entrants into the field. While the study was insightful in many respects, it missed one critical point: court reporters don’t retire at 65. In fact, many of them keep going well into their 70s—and some until their final days—simply because they love the work, they’re still good at it, and, frankly, the industry still needs them.
Let’s take a closer look at the real lives behind the aging hands that keep our legal records intact.
Still Writing, Still Thriving
“I’m not interested in, nor in a financial position to retire,” says one veteran reporter. “And there aren’t human replacement reporters available. We’re the last of a dying breed, and I’d like to just stick around and go down with the ship.”
This sentiment is echoed across the board. There’s no mourning here—just gritty endurance and pride. These individuals don’t view themselves as clinging to relevance. They see themselves as essential, seasoned, and skilled.
Another reporter puts it simply: “I am going to be working until I’m in my 80s. I’m hoping to get another good 20 years out of this. Though I’m not feeling like a fossil yet, it’s insane that I’m now consistently the oldest one in these proceedings. And that happened literally overnight.”
A third shares with laughter, “I’ll be scoping all day today from a comfy recliner. How many people can say they can do that and make money? I’ll probably be going down with the ship too!”
A Job That Evolves with the Times
Thanks to remote work, the landscape of court reporting has changed significantly, making it more sustainable for older reporters to remain active.
“I’ll be 74 in another month and I still work two days from home remotely,” one veteran shares. “I hope to do it for at least another couple of years, as long as my health and stamina hold up.”
Others note how tools like Zoom have extended their careers. “Remote changed everything,” a 62-year-old reporter explains. “Maybe not full time, but I’ll keep on plugging. I’m going ‘til these hands can’t move.”
Remote reporting has reduced the physical demands of commuting and made it possible for older reporters to scale back without stepping out. As one 70-year-old proudly puts it, “I can still handle three jobs a week—and I still love it. Honestly, I don’t really want to retire.”
Seasoned, Sharp, and Still Proud
The value of experience in court reporting cannot be overstated. Many of these professionals have worked for over five decades and, by their own admission, feel like they’re at the peak of their careers.
“I have been reporting 45 years,” one says, “and I feel like I am at the peak of my career. I no longer give a [hoot] because I know how good I am. I’m going to milk this job for as long as my body holds up!”
Another veteran, at 70, echoes a similar tone: “I told myself 70 was my cutoff. Well, I’ll be 71 in a few months and I’m still going. You know what? You’ll know when enough is enough. Until then, I’m grateful this business still needs me.”
One 77-year-old tops the list: “I WIN! I’ll be 78 in November and still take three jobs a week—sometimes back-to-back all-dayers. Yes, it tires me out, but I enjoy getting out, hearing people’s stories, and working with attorneys I really like. I guess I’ll keep doing it until I lose my concentration.”
Passion and Pride
For many, retirement is not the dream—continuing to do meaningful, fulfilling work is. And that’s what court reporting provides.
A 67-year-old reporter reflects with humor and dignity: “I like the people. The cases are interesting. I think when they see me, they act better—like I’m their mom or grandma. They probably figure with my gray hair and still working, I must be good at my job. I always like seeing older workers do repairs on my house. In fact, I’ve been known to say, ‘Send a plumber with some whiskers!’ I’ve got whiskers now too.”
This career, for many of them, isn’t just a job—it’s part of their identity, a source of pride and purpose.
Holding Up the Profession
These over-65 reporters are doing more than just extending their personal careers—they are holding up the profession itself. The anticipated shortage of court reporters hasn’t hit quite as hard, largely because these professionals never left.
They are the reason courtrooms, depositions, and hearings continue to run smoothly. They are the bridge between generations, the mentors, the institutional memory, and the iron will behind the stenograph.
One reporter sums it up with a smile: “This ship is getting more and more crowded by the day.” And that’s a good thing.
Final Thoughts
The next time you hear the rhythmic tapping of a stenograph machine, consider this: the person behind that machine might have been doing this work for 50 years or more. They’ve transcribed murder trials, family disputes, corporate scandals, and legislative sessions. They’ve seen it all, heard it all, and written it all down—word for word.
They are not fossils. They are cornerstones.
In a profession facing technological shifts and workforce changes, it’s these steadfast veterans—working in their recliners, logging into Zoom, commuting only five miles from home—who are keeping the courts running and the record intact.
The court reporting profession owes a standing ovation to its elder statespeople. They are the unsung heroes whose enduring devotion and incredible stamina have kept the wheels of justice spinning.
The “FairSplit” proposal was designed with a simple yet powerful idea in mind: to restore balance, transparency, and sustainability to a court reporting industry under increasing pressure from venture capital consolidation, automation, and opaque billing structures. The reactions to the original article ranged from enthusiastic support to skeptical pushback. That’s not only understandable — it’s necessary. Dialogue is the first step to meaningful reform.
In this follow-up, we’ll resummarize the intent behind FairSplit, thoughtfully address the most common concerns raised, and reaffirm why now is the time for working reporters to take a more active role in reshaping the economics of our profession.
What Is FairSplit? A Quick Recap
The FairSplit proposal advocates for a transparent, percentage-based revenue-sharing model between reporting agencies and the independent contractors who perform the actual work — the court reporters. Rather than a fixed “page rate” or “rack rate” system that hides client billing, FairSplit would calculate a fair, predetermined split (say, 60/40 or 70/30) of all billables for a given job. That includes transcripts, roughs, realtime feeds, and yes — per diem charges.
The idea is not to eliminate agency value. It’s to ensure equitable sharing based on actual revenue earned, while maintaining trust and transparency for both sides of the contractor-client relationship.
Let’s Talk About the Pushback
We received a number of thoughtful objections, and they deserve full consideration. Let’s break them down:
1. “We’re independent contractors. What agencies bill isn’t our business.”
That’s true — to a point. As independent contractors, we do have the right (and responsibility) to set our own rates. But let’s be honest: in today’s agency-dominated environment, we rarely get that luxury. We’re often told what we’ll be paid — not asked.
And more importantly, independence works both ways. If an agency expects contractors to shoulder the cost of equipment, training, certification, and personal liability, then that agency owes it to those professionals to offer transparency in how shared revenue is distributed.
Would you hand over a finished transcript to a client without knowing what you were being paid for it? No? Then why do we accept it from agencies?
Transparency is not about nosiness. It’s about fairness and informed decision-making. Knowing what a client was billed allows us to assess whether the compensation aligns with the value we bring to the table.
2. “I don’t show my proofreader what I bill my clients — why should agencies?”
This is a reasonable comparison — but it misses a key distinction.
You’re paying your proofreader from the revenue you earned. You’re the client in that scenario, not a middleman. Agencies, by contrast, are coordinating a transaction between two parties — the client and the reporter. In a brokered model, the compensation should be transparent to both sides of the deal.
Would you accept a real estate agent who refuses to tell you the home’s selling price while charging you a “standard fee” based on mystery math? Of course not.
FairSplit doesn’t demand agencies show every line item of their internal finances. It simply requires that the actual billed revenue for a job be disclosed to the person who performed the core work, so a pre-agreed revenue share can be fairly applied.
3. “Per diems shouldn’t go 100% to the reporter — the agency booked the job.”
Agencies add value, and that should be compensated. No argument there.
But let’s examine what a per diem represents: it’s a flat daily rate to compensate a reporter for showing up, often covering costs like transportation, meals, and time spent waiting around. It’s not a fee for transcription or scheduling — it’s for being there.
If the reporter is the one traveling, giving up their day, and often dealing with long hours or unexpected delays, it only makes sense that the per diem — like mileage, parking, and lodging — goes to the person absorbing those costs.
That said, FairSplit doesn’t propose 100% of all revenue streams go to the reporter. It proposes a fair percentage split of all billables — per diem included. If the agency is billing it, it should be split in line with the agreed ratio. That’s consistent, clean, and fair.
4. “Full transparency isn’t going to happen. VC-owned agencies won’t go for it.”
You’re absolutely right — they won’t. And that’s exactly the point.
FairSplit is not a plan to persuade every megafirm to play nice. It’s a framework for independent agencies, boutique firms, and forward-thinking reporters who want to build something better.
The major corporate players have already shown their priorities: automation, cost-cutting, and shareholder returns. They are replacing skilled professionals with audio recorders and AI transcription engines because it’s cheaper — not better. The only way to fight back is to build a more sustainable alternative.
FairSplit is that alternative.
A Call to the Real Professionals
If you’re a veteran reporter, you’ve likely watched your margins shrink, your responsibilities grow, and your control over your own work diminish. Agencies that used to be partners now feel like overlords. New reporters enter an industry where rates are secretive, expectations are vague, and burnout is inevitable.
But here’s the truth: you don’t have to play their game.
FairSplit empowers reporters and ethical agencies to do business differently:
Transparent, predictable revenue splits
Equitable sharing of value-added services
Respect for the skill, time, and financial investment reporters bring
This model works best when both sides respect what the other brings to the table. Agencies deserve compensation for scheduling, marketing, client acquisition, billing, and coordination. Reporters deserve fair pay for the labor-intensive work of capturing and producing the record.
What You Can Do Next
Reporters:
Start conversations with agencies about adopting FairSplit.
Prioritize working with firms that offer transparency and respect.
Consider teaming up with fellow reporters to form your own boutique firms.
Agencies:
Be bold. FairSplit is a market differentiator in a field where top talent is leaving.
Use transparency as a selling point to attract elite professionals.
Improve retention, morale, and quality — all while still earning your share.
Clients:
Demand excellence, but also fairness. Ethical treatment of court reporters ensures better service, better records, and a better experience.
Conclusion: The Future Is Ours to Shape
If we accept the current model as unchangeable, we’re signing off on our own obsolescence. But if we challenge the assumptions, build partnerships based on fairness, and demand transparency where it matters most — we have a shot at a more sustainable and ethical profession.
FairSplit isn’t about tearing down agencies. It’s about realigning incentives so everyone can thrive — especially the professionals who keep the record.
The status quo isn’t sacred. It’s just familiar. Let’s build something better.
On May 27, 2025, California Assembly Bill 882 (AB 882), authored by Assemblymember Diane Papan (D-San Mateo), passed out of the Assembly Appropriations Committee, clearing its final legislative hurdle in the Assembly before heading to a full floor vote. This marks a critical juncture in the ongoing debate surrounding the chronic shortage of court reporters in California and the controversial proposal to expand the use of electronic recordings in court proceedings. While AB 882 is framed as a stopgap solution to maintain access to justice, its language leaves much to be desired—and may ultimately pave the way for permanent erosion of the court reporting profession.
What AB 882 Proposes
AB 882 authorizes California courts to utilize electronic recording in specific cases, including family law, probate, and civil contempt proceedings, under strictly limited circumstances. The authority to electronically record expires on January 1, 2028. Key provisions of the bill include:
Courts must demonstrate that, after due diligence, no official or pro tempore court reporters are available.
Electronic recording can only be used in proceedings where a verbatim record is legally required.
Courts must actively recruit certified shorthand reporters and provide documentation of good-faith recruitment efforts.
Courts are barred from displacing existing reporters and from purchasing new recording equipment solely to implement this bill.
At first glance, these provisions seem protective of the profession while offering a pragmatic solution to a long-standing shortage. But closer inspection reveals critical deficiencies, particularly in the accountability and long-term policy implications of the bill.
The 5/27/25 Milestone: A Turning Point?
The bill’s passage through the Assembly Appropriations Committee on May 27, 2025 signifies not just legislative momentum, but also the implicit endorsement of a controversial shift. Sponsored by SEIU and supported by the California Court Reporters Association (CCRA), the bill now faces a floor vote by June 6, after which it moves to the Senate Judiciary Committee. Yet, the Judicial Council of California opposes the bill, raising concerns about administrative burdens and encroachment on judicial autonomy. More tellingly, they appear resistant to meaningful reforms that could revive and sustain the court reporting profession.
Where the Language Falls Short
One of the most glaring weaknesses in AB 882 is the vague requirement that courts must “actively recruit certified shorthand reporters” and maintain “documentation showing they made a good-faith effort.” While this sounds reassuring in theory, the bill provides no specific criteria or standards for what constitutes “active recruitment” or “good faith.” This ambiguity invites minimal compliance and undermines the accountability that this clause is supposed to enforce.
What exactly qualifies as “active recruitment”? Posting a single job listing? Contacting a local court reporting school?
What counts as “good-faith effort”? A failed email blast? A verbal inquiry at a staffing agency?
What documentation is sufficient? A spreadsheet? A memo? A calendar entry?
In the absence of clear metrics or audit standards, courts can easily claim compliance while doing the bare minimum. This loophole essentially allows courts to justify the use of electronic recordings with little to no real effort in staffing up with human reporters.
A Band-Aid on a Broken System
While the bill is presented as a temporary measure, it’s ultimately a Band-Aid on a broken system that has suffered from over a decade of hiring neglect. California has failed to maintain robust pipelines for training, certifying, and hiring court reporters. AB 882 does nothing to address systemic issues such as:
The lack of funding and incentives for court reporting programs
Long hiring backlogs and inefficient bureaucratic processes
Poor retention and support for existing reporters
In this light, AB 882 is not a solution but a deferral. Worse, by institutionalizing electronic recording under the guise of an emergency fix, it normalizes a practice that has long been viewed as a last resort.
The Trojan Horse Argument
Perhaps the most dangerous aspect of AB 882 is its potential to act as a Trojan horse for widespread electronic recording. Although the bill includes a sunset clause (January 1, 2028), history shows that temporary measures often become permanent fixtures—especially when they align with cost-cutting and administrative control objectives.
The Judicial Council has long advocated for expanding electronic recording as a way to reduce dependency on human personnel. AB 882 gives them a legal framework to start building infrastructure and habits around recording, all while courts fail to genuinely engage in recruitment. When 2028 arrives, it will be far easier to argue for extending or removing the sunset clause than to reinvest in human talent.
A Path Forward: Embedding Accountability and Innovation
If AB 882 is to truly serve the public interest and protect the integrity of the court reporting profession, it must be amended to include:
Clear Definitions and Metrics: Specify what constitutes active recruitment and what documentation must be maintained—e.g., number of job postings, outreach to schools, response rates, etc.
Technology Integration for Compliance: Platforms like CoverCrow, already used by the Los Angeles Superior Court, could serve as compliance tools. CoverCrow offers real-time job matching and documentation of recruitment efforts, serving both operational and audit functions.
Annual Reporting Requirements: Courts using electronic recording should be required to submit annual reports detailing their recruitment efforts, reasons for failure to hire, and steps taken to improve.
Incentives for Human Hiring: Provide state grants or budget supplements for courts that meet court reporter hiring benchmarks.
Conclusion
AB 882, as currently written, is a flawed attempt to patch a critical weakness in California’s justice system. While it aims to preserve access to justice in the face of staffing shortages, it fails to impose meaningful accountability on the courts and leaves the door wide open for the permanent replacement of human court reporters. Without clearer standards, stronger oversight, and a commitment to long-term workforce investment, AB 882 risks becoming the legislative foundation for a judicial system that prioritizes convenience and control over accuracy and fairness.
Stakeholders must act now to tighten the bill’s language, incorporate compliance technologies, and resist the quiet creep of electronic recording into the core of our legal process. The future of real-time, human-captured justice depends on it.
Court reporting is a cornerstone of the legal system. These professionals deliver accurate, real-time transcripts that become part of official records and influence major decisions in litigation, depositions, and trials. Despite this critical role and the high level of skill required, court reporters today are facing an increasingly inequitable economic landscape.
In many markets, the compensation model for court reporters has shifted from a once-standard 70/30 split (reporter/agency) to an even 50/50 divide, with some agencies taking even more. Worse, reporters are expected to cover all costs—equipment, software, certification, and training—while being treated as independent contractors with no benefits or legal protections.
This article outlines the problem, analyzes how similar industries operate, and presents a new model: FairSplit™, a framework for a more equitable, sustainable approach to court reporting compensation.
The Current Model: Why It Fails Court Reporters
1. Inadequate Pay Splits Many agencies now claim 50% or more of the total transcript fee. This means a reporter producing a 100-page transcript billed at $4.00/page to the client may only see $2.00/page—or less, if extra fees are added on by the agency.
2. No Benefits, No Safety Net Reporters are almost universally treated as 1099 contractors. They receive no health insurance, retirement contributions, sick leave, or workers’ comp.
3. Exploitation of Reporter Products Agencies often upcharge for services like condensed transcripts, keyword indexes, or concordance pages without sharing the revenue. These derivative products are created from the reporter’s work but generate additional profit for the agency alone.
4. Per Diem Splits Some agencies now take 50% of per diem fees, which are intended to compensate the reporter for simply showing up—something the agency does not do.
The Better Way: Introducing FairSplit™
FairSplit™ is a modern agency model designed to realign incentives, respect the reporter’s contributions, and restore balance to the profession.
Core Components of the FairSplit™ Model
1. Revenue Sharing That Reflects Work
Standard transcript jobs: 70% to reporter, 30% to agency.
Premium services (realtime, rough drafts, expedites): 80% to reporter.
Agencies that provide true value through scheduling, billing, and customer service can still be profitable within this structure.
2. Reporter Ownership of Transcripts
The transcript remains the intellectual property of the reporter.
The agency receives a non-exclusive license to distribute the transcript to clients.
3. Derivative Product Compensation Agencies that offer extras derived from the transcript (e.g., keyword indexes, condensed formats, rough draft copies) must either:
Share 50% of revenue with the reporter, or
Pay a $0.50/page flat royalty to the reporter for the derivative use.
4. Per Diem Integrity
All per diem or appearance fees go 100% to the reporter.
Agencies do not incur any burden related to physical presence, so this fee should not be split.
5. Full Transparency
Reporters have the right to view client invoices for any job they performed.
This ensures accurate and fair application of revenue splits.
6. Optional Subscription Model For high-volume reporters or those seeking more independence:
Pay a flat monthly fee (e.g., $500) to the agency for support services.
Retain 100% of revenue on transcripts and per diems.
Encourages entrepreneurial ownership of one’s career.
Industry Comparison: How Court Reporting Stacks Up
Let’s compare current practices in court reporting to other industries that use similar dispatch agency models:
Industry
Common Split
Notes
Nursing (travel/per diem)
70/30 or 60/40
Some receive benefits
Legal Interpreting
50/50 to 60/40
Often little back-end support
IT/Tech Contracting
65/35 to 80/20
High-skill roles command better rates
Creative (e.g. designers)
70/30 to 85/15
Platforms like Upwork take 10–20%
Transportation (gig)
70/30 to 80/20
Uber/Lyft-style models
Court reporters are on par with the most skilled and certified professionals on this list. Yet their share of total compensation is among the lowest when factoring in ownership loss, derivative sales, and per diem cuts.
Sample Clauses to Embed in Reporter Contracts
1. Compensation Split Clause
Section X: Compensation and Revenue Sharing
The Reporter shall receive no less than seventy percent (70%) of gross transcript revenue for all standard transcript production. For premium services including rough drafts, realtime feeds, and expedited delivery, the Reporter shall receive eighty percent (80%) of revenue generated from such services. The Agency shall disclose client billing rates to the Reporter upon request.
2. Ownership and Derivative Use Clause
Section Y: Transcript Ownership and Derivative Products
The Reporter retains intellectual property rights to any transcript produced, granting the Agency a limited, non-exclusive license for the purpose of distribution to the client. Any derivative products derived from the transcript—including but not limited to condensed transcripts, keyword indexes, or concordance pages—shall either:
(a) Be subject to a fifty percent (50%) revenue share with the Reporter, or
(b) Compensate the Reporter at a flat rate of $0.50 per page derived from the original transcript.
The Agency shall not reproduce, resell, or modify transcripts outside the licensed use without written consent from the Reporter.
3. Per Diem Clause
Section Z: Per Diem and Appearance Fees
All per diem or appearance fees billed for a Reporter’s time or presence shall be paid in full (100%) to the Reporter. These fees compensate physical time and presence, and are not subject to agency split unless mutually agreed in writing and for clearly defined additional services.
4. Transparency Clause
Section AA: Transparency of Billing
The Agency shall make available, upon reasonable request, client invoice amounts related to any job the Reporter performed. This is to ensure fair enforcement of agreed-upon percentage splits and compensation.
5. Flat-Fee Subscription Option
For court reporters seeking maximum control over their work and revenue, FairSplit™ offers a flat-fee subscription model. Under this arrangement:
Reporters pay a fixed monthly fee (e.g., $500) to the agency for administrative services such as scheduling, billing, and client coordination.
In return, reporters retain 100% of all revenue, including transcript production, premium services, and per diem fees.
This model is ideal for experienced, high-volume reporters who want to minimize percentage-based fees and scale their income.
It also incentivizes agencies to improve service efficiency and focus on value-added support rather than skimming off reporter labor.
The FairSplit™ Mission
FairSplit™ is not just a compensation model—it’s a movement to:
Protect the intellectual property of court reporters
Restore fair revenue distribution
Offer modern, flexible alternatives to rigid agency control
Champion transparency and ethical labor practices
Conclusion: A Call for Equity and Respect
Court reporters are indispensable to the legal system, yet the current agency model undervalues their skill and labor. The FairSplit™ model offers a better way—one rooted in respect, transparency, and sustainability.
If you’re a reporter, agency owner, or legal professional who values fairness, it’s time to start the conversation. Adopt or advocate for FairSplit™ and help build a future where court reporters are compensated not only fairly, but honorably.
Join the FairSplit™ Movement Today
Fair pay. Fair rights. Fair future.
Business Pitch: “FairSplit™ Court Reporting Network”
Elevator Pitch:
FairSplit™ is a modern agency alternative that respects the craft of court reporting. We believe the professionals who produce the work deserve the majority of the pay — not the middlemen. Our model offers transparent billing, 70/30 splits (minimum), 100% per diem pay, and revenue sharing on all transcript derivatives. We’re restoring dignity and sustainability to the court reporting profession.
In the ongoing federal trial of Sean “Diddy” Combs, a significant yet underappreciated figure is the court reporter capturing every word spoken in the courtroom. While media outlets often reference AI-generated transcripts, the official record is meticulously documented by a live stenographer from Southern District Reporters, P.C., the official court reporting firm for the Southern District of New York. This professional provides real-time transcription, ensuring an accurate and immediate record of the proceedings.
The question all stenographers are asking around the country right now: Who is the incredibly skilled stenographic realtime reporter producing the daily transcripts and instant realtime feed to the judge and attorneys during this trial?
This is just a random court reporter.
The official court reporter for Sean “Diddy” Combs’ federal trial is still unknown. But the Raquel Robles, who serves as the Chief Court Reporter at the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York, leads a team of certified real-time stenographic reporters responsible for producing official transcripts of federal court proceedings, including high-profile cases such as the ongoing trial of Sean “Diddy” Combs. With extensive experience in real-time stenographic reporting, Robles is responsible for producing the official transcripts of court trial proceedings like this one.
(A clue. )
Despite the presence of this skilled stenographer, many media reports rely on AI-generated summaries. For instance, Court TV has openly stated that their transcripts are AI-generated, leading to confusion among viewers who assume they are reading official court records. This reliance on AI has sparked discussions among legal professionals and court reporters, emphasizing the irreplaceable value of human expertise in accurately capturing courtroom dialogue.
Legal affairs journalist Meghann Cuniff has highlighted the exemplary work of the court reporter in this trial, acknowledging the challenges of real-time transcription in such a high-profile case. She has also pointed out the discrepancies between official transcripts and AI-generated summaries, underscoring the potential for inaccuracies when relying solely on artificial intelligence.
The trial, which began on May 12, 2025, involves serious charges against Combs, including racketeering and sex trafficking. The proceedings have garnered significant media attention, with journalistic reporters like Cuniff providing detailed coverage. However, the limitations on electronic devices in the courtroom mean that real-time updates are often based on AI-generated content, further highlighting the importance of the official court reporter’s work.
In conclusion, while AI technology offers convenience, it cannot replace the precision and reliability of a professional court reporter. The ongoing Diddy trial serves as a reminder of the critical role these individuals play in the justice system, ensuring that every word is accurately recorded for the official record.
** Correction Note for Article on the Diddy Trial:
A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that Raquel Robles, Chief Court Reporter for the U.S. District Court, Southern District of New York, is personally covering the Sean “Diddy” Combs federal trial. In fact, multiple court reporters from the Southern District are rotating or jointly handling the real-time reporting duties for this high-profile case. Robles, as Chief, oversees court reporting operations but is not personally transcribing the proceedings.
Editorial Note: The image used in this article is a stock photo and does not depict any of the court reporters working on the Diddy trial.
We regret the errors and sincerely thank the court reporting community for pointing out the inaccuracies.
As a freelance court reporter in California, I’ve grown accustomed to the unpredictability of legal scheduling. Hearings get bumped, trials settle, motions are continued at the last minute. This uncertainty is why many reporters like me accept only one solid booking at a time—there’s simply no way to reliably stack jobs. California Assembly Bill 711, introduced this session, either ignores this reality or fails to understand it.
AB 711 would require parties in civil matters to disclose whether they will provide a certified shorthand reporter (CSR) for motion hearings and in meet-and-confer declarations. On its face, the bill might look like an effort to bring transparency and planning to the use of court reporters in litigation. But in practice, it poses several problems that directly undermine the freelance reporter’s ability to earn a living and serve the courts effectively.
1. The Illusion of Predictability
AB 711 assumes that lawyers—and by extension, court reporters—can plan accurately around future court appearances. In the real world, the opposite is true. Cases shift. Hearings are vacated with no notice. A single change on the docket can ripple through a reporter’s entire week. Requiring attorneys to “declare” a court reporter in advance creates a false sense of certainty and pushes the burden of that uncertainty onto us.
If I reserve time for a “confirmed” hearing that gets rescheduled or dropped the night before, that’s work I’ve lost—not because I was unavailable, but because the system misrepresented the certainty of the job. Multiply that across a week or month, and the financial and professional impact is significant.
2. Normalizing a Reporter-Free Process
By turning the use of a CSR into a simple box to check, AB 711 may unintentionally normalize the idea that a court reporter is optional. If the attorney doesn’t check the box, there’s no reporter. If they do but plans change, there’s still no guarantee a reporter will actually be hired.
This not only undermines our role but signals to judges, litigants, and younger attorneys that live, certified transcription isn’t essential to due process. It is.
3. No Real Benefit to Reporters
Let’s be clear: this bill doesn’t guarantee us more work. It doesn’t mandate a CSR’s presence or provide courts with more resources to hire us. It creates the illusion of increased demand through advance declarations—without actually producing more jobs or providing enforcement if those declarations are ignored. In other words, it’s all optics, no substance.
4. A Competitive Opening for Low-Quality Alternatives
As declarations become the norm, lawyers may begin exploring cheaper, more convenient options, like AI transcription or uncertified digital recordings. The state, already struggling with court staffing, may begin to see human reporters as expendable. AB 711 opens the door to these substitutions, even as it pretends to elevate our relevance.
That’s not modernization. It’s marginalization.
5. More Red Tape, Less Real Support
Finally, AB 711 does what too many well-meaning bills do: it adds administrative overhead under the guise of reform. What we need is meaningful investment in training, recruitment, and retention of CSRs. We need courtrooms staffed with licensed professionals—not more paperwork that gives parties and judges a false sense of procedural propriety.
Conclusion
This bill doesn’t fix a problem; it manufactures one. It reduces court reporting to a pre-hearing checkbox, pretending that scheduling is predictable and that our presence is optional. It places the burden of legal uncertainty squarely on the shoulders of working reporters while offering no substantive support in return.
The cost of attending court reporting school can be a major hurdle for many prospective students. With tuition and associated expenses sometimes reaching well over $60,000, it’s natural to question whether the investment is justified. Is it worth spending that much to enter a specialized field like court reporting? While the upfront price tag may seem steep, understanding what the job entails, the certification requirements, long-term career prospects, and potential earnings can help put that cost into perspective.
What Does “Realtime” Mean in Court Reporting?
Realtime reporting is a specialized skill within court reporting where the words written on the stenography machine appear immediately—in real time—on a computer screen. This is essential in legal settings, especially during trials, where judges rely on realtime feeds to instantly review questions, answers, and objections.
For instance, if an attorney makes an objection during a trial, the judge doesn’t need to rely solely on memory or ask the attorney to repeat themselves. The judge can glance at their monitor and see exactly what was said, thanks to the realtime transcription provided by the court reporter. It’s like closed captioning for the courtroom—only faster and more precise.
Attorneys also rely on realtime feeds during high-stakes depositions—where millions of dollars may be at stake and they have only one opportunity to question a witness—to instantly review testimony, catch inconsistencies, and adjust their strategy on the fly.
How Fast and Accurate Do You Need to Be for Certification?
Speed and accuracy are critical in this profession. In California, to earn the Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) license—the credential required to work as a court reporter in the state—you must demonstrate the ability to transcribe at 200 words per minute (wpm) for four voices, with a minimum accuracy rate of 97.5%. This is tested in a live dictation environment, simulating real courtroom conditions. Realtime certification standards are even more rigorous at the national level.
The National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) offers the Registered Professional Reporter (RPR) credential, which is commonly required for federal positions or to boost one’s freelance credentials. The RPR test includes:
225 wpm Q&A
200 wpm Jury Charge
180 wpm Literary
Each leg must be passed individually, and the pass rate is roughly 95% accuracy for each section. These higher standards reflect the demands of realtime captioning and complex legal work.
Is the California CSR License Enough to Land a Job?
In California, the CSR license is non-negotiable. Whether you’re working as a freelancer (handling depositions and hearings) or applying for a full-time position in Superior Court, you must hold the California CSR. However, for certain official roles—especially in federal court—additional credentials like the RPR are preferred or required.
California Superior Courts often have their own hiring criteria, but most will not even interview you without a CSR. Some higher-paying roles, especially in federal court, seek candidates with both the CSR and RPR, given the high standards and complex caseloads.
Currently, 24 states have their own licensing or credentialing requirements for court reporters, similar to the California CSR, while 8 states either allow or require the nationally recognized RPR (Registered Professional Reporter) certification as the sole credential needed to work in the field.
How Long Until Your Pension is Vested?
Pension vesting is another key factor when considering a long-term career in official court reporting. Here’s how it works:
Superior Court (State-level): Pension vests after 5 years of continuous service.
Federal Court: Similarly, pension benefits begin vesting after 5 years.
Once vested, you’re eligible for a defined benefit pension plan based on your years of service and highest earning years—an increasingly rare benefit in today’s job market.
What Kind of Health Insurance Do California Court Reporters Get?
While this can vary by county or agency, California court reporters working for the government typically enjoy excellent health benefits, including:
Comprehensive medical coverage
Dental and vision insurance
Access to flexible spending accounts (FSAs)
One major caveat: you lose these benefits upon leaving government employment, unless you’ve worked for 25 years, in which case you’re eligible for lifetime medical benefits.
In federal court, the benefits are even more generous. After just five years of service, you become eligible for lifetime health insurance coverage, provided you retire from federal service.
Is Freelance Work Worth the Higher Pay, Despite Lack of Benefits?
Many new court reporters are tempted by freelance work, which often comes with a higher per-job pay rate and greater flexibility. However, freelancers must manage their own:
Health insurance
Retirement savings
Business expenses (e.g., parking, equipment, software)
While the gross income may be higher, the net take-home pay can be significantly reduced once these costs are accounted for. For instance, government-employed reporters often receive:
Free parking
Paid vacation and sick time
Employer-funded pension contributions
As one seasoned reporter advises: Work for Superior Court for at least five years to vest your pension, gain experience, and enjoy stable benefits. Then, consider moving to Federal Court, where compensation and benefits increase further.
Why Are Court Reporters Being Laid Off if There’s a Shortage?
This is one of the most puzzling contradictions in the field. With the well-documented national shortage of court reporters, many wonder how layoffs could even happen.
Here’s the backstory:
In 2012, California faced a *huge judicial budget shortfall. Courts were ordered to slash costs, and they looked at the highest-salaried employees—which included court reporters. During union negotiations, SEIU (Service Employees International Union), which represented both court reporters and social workers, had to prioritize. According to reports from that time, SEIU decided to back social workers, leaving court reporters vulnerable to layoffs.
The following year, in 2013, the Ducker Report was published, highlighting a looming national shortage of qualified court reporters. Unfortunately, this study came after the layoffs. Had the union made court reporters a priority, the layoffs might never have occurred.
It was a case of bad timing, political decisions, and fiscal austerity—all colliding before the true value of court reporters was widely recognized again.
Final Thoughts: Is It All Worth It?
So, back to the original question: Is $65,000 for court reporting school a crazy investment?
Not necessarily—if you finish and pass the CSR. Court reporting is one of the few careers where you can earn a six-figure income without a traditional four-year degree. Once certified, your skills are in high demand, especially in California. But the path is rigorous. It demands discipline, accuracy, and speed. The investment pays off—but only if you’re all in.
For those willing to put in the time, court reporting offers a rare combination of job security, strong benefits, and professional satisfaction in a field that truly matters to the justice system.
**In 2012, California’s judicial branch faced cumulative ongoing budget reductions totaling $653 million, including a $350 million reduction enacted in the 2011–12 fiscal year. These cuts led to significant operational changes across the state’s court system, including furlough days, courtroom closures, and layoffs of court personnel.
Los Angeles Superior Court, the largest trial court in the nation, announced budget cuts affecting 431 employees in June 2012, citing a need to reduce spending by $30 million due to reductions in state financial support. The court had already implemented various cost-saving measures since 2010, including layoffs, hiring freezes, and cuts in supplies, to address the ongoing budget crisis.
Overall, the state’s budget shortfall for the 2012–13 fiscal year was estimated to be $15.7 billion, prompting Governor Jerry Brown to propose a combination of spending cuts and tax increases to close the gap. The judicial branch bore a significant portion of these reductions, impacting access to justice and court operations throughout California.
In the 2012–2013 fiscal year, California’s trial courts reported total expenditures of approximately $25.5 million for court reporter services. This amount was remitted to the Trial Court Trust Fund as mandated by Government Code sections 68086 and 70313.
Additionally, the 2012 Budget Act introduced a new $30 fee for civil proceedings lasting less than one hour, aimed at offsetting the costs of providing official court reporters. This fee was intended to be collected from litigants and deposited into the Trial Court Trust Fund, with the funds subsequently returned to the courts where they were collected.
Despite these measures, the judicial branch faced significant financial challenges. The Budget Act of 2012 required the Judicial Council to allocate a $385 million reduction to trial courts’ Trial Court Trust Fund allocations. This substantial budget cut impacted various court operations, including the provision of court reporter services.
These financial constraints contributed to operational changes across the state’s court system, such as furlough days, courtroom closures, and layoffs of court personnel, including court reporters. The reductions underscored the challenges faced by the judicial system in maintaining essential services amid budgetary pressures.
When students begin exploring their career paths, questions about income, education, and cost are front and center. It’s common to wonder, “How much does it cost to become a doctor, lawyer, or judge?” or “How long does it take to earn six figures in those fields?” Yet one career often overlooked in these conversations is court reporting—a profession that, once fully understood, challenges many assumptions about career value, income potential, and education investment.
Let’s break it down honestly and directly: for students evaluating their futures, especially in California, court reporting offers one of the highest returns on investment (ROI) of any skilled career.
What It Takes to Become a Doctor, Lawyer, Judge, or Neurosurgeon
Let’s look at some of the most respected and sought-after careers:
Doctor (MD/DO)
Time in school: 8 years (plus 3–7 years residency)
Education cost: $260,000–$440,000
Average salary: $320,000
Top earners: $500,000+
Pass rate (MCAT to MD): ~41%
USMLE Step 1 pass rate: ~96%
Neurosurgeon
Time in school: 8 years (plus 7 years residency)
Education cost: $260,000–$440,000
Salary range: $300,000–450,000 (some reach $1M+)
Match rate for neurosurgery residency: ~75%
Lawyer
Time in school: 7 years
Education cost: $190,000–$410,000
Average salary: $135,000–180,000 (Big Law can exceed $300,000)
Bar exam pass rate (first-time, CA): ~50%
Judge (usually former lawyers)
Time in school: 7+ years plus legal experience
Education cost: $190,000–$410,000
Salary: $200,000 (up to $285,000 for federal judges)
Competitive judicial appointment rate: Low (<5% of lawyers become judges)
%
Court Reporter (Steno or Voice Writing)
Time in school: 1–3 years
Education cost: $20,000–$65,000
Average salary (CA): $360,000
Top earners: $500,000 to $1M+
CSR exam pass rate (CA): ~25%
Graduation-to-career entry rate: ~10%
These careers are prestigious and well-compensated, but they also come with significant barriers to entry. Medicine and law may have higher academic entry rates, but court reporting has far higher performance and persistence barriers, particularly due to skill mastery and speed-building.
What About Court Reporting?
Now consider this:
Court Reporter (Steno or Voice Writing)
Time in school: 1–3 years
Steno: ~3 years
Voice Writing (licensed in CA): ~1 year
Education cost: $20,000–$65,000
Average full-time salary in California: $360,000
Top earners: $500,000 to $1M+
CSR exam pass rate (CA): ~25%
Graduation-to-career entry rate: ~10%
That’s not a typo. Top court reporters, especially those working in high-demand markets like Los Angeles and San Francisco, earn more than many doctors and lawyers. Even average full-time reporters in California earn well over six figures when transcript income is included.
The catch? The general public doesn’t know this.
Why? Because national salary averages (“$60K–$100K”) include part-timers, retirees, and lower-cost regions. But full-time, certified professionals in California regularly earn $200K, $300K, or more.
The pass rate also contributes to court reporting’s exclusivity. Mastery takes time and mental discipline, not unlike mastering a musical instrument. It’s why those who make it into the profession are highly valued—and well-compensated.
That said, Court Reporting is not a casual career choice. Prospective students should consider whether they:
Are able to sit for long hours with intense focus
Have strong grammar, vocabulary, and attention to detail
Thrive under deadlines and pressure
Can remain quiet and neutral in high-stress environments
Are comfortable working alone for long stretches
Have the discipline to spend weeknights, weekends, and holidays editing transcripts
Court reporting is a service profession. It’s about accuracy, speed, organization, and reliability. If you love language, enjoy solving word puzzles, and feel energized by delivering precise results in high-stakes settings, maybe every played the piano or other musican instrument, you might be a natural fit.
But if you’re just here for the income, think carefully—because only the students who love the work and live the discipline make it through.
Takeaway
✅ Court Reporting, especially in California, offers:
The fastest path to six-figure earnings
One of the lowest education costs
Equal or better top-end earning potential than doctors and lawyers
Multiple pathways (steno or voice) depending on skillset and learning preference
Metric
Court Reporter (Steno machine or Voice)
Doctor (MD)
Lawyer
Education Time
1 year
8 years
7 years
Education Cost
$20K–$40K
$260K–$440K
$190K–$410K
Time to Enter Workforce
1–1.5 years
10–12 years
7 years
Avg Salary (CA)
~$360K
~$320K
~$150K
Top Earners
$400k – 1M+
$500K–$1M+
$300K+
Payback Time on Education
<1 year
3–6 years (after res.)
5–10 years
The ROI Advantage: A Real Investment
Some students balk at the idea of paying $65,000 to attend a private court reporting school like South Coast College. But that reaction is often based on sticker shock, not strategic thinking.
Let’s flip the question: why do pre-med students eagerly take out $400,000 in student loans to attend medical school? Why do future lawyers aim for Ivy League law schools, where tuition exceeds $70,000 per year?
Because they see it as an investment. They understand the long-term value of a high-income profession. And they know the prestige of their school can influence future earnings.
Here’s the difference: court reporters often earn more than lawyers, and many earn as much or more than doctors — but with far less debt, faster entry into the workforce, and less competition for jobs.
So when a court reporting student sees a $65,000 price tag and thinks it’s “kooky,” that’s a failure of industry messaging, not a failure of the math.
Real-World Examples
A court reporter in San Francisco working on patent litigation cases publicly earned $800,000+ per year in 2018. Adjusted for 2024, that income likely exceeds $1 million today.
Many Los Angeles-based freelancers regularly earn $400,000 to $500,000+, working full-time in high-volume deposition work.
Entry-level court reporters in California courts start at $130,000 base salary, with transcript income adding $50,000–$230,000+ annually.
Meanwhile, a neurosurgeon testified under oath that he earned $300,000/year — and that’s after 15+ years of education and training.
Final Thoughts: Think Like an Investor
Students need to think about education the way an investor thinks about startups:
How much capital do I need to put in?
How long before I see a return?
What are my long-term earning prospects?
What’s the risk of not getting a job or burning out?
When viewed this way, court reporting stands out as one of the most financially efficient and highly compensated skilled professions available today.
Sure, $65,000 isn’t cheap. But neither is wasting 7 years and $200,000 on a degree that doesn’t pay off.
Court reporting is a hidden gem. It deserves serious consideration from any student aiming to build a high-income, low-debt, future-ready career. The math speaks for itself.
If you’re a student who hesitates at the idea of spending $65,000 on a private court reporting school, take a second look at what you’re really investing in. South Coast College is the only NCRA-approved school in California, with the highest California CSR pass rates and a track record of producing the top earners in the industry. Even Judge Judy’s court reporter is a proud graduate. This isn’t just a school—it’s a launchpad. Don’t cut corners on the quality of your education when that education can place you among the best writers in the nation. I personally endorse South Coast College as that is my alma mater and I have first-hand experience of the value of the theory and personal network they provide.
That’s why students from across the country move to California just to attend South Coast College. They understand the ROI. They value the exceptional quality of instruction. And once they graduate, many return home equipped with the best credentials in the industry. If you’re serious about success, choose the institution that consistently turns students into stars.
(**This blog represents my personal views, experience, and expertise as a professional in the field of court reporting. I personally endorse South Coast College as it is my alma mater, and I have first-hand experience of the value of its theory-based curriculum and the professional network it provides. The information provided here is based on real-world knowledge and industry insight gathered over years of working alongside top reporters, educators, and legal professionals and research and personal knowledge of these other fields. )
California Assembly Bill 711, introduced in 2025, is the latest legislative attempt to address access to the official record in civil courtrooms. Backed by respected organizations like the Deposition Reporters Association (DRA) and the California Court Reporters Association (CCRA), the bill is built on the right intentions: to prevent hearings from going off record, to improve communication between parties, and to give court reporters more visibility into potential assignments.
But for those of us actually doing the work—freelance reporters, agency owners, and officials alike—the bill, in its current form, misses the mark. Despite its good-faith goals, AB 711 introduces new challenges, misinterprets how our schedules work, and may even accelerate the shift away from certified human reporting.
Let’s break down what the bill is trying to do—and why it may cause more harm than help.
🏛️ The Goal Behind AB 711
The core idea of AB 711 is to require parties filing motions in civil cases to state whether they will be providing a certified shorthand reporter (CSR) at the hearing. It also requires a similar declaration in “meet-and-confer” letters. The aim is to prevent situations where one party assumes a reporter will be there, only to find out at the hearing that no official record is being made.
In theory, it’s about transparency and protecting litigants’ rights to a transcript. And those are important goals—ones that all of us in the industry support.
But theory and practice are two very different things.
❌ Where AB 711 Falls Short
1. It Assumes Scheduling Predictability That Doesn’t Exist
Freelancers and agencies already know: the legal calendar is a moving target. Hearings are vacated the morning of. Motions are rescheduled without warning. If I, as a freelance reporter, commit to a job two weeks out, I’m taking a real financial gamble that it won’t fall through. And often, it does.
AB 711 creates a false sense of certainty. It assumes that if an attorney declares they “will provide a reporter,” a reporter will show up. But most of us don’t work that way. We book in real-time based on confirmation—not intention.
Agencies face this on a larger scale, juggling multiple requests with limited resources. A “maybe” two weeks in advance isn’t enough to staff a job or turn away other guaranteed work.
2. It Encourages a Checkbox Mentality
Let’s be blunt: attorneys are busy. Many don’t fully understand how reporter scheduling works. Requiring them to check a box—yes or no, will a CSR be present?—invites minimal effort and maximum misunderstanding. Some may default to “no” just to avoid follow-up logistics.
Worse, it could normalize skipping the record altogether. If it’s easy to say no to a reporter, many will. That’s a dangerous precedent for access to justice.
3. It Produces Phantom Demand
If a lawyer declares they intend to bring a reporter, but never follows through or communicates with an agency, the job may never get booked. That “demand” exists on paper only. Agencies and reporters may start chasing ghosts—jobs that were declared but never confirmed.
This creates scheduling inefficiency, wasted energy, and a distorted view of actual service need.
4. It Opens the Door to AI and Substitutes
By putting the onus on attorneys—and giving them a clear off-ramp to say “no reporter”—the bill paves the way for AI transcription tools or uncertified digital audio recordings. As costs rise and availability shrinks, this checkbox could become a path toward low-quality, unverified alternatives.
In the long run, that erodes our professional standing—not just in the courtroom, but in the public’s understanding of our value.
5. It Doesn’t Solve the Core Problem: Coverage Gaps
We all agree: too many hearings go uncovered. But AB 711 doesn’t fix that. It shifts responsibility onto litigants instead of addressing the real cause: a shortage of reporters, lack of real-time coverage tools, and a disconnect between attorneys and service providers.
The bill creates paperwork—not a pipeline to coverage.
✅ What Could Work Better? Real Solutions for Real Problems
Rather than asking lawyers to guess about coverage weeks in advance, here’s what might actually move the needle:
✔️ Real-Time Coverage Platforms
Technology exists that can match open jobs with available reporters in real time. Courts and agencies should invest in systems that make on-demand coverage seamless—not dependent on declarations.
✔️ Court-Provided Reporting by Default
Let’s push for official coverage at all civil hearings—and treat freelance as the overflow, not the default. That would increase baseline coverage and reduce the pressure on attorneys to arrange their own.
✔️ Funding for Recruitment and Retention
Legislation should invest in training programs, tuition assistance, and licensing incentives. If we want more CSRs, we need to build the pipeline—not just regulate around its absence.
✔️ Standardized Procedures, Not Disclaimers
Instead of asking parties to declare whether they’re bringing a reporter, courts could require that any hearing not being reported include a written disclaimer signed by both parties. This adds friction to going off-record—not to hiring a professional.
🗣️ Final Thoughts
DRA and CCRA deserve credit for trying to fix a real issue. AB 711 is a step in the right direction in terms of raising awareness, but it falls short of creating a practical, functional solution. It misunderstands how our industry operates, adds burden without benefit, and may even push us further out of the room.
We don’t need checkbox compliance. We need investment, infrastructure, and innovation. Let’s build solutions that reflect the actual work of today’s reporters—and protect the record with the urgency it deserves.
In recent years, California has faced a well-documented shortage of certified shorthand reporters (CSRs), the professionals responsible for preserving verbatim transcripts of courtroom proceedings. This shortage has prompted a flurry of legislative activity, public concern, and institutional strategy-shifting within the judiciary. However, beneath the surface of these systemic discussions lies an alarming and potentially scandalous detail: the numbers used to justify these strategic shifts may have been based on deeply flawed—and possibly manipulated—data.
This article explores the suspicious discrepancies in court reporter licensing records maintained by the California Court Reporters Board (CRB), the troubling timing of those discrepancies, and how they may have bolstered efforts to replace live reporters with electronic recording (ER) systems. The implications of this are vast, touching on government accountability, transparency, and the future of the court reporting profession.
Discovery of the Discrepancies
While reviewing the publicly available licensing spreadsheet on the CRB website, I noticed something deeply unsettling: many reporters I knew personally, all of whom were actively working in courtrooms across the state, were listed as “inactive.” This wasn’t just a clerical oddity—it was a systemic inconsistency that undermined the reported count of active reporters in California.
Curious and increasingly concerned, I reached out to several of these individuals. Their responses were immediate and incredulous. None of them were aware that their licenses were listed as inactive. All had valid, current licenses and were actively working. Some even showed me their current physical license cards issued by the state.
This wasn’t just a handful of mistaken entries. After more extensive review, it became clear that there were hundreds—if not nearly a thousand—active CSRs misclassified as inactive. This data anomaly wasn’t merely a glitch; it directly contradicted the reality on the ground and cast doubt on the CRB’s official numbers.
Why the Numbers Matter
These inaccuracies may appear technical or bureaucratic at first glance, but their impact reverberates through the entire California judicial system. The official CRB numbers feed into legislative analyses, judicial resource allocation, and the media narrative around court reporter shortages.
Take, for example, the 2022 report prepared for the California Trial Court Consortium: “The Causes, Consequences, and Outlook of the Court Reporter Shortage in California and Beyond.” The report, which drew heavily on CRB-provided data, stated that the number of active CSRs had dropped by nearly 20% over the previous seven years.
One pivotal paragraph stood out:
“Of CRB’s 5,728 active licensees, only 5,043 of them have addresses registered in California… Given the statutory ban on remote reporting, it is safe to assume that these licensees—more than ten percent of the total—are not available to work in California full time.”
This estimate itself is flawed if the active count of 5,728 was artificially deflated. My analysis, corroborated by personal outreach and physical license verification, indicated that there were over 6,500 truly active CSRs at the time—meaning the report was potentially undercounting by nearly 1,000.
This discrepancy is not just numerical; it is political. It paints a bleaker picture of workforce availability, which can be leveraged to support arguments for replacing stenographers with digital recording systems or other alternatives.
Dubious Timing and Legislative Context
The timing of the misclassification is crucial. The data anomaly seemed to emerge around the same period the California Trial Court Consortium was pushing heavily for alternatives to human court reporters. Their 2022 report laid out a dire situation, one exacerbated by what now appears to be artificially low CSR numbers.
Around this same time, legislation concerning voice writing and remote reporting was also in flux. In 2019, Assembly Bill 1520 explicitly prohibited the CRB from licensing voice writers, even though just one week prior, the CRB had announced readiness to administer voice writer certification exams. The abrupt legislative reversal suggests intense political and institutional jockeying.
The 2022 Consortium report also used the shortage to highlight how inflexible and costly it was to rely solely on stenographic reporters:
“This shortage persists despite paying competitive wages, directly inviting and incentivizing court reporters to apply for open positions, and spending increasing time and funds on recruitment.”
If the shortage was partly manufactured by mislabeling active CSRs as inactive, then the foundation of these arguments—and any resulting policy changes—rests on manipulated data.
Data or Deception? System Glitch or Strategic Misstep?
There are two possible explanations for this misclassification: an honest technical error or intentional misrepresentation.
A system glitch might explain how reporters were incorrectly marked as inactive. Licensing databases are complex and often outdated. Errors in syncing renewal dates, processing fees, or manually updating statuses could lead to misreporting.
But intent must be considered given the scale, the consistent pattern of affected individuals, and the suspicious timing. If the CRB knew about the discrepancies—and especially if they failed to correct them after being alerted—it raises the possibility of deliberate obfuscation.
When I informed Mary Pierce, then-president of the Deposition Reporters Association (DRA), about these discrepancies, I received no response. There was no public acknowledgment of the issue from DRA or CRB. Why the silence? If it were a mere glitch, a simple public statement could have cleared the air. But none came.
Consequences for Policy and Profession
Misreporting the number of active CSRs has far-reaching consequences:
Legislative Misguidance: Legislators who rely on flawed CRB numbers may be more inclined to approve policies that shift away from human reporters.
Judicial Resource Allocation: Courts may reduce CSR hiring or fail to fund education initiatives under the false assumption that the profession is unsalvageable.
Public Trust Erosion: If legal transcripts—critical records in the justice system—are being discussed in the context of manipulated data, how can the public trust judicial institutions?
Professional Impact: Misclassified reporters may face professional liability or confusion if their license status is publicly listed as inactive. This can affect their credibility, job prospects, and legal standing.
The Push Toward Electronic Recording
As the alleged shortage narrative gained traction, so too did the movement toward electronic recording systems. The 2022 report framed this shift as inevitable due to the workforce decline:
“Considering California’s aging-out workforce, declining court reporter education system… the number of court reporters in this state consistently trends downward.”
Yet if that narrative was constructed on manipulated or misunderstood data, then the justification for widespread ER deployment begins to crumble.
Moreover, the state has already experimented with ER in limited civil and criminal matters—despite evidence from other states showing its limitations in complex litigation. ER cannot clarify muffled speech, record gestures, or verify speakers the way a live reporter can.
Call for Transparency and Accountability
Given the stakes, the CRB must immediately:
Audit all licensing data from 2017–2023 and identify discrepancies.
Notify affected licensees and correct public-facing data.
Publicly acknowledge any data management issues and provide a timeline for resolution.
Release internal communications related to the CRB’s input into the Trial Court Consortium report.
Additionally, the legislature and Judicial Council must investigate whether inaccurate data influenced policy decisions or budget appropriations.
If the CRB deliberately misrepresented the state of the workforce, it constitutes a breach of public trust and a disservice to the very professionals it purports to represent.
Conclusion
California’s court reporting crisis is real, but it may not be as severe—or as unsolvable—as presented. The disturbing possibility that the CRB’s data misrepresentations were used to further an agenda of technological replacement cannot be ignored. Whether through negligence or intent, the effect is the same: a distorted view of reality that influences courts, legislation, and public opinion.
Court reporters are not obsolete. They are essential protectors of the official record and the public’s right to a fair trial. If state institutions are distorting data to phase them out, it is not just a betrayal of professionals—it is a betrayal of justice.
If you’re a court reporter affected by this issue, or a member of the public concerned about courtroom transparency, speak up. Contact your local representatives, the CRB, and professional associations. Demand answers. Demand accuracy. Demand integrity.
In courtrooms, conference rooms, and deposition suites across the country, attorneys are failing—not in their legal reasoning or writing, but in one of the most essential aspects of advocacy – the ability to speak clearly, purposefully, and respectfully.
It’s time for a serious conversation about the state of oral communication in the legal profession, and how badly it is affecting not only the quality of legal practice, but also the well-being of the professionals who ensure our words matter—especially court reporters.
I propose a practical, long-overdue solution – every law school should require elocution and verbal communication training before graduation. Not as a luxury elective, but as a core skill—just like legal writing and professional responsibility.
Let’s be clear. This is not about snobbery or expecting every attorney to sound like a polished litigator from a 1950’s courtroom drama. This is about creating a clear record. It is about professionalism, respect, and acknowledging that our words—their clarity, their tone, their pacing—matter.
The State of Speech in Law Practice
Spend a week in the trenches of depositions or hearings, and you’ll witness the problem firsthand. Some attorneys mumble. Some interrupt everyone. Others talk so fast with such erratic pacing or vocal fry that court reporters are forced to interrupt just to do their jobs. And when they do? Far too often, they are met with scorn or hostility, as though the failure to be understood is someone else’s fault.
One well-known legal professional who has spent years coordinating Reporter Empowerment conferences in Washington, D.C., invited every bar association in the region to send their litigators —free of charge—for training on how to make a clear record. And the response? Radio silence. No takers. Year after year.
The message is clear – those in the legal community now don’t value form, if it thinks it can get away with focusing on substance. But what these attorneys forget is that form is substance when it comes to transcripts. Without clear speech, without respect for the process, there is no reliable record. And without the record, there is no case.
Standing Ovations for Chaos
Even in mock trial and deposition training exercises—meant to help young lawyers sharpen their skills—participants who mumble, interrupt, or derail the clarity of the proceedings are still applauded for “commanding the room” or “holding their ground.” Rather than rewarding clarity, the culture rewards verbal combativeness and theatrical dominance.
There’s a name for this – performative aggression. Talking over opposing counsel, cutting off witnesses, raising one’s voice to intimidate—it may impress clients, but it actively harms the quality of the legal process. It muddies the record, wastes time, and fosters a toxic environment for everyone involved.
And it especially takes a toll on court reporters, who are not just transcriptionists, but officers of the court responsible for preserving the integrity of the record. When they speak up to ensure accuracy, they are too often dismissed, disrespected, or outright yelled at.
Women Bear the Brunt
While this issue crosses gender lines, many court reporters will tell you—and I agree—that there is a noticeable pattern in how some young female attorneys, in particular, are coached or allowed to behave. The “speed talk,” the nervous laughter, the vocal fry, and the refusal to adjust when the court reporter says they can’t be heard. When a reporter says, “I can hear everyone else, but not you,” the correct response is not to argue. It’s to stop, take a breath, and adjust.
It’s not about singling out women. It’s about addressing a systemic failure in how all lawyers are trained to communicate. The goal should be to speak with strength and clarity—not volume or attitude.
A Culture Problem, Not a Talent Problem
The irony is that many of these attorneys are brilliant. They write like poets and argue like scholars. But they’ve never been taught to read the room—or the reporter. They think louder is better. They confuse speed with intelligence. And when challenged, some resort to yelling or bullying to reassert control. That’s not advocacy. That’s insecurity masquerading as dominance.
Even worse are those attorneys who lash out at court reporters in vulgar, aggressive terms. I’ve seen it happen. And I’ve seen court reporters quietly pack up and walk out—without protest, without spectacle—because no one should have to endure that abuse just to do their job. That’s not a communication issue. That’s a moral one.
What Can Be Done?
So, what’s the solution? It starts with law schools. Every law school should include a mandatory course in courtroom communication. Not just moot court—real training on pacing, diction, clarity, and professional interaction with court staff. We require Professional Responsibility courses—why not Professional Communication?
But law schools can’t do it alone. Bar associations, state courts, and national legal organizations should partner with court reporter associations to develop joint trainings. Court reporters are uniquely positioned to offer practical feedback that lawyers need to hear.
And, yes, national court reporter associations could have, and should have, led the charge on this issue years ago. There’s still time to make up for lost ground. There are working reporters in every major legal market—each of them carrying decades of insight that law schools could tap into tomorrow. All it takes is an invitation.
The Bottom Line
Respect for the record is respect for the profession. Clear speech is not a luxury—it’s a necessity. When attorneys don’t speak clearly, they don’t just hurt their own case—they waste time, frustrate judges, confuse juries, and disrespect the people whose job it is to ensure their every word is preserved.
And when attorneys scream at reporters or treat them as obstacles, they cross a line that should be professionally—and ethically—unacceptable.
So let this be a call to action for law schools, bar associations, and law firms alike – teach your students and your associates how to speak—not just to win, but to be understood. Not just to perform, but to preserve the record. Because if your voice can’t be heard, your argument might as well be silent.
If you’ve been following the news, you probably saw the headlines about President Joe Biden’s leaked audio recording. While most people are talking about what he said, those of us in the court reporting profession are looking at something else entirely – the fact that the leak happened in the first place.
This isn’t about politics. It’s about the security and trust built into the legal system, and importantly, what happens when the people handling legal audio aren’t trained or held to the same standards as licensed court reporters.
Court Reporters Know the Weight of the Record
We’ve all been in the room. Depo after depo, hearing after hearing. We’re not just capturing words—we’re safeguarding them. As the “Responsible Charge” of the record, we understand the chain of custody, the confidentiality, and the trust that every attorney and witness places in us to get it right and keep it secure.
Now imagine a world where those recordings are made, stored, and passed around by people who don’t even know what a scopist is, let alone what our licensing requirements are. That’s not the future—it’s happening now.
What Happens Without Us? Just Look at This Leak
Sure, some folks online pointed out that Biden’s leak wasn’t from a deposition. It was an interview. But let’s be honest: when court reporters are pushed out, and digital recorders are left to run the show, interviews, hearings, depos—they all become vulnerable.
Without a professional in the room monitoring access and protecting the integrity of the audio, files are more likely to be mishandled, misused, or straight-up leaked. That’s exactly what happened here. Someone with access to the government’s digital recording leaked it. And if it can happen to the President of the United States, it can happen to anyone.
Courts Owning the Record? That’s a Conflict
Many states are moving toward letting courts—not neutral professionals—own and manage the record. That might sound efficient, but let’s think about the conflict. Courts are supposed to be impartial. If they also control the record, they’re acting as both judge and gatekeeper. That’s a problem waiting to happen.
Our role as outside professionals has always added a layer of protection and neutrality to the process. We’re not there to influence outcomes—we’re there to document them with precision and keep them secure.
The Ethics We Live By Can’t Be Replaced
Court reporters are bound by professional ethics that aren’t optional. We don’t just protect the record—we protect the people in the room, the attorneys who rely on us, and the system itself. When we say “off the record,” we mean it. When we say “this is confidential,” it stays that way.
Can a software program promise the same?
What’s at Stake for Us—and for Everyone Else
If we lose our position as the Responsible Charge of the record, everyone loses. Attorneys lose trust in the system. Witnesses hesitate to speak openly. Agencies face new liability. And we as reporters? We risk being replaced by systems that might be cheaper, but aren’t safer.
We’re already seeing the effects of cost-cutting over confidentiality. If these trends continue, we’ll be looking at a legal system where nobody wants to testify because they’re afraid their words will end up in a headline instead of a transcript.
We Need to Keep Speaking Up
Now more than ever, court reporters need to remind the legal world why we’re essential. We need to educate our clients, support state licensing requirements, and push for stronger protections around the chain of custody. Our job isn’t just to take down words—it’s to protect the record from start to finish.
Let’s make sure we don’t let moments like the Biden leak pass by without making it clear: if a court reporter had been the Responsible Charge of that audio, it never would’ve been leaked.
In the world of legal proceedings, where every word matters and timing is critical, court reporters serve as the unsung heroes. Their task seems simple on the surface – transcribe spoken words into accurate, official records. But the truth is, court reporting demands a level of precision, discipline, and professionalism that most people never witness. Interestingly, the characteristics that define successful court reporters mirror many of the qualities found in high-potential employees across industries.
Here are seven lessons from court reporting that illustrate what makes a high-potential professional stand out—and why these traits are worth cultivating in any career.
1. They Take Initiative Before Being Asked
Court reporters don’t wait to be told to pay attention or begin documenting proceedings. They are trained to anticipate the start of a session, prepare their equipment, and be fully engaged from the moment they walk into the room. Their work begins even before anyone speaks. Similarly, high-potential employees don’t need constant direction. They prepare, anticipate needs, and act without waiting for explicit instructions. This self-starting nature shows drive and ownership—hallmarks of leadership.
2. They Speak Up When Something Doesn’t Feel Right
Although court reporters are often silent, they are trained to raise their voices at critical moments—like when a speaker is too quiet, when multiple people talk over each other, or when legal jargon becomes unclear. They know the accuracy of the record is paramount and are empowered to halt proceedings to ensure clarity. High-potential employees exhibit the same courage: they speak up respectfully when something feels off, whether it’s a flawed process, ethical concern, or a strategic misstep. They prioritize long-term integrity over short-term comfort.
3. They Value Real Work Over Meetings
In a court reporter’s world, action trumps chatter. They thrive on concrete output – transcripts, legal records, certified statements. Every second counts, and their work is focused and tangible. High performers in any field similarly focus on results, not just participation. While meetings have their place, high-potential professionals look for ways to maximize impact. They gravitate toward producing outcomes rather than getting lost in endless discussion.
4. They Avoid Office Drama and Focus on the Mission
Court reporters are embedded in emotionally charged environments—criminal trials, divorce proceedings, civil disputes—yet they maintain professionalism and neutrality at all times. They don’t take sides or get involved in the drama. They stay laser-focused on their mission: to record facts impartially and accurately. In corporate life, the best employees do the same. They steer clear of gossip, align with purpose, and focus on advancing the goals of the organization.
5. They Work Well With Everyone, No Matter Their Title
From judges and attorneys to defendants and witnesses, court reporters interact with a diverse cast. Respect and communication are essential, regardless of someone’s position or behavior. High-potential employees demonstrate similar emotional intelligence. They build rapport across the hierarchy, treating everyone with respect and working collaboratively across departments. Their ability to navigate diverse personalities makes them invaluable team players.
6. They’re Obsessed With Learning and Growth
Court reporting is a skill-intensive profession. Reporters must maintain high typing speeds, master legal terminology, and keep up with new recording technologies and continuing education. They never stop learning because the stakes are too high. This same hunger for growth is a key indicator of high potential in any role. Employees who seek feedback, develop new skills, and stay curious are the ones who evolve into future leaders.
7. They Fiercely Protect Their Time and Know When to Recharge
Court reporters often work under tight deadlines, transcribing hours of dialogue into flawless documents. To maintain accuracy and speed, they must manage their energy well. They understand the importance of taking breaks, stepping away from the screen, and recharging to stay sharp. High-performing professionals know this too: burnout benefits no one. The ability to set boundaries, protect focus time, and practice self-care is not a luxury—it’s a necessity.
Bringing It All Together: The Leadership Blueprint Hidden in the Courtroom
It may seem unlikely that a courtroom’s quiet observer holds the keys to understanding what makes a standout employee. But court reporters exemplify a rare mix of vigilance, professionalism, and strategic presence. They don’t chase visibility, yet their work underpins the entire legal system. They don’t lead meetings, yet their transcripts shape court decisions. Their value is rooted in doing the right work, in the right way, at the right time—a lesson many corporate leaders strive to instill in their teams.
If you’re a manager looking to spot high-potential talent, look beyond the loudest voices. Look for those who take initiative, remain calm under pressure, and focus on quality. If you’re an employee aiming to grow, consider how the court reporter’s mindset might apply to your own career: Show up prepared. Speak with integrity. Focus on output. Grow your skills. Respect others. Protect your time.
The courtroom may be a world apart from the boardroom, but the attributes that lead to excellence are remarkably similar. Sometimes, the most powerful professionals are the quietest ones in the room—listening carefully, working relentlessly, and leading by example.
For years, the public has heard repeated alarms about a court reporter shortage—claims of vanishing stenographers, unfilled jobs, and impending crises in courtrooms. But scratch the surface, and a different picture emerges: one of orchestrated hype, driven by corporate interests, court administrators, and tech vendors eager to replace skilled professionals with automated systems.
Below, we take a hard look at the data often cited to justify this so-called “shortage”—and challenge the narrative that it’s real.
🔍 Myth #1: “There’s a 26% Vacancy in LA County”
Claim: Los Angeles County Superior Court reported 117 vacancies, or a 26% shortfall in court reporter positions.
Who controls this data? Court administrators, the same people lobbying for digital recording systems and outsourcing of court record duties.
The figure conveniently ignores historic layoff patterns and mismanagement of hiring pipelines. LA courts laid off hundreds of court reporters over the past decade due to budget cuts—and are now crying shortage when it’s politically convenient.
Lack of recruitment, not lack of reporters, is the root cause. Plenty of licensed professionals remain available but are not being offered fair wages or full-time court positions.
📊 Myth #2: “1,120 Court Reporters Retire Annually, But Only 200 Join”
Claim Source: This statistic often comes from the Ducker Report and vendors like Rev.com, a tech transcription company with clear business motives.
The Ducker Report (2013), often cited in this discussion, is outdated, methodologically flawed, and funded in part by interests aligned with automation.
The math is fuzzy: the actual licensing and certification rates fluctuate year to year, and many credentialed reporters work freelance or in other industries by choice—not because of lack of opportunity.
Rev.com sells AI transcription services and directly benefits from the narrative that humans are in short supply. This is not neutral data—it’s marketing disguised as research.
🎓 Myth #3: “There Are Only 19 NCRA-Approved Programs Left”
Claim: The decline in court reporting schools proves that interest and accessibility have collapsed.
First, NCRA approval is not the sole measure of a program’s quality or legitimacy. Many excellent schools (especially online programs) choose not to affiliate due to costs or independence.
Second, the decline in schools is not a reflection of lack of student interest but of systemic underinvestment, particularly in public vocational training.
Finally, many schools closed after state or court systems slashed budgets and stopped funding training incentives—which again points to policy choices, not a dying profession.
💸 The Real Agenda: Follow the Money
Let’s be clear: court reporters represent one of the last human-controlled safeguards in a legal system increasingly dominated by bureaucracy and cost-cutting.
So who benefits from the “shortage” narrative?
Court administrators seeking cheaper, tech-based alternatives to human labor.
Software vendors and AI companies marketing transcription platforms to governments.
Private equity-backed court reporting firms eager to consolidate and automate.
This isn’t about solving a crisis—it’s about replacing skilled workers under the cover of a fabricated one.
⚖️ What’s Really at Risk: Access to Justice
The irony? Courts now tell the public that they can’t afford to hire enough court reporters, and that recordless hearings are acceptable. But litigants—especially self-represented or under-resourced individuals—are left without a verbatim record, denying them their right to appeal.
Meanwhile, private parties are forced to pay $3,000–$5,000 per day for freelance reporters to ensure a record is made. That’s not access to justice—that’s privatization of the public record.
🚨 Conclusion: Stop the Hype, Start the Accountability
The so-called shortage of court reporters is not a natural crisis—it’s a manufactured justification for a slow-motion dismantling of a critical legal profession. The numbers, when viewed in context, reveal administrative failure, funding cuts, and agenda-driven messaging, not an unsolvable demographic decline.
Before accepting the shortage narrative at face value, we must ask:
Who is producing the data?
Who profits from the “solution”?
And who loses their voice in the courtroom when a machine replaces a trained, ethical professional?
If you’re a working court reporter or run a reporting agency, the recent leak of President Joe Biden’s deposition audio should send a chill down your spine—not because of the political buzz, but because of what it means for the future of our profession and the integrity of the legal record.
This moment is a clear sign of what happens when the record falls into the wrong hands—and why we, the professionals trained to protect it, must stay at the center of this process.
We’ve Always Been the Responsible Charge
As court reporters, we’ve long served as the “Responsible Charge” of the record. It’s not just a title—it’s a duty. We are the ones who protect the record’s confidentiality, accuracy, and chain of custody. In 24 states, we’re licensed professionals held to legal and ethical standards that define our work and our responsibility to the justice system.
Let’s be real: when a reporter is in the room, attorneys know they can trust that what’s said will be recorded faithfully and handled professionally. We’ve earned that trust by doing our jobs with integrity, case after case, year after year.
What Happens When the Government Handles the Audio?
The Biden leak is a perfect example of what can go wrong when legal audio ends up in the hands of a bureaucracy instead of a professional court reporter.
Yes, some folks online are quick to point out, “It wasn’t a deposition—it was an interview.” But that’s exactly the point. Without court reporters in the picture, interviews like this will start to follow the same protocol as depositions: recorded, archived, and leaked. The lines blur fast when ethical oversight disappears. What’s next? Depositions without us, stored on some server, with no one accountable for protecting the record?
When digital recordings are stored on government servers or shared with departments who don’t understand our ethical boundaries, they become vulnerable. More hands, more access, less accountability. That’s how leaks happen.
Can you imagine if this became the norm? If every deposition had the potential to end up on the internet? Clients, witnesses, attorneys—no one would feel safe speaking openly. That’s the start of a chilling effect on justice itself.
Court Reporters Don’t Leak
Here’s the thing the legal world needs to be reminded of: court reporters don’t leak.
Even when subpoenaed, many of us are trained to hold firm and let the court compel release through proper legal channels. We don’t hand over audio on a whim, and we never release confidential information without authorization. That’s not just ethics—it’s our professional culture.
Meanwhile, the systems being pushed as “efficient” replacements for reporters—automated recording tools, remote file storage, off-site transcription—open the door to exactly the kind of breach we just witnessed on the national stage.
Why This Matters to All of Us
Whether you’re a freelancer handling daily depos or an agency owner juggling assignments and contracts, this affects you.
If the legal community loses faith in the privacy of depositions, we all lose business. Clients may avoid scheduling depos altogether. Witnesses may clam up. Agencies may face new liability. This isn’t a one-off political headline—this is a direct threat to the trust we’ve built and the future of our work.
A Time to Speak Up and Step Forward
Now is the time for every court reporter and agency to remind clients, law firms, and even the courts why we matter. We are not outdated. We are not optional. We are the Responsible Charge.
Let’s talk about our ethics. Let’s share our role in protecting the record. Let’s push back against the idea that automation can replace human judgment, discretion, and accountability.
Because once the integrity of the record is compromised, there’s no going back.
Closing Thoughts
If this Biden audio leak tells us anything, it’s that we need to hold the line. The legal system works best when court reporters are in the room, focused, listening, documenting, and protecting. That’s who we are.
Let’s keep showing the world—and the legal community—what Responsible Charge really means.
If you’ve ever spent three hours a day crawling through Los Angeles traffic, then hi, welcome to my life. I’m a court reporter who works mostly downtown—Stanley Mosk Courthouse, Spring Street, sometimes even further out. Every day, I leave before sunrise hoping to shave a few minutes off my commute, only to be met with the same sea of brake lights stretching from the 405 to the 110. It’s exhausting. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually.
And now? We’ve got the Olympics coming.
Don’t get me wrong—hosting the Summer Games is exciting. I remember watching L.A. pull it off in ’84 like it was a big backyard party. But 2028 is going to be a whole different beast. The city is expecting around 15 million people, and a huge chunk of that activity is going to center around downtown, which just so happens to be where our busiest courthouses live.
So, naturally, my first thought was: How in the world am I going to get to work?
Flying Taxis Might Actually Be a Thing (Yes, Really)
Here’s where things get wild: LA28, the Olympic planning committee, has partnered with a company called Archer Aviation to bring electric flying taxis to the city. I’m talking about real-deal air taxis—quiet, all-electric aircraft that can take off and land vertically (like helicopters, but sleeker and more sustainable). They’re planning to shuttle VIPs, spectators, and probably some athletes between major Olympic hubs like SoFi Stadium, Dodger Stadium, LAX, Santa Monica, and Orange County. The flights? Ten to twenty minutes. Total.
Ten. Minutes.
Imagine that for a second. You’re at home in the Valley or Long Beach, and instead of spending an hour and a half stuck behind a Metro bus on the 10, you hop into a vertiport, take a short flight, and bam—you’re at the courthouse with time to grab a coffee.
Now, I know these air taxis are being marketed toward “VIPs,” not people like me schlepping court bags and stenography equipment, but let a girl dream, okay? After all, if they want this to be the most “car-free” Olympics in L.A. history, why not throw a few seats to the unsung heroes of the legal world?
A court reporter can hope.
Olympic Traffic Will Be Brutal—Even Worse Than Now
In reality, though, most of us court staff, reporters, attorneys, and jurors will still be on the ground. And that’s where things get dicey. Between event road closures, re-routed buses, added security perimeters, and just the sheer volume of tourists flooding the city, getting to the Stanley Mosk or Spring Street courthouses might become a daily Olympic event of its own.
Can you picture it? Trying to beat rush hour only to find 1st Street closed off for an Olympic parade or some pop-up fan experience next to Grand Park. Or circling the block for 45 minutes because the Civic Center parking structure is full of TV crews. There’s already not enough parking on a regular Wednesday morning—what’s it going to be like with a million extra people downtown?
I wouldn’t be surprised if the court starts encouraging more remote appearances, especially for civil and family law matters. We’ve already gotten used to virtual depositions and remote hearings post-COVID. Maybe the Olympics will push us even further into the future. Not ideal for everything, but I’ll take a Zoom call over sitting in Olympic gridlock any day.
Will the Courthouses Even Stay Open?
That’s the other big unknown. Are we even going to be open during the peak of the Olympics?
There hasn’t been an official word yet from the Superior Court, but I wouldn’t be shocked if some courthouses cut back operations or shut down temporarily, especially if they’re close to a major venue or affected by security zones. That could mean reshuffling calendars, delaying trials, or squeezing everything into fewer available days. Either way, it’s going to be a logistical headache.
And for freelancers like me, those kinds of disruptions have a real financial impact. If my job gets canceled because we can’t get jurors in the building, or if a case gets pushed because the witness is stuck in a traffic jam outside Dodger Stadium, that’s lost income.
Silver Linings and (Maybe) Sky High Commutes
All that said, I do see a few glimmers of hope. If the city invests in better transit and tech to deal with Olympic chaos, maybe those improvements will stick around after the Games. More reliable Metro access, better traffic coordination, upgraded digital court systems—those would make a difference long-term.
And maybe—just maybe—someone in a planning meeting will say, “Hey, what if we gave a few air taxi seats to court staff who need to be downtown at 8:30 sharp?”
I’d volunteer as tribute.
Because as much as I love my job, and as much pride as I take in being the eyes and ears of the record, I’d give just about anything not to spend half my life in traffic. Flying to work? That would be a dream. And hey, if the Olympics can make flying taxis a reality, who’s to say court reporters can’t hitch a ride?
Final Thoughts From the Road (or the Sky)
The 2028 Olympics will no doubt be an incredible moment for Los Angeles, but for those of us working in the real day-to-day machinery of the city—especially in the courts—it’s going to be a major adjustment.
From air taxis to virtual hearings to dodging downtown chaos, we’re all going to have to get creative about how we work, move, and adapt. Whether I’m driving three hours or flying ten minutes, I’ll be there, steno machine in tow—hopefully with a little less gridlock and a lot more elevation.
And if anyone at Archer Aviation is reading this: consider adding a courthouse route. I know at least a hundred court workers who’d be first in line.
In recent months, a disturbing trend has begun to surface in California’s already fragile homeowners insurance landscape. While much of the media coverage has focused on major insurers exiting the state or pausing new policies altogether, there’s a more subtle — and arguably more troubling — phenomenon at play: insurance companies that continue to operate in California but are quietly dropping existing policyholders under dubious pretenses.
These non-renewals are not being driven by actual wildfire zones or objective underwriting data. Instead, some insurers are issuing vague or plainly false justifications for denying renewal, forcing homeowners into vulnerable positions — all while still actively writing policies elsewhere in the state.
A Case That Raises Eyebrows
One such case involved a client whose insurer cited a seemingly random property maintenance issue as the reason for non-renewal — something that, upon further inspection, didn’t actually exist. Even more troubling, the insurer had to dig deep and stretch their interpretation of the facts in order to justify the claim. The homeowner could easily disprove it with current documentation and photographic evidence, but the carrier remained unmoved.
The situation raised a red flag: Why would an insurer take the time to fabricate a weak reason to cancel a policy when the actual risk hasn’t changed?
The Bigger Picture
The answer may lie in the industry’s complex relationship with California’s regulatory environment and risk exposure. Since 2023, companies like State Farm, Allstate, Farmers, and USAA have either stopped writing new policies or severely limited their exposure in the state due to rising claims costs, climate risks, and constraints on how quickly they can raise premiums.
But rather than pull out of the state entirely — a move that would trigger intense regulatory scrutiny — some insurers may be engaging in a more targeted strategy: trimming their most “cost-sensitive” or potentially unprofitable policyholders using highly subjective criteria.
This is particularly concerning because it can appear, on paper, as routine risk management. In reality, it may function as a way to manage their portfolios without drawing headlines or regulatory attention.
What Constitutes “Bad Faith”?
In insurance law, “bad faith” refers to situations where an insurer acts dishonestly or unfairly toward its policyholder, such as denying coverage without a legitimate reason, delaying claims processing, or misrepresenting policy terms. While it’s not always clear-cut, issuing false or misleading non-renewal notices could potentially fall under this category — particularly if the insurer has a pattern of such behavior.
That said, proving bad faith is difficult. California insurance companies are required to give a reason for non-renewal, but they’re not obligated to renew a policy unless governed by certain exceptions (like protected classes, disaster response timelines, or FAIR Plan eligibility). Still, when insurers manipulate facts to justify a drop, it’s more than frustrating — it undermines trust and exposes homeowners to market volatility.
Who’s Being Affected?
The homeowners most at risk tend to fall into one or more of these categories:
Homes near but not in designated high-risk fire zones
Older homes, especially those with outdated electrical or roofing systems
Secondary or rental properties, where occupancy may be part-time
Clients with previous claims, even if unrelated to the cancellation reason
Interestingly, some homeowners being dropped are located in suburban, low-risk areas with no significant claims history — suggesting the issue isn’t just about fire risk or property condition, but possibly financial exposure or portfolio reshuffling on the insurer’s side.
What Can Homeowners Do?
If you or a client finds themselves on the receiving end of a questionable non-renewal, there are several steps worth taking:
Request Documentation: Ask for detailed, written reasoning behind the non-renewal. Insurers are required to provide specific explanations.
Gather Evidence: If the reasoning is inaccurate (e.g., citing non-existent property damage or violations), document and photograph the property to refute it.
Appeal or File a Complaint: Submit a formal complaint to the California Department of Insurance (CDI), which may trigger an investigation or mediation.
Work with Independent Brokers: These professionals often have access to more flexible carriers — including surplus lines insurers — who are still writing policies in California.
Consider the FAIR Plan: California’s FAIR Plan is a last-resort insurance program that covers basic fire and liability risks. It’s not ideal for everyone, but it provides a safety net when private insurers refuse coverage.
Mitigate and Modernize: Upgrading roofing, clearing vegetation, and adding fire-resistant features can sometimes make a home more insurable, though these improvements aren’t always enough on their own.
A Need for Transparency
What this trend highlights is the urgent need for greater transparency and accountability in California’s insurance marketplace. While insurers are undoubtedly grappling with real challenges — including climate risk, regulatory caps on rate hikes, and rising claim payouts — consumers deserve clarity, consistency, and fairness.
Policyholders who’ve paid their premiums for years shouldn’t be left scrambling to find coverage because of opaque decisions dressed up as routine underwriting. If insurers want to adjust risk exposure, they should do so transparently, not through seemingly contrived reasons that create unnecessary panic and financial instability.
Looking Ahead
As climate pressures and regulatory tensions continue, it’s likely that California’s insurance market will remain in flux. More carriers may adopt similar quiet-cut tactics — not to exit the market entirely, but to shrink their exposure under the radar. Meanwhile, homeowners will be forced to navigate an increasingly fragmented and unpredictable system.
Until legislative or regulatory reforms address this imbalance, homeowners and their advisors — especially real estate professionals and insurance brokers — will need to stay proactive. That means watching for unusual non-renewals, pushing back when necessary, and sharing information within their networks.
Because sometimes, a bogus reason for dropping a policy isn’t just an error — it’s a strategy.
In recent years, the rise of digital court reporting has stirred significant debate within the legal transcription community. Proponents argue that digital reporting — often certified through the American Association of Electronic Reporters and Transcribers (AAERT) — provides a viable alternative to traditional stenography. Yet, for seasoned legal professionals and advocates of judicial integrity, this shift raises serious concerns. The core issue isn’t simply about innovation versus tradition — it’s about the legitimacy, reliability, and accountability of the record-keeping method used in our courts.
While AAERT has been in existence for over three decades and offers certification for digital reporters and transcribers, its credentials are not held in the same regard as those of licensed stenographers — and for good reason. In fact, within the professional world of court reporting, AAERT certifications are widely seen as insufficient substitutes for the rigorous training, licensure, and real-time capabilities that define a certified stenographic reporter.
The Misconception of Certification Parity
The key argument made by digital court reporting advocates is that “digital court reporters are certified — through AAERT.” But this assertion glosses over the deeper realities of certification standards, enforcement, and function. Not all certifications carry equal weight. While AAERT may issue credentials, they lack the statutory authority, institutional oversight, and technical robustness found in state licensing systems for stenographers.
Stenographers must often undergo two to four years of formal education, pass state or national licensure exams (such as the RPR, CSR, or RMR), and meet continuing education requirements to remain in good standing. They are often governed by state agencies or judicial boards, subject to ethical codes, and held personally accountable for the integrity of the record.
In contrast, AAERT’s certification process — while structured — is relatively minimal. A digital court reporter can be certified through a multiple-choice exam and a practical test involving audio recording, with far less emphasis on live interaction, real-time accuracy, or procedural legal knowledge. There is no state licensure or legal mandate requiring AAERT certification in most jurisdictions, and many digital operators in practice are uncertified altogether.
Real-Time vs. Deferred Accountability
One of the starkest differences between stenographers and digital reporters lies in how the record is captured and preserved. Certified stenographers are trained to produce real-time transcripts — verbatim records created as testimony unfolds. They can instantly flag inaudible responses, seek clarification from witnesses, and ensure the record is accurate as it happens. This capacity not only protects the parties in a proceeding but also ensures that attorneys, judges, and appellate courts have immediate access to a trustworthy record when it matters most.
By contrast, digital court reporters rely on audio capture, typically recording proceedings for later transcription — sometimes by entirely different individuals, in remote locations, and days or weeks later. Even with AAERT certification, this “record now, transcribe later” model introduces critical vulnerabilities: corrupted audio, crosstalk, missed words, technical malfunctions, and human error in post-production transcription. These are not hypotheticals; they are recurring issues in court systems that have experimented with digital replacements.
And while stenographers sign and swear to the accuracy of their work, the digital model often separates the original recorder from the transcriber, muddying the chain of accountability. In legal proceedings, where the verbatim record is often the basis for appeals, settlements, or criminal sentencing, that separation is a dangerous gamble.
Institutional Preferences Tell the Story
Perhaps the most telling indication of AAERT’s limited legitimacy in the court reporting world is found in institutional preferences. Federal courts, superior courts, and appellate jurisdictions overwhelmingly continue to require stenographers — particularly in high-stakes or complex cases. While some lower-level or administrative hearings may accept digital methods due to budget constraints, courts still default to stenography when accuracy, speed, and reliability are non-negotiable.
Why? Because court administrators, judges, and litigators have seen the difference in performance firsthand. A live stenographer not only delivers a transcript that meets immediate and long-term needs — they become part of the judicial process, actively protecting the record and the rights of all participants.
AAERT Acknowledges Its Own Limits
To its credit, AAERT does not claim to be a replacement for state-licensed stenographic systems. Its mission is to promote standards in digital and electronic recording, not to regulate or enforce licensure. It lacks statutory authority and is not recognized as a governing body by any state bar or judicial oversight board. Even AAERT itself has acknowledged that there must be a trained, certified professional in the room — whether that’s a stenographer, a voice writer, or a digital reporter.
But therein lies the problem: In real-world practice, many digital reporting services cut corners. Budget-conscious courts and private agencies often deploy unlicensed, uncertified recorders — or rely on remote audio capture with no professional present in the room at all. AAERT’s existence is no safeguard against such practices, and its certification is too often used as a veneer of credibility over an inherently riskier model.
Protecting Due Process, Not Turf
Critics of stenographic advocacy sometimes accuse stenographers of simply trying to protect their turf. But this isn’t about market share or nostalgia. It’s about protecting due process and ensuring the judicial system runs on an accurate, verifiable, and transparent record. The stakes are too high — people’s freedom, financial futures, and legal rights — to rely on anything less.
Stenographic court reporters have earned their place through proven performance, legal recognition, and professional accountability. AAERT certification, while a nod toward standardization in the digital space, does not — and cannot — match the gold standard that stenography represents.
In summary, AAERT certification may exist, but that doesn’t make it equal — or even comparable — to the rigorous credentials held by certified stenographers. In the eyes of courts, legal professionals, and anyone who understands the importance of an accurate record, the distinction is clear. Certification alone is not enough. What matters is who is behind the certification, how the record is created, and what standards are enforced to protect the integrity of justice.
Until AAERT — and the digital court reporting industry at large — can meet those benchmarks, their certifications will continue to be viewed by the professional court reporting community not as legitimate substitutes, but as inadequate alternatives. And when it comes to preserving the voice of the courtroom, “adequate” simply isn’t good enough.
In the world of stenography—a profession built on accuracy, integrity, and discretion—many court reporters are finding themselves at a crossroads. One name in particular, the branded entity known as Steno In The City (registered trademark) (SITC), once promoted as a glamorous and innovative hub for legal professionals, has recently become a source of division, scrutiny, and, increasingly, rejection.
As reports from StenoImperium continue to surface, raising concerns about their business model and the use of unpaid volunteer labor, according to published reports and postings on SITC’s own social media accounts and website, many stenographers are choosing not to attend SITC events. Some are even publicly condemning the organization, drawing comparisons to celebrities who have refused party invitations from embattled music mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs. In both scenarios, what appears extravagant may be masking deeper concerns, as some critics suggest.
The Glamour vs. The Grit
SITC’s branding suggests sophistication: rooftop mixers, influencer-style content, luxury settings, and promises of community and opportunity. But as StenoImperium’s detailed exposés point out, much of this polish may mask a darker underbelly of mismanagement and manipulation.
In an article published in March 2025, SITC was found to be in violation of Louisiana solicitation and volunteer laws—a significant infraction for any business, let alone one so publicly aligned with a professional field. SITC has been reported to the State of Louisiana for potential violations of solicitation and volunteer laws. The state acknowledged receipt of the complaint, according to documentation provided by the whistleblower.
Further reporting exposed the use of unpaid labor to run high-end events. Court reporters, many with years of experience and education, were reportedly expected to “volunteer” in exchange for exposure or community goodwill—prompting criticism from some within the stenographic community. (StenoImperium, Feb 26)
“I didn’t enter this field to work red carpet events or chase social media fame,” says one stenographer who declined to attend an upcoming SITC conference. “I went into it to serve the justice system. What they’re doing feels like a mockery of that mission.”
The Diddy Comparison
The backlash bears striking resemblance to the resistance seen by high-profile figures in the entertainment industry against party moguls like Sean “Diddy” Combs. Just as SITC offers luxury and glitz to mask deeper concerns, Diddy’s lavish events have faced boycotts from celebrities who question the ethics, culture, and chaos behind the scenes.
Take actress Jenny Mollen, who famously declined a Diddy party invitation at the age of 19. “He seemed… small, strange, not someone I wanted to be around,” she said, describing the environment as one of overindulgence and dysfunction. Similarly, stenographers are now asking: Is this really where our professional standards should be heading?
Rapper Ice Cube has been vocal about his refusal to associate with Diddy events. “I’ve never gone to one, and I don’t plan to,” he said, noting his objections to questionable business practices. This mirrors what stenographers are now feeling: a refusal to align with behavior that tarnishes their profession.
Perhaps most vocally, 50 Cent has called Diddy “unmanned” and mocked his extravagant parties as hollow. His refusal to associate with Diddy stems from principle, not fear—and many in the stenographic community are taking a similarly firm stand with SITC.
SITC’s Party Culture and “Influencer Takeover”
One of the most damning accusations against SITC is how it has drifted from the values of professional court reporting. Instead of providing meaningful career development, critics argue, SITC has embraced the aesthetics of Instagram-worthy events and influencer-style promotion.
In a piece titled “All That Glitters Is Not Gold”, StenoImperium broke down how volunteers are exploited under the guise of “community” and networking. “The appearance of luxury masks the devaluation of labor,” the article stated.
Moreover, the organization has faced criticism regarding internal operations and how dissenting voices are handled. A separate exposé alleged that whistleblowers who raised red flags about SITC’s business model were met with online harassment and even threats of violence. The whistleblower filed for a temporary restraining order against a SITC-affiliated individual for alleged cyberstalking after criticizing SITC, as documented by StenoImperium. Additionally, a woman hired by SITC sent a cease and desist letter while falsely claiming to be a licensed attorney in California. She was reported to the California Bar, which completed an investigation and confirmed she was acting unlawfully. The case has been referred to the California District Attorney for potential prosecution and is currently pending.
A Profession Built on Integrity
The comparison to Diddy is more than a pop-culture analogy. It reflects a growing discomfort within the stenography field about image vs. substance. Just as Diddy’s empire is now under increased scrutiny for decades of unchecked behavior, SITC’s glittering façade is no longer fooling seasoned professionals who are demanding transparency and accountability.
SITC is also accused of allegedly structured in a way that allows it to operate with minimal regulatory oversight, according to critics., sidestepping fair labor practices and exploiting the goodwill of newer, eager court reporters. In short, it’s not just about flashy parties—it’s about real harm.
“I’m not here to be ‘seen’ at an event,” said another stenographer who has rejected multiple SITC invites. “I’m here to do my job. And that means standing up for my peers and protecting the ethics of our profession.”
Turning Down the Invitation
The growing boycott of SITC is not a tantrum—it’s a conscious rejection of a narrative that equates glamour with legitimacy. Like Ice Cube and 50 Cent opting out of Diddy’s world, court reporters are choosing principle over popularity.
As one StenoImperium article warns, “Influence must not be mistaken for truth.” The rejection of SITC events marks a reclaiming of that truth by a community tired of being used as props in someone else’s PR campaign.
The Future of Stenography
The industry is at a pivotal moment. With AI encroaching on jobs, certification standards under attack, and now influencer-style groups trying to hijack the profession’s public image, it’s more important than ever to demand integrity.
By refusing to attend SITC events, many stenographers are taking a quiet yet powerful stand. Just like those celebrities who declined Diddy’s infamous invites, they are saying: Not everything shiny is worth showing up for.
Because in a profession built on capturing every word, sometimes silence—especially in the form of absence—speaks the loudest.
Disclaimer: This article includes opinions and commentary based on publicly available information and firsthand accounts. Allegations referenced herein are drawn from published reports, personal communications, and documentation provided by individuals involved. No claims of legal guilt or liability are implied unless confirmed by official authorities. The purpose of this article is to inform and foster dialogue within the stenographic community.
“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.”
“Steno In The City is a registered trademark of its respective owner. This blog is not affiliated with or endorsed by that brand.”
In the evolving world of court reporting, the convergence of tradition and technology has reached a pivotal point. At the center of this transformation is Eclipse RSR—a voice-to-text software by Advantage that’s rapidly redefining what it means to be a modern court reporter.
For years, the field has been primarily dominated by stenographers and voice writers, with digital reporting often viewed as the lesser sibling. But RSR (RealSpeak Realtime) is changing that narrative. Designed as the next iteration of Eclipse software, RSR builds on familiar platforms and integrates automatic speech recognition (ASR) to allow users—stenos, voice writers, and even newcomers—to produce real-time transcripts with remarkable accuracy and speed.
While RSR isn’t generative AI in the typical sense, it is an advanced ASR tool that transforms spoken words into editable text in real time. For traditional stenographers, it might sound like heresy, but many are quietly experimenting with RSR—and some are already using it in their daily workflow. The benefits are hard to ignore: streamlined real-time transcripts, quicker rough drafts, and powerful collaborative features like “team editing,” where scopists or editors can join a live deposition and assist in real-time editing. This drastically reduces turnaround times and enhances transcript quality.
The Resistance and the Shift
Not everyone is thrilled. Some highly skilled realtime stenographers express concern over training digital reporters to use these tools, fearing it may erode their hard-earned market share. After all, helping someone new master RSR might just equip them to compete for the same realtime jobs. But many within the community also see the inevitability of change. Instead of resisting, they advocate for owning the transition—helping train others, shaping ethical standards, and ensuring quality remains high.
This shift is not just about technology; it’s about labor, economics, and professional identity. Many digitals, once relegated to low-paying roles with little autonomy, are seizing the opportunity RSR offers. It empowers them to produce and certify their own work, assuming they have the necessary skills in grammar, punctuation, and transcript editing. For some, it’s a lifeline out of exploitative agency structures where they log notes while someone else gets paid to finalize their work.
The Skills Gap
Despite RSR’s promise, it’s not a magic button. It demands competence. Knowing how to edit effectively in Eclipse, maintain transcript integrity, and manage the demands of realtime work is critical. Those who assume the software alone will do the job are in for a wake-up call. Professionals—regardless of background—must still meet the same high standards.
And that’s why some stenos don’t see RSR as a threat, but as a tool—especially valuable for those dealing with physical strain, career burnout, or a lack of retirement savings. With RSR, they can continue working without the physical toll of machine writing.
The Economics of Access
There is, however, a significant barrier to entry: cost. RSR is expensive, and many digital reporters earning hourly wages struggle to afford it. Agencies, which often control the software, are slow to provide access or support. As a result, even as the technology becomes more widespread, many digitals remain on the fringes—locked out of opportunities that could elevate them to full reporting professionals.
This has sparked frustration. Many aspiring reporters feel left behind—not for lack of skill, but due to institutional reluctance to invest in them. Meanwhile, some experienced reporters, disheartened by industry gatekeeping and gossip, are taking matters into their own hands: investing in RSR independently, training others, and pushing for a more equitable system.
The Future of Reporting
The world of court reporting is evolving rapidly. With RSR, we are witnessing not the end of steno, but a diversification of pathways into the profession. Whether you’re a steno veteran, a digital reporter, or a language-savvy newcomer, the same message rings true: adapt, learn, and evolve.
RSR isn’t perfect. It won’t replace the best realtime reporters overnight. But it’s here. It’s powerful. And it’s leveling the playing field for those willing to master it.
The question is no longer if this technology will reshape the industry, but how we, as a community, choose to shape it.
For decades, court reporters have been the quiet backbone of the legal system—meticulously recording testimony, ensuring accurate transcripts, and supporting the machinery of justice. Yet over the past 30 years, a growing threat has chipped away at the profession: insurance companies contracting with court reporting agencies. What was once a collaborative, local industry driven by relationships and reputation has become increasingly monopolized, opaque, and exploitative. As large agencies secure exclusive deals with insurers, thousands of independent court reporters and small firms have seen their businesses gutted. This isn’t just an industry inconvenience—it’s a structural crisis. And unless meaningful action is taken, court reporting as a viable profession may not survive.
Understanding the Contracting Problem
At the heart of this issue is the practice of contracting, where insurance companies form long-term exclusive agreements with large court reporting agencies to handle proceedings like Examinations Under Oath (EUOs), depositions, and more. On its surface, this might seem like simple business logistics. But in reality, it’s often illegal, anti-competitive, and deeply harmful to working reporters.
More than 30 U.S. states have laws or ethics rules in place that prohibit or restrict these kinds of third-party contracts. These laws exist to maintain impartiality, prevent conflicts of interest, and preserve a level playing field for professionals. But enforcement is minimal or nonexistent. As a result, insurance companies and large agencies continue these arrangements unchecked, often under the radar, leaving solo practitioners and small businesses at a devastating disadvantage.
Real-World Consequences
For many court reporters, the consequences of contracting are personal and painful:
Loss of long-time clients: Attorneys are often told by insurers that they must use a particular court reporting agency, regardless of prior relationships or preference. The implication is clear: comply or risk losing insurance coverage or client support. As a result, even reporters with decades-long client relationships find themselves ghosted overnight.
Unfair competition: Big-box reporting firms—often backed by venture capital—can offer perks that independent firms simply cannot. From deep rate discounts to luxury travel packages, they lure in clients with benefits that have nothing to do with the quality of their reporting services.
Ethical erosion: The impartiality of the transcript is fundamental to justice. But when the agency that hires the reporter is beholden to an insurance company with a financial interest in the outcome, can we really trust the neutrality of the process?
Economic devastation: Reporters in states like California, Florida, and Alabama have reported losing 50% or more of their clients due to contracting. Many have been forced to close their businesses altogether. These are not isolated incidents—they are part of a national trend.
Data and privacy concerns: Large agencies tied to insurers often compile extensive databases of litigants, witnesses, and attorneys. These massive repositories of sensitive information are shared, analyzed, and monetized without regulation or oversight. Meanwhile, transcription jobs are increasingly being outsourced overseas to cut costs, raising further security red flags.
Why Isn’t Anyone Doing Anything?
The truth is, court reporters have been sounding the alarm for years, but their concerns have largely fallen on deaf ears. Attorneys, often overworked and unaware of the deeper implications, comply with insurer directives. Judges remain mostly uninvolved. And legislators haven’t felt the pressure to act.
Even when reporters file complaints, enforcement agencies rarely act. In many cases, they claim that it’s unclear who has jurisdiction. It’s a legal gray zone that benefits those with money and power—and leaves individual reporters without recourse.
How We Fight Back: Actionable Steps
If this pattern continues, court reporting risks becoming a commodity rather than a profession. But the tide can turn. Here’s how:
1. Organize, Organize, Organize
Independent reporters must join together—state by state and nationally—to push back. State associations should make contracting enforcement a central advocacy issue. Unions or cooperatives could be formed to pool resources and create stronger collective bargaining power.
2. Push for Enforcement of Existing Laws
Most states already have laws that prohibit or limit these kinds of contracts. The problem isn’t a lack of legislation—it’s lack of enforcement. Reporters can pressure state bar associations, judicial councils, and regulatory boards to start holding bad actors accountable.
3. Educate Attorneys
Many attorneys do not realize they have a choice or that these contracts may be unethical or illegal. Providing information—through seminars, handouts, or one-on-one conversations—can empower lawyers to push back on insurer demands. Remind them: a biased transcript serves no one in the long run.
4. Public Awareness Campaigns
Use media, social platforms, and op-eds to shine a light on this issue. Public concern over data privacy, outsourcing, and justice system transparency is growing. The court reporting industry can align its message with these broader movements.
5. Develop Alternative Networks
Instead of working through agencies that prioritize contracts over quality, independent reporters can create their own referral networks, listing services, or nationwide platforms that connect attorneys directly with experienced, vetted reporters. Technology doesn’t have to be the enemy—it can be the solution.
6. Litigate
If enough evidence can be gathered showing harm, anti-competitive behavior, or data violations, class action lawsuits or challenges under state business ethics laws could force major change. One well-timed lawsuit could set a precedent.
7. Advocate for New Rules
In states where contracting laws are weak or vague, industry groups should lobby for clear rules and strict penalties. Ban third-party contracting outright or require full disclosure and approval from both parties involved in litigation.
A Glimmer of Hope
Although the damage is real and ongoing, many reporters note that attorneys do eventually care—often after experiencing the downsides of working with large agencies. Late reporters, inaccurate transcripts, poor communication—these issues eventually reach a tipping point. And when that happens, many lawyers find themselves trying to get back in touch with the very reporters they were forced to abandon.
The question is: Will there still be an independent reporting industry left by then?
Conclusion
The contracting of court reporting services by insurance companies is not just a business trend—it’s a legal, ethical, and professional crisis. It undermines the impartiality of the justice system, destroys small businesses, and prioritizes cost over quality. But reporters are not powerless. By organizing, advocating, and educating, they can push back and reclaim their profession.
Because court reporters are not just service providers. They are guardians of the record. And the integrity of that record depends on who holds the pen—and who holds the power.
Here’s a Flyer you can use, add a website of your choice at the bottom, make into post cards to pass out to court reporters and attorneys.
In recent years, an alarming trend has taken hold in courtrooms across the country: the steady replacement of certified stenographers with digital court reporting systems. While marketed as a cost-saving solution, this shift is not merely a product of technological progress—it is, in large part, driven by the quiet influence of insurance companies seeking to cut costs, often at the expense of accuracy, fairness, and transparency in our justice system.
At the heart of this issue is a disturbing irony. Court reporting—a profession rooted in preserving the integrity of legal proceedings—is now being compromised by corporate interests that benefit when that very integrity is diluted.
The Rise of Digital Court Reporting
On the surface, digital court reporting may seem like a reasonable evolution. Using audio recordings and transcription software, it promises efficiency and affordability. But anyone familiar with courtroom dynamics knows that this is no simple tech upgrade. Replacing certified stenographers with digital systems is akin to replacing skilled pilots with autopilot alone: convenient, yes—but catastrophic when something goes wrong.
Certified stenographers are highly trained professionals. They don’t just transcribe; they ensure clarity in the moment. If someone mumbles, talks over another speaker, or uses unclear terminology, a stenographer can interrupt, clarify, and correct in real-time. Digital systems can’t do that. What results is a flawed transcript riddled with inaudibles, inaccuracies, and ambiguities—problems that may not become apparent until the record is needed for appeal, deposition, or testimony.
The Role of Insurance Companies
So why the push for digitization, despite these drawbacks?
Enter the insurance companies. As major players in civil litigation—particularly in personal injury and workers’ compensation cases—insurance providers have a vested interest in minimizing costs. That includes not only payouts but also the costs of litigation itself. By pressuring law firms and court systems to adopt cheaper digital reporting, they reduce overhead in the short term.
But the long-term consequences are deeply concerning. Faulty or incomplete transcripts can hinder appeals, obscure testimony, and erode the public’s trust in the judicial process. When the record is unclear, the truth becomes harder to prove. For insurers, that’s not a bug—it’s a feature. Every instance of ambiguity is an opportunity to delay, deny, or underpay a claim.
The result is a courtroom dynamic subtly tilted in favor of those with deep pockets and a preference for delay. Plaintiffs, especially those without strong legal representation or with limited resources, are disproportionately affected. The promise of justice—already fragile—is weakened further.
The Human Cost
Let’s be clear: this is not just a professional turf war. It is a matter of justice and access.
Imagine a young woman testifying in a sexual harassment case, her voice shaking as she describes events she’s struggled to talk about. If her words are misheard or lost in a digital recording, there may be no chance for correction. A certified stenographer would catch the mistake and ask for clarification. A microphone does not.
Or consider an elderly man suing after a slip-and-fall injury. If his words are mistranscribed and the insurance company challenges the record, his credibility may be unfairly questioned. What’s more, litigants in lower-income communities—where courts are most likely to adopt budget tech—suffer the brunt of these “cost savings.”
Certified court reporters are not just transcribers. They are gatekeepers of accountability. Their presence ensures the record reflects what was actually said, not what a flawed machine believes was said. Undermining their role is a threat not only to their profession but to every person seeking a fair hearing.
Why This Matters Now
This issue is particularly urgent in the current legal climate. Courts are backlogged. Judges are overwhelmed. The temptation to automate what seems like a “simple” task is strong. Vendors promising quick, AI-based solutions are well-funded and persuasive. And insurance companies, under the guise of streamlining, are quietly lobbying for these changes in procurement policies and legislative amendments.
Even some attorneys, facing pressure from clients and insurers to cut costs, have become complicit—opting for digital reporting because it shaves off a few dollars on the invoice. But the question must be asked: at what cost?
The answer is painfully clear. At the cost of fairness. At the cost of credibility. At the cost of justice.
What We Can Do About It
Fortunately, this tide is not irreversible. There are concrete steps that can be taken—by courts, attorneys, lawmakers, and concerned citizens—to push back against the creeping influence of profit-driven motives in the judicial system.
1. Mandate Certified Stenographers for All Legal Proceedings States and court systems must adopt regulations that require certified stenographers in all proceedings where a legal record is necessary. Hybrid or optional models create loopholes that corporations exploit.
2. Educate Judges and Attorneys Many decision-makers do not fully understand the difference between human and digital reporting. Awareness campaigns by stenographers’ associations and legal watchdog groups can change that.
3. Expose the Money Trail Transparency matters. If insurance companies are lobbying for or funding the expansion of digital reporting, that information should be public. Journalists and advocates can help shine a light on the connections between policy shifts and industry lobbying.
4. Push for Federal and State Legislation Laws that protect the integrity of the legal record must keep pace with technology. This includes protections for the stenography profession and quality standards for transcripts submitted in court.
5. Support the Training Pipeline The stenography profession is facing a shortage of new recruits. Investment in training programs, scholarships, and public awareness can help bring new talent into the field and ensure longevity.
6. Call Out the Conflict of Interest When insurers influence how legal records are kept—records that may determine their financial liability—we must recognize the inherent conflict. Courts must remain impartial. Allowing a financially interested party to dictate procedural standards threatens that neutrality.
The Bottom Line
Digital court reporting is not inherently evil. But in the hands of those who benefit from confusion and inaccuracy, it becomes a dangerous tool. The growing influence of insurance companies on court reporting is not just a story about technology or budgets. It’s a story about who controls the narrative in our courtrooms—and by extension, who gets justice.
Certified stenographers may seem like one small cog in a vast legal machine. But when that cog is removed or replaced with a faulty substitute, the entire system suffers. Justice requires a clear, accurate, and unbiased record. That is something only a human professional—trained, accountable, and present—can truly guarantee.
It’s time to put people before profits and preserve the integrity of our courts. Because justice should not be something we bargain down to the lowest bidder.
In recent years, the field of court reporting has come under a calculated and well-funded assault. Under the guise of innovation and efficiency, digital alternatives are being pushed aggressively by organizations and individuals with clear financial incentives. Certified stenographers — the gold standard for accuracy and integrity in the legal system — are being sidelined. The forces behind this shift aren’t invisible. They can be named, documented, and held accountable.
To counter this, a comprehensive advocacy strategy is needed — one that not only identifies bad actors but also equips stenographers and allies with polished materials and a coordinated plan. Here’s how we do it.
1. Creating a “Bad Actor” Index: The Dark Money Map
The erosion of stenographic standards is not an accident. It is the product of a deliberate campaign by entities that stand to profit from replacing human expertise with unverified digital tools. It’s time to map the landscape.
We propose the creation of a public, well-researched “Bad Actor Index” or Dark Money Map — a centralized resource that tracks the individuals, organizations, and interests pushing uncertified digital reporting into our justice system.
This index could include:
Agencies endorsing uncertified digital methods Some court reporting agencies are actively promoting digital alternatives without disclosing their limitations. These entities should be listed with documented evidence of their practices and statements.
Vendors with vested interests Companies like Stenograph have pivoted away from supporting stenographers and are now aligned with the push for automation. Their leadership’s known ties to STTI (Speech-to-Text Institute) — an advocacy group promoting digital reporting — should be transparently disclosed.
STTI: Following the money STTI presents itself as a neutral educational group, but its mission and funding sources tell another story. By detailing its board members, sponsors, and marketing strategies, the index will show how STTI functions as a lobbying tool, not a genuine solution to any alleged “shortage.”
Lobbyists, PR firms, and the “shortage” myth The idea of a stenographer shortage is often repeated without evidence — a narrative used to justify the shift to cheaper, untested methods. We will track who is promoting this talking point and investigate their connections to digital vendors.
Conflicts of interest in regulatory roles Instances where former executives from digital-first companies move into influential positions within state or national regulatory bodies need to be highlighted. These revolving doors undermine trust and compromise the impartiality of rulemaking.
The goal of the index is not to attack — it’s to inform. It will be factual, verifiable, and constantly updated. Most importantly, it will be public. We can build it as a downloadable PDF, an interactive website, or a visual chart that shows connections at a glance. This is accountability in action.
2. Transforming Articles into Advocacy Materials
Many stenographers and allies have already written powerful articles and commentaries, but these important messages often don’t reach the right audiences. That’s where format and presentation come in.
By repurposing existing content into impact-driven materials, we can amplify its effect and reach new decision-makers. Here’s what we can create from the articles you’ve already written:
Polished blog posts and LinkedIn articles These will be adapted with SEO-optimized headlines, subheadings, and shareable quotes to spark conversation and build awareness in the professional sphere.
Media-ready op-eds Articles tailored for mainstream press or legal publications will feature persuasive structure, citation of relevant legal precedent or industry data, and a tone appropriate for editorial pages.
White papers for court administrators We can distill key arguments into a formal document designed to influence administrative policy — using facts, expert testimony, and clear conclusions.
Slide decks for briefings Visual presentations for bar associations, judicial councils, or advocacy events are often more effective than written reports. These will use concise text, impactful images, and consistent design to support in-person or remote briefings.
No matter the format, each material will match the expectations of its target audience. I’ll handle the editing, formatting, and tone — you bring the message, and I’ll help it land with impact.
3. Coordinated Advocacy Campaign
Bringing these materials together into a single, unified effort creates momentum. We propose a Coordinated Advocacy Package that positions stenographers not just as defenders of tradition, but as modern, strategic advocates for accuracy, equity, and integrity in the legal system.
Here’s what that package could include:
✅ A 1-Page Summary: “Why Stenography Matters”
This quick-read document will lay out the case in plain language for legal professionals, judges, journalists, and the public. It will cover:
What stenography is and why it matters
The risks of uncertified digital reporting
How the public can help preserve quality in the courts
✅ The “Dark Money Map”
An eye-catching, evidence-backed visualization of the network pushing digital alternatives. Think of it as an accountability chart — a who’s-who of digital disruption and the conflicts of interest driving it.
✅ Briefing Slide Deck
Ideal for live presentations or self-guided review by legal stakeholders. This deck will combine data, quotes, and expert commentary in a digestible format that leaves a lasting impression.
✅ Outreach Scripts and Emails
We’ll create ready-to-send templates for:
Contacting judges and court administrators
Reaching out to law firms and bar associations
Social media campaigns encouraging public support
These templates will make it easy for stenographers and their allies to speak with one voice.
✅ Social Media Kits
We’ll design shareable images, short captions, and hashtags that help stenographers engage their audiences without having to be professional marketers. Whether it’s on Instagram, LinkedIn, Facebook, or X, you’ll have everything needed to get the word out quickly and consistently.
This Is a Fight Worth Having
Stenographers are not just technicians; they are guardians of the legal record. Every attempt to replace certified professionals with uncertified machines threatens not only livelihoods, but justice itself. And the threat isn’t hypothetical — it’s already here, being quietly normalized under the banner of “innovation.”
The time to act is now — not defensively, but with strategy, clarity, and unity. By exposing the dark money, sharpening our message, and coordinating our efforts, we can protect the integrity of our legal system and the future of the profession.
Let’s map the problem, elevate the truth, and move together with purpose.
The stenographic profession isn’t dying — it’s being hijacked.
Despite what you’ve been told by vendors, private equity–owned agencies, and recently invented certification mills, there is no shortage of court reporters. In fact, the profession is experiencing a resurgence not seen since the 1980s. Stenographic schools are full, waitlists are growing, and our technology is more sophisticated than ever. So why is there a sudden push to replace us?
The answer is simple: profits.
And what’s at stake isn’t just our careers — it’s the integrity of the legal record.
The Engineered Narrative
For years now, corporate players have pushed a narrative of a “stenographer shortage,” using it as cover to flood the industry with underqualified “digital reporters” and voice recognition tools. These replacements are marketed as modern solutions, but in reality, they are a trojan horse for dismantling a profession that has maintained accuracy, confidentiality, and legal trust for generations.
This movement has been spearheaded by agencies seeking higher margins and vendors like Stenograph, whose former president also sat on the board of the Speech-to-Text Institute (STTI) — the very organization promoting uncertified alternatives and unaccredited credentials. The conflict of interest is blatant.
The goal? Replace certified stenographers with digital button-pushers and offshore transcribers. Cut costs. Increase profits. And destroy the most reliable link in the chain of justice.
It’s Time to Fight Back — Strategically and Loudly
To reverse this tide, we must do more than just defend ourselves — we must go on the offensive. Here’s how:
1. Reclaim the Narrative Through Truth-Telling
We must expose the fraud of the so-called “shortage.” A coordinated media campaign — backed by timelines, data, and testimonials — can shine a light on the orchestrated push to devalue our profession.
We need:
Op-eds in legal and tech publications
Video content explaining why steno beats digital
Publicly accessible briefs for attorneys and judges explaining what’s really going on
Truth is on our side — it’s time we told it like it is.
2. Build Economic Power with Reporter-Owned Alliances
For decades, reporters took home 70% of the rate. Today? It’s often 50% or less — and agencies are pushing to cut that even further with digital substitutes.
We need to:
Form a national stenographic guild that can collectively bargain and advocate
Encourage the rise of reporter-owned co-ops to contract directly with courts and firms
Publish and circulate fair compensation benchmarks
Let’s take our economic power back.
3. Educate the Legal Community — Before It’s Too Late
Lawyers and judges are often unaware they’re being sold a lesser service. Digital reporting has serious legal consequences: inaccuracies, missing testimony, compromised confidentiality.
We must:
Offer CLEs (Continuing Legal Education) to explain the risks of uncertified records
Submit white papers to bar associations and court administrators
Organize local outreach teams to meet with judges and court clerks
Education is protection — for everyone in the justice system.
4. Expose the Sham Certifications and Questionable Practices
Alternative certifications created by vendors lack oversight, standards, and legitimacy. They are being used to give a false sense of credibility to digital services that don’t hold up under scrutiny.
We can:
Document the differences between NCRA/official certification paths and “instant credential” programs
Petition courts to require nationally recognized certifications
Advocate for legal definitions that restrict who can represent themselves as a court reporter
Fraud can’t stand up to sunlight.
5. Lead the Tech Revolution — Don’t Let It Lead Us
Stenographers aren’t tech-averse. We are the tech. Our tools now include advanced ASR (Automatic Speech Recognition) integrated directly into our CAT software — not to replace us, but to augment us.
We’re still writing. We’re still in control. But we’re doing it faster and better than ever.
Let’s:
Promote our hybrid human-machine capabilities as the future of real-time reporting
Develop “tech-forward” badges to signal our use of advanced tools under certified control
Build or support software from within the steno community
Innovation should serve skill — not replace it.
The Fight for the Record Is the Fight for Truth
The integrity of the legal record is not negotiable. It cannot be auctioned off to the highest bidder or delegated to the lowest-cost contractor. Certified stenographic court reporters are not optional accessories — we are essential guardians of justice.
And we’re not going anywhere.
But we need to be louder, bolder, and more unified than ever before.
This isn’t just about saving our profession. This is about saving the truth itself from being outsourced, diluted, and corrupted.
The court reporting profession is often misunderstood as relic-like in an age of rapid digital change. The truth? We’ve long been leaders in real-time transcription and digital integration. For over a decade, we’ve quietly used advanced tools—AI-assisted editing, live streaming, integrated CAT systems—that surpass many of today’s trending tech startups. But our technology is developed for, marketed to, and consumed within our 32,000-strong professional community. That’s why the world doesn’t realize just how advanced we are.
We are now past what Malcolm Gladwell calls “the tipping point.” The legal transcription space is experiencing irreversible change. But the path forward must not be dictated by profit-driven software vendors or cost-cutting court systems. It must be shaped by professionals who understand what is truly at stake: the integrity of the record.
Right now, uncertified operators are entering the courtroom with automatic speech recognition (ASR) tools connected to CAT software. Some, like ProCAT’s DepoDash and Stenograph’s MAXScribe, operate entirely without a certified reporter. Others, like Eclipse Boost, keep certified professionals in charge of the transcript and simply enhance productivity with integrated ASR. That’s the critical distinction.
Certification is the gatekeeper. It’s what separates a legal record from a best guess. Voice writers once faced resistance too, but they proved themselves through certification. They must pass the same tests as stenographers and cannot access recordings during transcription—ensuring the integrity of the process. ASR-based reporters must meet the same standard.
We propose this: if ASR is to be accepted, it must come with binding certification standards. The individual who monitors the proceeding must be the same individual who produces and certifies the transcript. That’s what it means to be in “responsible charge.” This is non-negotiable.
And let us be clear—the last thing we can allow is for courts themselves to become the record keepers via electronic recording systems. Centralized control of the record by the court is a direct threat to impartiality and transparency. Stenographers are independent, ethical officers of the court. Courts controlling the record is like letting the referee write the scoreboard.
To safeguard the profession, national and state associations must act now. We urge them to adopt a Responsible Charge Statement as policy. This would define who qualifies as the true custodian of the record—not the agency, not the software, not the court system. Only the trained, certified reporter present at the proceeding.
This isn’t just a battle over tools. It’s a battle over truth. Without certified reporters, we risk degrading the integrity of transcripts, undermining appeals, and eroding public trust in the justice system.
We must lead the digital shift. But we must do it on our terms—with our ethics, our certification, and our charge. The record must remain ours.
Adapt or Be Replaced: Court Reporting in the Age of Technological Disruption
In today’s rapidly evolving digital world, the court reporting industry stands at a pivotal crossroads. We are beyond what Malcolm Gladwell famously described as “the tipping point“—we have already crossed the threshold of irreversible change. The digital disruption is here, and resisting it is no longer an option. Our challenge now is to lead the change, not to fight against it.
Contrary to the misconception that court reporting is an antiquated profession, it is, in fact, one of the most technologically advanced sectors in the legal ecosystem. Our community—comprising around 27,000 professionals—utilizes cutting-edge tools like computer-aided transcription (CAT), AI-assisted scoping, and real-time digital delivery systems.
Yet, we remain one of the best-kept secrets in the tech world. The sophisticated technology we rely on is marketed and tailored almost exclusively to our niche market, making it relatively unknown outside our circles. We adopt it, consume it, and refine it, but the open market rarely sees it. As a result, the public—and sometimes even our adjacent legal partners—underestimates how digitally native and innovative our work truly is.
Like many other industries that have faced significant disruption from emerging technologies, the question is no longer whether change will come, but how to adapt to it. The warning signs are clear: companies and professions that fail to embrace innovation or guide its responsible implementation are often replaced by those that do. For court reporters, this is both a challenge and an opportunity. Like many other industries that have faced significant disruption from emerging technologies, the question is no longer whether change will come, but how to adapt to it. The warning signs are clear – companies and professions that fail to embrace innovation or guide its responsible implementation are often replaced by those that do. For court reporters, this is both a challenge and an opportunity.
The Cost of Failing to Adapt
History is replete with examples of industries that did not heed the warnings of disruption. Kodak, once a titan of the photography world, failed to embrace digital imaging technology. Blockbuster resisted the streaming model pioneered by Netflix until it was too late. Nokia and BlackBerry, both dominant mobile phone manufacturers, lost their edge by underestimating the iPhone’s game-changing potential. As documented in a Thomasnet article on disrupted companies, the failure to innovate led these firms from market dominance to near-obsolescence.
The court reporting industry is not immune to these forces. The rise of automatic speech recognition (ASR) and computer-aided transcription (CAT) technologies, paired with artificial intelligence, has introduced new ways of capturing the spoken word in legal settings. While these tools promise speed and cost-effectiveness, they also threaten to blur the lines between certified professionals and unregulated operators.
Digital Innovation vs. Digital Disruption
A Profession Facing New Realities
In the ASR-integrated CAT space, there are now three prominent solutions with distinct differences in how they engage professional court reporters. Listed here in order of technological maturity, launch date, and industry integration:
Eclipse Boost, developed by Advantage Software over a decade ago, is the most sophisticated ASR-integrated CAT system on the market. It is actively used by certified court reporters and was the first of its kind to integrate ASR with traditional CAT software while keeping the reporter fully in control of the transcript production process. This model represents the only ASR-integrated CAT system currently endorsed by and used within the certified court reporting community.
ProCAT’s DepoDash is an AI-powered, cloud-based platform that predates MAXScribe. It delivers on-demand verbatim transcripts using ASR technology and employs scopists to edit the transcript in real time as the proceeding is happening. Although DepoDash offers innovative real-time collaboration features, it operates without the involvement of certified court reporters, raising concerns about transcript reliability and professional oversight.
Stenograph’s MAXScribe is a full ASR-driven digital reporting solution designed to operate without a certified court reporter. It integrates real-time ASR translation and collaborative editing tools to streamline transcript production, but similarly lacks the professional accountability expected in legal recordkeeping.
There are now four primary methods of capturing a verbatim record:
Traditional Machine Stenography: The tried-and-true gold-standard method used by certified stenographers who rely on their skills and training to produce highly accurate transcripts. This method is still far superior to all other methods of creating a transcript and protecting the record.
Voice Mask Stenography (Voice Writing): Voice writers speak into a voice-silencing mask and use CAT software to transcribe their dictated input. Importantly, they may only record their own voice—not the room—and are not allowed to access audio recordings when transcribing from the Certified Shorthand Reporter (CSR) exam.
Stenography Augmented with ASR-Enhanced CAT Software: Tools like Eclipse Boost, developed by Advantage Software more than ten years ago, integrate ASR with traditional CAT workflows, but maintain the human reporter firmly in control of the editing and final transcript. This hybrid system enhances productivity and speed while preserving accuracy and professionalism.
Pure ASR/CAT Software with Uncertified Operators: This method relies entirely on automatic speech recognition technology paired with a CAT software, but without the involvement of certified court reporters. Two notable examples are ProCAT’s “DepoDash” and Stenograph’s “MAXScribe.” DepoDash employs scopists to edit the transcript in real time as the proceeding occurs, while MAXScribe produces transcripts using ASR with collaborative editing tools. Both systems raise significant concerns about the absence of professional certification, accountability, and the preservation of transcript integrity in legal proceedings.
Certification as the Equalizer
What differentiates professionals from unqualified operators is certification. When voice writers sought entry into the profession, they met resistance. Over time, however, the community developed standardized certifications that upheld the integrity of the field. Today, voice writers can sit beside traditional stenographers and take the same CSR test, both written and skills-based, to earn the same professional recognition. The only difference is that voice writers must use a voice mask that does not pick up room noise, and they may not listen to their recordings while transcribing.
This model provides a viable framework for the future inclusion of ASR reporters. If ASR/CAT practitioners are to be accepted as legitimate court reporters, they too must be subject to rigorous certification. This should include:
A skills test identical in difficulty and format to the one taken by stenographers and voice writers.
A prohibition against using audio recordings during the transcription portion of the test, just as voice writers are prohibited.
Mandatory deletion of any room recordings immediately after the exam, to ensure that the transcript is produced solely from notes in CAT software.
Certification would not only establish accountability, but also create a professional standard that filters out those using fringe or unsophisticated technology in ways that could compromise transcript integrity.
The Danger of Unregulated Technology
Without certification requirements, there’s a risk of allowing underqualified individuals to operate under the guise of court reporters. Many ASR systems that output to Microsoft Word or basic editing software lack the precision tools necessary for legal transcription. These systems might suffice for casual dictation, but they fall short in the legal environment, where formatting, timestamps, speaker identification, and rigorous accuracy are essential.
Legal proceedings are not environments where “close enough” is acceptable. Transcripts influence appeals, determine legal outcomes, and establish official records. It’s imperative that anyone involved in their creation is held to the highest standards.
The Role of Human Judgment
Despite technological advancements, the human element remains vital. Legal discourse often includes jargon, overlapping speech, regional dialects, and emotional intensity. Human court reporters bring contextual awareness and judgment that no algorithm can replicate. Even the most advanced ASR needs oversight and correction. This is why the integration of ASR into CAT software like Eclipse Boost is successful—it supports the human, it doesn’t replace them.
Advantage Software’s foresight in developing Eclipse Boost over a decade ago demonstrates that innovation and professionalism can coexist. Their model is a powerful reminder that the court reporting industry doesn’t have to choose between tradition and technology—it can choose both, thoughtfully.
The Role of Responsible Charge
A cornerstone of professional court reporting is the concept of “responsible charge.” This means that the person who monitors the proceeding and captures the record must also be the person who certifies and produces the final transcript. They are the accountable professional, responsible for the accuracy and integrity of the record from start to finish.
This role is critical because it ensures that no part of the record creation process is outsourced to an unqualified third party or subjected to tampering. A court reporter who is in responsible charge is ethically and legally bound to uphold the standards of the profession throughout the entire process. Importantly, a court reporting agency itself cannot serve as the responsible charge. This has been underscored by policy changes such as those highlighted in the Los Angeles Superior Court’s recent update, which now requires explicit identification of the reporter in responsible charge—not the agency. For further reference, see the article “Why Are Court Reporting Agencies Now On the Record? A Look at the New L.A. Superior Court Form and the Responsible Charge” (Steno Imperium, 2025).
As we evaluate how to integrate ASR technology into the field, it is imperative that ASR reporters adhere to this same principle. The individual who monitors the ASR output, who ensures its fidelity during the proceeding, must be the same person who edits, certifies, and submits the transcript. Only by maintaining this chain of accountability can we preserve the credibility of the legal record.
This is not simply about maintaining tradition; it is about protecting the public interest. If an ASR-generated transcript is edited or reviewed by someone other than the responsible charge of the proceeding, the integrity of that transcript is inherently compromised. Therefore, any certification or professional standard established for ASR/CAT reporters must include the requirement that the ASR operator be the person in responsible charge throughout the entire process.
A cornerstone of professional court reporting is the concept of “responsible charge.” This means that the person who monitors the proceeding and captures the record must also be the person who certifies and produces the final transcript. They are the accountable professional, responsible for the accuracy and integrity of the record from start to finish.
This role is critical because it ensures that no part of the record creation process is outsourced to an unqualified third party or subjected to tampering. A court reporter who is in responsible charge is ethically and legally bound to uphold the standards of the profession throughout the entire process.
As we evaluate how to integrate ASR technology into the field, it is imperative that ASR reporters adhere to this same principle. The individual who monitors the ASR output, who ensures its fidelity during the proceeding, must be the same person who edits, certifies, and submits the transcript. Only by maintaining this chain of accountability can we preserve the credibility of the legal record.
This is not simply about maintaining tradition; it is about protecting the public interest. If an ASR-generated transcript is edited or reviewed by someone other than the responsible charge of the proceeding, the integrity of that transcript is inherently compromised. Therefore, any certification or professional standard established for ASR/CAT reporters must include the requirement that the ASR operator be the person in responsible charge throughout the entire process.
A Call to National and State Associations
To ensure lasting protection for the court reporting profession, national and state court reporting associations must take a unified stand and adopt a formal Responsible Charge Statement. Such a statement would codify the requirement that the person capturing the record is the same individual who certifies and produces the final transcript—reinforcing a single point of professional accountability.
By adopting this position, associations can draw a clear line between certified professionals and unlicensed, unregulated participants entering the industry through ASR-driven shortcuts. This proactive step would eliminate ambiguity, protect consumers, and safeguard the high standards the legal system relies upon.
With a Responsible Charge Statement embedded into testing, licensing, and certification criteria, associations can lead the charge to future-proof the profession. Without it, the industry risks being overrun by uncertified operators who lack the legal and ethical responsibilities that define a true court reporter.
The Peril of Courts Owning the Record
One of the greatest emerging threats to the integrity of the judicial process is the trend toward courts using electronic recordings and assuming the role of official record-keeper. While this may seem efficient or cost-effective on the surface, it undermines a critical safeguard in our legal system: the independence of the record creator.
As outlined in the article “The Peril of Courts Owning the Record”, when courts take on the dual role of conducting proceedings and producing the record, they effectively eliminate a crucial check on judicial power. Stenographic court reporters are independent officers of the court. They are trained, licensed, and ethically bound to ensure the accuracy and completeness of the record. They are not subject to the institutional biases or conflicts of interest that can arise when the judiciary controls both the event and its documentation.
Centralizing record ownership within the court system invites risks of error, omission, or manipulation—whether intentional or accidental. It also diminishes the public’s trust in the fairness and transparency of legal proceedings. Keeping certified court reporters in the role of responsible charge is not only a matter of tradition; it is a structural necessity to preserve due process and protect against potential ab
Guarding the Profession’s Future
In the business world, hostile takeovers often force change upon stagnant companies. The Harvard Law School Forum on Corporate Governance outlines how these actions are signals that companies must evolve or be overtaken. Court reporting faces a similar threat—not from a hostile bidder, but from the unchecked adoption of unvetted technology.
We can either lead the evolution of our profession or be led by forces that may not share our commitment to accuracy, ethics, and professionalism. Requiring certification for ASR/CAT reporters is how we protect the profession and ensure its integrity.
Adapt with Standards, Not Compromise
Adaptation doesn’t mean dilution. Traditional machine stenographers don’t need to surrender their workflow to new tools. But the profession as a whole must decide how to address the reality of multiple reporting methods emerging in the marketplace. Certification is the path forward.
By insisting on rigorous standards for anyone using ASR/CAT systems—just as we did with voice writers—we preserve the credibility of court reporting. We protect the public from poor-quality transcripts and fraudulent practitioners. And we maintain our place as indispensable, certified professionals.
The future of court reporting will include multiple paths to verbatim capture. But only one path guarantees continued respect and relevance – adaptation through integrity, accountability, and professional standards.
It is time to bring ASR reporters into the fold—not by resisting them, but by certifying them, regulating their practices, and demanding they meet the same high bar the rest of us have cleared. That is how we stay strong in the face of disruption. That is how we endure.
As a court reporter, I’ve spent countless hours in depositions, hearings, and trials, capturing every spoken word to create an accurate, impartial, and comprehensive record. Over the years, I’ve noticed a recurring moment that often sparks confusion amongst attorneys and judges: the infamous “uh-huh” versus “huh-uh.”
Many attorneys and judges, with good intentions, will instruct witnesses to answer only “yes” or “no” during depositions and trials. I often hear some version of, “Please answer with a clear ‘yes’ or ‘no’ because the court reporter can’t type ‘uh-huh.'” The idea behind this request is understandable: attorneys want clarity in the record. But here’s the truth that often gets lost: we court reporters can absolutely write ‘uh-huh,’ ‘huh-uh,’ and any other utterance. In fact, we already do.
Let me pull back the curtain a bit. Court reporters write phonetically using a shorthand system, typically a stenotype machine, designed to capture sounds quickly and accurately. Every utterance with meaning—whether it’s a formal “yes,” a casual “yeah,” a hesitant “mmm-hmm,” or a subtle “uh-huh”—makes it into the transcript. These utterances are not lost because of our limitations. Rather, they make it into the record exactly as they were spoken.
So where does the confusion come from?
The problem doesn’t lie in our ability to capture these sounds; it lies in the interpretation afterward. Unlike a straightforward “yes” or “no,” the sounds “uh-huh” and “huh-uh” can be ambiguous on paper. To the ear, they’re usually clear because tone, inflection, and context tell you what was meant. But when those utterances appear in a transcript as “uh-huh” or “huh-uh” (or some variation of phonetic spelling), it can be difficult for someone reading the transcript to know whether the witness meant “yes” or “no.”
This lack of clarity can lead to arguments between counsel. I’ve witnessed attorneys debate the meaning of these utterances during trials or deposition reviews. I’ve seen transcripts annotated, questioned, and even contested over what should be a straightforward affirmation or negation. This confusion is compounded by the fact that, for more than a century, there hasn’t been an industry-wide standard for how court reporters write these specific utterances. Different reporting schools teach different phonetic spellings, and different regions may adopt their own conventions.
In other words, it’s not that we can’t type it—it’s that the reading of it later isn’t as simple as reading “yes” or “no.”
A perfect example of the issue arose in a recent trial, when an attorney said:
“You can say ‘yeah,’ actually. ‘Yeah’ is totally fine. What His Honor was talking about was if you say ‘uh-huh,’ then it comes out ‘u-h, dash, h-u-h’ and we have no idea whether that’s ‘uh-huh’ or ‘huh-uh.’ But ‘yeah’ is totally fine.”
This quote reflects the common misconception. The issue isn’t the court reporter’s ability to transcribe; it’s that, absent clarification, someone reading the transcript later may second-guess what was meant.
A simple solution: establish the meaning at the outset.
Attorneys can easily resolve this confusion with one small procedural step. At the beginning of a deposition or proceeding, counsel can state for the record:
“For the purposes of this deposition, when I or the witness say ‘uh-huh,’ it will be understood to mean ‘yes,’ and when I or the witness say ‘huh-uh,’ it will be understood to mean ‘no.'”
By making this clarification up front, you create a key for interpreting those utterances throughout the transcript. This statement becomes part of the official record, leaving no room for later disagreement. Any reader—whether it’s another attorney, a judge, or an appeals panel—can refer to that clarification and confidently understand the meaning.
Imagine how much smoother proceedings could be if this simple declaration became standard practice. You wouldn’t have to interrupt a witness mid-sentence to demand a formal “yes” or “no.” The conversation could flow more naturally. And, most importantly, no time would be wasted later debating what “uh-huh” or “huh-uh” meant.
Why it matters to the court record.
Court reporters take pride in creating a verbatim record. Our goal is not to paraphrase or translate but to capture exactly what was said. We don’t interpret; we transcribe. That’s why we transcribe “uh-huh” as “uh-huh” and “huh-uh” as “huh-uh,” instead of arbitrarily replacing them with “yes” or “no.” Substituting those words would cross the line into interpretation, which is outside the scope of a reporter’s role.
But a procedural statement by counsel empowers the transcript to retain both fidelity and clarity. Once that clarification is on record, the phonetic utterances can be left as-is in the transcript, with no danger of misinterpretation. Everyone wins: the court reporter remains neutral and verbatim, and the attorneys preserve clarity for later reference.
A professional partnership.
Attorneys and court reporters are partners in creating the record. We each bring professional expertise to the table, with a shared goal of accuracy and clarity. Misunderstandings about our capabilities—such as the mistaken belief that we “can’t type ‘uh-huh'”—are easy to clear up with open communication.
Rather than relying solely on instructing witnesses to say “yes” or “no” (which, let’s be honest, doesn’t always work—people revert to their natural speech patterns under pressure), consider adopting the procedural clarification method. It’s a proactive, practical approach that respects the roles of everyone involved.
In closing, I encourage attorneys to think of court reporters not as limited in what we can capture, but as highly skilled professionals trained to record every sound with precision. We can—and do—type “uh-huh” and “huh-uh.” The key to avoiding confusion isn’t in our keyboard; it’s in providing a simple interpretive statement at the outset of the proceeding.
With that one small step, we can eliminate unnecessary interruptions, reduce ambiguity in the record, and foster smoother proceedings for everyone involved.
After all, the best transcript is one that needs no guesswork.
In the rapidly evolving world of court reporting, a quiet but alarming trend has been gaining momentum: the proliferation of uncertified individuals advertising their services as court reporters, scopists, and proofreaders. Thanks to the accessibility of digital recording tools and online freelance platforms, it has never been easier for someone to claim professional credentials without truly earning them. But while this democratization of access might seem harmless on the surface, it poses significant risks to the integrity of the legal record and the reputations of certified professionals.
For those of us dedicated to the art and science of capturing the verbatim record, the influx of unvetted freelancers is not just a market challenge—it’s a red flag signaling a deeper problem in the industry. How do we, as professionals, ensure that the people we trust with our transcripts are qualified, ethical, and accountable? And more importantly, what’s at stake if we don’t?
The Mirage of Digital Convenience
Digital recording devices and transcription software have made it easier than ever for newcomers to enter the world of court reporting. Armed with a digital recorder and a laptop, anyone can market themselves as a “digital court reporter” or freelance proofreader. But make no mistake: tools do not make a professional. Certification, training, and adherence to ethical standards are what set true professionals apart from hobbyists or opportunists.
When uncertified individuals enter the marketplace, they not only dilute the value of the profession but also introduce risks that many clients and agencies fail to recognize until it’s too late. The record you create isn’t just words on a page; it represents real lives, legal rights, and sensitive information. The mishandling of such information can have legal, ethical, and professional repercussions—and the responsibility ultimately falls on the court reporter whose name appears on that transcript.
A Growing Problem of “Fly-by-Night” Providers
With the rise of online job boards, social media groups, and freelance marketplaces, it’s easier than ever to connect with scopists and proofreaders from around the globe. But this convenience comes with a cost: anyone can create a profile, claim experience, and accept work—regardless of their actual qualifications.
These “fly-by-night” providers might disappear after a single project, or worse, mishandle confidential information without accountability. In a profession where accuracy, confidentiality, and chain of custody are paramount, hiring someone without proper vetting is akin to handing sensitive legal documents to a stranger on the street.
Unfortunately, many court reporters learn this lesson the hard way. A poorly scoped transcript. A missed deadline. A breach of confidentiality. Each of these outcomes reflects not just on the subcontractor but on the reporter who entrusted them with the work.
Your Name, Your Reputation, Your Risk
As a court reporter, you are the final line of defense. It doesn’t matter if you hired a scopist through a reputable agency or a freelancer in an online group; the courts, attorneys, and clients will hold you accountable for the quality and integrity of the transcript. Your name is on the certificate page. Your certification lends credibility to the record. And any errors or breaches will come back to you.
That’s why it’s critical to treat every hiring decision with the same level of scrutiny and professionalism that you apply to your own work. Just because someone claims to be a scopist or proofreader doesn’t mean they possess the skill, training, or ethical commitment required for the job.
How to Protect Yourself and Your Work
In this increasingly digital and remote marketplace, due diligence is not optional; it’s essential. Here are some practical steps every court reporter should take before entrusting their work to a scopist or proofreader:
Verify Credentials: Ask for proof of training, certifications, or formal education in scoping or proofreading. Membership in professional associations can be an indicator of credibility.
Check References and Reviews: Don’t rely solely on profiles or self-promotion. Speak with past clients or employers to get a sense of reliability, quality, and professionalism.
Test Their Skills: Before sending a sensitive transcript, provide a sample file or test assignment to evaluate their accuracy and attention to detail.
Clarify Confidentiality Expectations: Require a signed confidentiality agreement that outlines how sensitive information will be handled, stored, and transmitted.
Know Their Location and Legal Environment: Be aware of where your freelancer is located. Different countries have different data protection laws, and some regions have higher incidences of online fraud and data breaches.
Use Secure Communication Channels: Avoid emailing transcripts or using unsecured file-sharing platforms. Invest in encrypted, professional-grade tools that safeguard your files.
Build Long-Term Partnerships: Whenever possible, cultivate relationships with a small group of trusted professionals rather than hiring strangers for each job. This builds loyalty, familiarity, and consistency.
The Industry’s Responsibility
While individual reporters must take ownership of their hiring choices, the broader industry must also address this growing challenge. Agencies, professional associations, and educational institutions need to emphasize the importance of credentialing, ethics, and ongoing professional development. We cannot allow the market to be overrun by untrained individuals whose primary qualification is a digital recorder and a Wi-Fi connection.
There should be clear standards and guidelines for what constitutes a qualified scopist, proofreader, or court reporter. Without these guardrails, we risk eroding the trust and credibility that our profession has painstakingly built over decades.
The Bottom Line: Trust, But Verify
The future of court reporting will undoubtedly continue to embrace digital tools and remote collaboration. But as we welcome innovation, we cannot sacrifice the core values that make our profession indispensable: accuracy, confidentiality, and accountability.
Every transcript you produce is a reflection of your skill and integrity. Every professional you hire to assist in that process becomes an extension of your reputation. And in a marketplace flooded with uncertified providers, the burden of discernment has never been higher.
Trust—but verify. Ask the tough questions. Do the legwork. Because at the end of the day, it’s not just a transcript you’re sending out into the world. It’s your name. Your credibility. And your professional legacy.
Stay vigilant. Stay professional. And above all, stay committed to the standards that set true court reporters apart from the rest.
Christopher Day’s recent article criticizing the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA) for limiting access to its social media groups to members raises some provocative points — but it also overlooks some crucial realities about how professional associations operate.
Day paints the NCRA’s decision as a self-destructive move that alienates potential members and accelerates decline. But here’s the reality: the NCRA is hardly unique in restricting certain benefits to members. In fact, the California Deposition Reporters Association (CalDRA) — widely respected in the field — does the exact same thing. You cannot access their social media pages unless you’re a member.
Why? Because professional organizations exist to serve their members.
Membership dues pay for advocacy, training, certifications, and yes, even moderated spaces where professionals can exchange ideas freely. If these groups are open to anyone, including those who don’t contribute financially or subscribe to the association’s mission, the value of membership diminishes. Why pay dues if you can get all the benefits for free?
Let’s be honest: Facebook groups are not public utilities. They are curated spaces, and in the context of professional organizations, they are part of the membership package. They’re where members share sensitive discussions about clients, contracts, technology, and ethics — often in ways that simply can’t happen in wide-open public forums. This isn’t about secrecy; it’s about creating a trusted environment.
Day suggests that excluding non-members stifles engagement and innovation. But it’s equally true that a chaotic free-for-all often undermines serious professional dialogue. CalDRA’s model shows that member-only spaces can thrive, sustaining an engaged, dedicated core without needing to throw open the doors to everyone on the internet.
Day also implies something “nefarious” might be going on. That’s a heavy charge with no evidence. Restricting member benefits is not evidence of wrongdoing; it’s evidence of an organization trying to deliver meaningful value to those who support it.
And let’s remember: nothing stops anyone — including Day — from creating their own open, alternative spaces. He’s done it himself with Stenonymous, which he proudly says is open to all. That’s great. But expecting the NCRA to model itself after his platform ignores the fundamental differences between a personal blog or grassroots group and a national professional association with regulatory, educational, and lobbying roles.
If Day is serious about creating “a new association dedicated to stenographers,” he should pursue it — but undermining the value of membership organizations by insisting they offer everything for free is not the answer.
Professional communities thrive when they have both open spaces and protected spaces. The NCRA — like CalDRA — has every right to define where those lines are drawn.
The real challenge is not whether NCRA’s social media groups are open to non-members, but whether the organization is delivering enough value to make membership worthwhile. That’s the conversation worth having.
In the annals of history, certain figures stand out not only for their personal courage but for the ripple effects their actions set in motion. One such figure is Agnodice, the first recorded female physician in ancient Greece. Her story—of disguise, defiance, and ultimately, triumph—not only broke barriers for women in medicine but also offers a timely and powerful lesson for another embattled profession today: court reporting.
Agnodice’s journey began in a time when women were forbidden to study or practice medicine. Undeterred, she cut her hair, donned the clothes of a man, and entered medical school in Alexandria. After earning her education, she returned to Athens, where she became known for assisting women in childbirth. When suspicion and envy grew among her male colleagues, Agnodice stood trial. To save herself, she revealed her true identity as a woman—only to be sentenced to death for violating the law that barred women from medicine. But something remarkable happened: the women of Athens, led by the wives of the very judges who condemned her, rose up in protest. Their collective voice forced the court to reverse its decision, and from that day forward, women in Athens were allowed to practice medicine, at least for female patients.
This is not merely a historical anecdote. It is a living blueprint for how marginalized or threatened groups can resist powerful forces and reclaim their rightful place. And it speaks directly to today’s court reporters, who face their own battle: a struggle to protect a centuries-old profession from the encroachment of corporate interests and inferior technologies.
For decades, human stenographers have been the silent backbone of the justice system, capturing every word, pause, and inflection with remarkable precision. They are not mere typists; they are the guardians of the legal record, ensuring that justice is not just done, but seen to be done. Yet, in recent years, the rise of big-box agencies and corporations has threatened to erode this essential role. These entities push for digital recording devices, artificial intelligence tools, and automated transcription services—promising speed and cost-efficiency but often delivering inaccuracy and diminished accountability.
Many court reporters feel the ground shifting under their feet, and understandably so. But if Agnodice’s story teaches us anything, it is this: you are not powerless. In fact, you have more power than you may realize—but only if you harness it together.
Much like the women of Athens who rallied behind Agnodice, court reporters today must recognize their collective strength. Too often, we think of professional threats as isolated battles to be fought individually—one stenographer negotiating rates here, another raising concerns about AI accuracy there. But fragmented efforts rarely produce meaningful change. History shows that when people unite around a common cause, they can alter the course of entire professions and even societies.
One powerful historical parallel is the play Lysistrata by Aristophanes, in which Greek women band together to end a war by withholding intimacy from their husbands until peace is achieved. It is a bold, humorous, and exaggerated example—but it underlines a truth: collective action, especially from those traditionally underestimated, has the power to reshape outcomes.
For court reporters, this means coming together in visible, organized ways. It means joining professional associations, attending meetings, supporting legislation that safeguards the profession, and educating the public and the legal community about the indispensable role human reporters play. It also means being unafraid to challenge narratives that portray automation as inevitable and human skill as obsolete.
The stakes could not be higher. If the justice system relies on cheap but error-prone technology, we risk miscarriages of justice. Imagine the consequences of a transcript that misses a key statement, misattributes testimony, or fails to capture the nuance of courtroom exchanges. These are not minor glitches; they are potential grounds for appeal, mistrial, or worse—miscarriage of justice. Only trained human court reporters, with their skill and judgment, can provide the level of reliability the courts demand.
But the effort to defend the profession cannot rest solely on technical arguments. Like Agnodice’s supporters, who spoke not just of medicine but of their right to be cared for by women, court reporters must articulate why their work matters on a human level. They must tell the stories of how they have safeguarded truth in the courtroom, caught errors that could have derailed cases, or provided clarity in moments of chaos. These narratives have the power to rally allies—not just within the profession but among judges, attorneys, and the public.
It’s also worth remembering that Agnodice did not win her battle alone. She needed the solidarity of others to break through the legal and cultural barriers of her time. Court reporters, too, need allies: sympathetic lawyers, judges, journalists, and policymakers who understand the risks of replacing trained professionals with machines. Building these alliances takes work, but it is essential.
Of course, collective action requires sacrifice. It may mean investing time in advocacy when you would rather be resting after a long day in court. It may mean confronting uncomfortable truths about divisions within the profession—whether by experience, geography, or specialty—that weaken its unity. And it may mean taking professional risks to speak out against forces larger than any one individual. But these sacrifices pale in comparison to what is at stake: the future of a profession that upholds the very foundation of justice.
It is tempting, in the face of powerful corporations and relentless technological change, to feel defeated before the fight even begins. But history is filled with examples of underdogs who defied the odds. Agnodice’s story is just one among many, but it stands out because it shows that even in rigidly hierarchical societies, change was possible when enough people cared to make it happen.
Court reporters today are standing at a crossroads. Will they allow their profession to be reshaped by outside forces with little regard for quality or ethics? Or will they, like Agnodice and the women of Athens, tap into their collective strength to resist, adapt, and ultimately prevail?
The choice is clear. To protect the integrity of the courtroom, to defend the craft that only human hands and minds can deliver, court reporters must do more than simply excel at their work. They must organize, advocate, and demand recognition—not just for themselves, but for the future of justice.
The good news is that the power to shape that future is already within their grasp. The time to tap into it is now.
Christopher Day of Stenonymous put out a thoughtful and respectful reply to my critique of digital pay parity, and I appreciate that. I respect Christopher’s long-standing commitment to this industry and his willingness to engage in open debate. But I still disagree with his core argument, and I think it’s worth laying out why — plainly and without dressing it up.
Christopher’s central idea is this: if we push for digital reporters to get the same pay as stenographers, companies will stop favoring digital over steno because they’ll lose the financial advantage. In his view, this levels the playing field and takes away the main reason corporations push digital: cost-cutting.
I think that’s overly optimistic — and here’s why.
Raising digital pay doesn’t make digital better
First, digital reporting and stenography are not the same job. Stenographers have years of training, practice, certification, and expertise that digital reporters generally don’t. Steno isn’t just pushing a button and recording words — it’s an active, skillful process that requires listening, judgment, and split-second decisions.
So when we talk about “pay parity,” we’re essentially saying: let’s pay the less trained, less skilled worker the same as the one who spent years mastering their craft.
That’s not fixing the problem. That’s rewarding the problem.
We should be pushing to raise standards, not lower the bar. If digital reporters want equal pay, the answer isn’t just to hand it over — it’s to demand that the work match the same level of training, certification, and skill that stenographers bring.
Companies won’t stop at parity — they’ll push for cheaper
Even if you did get digital pay raised to match steno pay, it’s naive to think companies will just throw up their hands and say, “Well, I guess we’ll go back to hiring stenographers.”
Corporations don’t stop looking for ways to cut costs. If they can’t save money on digital pay, they’ll look for the next thing — probably automation, AI, offshoring, or cutting corners somewhere else. If you think big-box companies are going to eat higher labor costs without finding another pressure point, you’re underestimating how corporate economics work.
And remember, they’ve already spent years investing in digital. They’ve sunk money into the tech, the training systems, the sales pitch. They’re not going to walk away from all that just because of wage increases.
Perception is shaped by more than money
Christopher rightly points out that perception shapes reality — but I think he misses an important piece. If we push for digital pay parity, we risk sending the public, the legal community, and the courts a dangerous message: that digital and steno are interchangeable.
Right now, one of the strongest arguments stenographers have is quality. When we advocate for ourselves, we can say, “Look, we deliver better results, we’re more accurate, we have the experience.” If we declare digital equal in pay, we lose that ground in the public conversation. People will assume that if they cost the same, they must be equally good. That’s how perception works too.
We shouldn’t help digital reporters look like they’re on the same professional level if they’re not. That undercuts one of the most important distinctions we have in this fight.
Respect all workers, but don’t confuse the work
Christopher says we shouldn’t deride digital reporters or assume they’re less intelligent — and I agree. We’re all just people trying to earn a living.
But skill is not the same thing as intelligence. Respecting someone’s dignity doesn’t mean pretending their work is the same as someone else’s. A digital reporter working with basic equipment and less training is not doing the same job as a seasoned stenographer managing complex, high-stakes litigation.
We can stand up for fair treatment and better wages across the board without confusing or collapsing the standards that protect professional excellence.
Unionization doesn’t need to be built on concession
One of Christopher’s strongest points is his push for unionization, and I’m with him there. Organizing and collective bargaining are powerful tools — and this industry would benefit from them.
But here’s where we split: you don’t need to sacrifice standards to build a union. In fact, unions often work best when they protect standards — when they ensure that wages reflect training, that skill is recognized, and that workers aren’t undercut by lower-cost, lower-quality alternatives.
The idea that we have to concede “digital = steno” just to bring people together under one bargaining umbrella is, to me, unnecessary. We can have solidarity without surrendering what makes each role unique.
Focus on pride and distinction, not just survival
I get the urgency behind Christopher’s argument. He’s trying to find ways to keep this profession alive and stop the corporate slide toward cheap, fast, and disposable labor. But I think there’s another path.
Instead of focusing on pay parity, we should be doubling down on what makes stenographers irreplaceable. We should be running public campaigns on accuracy, quality, accountability, and expertise. We should be lobbying for regulations that require minimum standards for legal records — standards digital can’t meet without fundamentally changing its training and certification systems.
In other words, we shouldn’t meet digital halfway. We should raise the ceiling so that only the best work, from any method, qualifies for the jobs that matter most.
Wrapping it up
Christopher, I respect the hell out of what you’re trying to do. You’ve been an honest, consistent advocate for this profession, and your heart is in the right place. We both want the same thing: for stenographers to thrive, for this industry to have a future, and for working people to have power in the face of corporate consolidation.
But I think your digital pay parity idea risks giving away too much. It risks erasing the hard-won, hard-earned value of this craft. It muddies the message, it levels the field in a way that doesn’t lift everyone, and it hands corporations an easy out.
Let’s organize. Let’s advocate. Let’s push for fair treatment.
But let’s also stand unapologetically for the unique value of human expertise.
Because at the end of the day, that is what will set us apart — and that’s the message worth fighting for.
The news came quietly, but for many in the court reporting world, it felt like the end of an era. A longtime court reporting professional recently shared that, after 33 years, her signature Hunter Green transcript covers — beautifully embossed with her company’s logo — will soon be gone forever. The supplier, Pengad, the only U.S. company offering hot-stamped embossing for transcript covers, announced it will discontinue the service due to equipment failure and the unavailability of parts.
The court reporter’s decision to order one last batch of plain green covers, knowing that even those will vanish when the manufacturer’s stock runs out, became more than just a supply problem — it became a symbol of something larger. As she put it: “Wake up, America. This is happening everywhere. We are not thriving; we are surviving.”
Her words capture the heart of a challenge facing the court reporting industry today: as demand shrinks and technology reshapes the profession, longtime vendors, suppliers, and manufacturers are closing their doors. The quiet disappearance of embossed green covers is a small but powerful reminder of how technological change and market contraction are transforming not only how court reporters work, but also the very identity of their profession.
The Vanishing Ecosystem
For decades, the court reporting industry relied on a complex ecosystem of specialized suppliers. These companies provided everything from stenography machines, ribbons, and paper to transcript covers, archival supplies, and technical support. This ecosystem allowed court reporters to maintain the high standards of accuracy, professionalism, and presentation that the legal system depends on.
But that ecosystem is shrinking.
The rise of digital tools, voice recognition software, and AI-assisted transcription has changed the economics of court reporting. While many seasoned reporters argue—rightly—that human judgment, accuracy, and discretion remain irreplaceable, the reality is that many courts, agencies, and law firms are under pressure to cut costs. This has led to a gradual decline in the demand for human court reporters, and by extension, for the vendors who support them.
As demand shrinks, small vendors find themselves unable to justify the costs of maintaining highly specialized equipment. The company that produced the embossed covers faced exactly this problem. When its hot-stamping machine failed and replacement parts proved unavailable or too expensive, the company made the difficult decision to end the service. With no other hot-stamping providers in the U.S., the market for embossed transcript covers simply evaporated overnight.
More Than Just Supplies
While the loss of a particular color or cover style may seem trivial from the outside, it touches something deeply personal for the professionals who rely on these products. For many court reporters, their materials — from the machines they use to the covers that protect their transcripts — are part of their professional identity. They signal care, craftsmanship, and a commitment to excellence.
When vendors disappear or product lines are discontinued, it isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a loss of tradition and pride. The Hunter Green covers, for example, were more than just stationery. They were a visual representation of a court reporter’s attention to detail and the importance of the record they provided. Losing them feels like losing a piece of the profession itself.
Surviving, Not Thriving
The phrase “we are not thriving; we are surviving” resonates far beyond the specific case of transcript covers. Across the country, court reporters and their support industries are grappling with an uncomfortable reality: they are working harder than ever to maintain high standards in a market that increasingly prioritizes speed and cost over quality.
Many court reporters have adapted by adding new skills, adopting cutting-edge software, and offering real-time services. But even those who thrive in this evolving landscape often find that their suppliers and vendors are not as lucky. Small manufacturers struggle to compete with larger, global firms; niche products disappear as demand drops; and once-common services become specialty offerings or vanish entirely.
The Paradox of Progress
One of the great paradoxes of the modern era is that even as technology expands our capabilities, it can also narrow our choices. In theory, the court reporting world has more tools than ever: digital recorders, advanced transcription software, remote depositions, and cloud-based storage solutions. Yet as the industry shifts toward digital solutions, the infrastructure that supported the analog world — from stenography repair shops to specialty paper suppliers — is crumbling.
This shift raises important questions about what gets lost when industries become hyper-efficient. Are we trading away craftsmanship and care for convenience? Are we eroding the human expertise that underpins trust in the legal record? And what does it mean for professionals who have built their careers not just on skill, but on the small details that signal integrity and pride in their work?
A Wake-Up Call for the Industry
The disappearance of the embossed Hunter Green transcript covers is, in some ways, a wake-up call. It reminds us that no industry is immune to disruption, and that change, even when driven by innovation, often comes at a cost.
For court reporters, the challenge is to find a way to honor tradition while adapting to the future. That may mean embracing new technologies while continuing to advocate for the value of human judgment and accuracy. It may mean educating clients, courts, and the public about why skilled court reporters remain essential to the justice system. And it may mean finding new ways to express professionalism and care, even when beloved tools and supplies are no longer available.
For the broader legal community, the challenge is to recognize the pressures facing court reporters and to support efforts that preserve the quality and integrity of the official record. That includes making thoughtful decisions about when and how to integrate technology and being mindful of the downstream effects those decisions have on the people and businesses who serve the legal system.
Looking Ahead
The court reporting industry is at a crossroads. As technology continues to reshape how work is done, the disappearance of small but meaningful details — like embossed transcript covers — highlights the deeper tensions at play. It’s a reminder that progress is rarely seamless and that the loss of tradition often accompanies innovation.
While some changes are inevitable, they do not have to be purely negative. There is still time to build a future for court reporting that honors the professionalism and craftsmanship of the past while embracing the tools of tomorrow. Doing so will require creativity, resilience, and a commitment to maintaining the human element at the heart of the legal record.
For now, the message from court reporters is clear: appreciate the small details while they last, support the professionals who uphold the standards of the industry, and recognize that even the simplest objects — like a green cover with a gold-embossed logo — can carry deep meaning in the story of a profession.
The Florida Professional Reporter (FPR™) credential holds an important place in Florida’s legal community, signifying a reporter’s knowledge of state-specific laws, ethics, and procedures. But when someone misrepresents themselves as an FPR™ without being eligible, it threatens the reputation of the Florida Court Reporters Association (FCRA) and risks misleading clients, attorneys, and the public.
Recently, concerns have surfaced about digital reporters using the FPR™ title despite no longer being eligible under FCRA rules. This raises the question: What can we do to stop fraudulent use of this credential?
Here’s a practical action plan:
✅ 1. Report to FCRA The first and most important step is to notify FCRA’s ethics committee or board of directors. Provide the individual’s name, LinkedIn profile, website, or other public claims — along with evidence of how they are using the FPR™ or “certified court reporter” title. FCRA can investigate and, if necessary, send a cease-and-desist letter or revoke the use of the credential.
✅ 2. Check State Regulations While Florida doesn’t have state licensing for court reporters, misrepresenting professional credentials may violate consumer protection laws. You can submit a complaint to the Florida Attorney General’s Office or the Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, which investigates deceptive business practices.
✅ 3. Notify Platforms and Agencies If the person lists the FPR™ credential on LinkedIn, their business website, or an agency profile, report the misrepresentation directly to the platform or the agencies they work with. Many platforms have policies against false credentialing and will review such reports.
✅ 4. Send a Direct Notice FCRA, or legal counsel on behalf of FCRA, can send a formal notice letter to the individual, advising them that they are no longer authorized to use the FPR™ title and must cease using it immediately. This often leads to quick correction without further escalation.
✅ 5. Verify Facts Before Going Public Before making any public accusations or posts, it’s critical to confirm the facts. Incorrectly labeling someone as fraudulent could expose you to defamation risk. Let FCRA or the proper regulatory channels handle the investigation first.
Why This Matters
Professional credentials exist to signal trust, competence, and accountability. When they are misused, it erodes the public’s confidence in the profession and harms those who have worked hard to earn and maintain their designations.
As the landscape of court reporting evolves — with digital reporters now active in some states — clear boundaries, credential protections, and enforcement are more important than ever.
By working together to protect the integrity of the FPR™ credential, we safeguard not only the reputation of Florida court reporters, but also the fairness and accuracy of the legal record itself.
In the intricate web of litigation, where procedural precision is paramount, one often overlooked regulation is causing waves beneath the surface of California’s legal community. Governed by California Government Code § 69954(d), strict rules limit how court transcripts may be used and shared. Yet increasingly, a troubling trend has emerged: attorneys sharing purchased transcripts with opposing law firms without authorization, in direct violation of the law.
Understanding Government Code § 69954(d)
California’s Government Code § 69954(d) is clear in its mandate:
“Any court, party, or person who has purchased a transcript may, without paying a further fee to the reporter, reproduce a copy or portion thereof as an exhibit pursuant to court order or rule, or for internal use, but shall not otherwise provide or sell a copy or copies to any other party or person.”
This provision serves several important purposes:
Protecting Court Reporter Revenue: Court reporters invest significant skill, time, and effort into creating an accurate record. They are compensated not just for the initial transcription, but through the regulated sale of certified copies.
Maintaining Chain of Custody and Integrity: Controlling transcript distribution ensures the integrity of the official record.
Upholding Fairness: Equal access to records ensures no party gains an unfair advantage by obtaining copies through unauthorized channels.
Purchasing a transcript grants a party certain limited rights—such as using it internally or submitting it as an exhibit when ordered by a court—but it does not authorize resale or sharing with others, including co-counsel, third parties, or opposing attorneys.
The Growing Problem: Unauthorized Sharing Among Law Firms
Despite the clear restrictions, reports have surfaced of attorneys circumventing these rules. In many instances, an attorney who purchases a transcript will share it—whether by email, file share, or physical copy—with an opposing firm involved in the same or related litigation. This is often done casually, without acknowledgment of the legal implications.
The motivations vary:
Cost Savings: Purchasing multiple copies of transcripts can be expensive, especially for lengthy proceedings. Firms may rationalize sharing as a way to minimize litigation expenses.
Collaboration Pressures: In complex multi-party cases, opposing counsel may seek efficiency by pooling resources, including transcripts.
Ignorance of the Law: Some attorneys and staff are unaware of the restrictions outlined in § 69954(d), mistakenly believing that once purchased, a transcript is theirs to distribute freely.
Regardless of motive, unauthorized sharing is a direct violation of California law—and can have serious consequences.
Why Unauthorized Sharing Matters
1. Financial Harm to Court Reporters
Court reporters often operate as independent contractors or small businesses. Their income is heavily dependent on transcript sales. Unauthorized sharing undermines their rightful earnings and threatens the sustainability of the profession.
2. Violation of Ethical Obligations
Attorneys have a professional duty to uphold the law and to act with integrity. Disregarding transcript-sharing restrictions not only breaches statutory law but can also implicate ethical rules related to honesty and fairness.
3. Potential for Court Sanctions
Violations of court rules and statutes can lead to sanctions. If a court determines that an attorney engaged in unlawful sharing, the consequences could include monetary penalties, disqualification, or even disciplinary action before the State Bar.
4. Damage to Litigation Integrity
Unauthorized distribution of transcripts can raise questions about the authenticity and completeness of the records being relied upon, complicating proceedings and potentially leading to disputes over the official record.
Real-World Examples of Violations
Though many instances of illegal sharing are never formally reported, some cases have come to light through complaints filed by court reporters or discovery disputes revealing the misconduct.
In one situation, a deposition transcript purchased by one firm was quietly shared with three other parties in related litigation, depriving the court reporter of significant income. When the reporter discovered the violation, a motion was filed with the court to enforce transcript restrictions and recover lost fees, resulting in a court order reprimanding the attorneys involved.
In another case, a joint defense group informally circulated purchased transcripts among themselves without court authorization. After a reporter’s audit uncovered the sharing, multiple firms faced not only demands for unpaid transcript fees but also reputational damage within the court system.
Compliance Strategies for Attorneys
Given the risks, attorneys must take proactive steps to ensure compliance with § 69954(d):
Purchase Individual Copies: Each party requiring access should purchase their own copy directly from the court reporter.
Seek Court Orders Where Appropriate: In some cases, parties can seek a court order authorizing sharing under specific conditions.
Use Summaries Instead of Full Transcripts: When collaboration is necessary, attorneys can circulate their own written summaries of testimony (so long as they do not reproduce or distribute the actual transcript).
Educate Staff and Co-Counsel: Firms should train legal staff, paralegals, and co-counsel on the rules governing transcript use to avoid inadvertent violations.
Consult with Court Reporters: When in doubt, attorneys should consult directly with the court reporter to understand the permissible scope of transcript use.
Enforcement and the Future
There is a growing push within the court reporting industry to crack down on illegal sharing. Trade associations and individual reporters are increasingly vigilant, auditing transcript sales and usage. Some are lobbying for even stronger penalties for violators, recognizing that enforcement is key to maintaining the financial viability of their work.
Technological solutions are also being explored, such as watermarking transcripts with unique purchaser identifiers to deter and trace unauthorized sharing.
Ultimately, protecting the integrity of court transcripts protects the integrity of the entire legal system. Attorneys, as officers of the court, have a special responsibility to lead by example—respecting the law, honoring the rights of court reporters, and ensuring fair access to the judicial process.
Conclusion
The unauthorized sharing of court transcripts may seem like a minor infraction to some, but it strikes at the heart of the legal system’s commitment to fairness, integrity, and respect for all participants in the litigation process. California Government Code § 69954(d) is not a mere technicality; it is a necessary safeguard.
As awareness grows, so too must vigilance. Attorneys must remember that convenience or cost-saving cannot justify breaking the law. By respecting transcript rights and encouraging compliance within the legal community, they not only protect themselves from liability but also contribute to a more ethical and sustainable profession.
In many spiritual beliefs, a bird’s death marks the end of one chapter and the start of another.
Night had fallen over the neighborhood, but the pool lit the backyard in a wavering blue glow, casting long, shimmering reflections against the backdrop of trees. From the field beyond the neighborhood, smoke curled into the dark sky, low and restless. A brush fire, small but stubborn, lit the horizon with a smoldering glow. Overhead, a helicopter circled endlessly, its spotlight slicing through the smoke, the blades drumming a warning into the bones of the earth.
The two young girls splashed in the jacuzzi, their laughter high and bright, their voices bright and wild, splashing water that glittered like stars under the backyard lights, cutting through the strange tension like birdcalls at the edge of a storm. They were untouched by the strangeness of the night, unaware — still sealed inside the easy magic of childhood, their laughter a bubble of normalcy against the backdrop of smoke and sirens. Their voices untouched by the strange, charged energy all around them — innocent islands in the midst of rising chaos.
It happened in an instant. The puppy, still clumsy with joy, tore through the yard, crashing through a thick bush. The leaves shook violently. Then, like a fallen star, a broken shape tumbled out onto the cement – a baby bird, thrown from its hidden nest.
The man, chasing after the dog, almost ran over it, shouting, waving the dog away. He stopped cold. “It’s a bird.” Kneeling down to try to capture it, clumsily pawing at it trying to pick it up, to no avail. “Come pick it up,” he called to me. He straightened, backed away, and motioned for me to come closer while he shooed the dog away. As I approached, I could see a small shape lay trembling in the pavement: a baby bird, fallen too soon from its veiled world.
It was warm and wet from the dog’s mouth, trembling with some final reserve of life. It smelled faintly of earth, of feathers, of something slipping away. The bird, slick and broken, settled into my palms as if it knew no other choice. The man turned away, chasing the dog back, searching for the nest.
She was left alone with it.
It was so light, so impossibly fragile. For a moment, she thought it was already gone. But then — a flutter. Wild, desperate, furious with life. The tiny heart beating against her skin, wings pushing against the inevitable.
Passing overhead, the helicopter roared on. Beyond the fence, fire licked at the darkness. And in her hands, the bird fought — a desperate, frantic flutter — wings shivering against her skin as if trying to rise one last time.
She bent her head low over it, whispering in the voice she used to soothe her daughter from bad dreams. “You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re not alone. You’re safe.” She stroked the damp feathers with the gentlest brush of her fingertip, trying to smooth away the terror.
The bird’s wings moved once more, a fierce and beautiful surge against the dying night —— stronger than before, as if to fight death off with its whole being —and then went still.
She carried the bird closer to the pool’s edge, into the clean, sharp light. Blood darkened the down around its head — or was it the eye? In the shifting shadows and thin darkness, she couldn’t quite tell.
Behind her, the man swept his phone’s flashlight through the tangled bush, still searching for the nest, as if returning it to its home could undo the damage.
She held the bird under his light and said, “look, I think it’s bleeding.” It lay still in her hands now, terribly still. She brushed its foot with her finger, teasing gently, almost begging for a response. But the bird didn’t move.
The man turned, glanced, and said, in a voice stripped of ceremony, “It’s dead.” Then, as if the weight of it hadn’t yet fallen heavy enough, he echoed it again —“It’s dead.”
The girls went on laughing in the jacuzzi, their splashes sending tiny waves across the glowing pool. They were oblivious — untouched by the small death cradled just steps away. To them, the cold night was still alive with games and light and the promise of summer. They would not remember the way a bird had fallen that night, or how quietly life could slip away.
But she would.
But the words meant nothing in the sacred silence that wrapped around her.
Because she knew. She had been chosen — for a moment, for a breath, for a life. To carry it from terror to peace. To hold its last wild beat inside her hands.
When she looked up, she could feel it — the fire, the stars, the spinning blades — all bearing silent witness. She had not merely watched the bird die. She had walked with it to the edge of the world.
Later, when the night had gone still and the girls’ laughter had faded into dreams, she would sit with the memory of it. She would wonder if it had been an omen — if death delivered into her hands was some silent curse, a shadow cast over her without warning.
She would learn that a dying bird in your hands can symbolize the loss of innocence, the fragility of life, or the end of a cycle. In some superstitions, a bird dying in your hands could be seen as a bad omen, a sign of impending change, loss, or sorrow.
But in her heart, she knew otherwise.
Because somewhere in the heavy night, in the glow of water and firelight, something sacred had unfolded. A life had been held. Witnessed. Loved.
In the shadow of burning fields, under the judgment of smoke and stars, she had been a shelter for something wild and fleeting.
And even as sorrow rooted itself quietly inside her chest, she understood: The bird had not fallen into darkness alone. It had fallen into grace — and she had carried it there.
Sonnet – The Dying in My Hands
The smoke drew scars across the broken skies, The fields were bleeding light from dying flame; The earth gave up a bird with bloodied eyes, And summoned me by grief, and not by name.
It thrashed against the weight of coming night, A heart too frail to bear the world’s decay; I spoke soft lies and tried to still its fight, Yet felt its final tremble slip away.
The dog, the fire, the laughter far and thin, The hollow throb of rotors overhead— All spun around the silence sealed within My cupped, unwilling hands that cradled dead.
No God, no fate, no mercy heard its call; I was the one who bore the weight of fall.
In today’s fast-paced tech landscape, software end-of-life (EOL) events are increasingly common—and often disruptive. From operating systems to cloud platforms, companies regularly sunset older versions of software, pushing users to adopt newer iterations whether they’re ready or not. While the logic often revolves around security, performance, and modernization, the reality on the ground can be chaotic—especially when the new version isn’t quite ready for prime time.
That’s the situation facing court reporters across the country with the recent EOL of StenoCat32, a long-trusted software by Gigatron Software Corporation that has served as a cornerstone in the court reporting world for decades.
Forced Upgrades in Mission-Critical Fields
Gigatron officially announced the end-of-life for StenoCat32 in early 2025, with support and updates ceasing shortly thereafter. Users were informed they’d need to migrate to the company’s newer platform, which comes with a modernized interface, cloud capabilities, and enhanced integration options.
However, this transition has not been smooth for everyone.
Court reporters—who rely on real-time stability and precision—have reported numerous bugs and performance issues with the new version. Some cite crashes during live depositions, incomplete file exports, and issues syncing with essential CAT hardware. Others worry that their workflow is being dictated by a software schedule rather than practical readiness.
The Bigger Picture: EOL as a Business Model
StenoCat32’s retirement is not an isolated case. Major players like Microsoft, Adobe, and Salesforce routinely phase out legacy products to streamline operations and encourage adoption of newer, often subscription-based models. While this strategy makes sense from a maintenance and revenue standpoint, it often leaves end users scrambling to adapt—especially in niche or highly specialized industries.
“In fields like court reporting, reliability isn’t optional—it’s everything,” said one California-based court reporter, who requested anonymity. “When the tool you rely on every day gets replaced with something half-baked, it’s not just inconvenient. It can be damaging to your career.”
A Tough Balancing Act
To be fair, Gigatron has emphasized that the new version is actively being patched and improved based on user feedback. The company has hosted webinars and support sessions to help ease the migration. Still, critics argue that a grace period or dual-support window would have allowed professionals more breathing room to transition.
“The rollout felt abrupt,” said another user. “We were given a deadline, and that was it. No fallback, no rollback.”
What Can Be Done?
For now, the best advice for affected users is to:
Stay current on updates and patches.
Participate in beta feedback if possible.
Keep open communication with Gigatron support and user communities.
But perhaps more broadly, the StenoCat32 situation underscores a critical lesson in the age of cloud-driven software lifecycles: not every upgrade is an improvement—at least not at first.
As more industries find themselves tethered to subscription timelines and mandatory migrations, it may be time to revisit how software companies approach the concept of “sunsetting.” Because for users, it’s not just about innovation—it’s about trust.
Quaverly Rothenberg, a City Councilor from Northampton, Massachusetts, has long positioned herself as a progressive voice in local government—but outside of City Hall, she’s made a name for herself in an entirely different and controversial domain: the court reporting world.
Recently, Rothenberg didn’t make headlines—but she did raise suspicions—not for her political activity, but for an unusual social media move. According to a concerned parent and court reporter, Rothenberg attempted to follow their daughter’s Instagram account, raising eyebrows and prompting discomfort. The incident, which is seen by some as “creepy,” adds to a growing list of unconventional behavior associated with Rothenberg.
Beyond politics, Rothenberg identifies as a “QWERTY transcriptionist,” claiming an almost mythical ability to type 300 words per minute on a typewriter—yes, a typewriter—using Word macros. She is said to have commissioned a specially-built “quiet” typewriter for use during legal depositions, and has reportedly used it while working as a pseudo wannabe court reporter. The image of a manual typewriter clacking away during a deposition is jarring in a world dominated by steno machines and voice writing technology—but Rothenberg insists she’s not only keeping up, she’s thriving.
Rothenberg has made waves—and enemies—among traditional court reporters. She’s been a fixture in court reporting forums and communities for nearly a decade, often infiltrating stenographic groups despite openly refusing to learn steno or voice writing. Instead, she champions her old-school approach, claiming that she earns a solid income using her unorthodox setup.
What’s more, she allegedly has court reporters from New Hampshire and Colorado who support her approach, amplifying her presence and influence. Critics argue that her persistence undermines professional standards and could mislead newcomers about what’s required to succeed in the field. Supporters, on the other hand, the few that are out there, admire her audacity and DIY ethic.
Politically, Rothenberg is no stranger to controversy either. In early 2025, she was formally censured by the Northampton City Council for misusing a non-emergency dispatch line during a winter storm. During the call, she attempted to access emergency contact information for city workers, claimed that City Council “outranks the mayor,” and made false statements about department leadership. Her behavior was deemed “unbecoming” by her peers.
Rothenberg has defended her approach in both government and transcription, framing herself as an outsider challenging the status quo. Whether she’s pioneering a new kind of typing revolution—or simply refusing to evolve—is a matter of debate.
Whether Rothenberg is a quirky innovator or a chaotic distraction depends on whom you ask. But with her presence spanning local government, obscure internet forums, and now stalking a real court reporter and her daughter on social media, one thing is clear: she’s not your average politician—or court reporter.
In the often-overlooked world of court reporting, one issue continues to spark frustration and burnout: managing multi-reporter appeals. For many in the field, the role of “lead reporter” has become synonymous with “designated babysitter”—a role taken on not by choice, but by systemic inefficiency.
When it comes to compiling and filing appeals, especially in jurisdictions like Los Angeles County, the burden frequently falls on one reporter to corral contributions from several others. This process, as many seasoned professionals can attest, can stretch over weeks—or even months—requiring relentless follow-up, repeated requests, and emotional labor that far exceeds the scope of the job.
And yet, the real question lingers: Why is this still the system?
A Broken Model
At the heart of the issue is a model that requires one court reporter to gather, format, and submit not only their own transcripts, but those of every other reporter involved in a given case. This setup assumes a level of cooperation and organization that, frankly, is not always present.
It’s not uncommon for lead reporters to find themselves chasing down colleagues for transcripts, exhibits, certifications, or even basic communication. Emails go unanswered. Deadlines pass without updates. And in many cases, the silence isn’t due to ill intent—it’s due to an underlying issue of lack of standardized expectations, unfamiliarity with appeal procedures, or simply a broken workflow.
To put it bluntly: the process isn’t just inefficient—it’s demoralizing.
Communication Breakdown
Perhaps the most baffling piece of the puzzle is the lack of response from some court reporters involved in an appeal. In an age where we’re all constantly tethered to phones, emails, and job boards, failing to acknowledge a request—or even confirm receipt—is seen not only as irresponsible, but disrespectful.
Lead reporters often find themselves running detective work: digging through court minute orders, confirming dates, verifying the right email addresses, or determining whether a reporter was even present during the proceedings. It’s a tedious process that burns time, energy, and goodwill. Even more concerning, delays like these can jeopardize the entire appeal process—leading to missed deadlines, funding issues, and the potential for cases to be abandoned.
And yet, the burden always falls on one person.
Toward a Better System – Individual Accountability
So, what would a better system look like?
Imagine if each reporter involved in a case were responsible for submitting their own work—independently—by a set deadline. Simple. Logical. Fair. This would eliminate the bottleneck caused by one person having to collect, organize, and submit everyone’s files. Each reporter would retain responsibility for their transcript, their formatting, and their timely submission.
In fact, this system is already functional in other jurisdictions. In Michigan, for example, court reporters routinely submit their appeal transcripts as individual PDFs, labeled by date, each beginning on Page 1. There’s no need for special covers or sequential pagination across volumes. It’s cleaner, easier, and far less prone to the delays that plague multi-reporter submissions in other states.
Why can’t L.A. County—or any jurisdiction—do the same?
YesLaw and the Role of Technology
Another proposed solution is to centralize the process using platforms like YesLaw. When clerks issue the appeal order, they already know which dates and which reporters are involved. Why not use that information to open a shared workspace or submission portal?
From there, each reporter could upload their transcript directly into the system. YesLaw—or a similar platform—could handle the chronological ordering, ensuring consistency and completeness. If a reporter doesn’t submit, it’s immediately obvious. The missing file isn’t buried in a lead reporter’s inbox or lost in the shuffle of unanswered emails.
Notably, participation in YesLaw isn’t currently mandatory in some jurisdictions, which undermines the efficiency such a system could bring. But with proper implementation and training, this type of technology could remove much of the administrative burden that lead reporters currently shoulder.
Changing the Culture
At the core of this conversation lies a deeper issue: culture. There’s an ingrained expectation that if one reporter is designated the lead, they will “handle it.” That includes tracking down nonresponsive colleagues, dealing with incomplete files, requesting affidavits for missing days, and recalculating page counts due to unreported material.
But this expectation is toxic—and it’s burning out even the most dedicated professionals.
Court reporters need to start viewing appeal collaboration with the same urgency and professionalism they bring to live proceedings. That means answering emails. Meeting deadlines. Asking for help when needed. And above all, respecting the time and efforts of your colleagues.
Being unresponsive doesn’t just create more work for someone else—it directly harms the integrity of the case and the reputation of the profession.
The Case for Standardization
While appeals involve nuance, the actual process should not be a mystery. Most counties, including Los Angeles, have clear formatting manuals and procedural guidelines. These should be standard reading for every court reporter.
Moreover, more robust onboarding and training around appeal procedures should be instituted—especially for newer reporters. Not everyone is a seasoned pro, and many may simply be unsure of how to participate effectively in the appeals process.
That’s where mentorship, ongoing education, and clear expectations from the court and agencies come into play.
Time for a Leadership Shift
If this system is to change, it needs to happen at the administrative level. Court administrations, unions, and professional organizations should advocate for individual submission systems, mandatory training, and digital portals that reduce dependency on a single lead reporter.
Whether the solution lies in reforming YesLaw practices, creating official policy updates, or simply implementing a shared responsibility structure, the time for change is now.
Final Thoughts
Court reporters are some of the most skilled professionals in the legal system. They handle rapid-fire dialogue, technical jargon, and high-stakes pressure with unmatched precision. There is no reason those same professionals should be reduced to babysitting their peers during the appeals process.
Let’s stop normalizing disorganization. Let’s stop excusing silence. Let’s stop punishing those who step up to lead.
Instead, let’s build a system where responsibility is shared, communication is expected, and professionalism is the norm—not the exception.
In the intricate gears of the justice system, court reporters are the invisible hands preserving every word, pause, and objection. They are the guardians of the record, yet their profession is being quietly undermined—not by irrelevance, but by an outdated pay model and widespread misuse of their work.
At the core of the crisis is a mid-century pricing structure that never caught up to 21st-century technology. Court reporters have traditionally been compensated not for their time in the chair, but for sales of the original transcript and copies. That system made sense when copies meant retyping pages or using carbon paper. Today? A transcript can be duplicated in seconds, and that has led many attorneys to devalue, disregard, or outright steal the reporter’s work.
A Broken Business Model Meets a Culture of Convenience
Here’s the friction: Most attorneys today treat a “copy” of a transcript the same way they treat a photocopy—expecting it to cost pennies or to be freely shared among colleagues. But in most states, including California, the law is clear: only the purchasing party is entitled to a copy, and the reporter retains control over the distribution of their work.
The pricing problem is compounded by legal misunderstanding. In California, Government Code § 69950 sets the official fees court reporters may charge for originals and copies in superior court. But the statute doesn’t address ownership or sharing of those transcripts.
That’s governed by other laws:
California Code of Civil Procedure § 2025.510 states that the deposition officer (the reporter) holds the original transcript in custody and transmits it to the noticing attorney. Only parties who pay for a copy are entitled to one.
Federal Copyright Law (Title 17 U.S. Code) gives reporters ownership of their transcripts as original works. Unauthorized reproduction, scanning, or sharing—even between co-counsel—may constitute copyright infringement.
In plain terms: if an attorney didn’t pay for the transcript, they have no right to share or receive it. Yet this violation happens daily—quietly, pervasively, and without consequence.
Ethical Erosion and the Silent Epidemic
The implications are more than financial. This unchecked sharing undermines the very structure that reporters rely on to make a living. Reporters often spend hours transcribing proceedings, editing, certifying, and delivering accurate transcripts—only to see their work distributed for free or passed around like office memos.
Some attorneys may be unaware they’re violating the law. Others assume that because digital copying is effortless, it must also be free. But every unauthorized copy is a loss of income, and for freelancers and small firms, that can be the difference between survival and collapse.
A Bold but Simple Fix – Flip the Fee Structure
As one industry observer put it, “We’re still operating on a 1950s cost paradigm.” And that’s the heart of the problem. To truly fix this broken system, the profession must adopt a pricing model that reflects modern expectations.
Here’s the solution:
Load all transcript production and profit costs into the original transcript price.
Reduce the cost of copies to mere cents—or even allow unlimited free duplication.
Empower attorneys to share freely only after the original is paid for in full.
This realignment achieves multiple goals:
Meets attorney expectations for low-cost, digital-friendly access.
Ensures fair compensation for the reporter through the original sale.
Discourages piracy by eliminating the incentive to “sneak a copy.”
And if multiple parties want the transcript? Let them split the cost of the original however they like. That’s a market decision, not a legal loophole.
The Profession Must Lead the Change
This transformation won’t be easy. Some reporters will hesitate to raise rates for fear of losing work. Some attorneys will resist paying more upfront. But without change, the profession remains vulnerable, undervalued, and underpaid.
It’s time for court reporters—and the associations and firms that represent them—to push for a pricing structure that reflects both legal ownership and technological reality. Education, enforcement, and ethical clarity will all be part of that shift.
Because in the end, the integrity of the record is only as strong as the system that supports those who create it.
In recent years, Florida has emerged as a pioneer in integrating digital reporters into its court reporting framework. The Florida Court Reporters Association (FCRA) has introduced certifications like the Florida Professional Reporter (FPR™) and Florida Professional Reporter-Certified (FPR-C™) to accommodate both traditional stenographers and digital reporters.
Understanding the FPR™ and FPR-C™ Certifications
The FPR™ certification is a knowledge-based exam focusing on Florida-specific laws, ethics, and court procedures. It covers topics such as Florida’s Rules of Court, federal rules, appellate procedures, and transcript production. This certification is open to various professionals, including stenographic court reporters, students, scopists, and court reporting managers.
The FPR-C™ certification serves as a skills complement to the FPR™. It’s a voluntary examination designed for stenographic and voice writers, requiring candidates to demonstrate proficiency in real-time transcription using their own equipment.
Who Transcribes the Record?
One important distinction in Florida’s evolving court reporting model is who actually produces the transcript. The answer varies based on the reporter’s method:
Stenographers (machine or voice writers) who hold the FPR typically both report verbatim andthen transcribe the proceeding using steno machines or voice technology. They produce the final transcript themselves.
Digital reporters with the FPR, on the other hand, capture high-quality audio recordings of legal proceedings but do not always transcribe the recordings personally. Instead, they may:
Monitor and annotate the recording in real-time,
Then send the audio to a separate unlicensed transcriptionist or editing team,
With the final transcript reviewed for accuracy before submission.
This model increases flexibility, but also introduces more variables into the transcript production chain.
Potential Benefits of Florida’s Approach
Addressing the Stenographer Shortage: By recognizing digital reporters, Florida aims to mitigate the nationwide shortage of stenographers, ensuring that court proceedings are adequately documented.
Flexibility and Inclusivity: The certifications accommodate a broader range of professionals, including those using digital recording methods, thereby expanding the pool of qualified court reporters.
Standardization of Knowledge: The FPR™ ensures that all certified reporters, regardless of their method, possess a uniform understanding of Florida’s legal and ethical standards.
Concerns and Potential Risks
While Florida’s inclusive approach offers solutions to certain challenges, it also raises several concerns:
Accuracy and Reliability: Digital recording methods may lack the real-time accuracy of traditional stenography, potentially leading to errors in legal transcripts.
Security and Confidentiality: Electronic recordings are susceptible to technical failures and unauthorized access, posing risks to the confidentiality of sensitive legal information.
Erosion of Professional Standards: The voluntary nature of the FPR-C™ skills test may lead to inconsistencies in the proficiency levels of certified reporters.
Potential Devaluation of Stenographic Expertise: Equating digital recording methods with traditional stenography might undermine the specialized skills and training that stenographers possess.
Outsourced Transcription: With digital reporters often outsourcing the transcription process, there may be less accountability or quality control compared to a single professional managing both the recording and transcript creation.
Lack of Responsible Charge: Perhaps one of the most fundamental concerns is that digital reporters are not considered the “responsible charge” of the record. In legal proceedings, the individual in responsible charge is ultimately accountable for the integrity, accuracy, and timely delivery of the official transcript. Stenographers and voice writers, who both capture and transcribe the record, assume this responsibility by default. However, digital reporters who record proceedings and hand off transcription duties to third parties create a fragmented chain of custody over the legal record. This raises serious concerns about who is held accountable if errors or disputes arise.
Implications for Other States
Florida’s model could influence other states to reconsider their court reporting standards. However, it’s crucial to balance the integration of digital methods with the maintenance of high professional standards to ensure the integrity of legal proceedings.
Other states adopting this model may experience short-term relief from staffing shortages, but must also be prepared to regulate a more complex ecosystem of audio technicians, transcriptionists, and editors. Without strict oversight, this model could compromise transcript accuracy and court transparency.
Conclusion
Florida’s initiative to incorporate digital reporters through certifications like the FPR™ and FPR-C™ represents a significant shift in the court reporting landscape. While it addresses certain practical challenges, it’s imperative to critically assess the potential implications to uphold the accuracy, reliability, and professionalism essential to the legal system.
As other states consider following Florida’s lead, they must weigh the benefits of flexibility and accessibility against the risks of reduced quality control and weakened accountability in the judicial record.
Example of a digital reporter using an FPR certification. She has no steno machine or voice training. She was a paralegal who got her Florida FPR certification in 2017 and is now calling herself a “certified court reporter” because she has her Florida FPR credential. See for yourself.
Post-Conclusion Follow-Up
Following the publication of this article, several responses highlighted important clarifications about the role of digital reporters in Florida and the position of the Florida Court Reporters Association (FCRA). Notably, FCRA does not currently recognize or embrace digital court reporters as members, nor does it allow them to hold the FPR™ certification. While some digital reporters were able to take the FPR exam when it was first created in 2007, FCRA has since restricted the credential to stenographic and voice writers.
The confusion may partly stem from the fact that Florida’s court system uses a mix of official reporters, freelance reporters, and in-house digital reporters depending on the judicial circuit. However, those digital reporters do not transcribe proceedings themselves, and their role is distinct from that of certified court reporters.
Additionally, concerns have been raised about individuals using the FPR designation despite no longer being eligible or active members of FCRA. This includes reported cases like a digital reporter issued the FPR in 2017 who continues to identify publicly as a certified court reporter—a title that may mislead the public and clients about the nature of her certification and professional standing.
These developments underscore the complexity of the debate and the need for transparency, clear credentialing, and public education. As other states, like Georgia, move to allow digital reporters into their associations, it becomes even more urgent for professional bodies, courts, and agencies to establish consistent policies and enforce ethical use of credentials. Without clear boundaries, the public’s trust in the integrity of the legal record could be at risk.
How to Address Fraudulent Use of the FPR™ Credential
The integrity of professional credentials like the Florida Professional Reporter (FPR™) is essential to maintaining trust in the legal system. When someone misrepresents themselves as an FPR™ holder without current eligibility, it not only damages the reputation of the Florida Court Reporters Association (FCRA) but also misleads clients and the public. Here’s a practical summary of steps to address this issue:
Report to FCRA: Start by contacting the FCRA ethics committee or board. Provide the individual’s name, public profiles (such as LinkedIn or websites), and evidence of how they are presenting themselves as an FPR™ or certified court reporter. FCRA can investigate and, if needed, issue a cease-and-desist.
Check State Regulations: While Florida does not license court reporters statewide, misrepresenting professional credentials can fall under deceptive business practices. You can file a complaint with the Florida Attorney General’s Office or the Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, which handles consumer protection issues.
Alert Platforms and Agencies: If the person is advertising the FPR™ credential on platforms like LinkedIn, business websites, or agency directories, report the false credentialing directly to those platforms or notify the agencies they work with. Many sites prohibit misrepresentation under their terms of service.
Send a Direct Notice: Optionally, FCRA or an attorney can send a formal notice letter directly to the individual, advising them that their use of the FPR™ title is unauthorized and must stop immediately. A legal warning often prompts quick correction.
Ensure Verification Before Public Action: It’s crucial to confirm the facts before making any public accusations. Publicly labeling someone as “fraudulent” without solid verification can expose you to defamation risks. Let official bodies handle the investigation and response.
By following these steps, you help uphold the standards of the court reporting profession and ensure that respected credentials like the FPR™ retain their value and credibility. With the increasing mix of traditional and digital reporters in the legal field, clear boundaries and enforcement are more important than ever.
In the heart of our judicial system, there exists a quiet crisis—one that is rarely acknowledged, yet deeply felt by the professionals who ensure an accurate record of every word spoken in court: the pro tempore court reporters. These highly skilled stenographers, many of whom are women, are facing increasing discrimination not for the quality of their work, but for the perceived size of their paychecks.
The Misunderstood Economics of the Profession
To the untrained eye—particularly that of some judges, clerks, and attorneys—a court reporter’s invoice can seem exorbitant. A $5,000 daily bill for a trial with expedited transcripts transcripts and per diems and realtime services may raise eyebrows, especially in post-verdict motions to tax costs where such expenses are scrutinized. However, this figure is wildly misleading and reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of how court reporters are paid.
These invoices are not direct payments to the reporters. Rather, they are billed through agencies—third-party businesses that often take 50% or more of the total fee right off the top. The reporter, who actually sits in court for hours and then spends additional time meticulously preparing the transcript, walks away with only a fraction of what’s billed. If a reporter invoices $300,000 over a year, their actual take-home income is closer to $100,000—after agency cuts, subcontractor payments, and significant business expenses.
Hidden Costs – Subcontractors and Equipment
Producing a verbatim transcript of a trial isn’t a solo act. Reporters often hire scopists and proofreaders—skilled professionals who help refine and perfect the final product. Scopists alone may charge $3.00 per page, which on a full trial day could amount to $600 or more. This cost is borne by the reporter, not the agency.
On top of that, court reporters must maintain their own equipment and software. A professional stenographic machine costs upwards of $5,000. So does the Computer-Aided Transcription (CAT) software essential to converting steno notes into readable transcripts. Add to that other business expenses—insurance, continuing education, internet services, office supplies—and it becomes clear that these professionals are entrepreneurs, not court employees, bearing all the financial risk with none of the job security.
A Disguised Form of Gender Bias
What compounds the issue is the undercurrent of gender discrimination cloaked in economic judgment. Court reporting has traditionally been a female-dominated field, while judges and attorneys have historically been predominantly male. When male judges or attorneys see a $5,000 invoice from a woman, there’s an implicit message: She shouldn’t be making more than I do.
This resentment isn’t just internal—it manifests in daily microaggressions and overt hostility. Reporters are often ignored during courtroom introductions, their presence and role diminished to invisibility. Judges routinely refuse to slow down their speech, even after multiple polite requests, making the job unnecessarily difficult. Clerks enforce abrupt, inflexible shutdowns at 4:30 p.m. sharp, giving reporters just two minutes to pack up expensive and sensitive equipment. Lunch breaks become a scramble as court reporters are shooed out the door the moment the bell rings, with no regard for the time or care required to secure their setup.
This disrespect isn’t simply bad manners. It’s symptomatic of a broader systemic bias—an economic and gender-based devaluation of the reporter’s role and labor.
Stagnant Statutory Rates – A 50-Year Disparity
Adding insult to injury, the statutory rates for transcripts remain stuck in a time warp. In 1970, the going rate was $3.00 per page. Today, in many jurisdictions, it’s only $3.99 per page. Adjusted for inflation, that 1970 rate should be nearly $18 per page in 2025 dollars. That means court reporters are making less, not more, than they were half a century ago—despite exponential increases in the cost of living, doing business, and technological demands.
How is it that the backbone of the judicial record-keeping process is expected to carry on with outdated compensation, all while being accused of overcharging?
The Reality of Freelance Court Life
Unlike salaried government employees, pro tempore reporters do not receive pensions, health benefits, or paid time off. They aren’t guaranteed work every day, with cancellations wreaking havoc on predictable income. A two-week trial can be canceled the night before, leaving a gaping hole in a reporter’s monthly revenue without any compensation for the lost opportunity.
Despite all of this, the professionalism and precision demanded of them never waver. They are expected to produce perfect transcripts under immense time pressure and with no room for error—while absorbing emotional exhaustion from hearing difficult cases and enduring physical fatigue from long hours seated in courtrooms.
Mastering the Craft – Decades of Dedication
The work court reporters perform—especially realtime reporting during trials—is not a skill that can be learned overnight. It takes years of rigorous training just to become certified, and over a decade of hands-on courtroom experience to provide high-quality realtime services, where the spoken word is transcribed and displayed in real-time with near-perfect accuracy. True mastery can take upwards of 20 years. This is a highly specialized, mentally and physically demanding profession that requires intense focus, linguistic expertise, and the ability to process multiple conversations at once—often in chaotic, high-stakes environments. The level of concentration and technical skill required is akin to that of concert pianists or air traffic controllers. And yet, despite the immense dedication it takes to reach this level, court reporters are too often treated as expendable or replaceable, rather than as the uniquely skilled professionals they are.
Time for Judicial Accountability
It’s time for the judicial system to recognize the vital role of court reporters and to correct the economic and gender biases that plague the profession. Judges must be educated on the actual economics behind reporter invoices. Clerks must be trained to treat court reporters with the same courtesy and respect given to other court staff. Attorneys should acknowledge the importance of an accurate record and advocate for fair treatment of those who provide it.
And most importantly, statutory rates must be revisited. If we value the integrity of the legal process, then we must properly compensate those who protect it.
The Unseen Guardians of the Record
Court reporters are not overpaid. They are overworked, underappreciated, and often misunderstood. Their invoices are not reflections of individual greed, but of a system that allows third-party agencies to exploit their labor, all while judges and attorneys cast judgment based on flawed assumptions.
Let us not continue to penalize these professionals for the illusion of wealth when in truth, they are fighting to survive in a broken system. Let us instead advocate for a judiciary that honors the contributions of court reporters—financially, professionally, and personally.
It’s time to bring this conversation out of the shadows and into the courtroom, where justice begins with the record—and the record begins with them.
Defending the Record: How We Can Support AB 882 and Push Back Against Judicial Council Overreach
The fight to protect the integrity of California’s court record is entering a new and urgent phase. With the Judicial Council working aggressively to expand the use of electronic recording in our courtrooms—often outside legislative oversight—court reporters, legal professionals, and the public face a critical moment. Assembly Bill 882 (AB 882) may not be perfect, but it represents a necessary foothold in an otherwise shifting landscape. Supporting this bill is only the beginning. We must also develop long-term strategies to hold the courts accountable and secure the future of our profession.
Why AB 882 Matters Now
California’s courts have been quietly bypassing long-standing state law by introducing electronic recording into courtrooms that are legally required to have certified shorthand reporters. These efforts are gaining momentum, and now, with the California Supreme Court considering a case that could eliminate legal safeguards against electronic recordings, the urgency could not be greater.
AB 882 offers a measured, temporary solution that still preserves essential protections. It allows electronic recording only in limited circumstances—when no court reporter is available—and only in family law, probate, and civil contempt matters. It requires court leadership to document their lack of staffing, and crucially, it prohibits the displacement of working reporters. Even more importantly, the bill expires in 2028, giving the profession and the Legislature time to revisit and revise the policy once more data and oversight are available.
While not a total victory, AB 882 is a strategic compromise that keeps certified court reporters at the table, where they can influence ongoing policy discussions. Letting this opportunity pass could cede critical ground to those advocating for a future in which our role is minimized or replaced.
How You Can Support AB 882
Contact Your Legislators: A personal phone call or email to your Assemblymember and State Senator makes a big difference. Let them know why you support AB 882 and how electronic recordings threaten the reliability and integrity of the court system.
Attend Hearings: If you’re able, show up to committee hearings or floor votes where AB 882 is being discussed. A visible presence reminds lawmakers that court reporters are watching and engaged.
Submit Letters of Support: Through your union, association, or as an individual, submit letters of support for AB 882 through the Legislature’s online portal or via email to committee members.
Engage with Legal Allies: Reach out to attorneys, bar associations, and legal aid organizations who rely on accurate records. Help them understand how the erosion of court reporting affects their clients and cases.
Speak Publicly: Whether at town halls, legal panels, or in op-eds for your local paper, make your voice heard. Frame the issue not as one of job protection, but of justice protection—because that’s what it truly is.
Beyond the Bill: Bigger Moves to Push Back
Supporting AB 882 is just one step. The Judicial Council has spent years building a quiet infrastructure of digital recording systems while failing to prioritize recruitment and retention of certified court reporters. It’s time we matched that strategy with one of our own.
Here are some ways we can go further:
1. Demand Transparency and Oversight
One of the most powerful tools we have is public accountability. We need to advocate for audits and oversight hearings into:
How the Judicial Council has allocated funding meant for court reporter positions.
Whether counties using electronic recording are in violation of current state law.
The outcomes of cases where recordings failed or produced incomplete transcripts.
This kind of scrutiny can expose the risks to litigants and pressure courts to reverse course.
2. Pressure the Judicial Council Directly
Most of the Judicial Council’s decisions happen outside of public view. That needs to change.
Submit public comments at Judicial Council meetings.
Organize targeted campaigns to demand court reporting be treated as a priority, not an afterthought.
Request data through public records requests on where and how electronic recording is being used.
The more we shine a light, the harder it will be for these shifts to happen in the shadows.
3. Support Reporter Training and Pipeline Programs
The courts argue they have no choice but to turn to recordings because of a lack of available reporters. While we know this problem stems from their own failure to hire and support staff, we can still take the lead in solving it.
Advocate for state-funded court reporting scholarships and tuition assistance programs.
Work with community colleges to expand or reestablish reporting programs, especially in underserved regions.
Create mentorship pipelines between veteran reporters and students.
By increasing the supply of certified professionals, we remove the courts’ main excuse for turning to machines.
4. Partner with Access-to-Justice Organizations
Many nonprofit and legal advocacy groups are deeply concerned about equity in the courts—but they may not yet see the link between unreliable recordings and barriers to justice.
Build coalitions with:
Legal aid groups
Domestic violence support organizations
Disability rights advocates
Immigrant legal defense networks
Explain how electronic recordings disproportionately hurt the most vulnerable—those who need a complete and accurate record the most but are least able to fight for it.
5. Harness Technology—On Our Terms
Technology isn’t inherently the enemy—but unaccountable, poorly maintained, and unverified systems are.
We can advocate for technology that supports reporters, not replaces them. That means:
Promoting real-time transcription for access and transparency.
Exploring AI tools that assist reporters in their work, rather than substitute for them.
Demanding independent validation and testing of any electronic recording system before it is considered in a legal setting.
Conclusion: This Is the Time to Act
Court reporters are more than transcriptionists—we are guardians of the record, the only ones trained and legally accountable for capturing every word spoken in the courtroom. The Judicial Council’s efforts to normalize electronic recordings are a direct threat not just to our profession, but to due process and access to justice.
AB 882 is a step toward reclaiming the narrative, creating accountability, and keeping certified professionals at the heart of the justice system. But it’s not enough to defend. We must also go on offense: organize, speak out, and push for the future we want to see.
Let’s be clear—machines don’t deliver justice. We do.
Once upon a time, there was a system. A smooth, well-oiled, time-tested method that allowed court reporters like me to deliver daily trial transcripts—accurate, polished, and fast. Attorneys could rely on same-day delivery, and in return, I could count on the premium income from daily transcript orders. That income made it possible to hire a team: seasoned scopists and proofreaders who helped me deliver under pressure, ensuring quality and speed without sacrificing either.
That system is unraveling.
Lately, in an effort to trim costs, attorneys have pivoted from ordering certified daily transcripts to requesting “roughs” instead. On paper, it seems like a cheaper option: a rough is just $2.50 per page, compared to $5.99 for a daily. But here’s the kicker—they still end up ordering a final transcript later at the regular delivery rate of $3.99 per page. That means they’re paying $6.49 per page total, more than the $5.99 they’d pay for a next-day certified expedite that includes everything.
But that’s not even the real problem.
When only a rough is ordered, I still have to prep it like a daily—my team of scopists scopes it that same day, and I deliver it as a rough without doing the final proofing or certification. Then the clock starts ticking on the 30-day deadline for the certified final. What attorneys don’t see is the domino effect this has on the entire process.
Sometimes, they wait until the eve of closing arguments to request the final. That’s not just unreasonable—it’s impossible.
Meanwhile, my backlog of pages grows. I’m not only finishing the final versions from the current trial, but I’m also juggling other ongoing cases, appellate transcripts, and trying to line up support for upcoming work. When I do manage to secure a team for a scheduled daily trial, I rely on that commitment. But then, on the first day, an attorney casually tells me, “We won’t need dailies this week.”
Now my pre-booked scopists, having cleared their schedules for nothing, go find other work. And wouldn’t you know it—by Friday, the attorney changes course and orders a daily transcript. Only now, there’s no one left to help. One of my best scopists is out recovering from surgery. Another is brand new. And I’m re-scoping my own work deep into the night.
Sunday night rolls around, and I get the dreaded email: “Hi, am I ever going to receive these?”
What attorneys don’t see behind that question is a court reporter who has been working non-stop all weekend. A woman with a husband and an 8-year-old daughter who miss her deeply. A family fraying at the edges. A home office that has become a pressure cooker. A husband half-jokingly asking if there’s a “Disgruntled Husbands of Court Reporters” Facebook group. A little girl tugging at her mom’s sleeve, asking why she’s always in her office. And a reporter whose nails haven’t seen a manicure in weeks, whose soul hasn’t seen a day off in longer.
This isn’t sustainable.
Attorneys: I get it. Budgets are tight. But roughs aren’t the answer. They’re a short-term saving that leads to long-term chaos—for you and for us. Consider ordering a next-day expedite instead. You’ll get the certified transcript you need, quickly and cleanly. And you’ll be supporting a system that’s built to deliver under pressure—when it’s properly supported.
Court reporting is more than just typing fast. It’s an intricate dance of accuracy, speed, and expertise. When you value the work we do, we can deliver our best.
Judges play a crucial role in maintaining the integrity and fairness of the legal system. They are expected to uphold the law impartially, treat all parties with respect, and conduct themselves with the highest ethical standards. However, when a judge acts unprofessionally or engages in misconduct, it can undermine public confidence in the judiciary. In California, there is a formal process for addressing judicial misconduct, ensuring accountability and upholding the integrity of the courts. This article explores how judges can be reported for unprofessional conduct on the bench and who is eligible to file such complaints.
Understanding Judicial Misconduct
Judicial misconduct refers to behavior by a judge that violates the standards set by the California Code of Judicial Ethics. Misconduct can occur both on and off the bench and includes a wide range of actions that may compromise a judge’s impartiality, integrity, or professionalism. Examples of judicial misconduct include:
Rude, abusive, or inappropriate treatment of attorneys, litigants, witnesses, jurors, or court staff
Failure to disqualify oneself from a case where impartiality could reasonably be questioned
Communicating with one party in a case without the other party being present (ex parte communication)
Improper use of contempt or sanctions powers
Unreasonable delays in rendering decisions
Criminal conduct, bribery, or unethical behavior outside of the courtroom
Not all undesirable behavior qualifies as misconduct. For instance, an unpopular decision or a judge’s legal error typically does not constitute misconduct unless it is accompanied by evidence of bias, abuse of power, or unethical intent.
Who Oversees Judicial Conduct in California?
The Commission on Judicial Performance (CJP) is the independent state agency responsible for investigating complaints of judicial misconduct and incapacity in California. Established by the California Constitution, the CJP has the authority to discipline judges and court commissioners. Its mission is to protect the public, promote the integrity of the judiciary, and maintain public confidence in the judicial system.
Who Can File a Complaint?
Anyone can file a complaint with the Commission on Judicial Performance. This includes:
Attorneys
Litigants
Court employees
Witnesses
Jurors
Members of the public
Although attorneys are in a unique position to observe judicial behavior, they account for only a small percentage of complaints. For example, in a recent report, only about 3% of complaints were filed by attorneys. Most complaints come from litigants or members of the public who directly interact with the courts.
How to File a Complaint
Complaints about judicial misconduct must be submitted in writing. There are two main ways to file:
Online Complaint Form: The CJP provides an online form that can be filled out and submitted through its official website.
Mailing a Printable Form: A printable version of the complaint form can be downloaded, completed, and mailed to the Commission’s office at:
Commission on Judicial Performance 455 Golden Gate Avenue, Suite 14400 San Francisco, CA 94102
What Information Should Be Included?
When filing a complaint, it is important to include specific and detailed information to help the Commission evaluate the allegations. The complaint should include:
The full name of the judge, court commissioner, or referee
The court in which the judicial officer serves
Case name and number, if applicable
Dates and descriptions of the misconduct
Supporting documents such as transcripts, court orders, or recordings
Names and contact information of any witnesses
Complaints should be factual and avoid speculation or personal attacks. Including as much relevant detail as possible will help the Commission assess the validity of the complaint.
What Happens After a Complaint is Filed?
Once a complaint is submitted, the CJP reviews it to determine whether it falls within its jurisdiction and whether it warrants further investigation. If the complaint is outside the Commission’s jurisdiction (for example, it concerns a federal judge or involves a legal ruling rather than misconduct), it will not be investigated.
If the complaint is within jurisdiction and appears credible, the Commission may conduct a confidential investigation. This process may include reviewing court records, interviewing witnesses, and requesting responses from the judge involved. Depending on the findings, the Commission has several disciplinary options:
Advisory Letter: A confidential letter warning the judge about inappropriate conduct
Private Admonishment: A confidential disciplinary action for more serious misconduct
Public Admonishment or Censure: Public disciplinary actions that serve as formal rebukes
Removal or Retirement: In extreme cases, the Commission can recommend removal from office or forced retirement
All proceedings are confidential unless a public disciplinary action is taken.
Limitations and Challenges
While the CJP plays a vital role in maintaining judicial accountability, critics have pointed out some challenges, including the low percentage of complaints that lead to public discipline and the confidentiality of most proceedings. These factors can create a perception of limited transparency. However, the Commission must balance the need for confidentiality with the rights of judges and the interests of justice.
Conclusion
Judicial integrity is essential for a fair and trustworthy legal system. When judges act unprofessionally, it is important that there is a clear and accessible process for holding them accountable. In California, the Commission on Judicial Performance provides that mechanism. Whether you are an attorney, litigant, court employee, or concerned citizen, you have the right to report judicial misconduct. By understanding the complaint process and providing detailed, factual information, you can help protect the integrity of the courts and ensure that justice is administered with fairness and respect.
We’ve all heard the advice: “Follow your passion!” But for many successful court reporters, passion alone wasn’t the full equation. True fulfillment in this field often comes from discovering where your love for words, precision, and service meets a real-world need.
Passion Meets Purpose
If you’re drawn to the rhythm of language, the art of capturing every word, and the behind-the-scenes role of justice, that passion can spark a lifelong career. But passion without purpose can feel aimless. That’s where the power of court reporting comes in—combining skill with societal impact.
The Purpose Behind the Profession
Court reporting isn’t just a job—it’s a public service. Every day, stenographers uphold the integrity of the justice system by ensuring accurate, real-time records. Your work becomes a vital part of history, providing a voice for those who need it most. When passion meets this kind of purpose, work transforms into a calling.
Discovering Your Strengths as a Stenographer
Start with your strengths. Are you detail-oriented? A fast typist? Do you have a natural ear for dialogue and tone? These are crucial skills in court reporting—and they might come more naturally to you than you think.
Then, reflect on your interests. Do you enjoy being in environments where important things happen? Are you fascinated by law, language, or storytelling? These are signs that the world of stenography might just be your niche.
The World Needs Court Reporters
Look around—there’s a growing need for skilled stenographers in courtrooms, deposition settings, and even broadcast captioning. As technology evolves, the human touch in transcription and real-time captioning remains irreplaceable.
By applying your skills to serve justice, accessibility, and communication, you’re meeting a real-world need in a way only you can. That’s where passion and purpose align—and where your career can truly take off.
Overcoming Challenges
Pursuing a career in court reporting isn’t without its hurdles. Mastering shorthand, passing certification exams, and building speed all take time. There might be moments of doubt or plateaus in progress. But each of these challenges is part of the journey.
Invest in your growth. Find mentors, seek feedback, and practice relentlessly. The path may not be instant, but the reward is long-lasting—and meaningful.
Redefining Success
When you work at the intersection of passion and purpose, you’re not just building a career—you’re creating impact. You’re preserving testimony, ensuring accountability, and making legal processes accessible and transparent. That’s success far beyond a paycheck or a title.
Your Unique Role
The world needs more people who care deeply, listen attentively, and type accurately at 225+ words per minute. No one else brings your exact perspective, your voice, your commitment. That’s your power as a court reporter.
Take the time to explore this field. Shadow professionals. Practice with purpose. Reflect on what draws you to this work. The magic happens when you find that sweet spot where what you love to do meets what the world genuinely needs.
Your career in court reporting could be more than a job—it could be your legacy.
STENOIMPERIUM 
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