Going to Trial
Most plaintiffs accept settlement offers out of fear of something they’ve never seen. Here’s what trial actually looks like from inside the courtroom — and why the right lawyer changes everything.
Every week, somewhere in Southern California, a sexual harassment plaintiff accepts a settlement offer they shouldn’t have. Not because the offer was fair. Not because the facts didn’t support a better outcome. But because going to trial felt like stepping off a cliff into darkness — and nobody on their side of the table had actually been there enough times to tell them what was at the bottom.
I’ve tried sexual harassment and employment discrimination cases in Southern California for over thirty years. I’ve sat next to clients through weeks of trial — through opening statements, through brutal cross-examinations, through jury deliberations that felt like they would never end. I know what trial actually looks like from the inside, and I know what it takes to win.
What I’m going to tell you in this article is what most plaintiff’s lawyers can’t tell you, because they’ve never done it enough times to know. Trial is not what you’ve been told to fear. But it is also not what you’ve been told to expect. And the difference between a lawyer who understands that and one who doesn’t will determine what your case is worth.
The anxiety that plaintiffs feel in the weeks and days before trial is real and it is severe. I’ve watched clients become functionally debilitated by it — unable to sleep, unable to work, consumed by imagined catastrophes about what is about to happen to them in that courtroom.
Almost all of that fear comes from the unknown. And here is what makes it worse: in most cases, the lawyer who is supposed to be preparing that client for trial has never been lead counsel on a sexual harassment case in front of a jury. They don’t know what’s coming either. So instead of demystifying trial for their client, they inadvertently amplify the dread — because you cannot prepare someone for something you haven’t experienced yourself.
The anticipation is always the worst part. Once trial starts, each day has a shape, a rhythm, a set of tasks. The unknown becomes known. And known things, even hard ones, can be managed.
What I tell my clients is this: the day trial starts, something shifts. The waiting ends. The imaginary catastrophe gets replaced by the actual work. And the actual work — the rhythm of each trial day, the preparation you’ve done together, the story you’re about to tell — is something we have built together over months. By the time we walk into that courtroom, there is nothing in that room that surprises me. And because nothing surprises me, very little will surprise you.
There is one thing about trial that does not get easier with time, and that plaintiffs almost never anticipate correctly. From the moment you walk into that courthouse, you are being watched. Not just when you’re on the witness stand. All day, every day, for the entire length of trial.
Jurors watch the plaintiff during testimony — not just their own, but everyone else’s. They watch how you react when a witness says something damaging. They watch whether you roll your eyes, whisper to your attorney, show frustration, or look frightened. They are reading you constantly, trying to decide whether they believe you and whether they like you.
The jury looks at the witness, then they look at you. What they see on your face in that moment is part of the evidence they are weighing.
What I teach my clients is a specific discipline: attentive, composed, and unreadable. Not cold. Not indifferent to what is happening. But in control of what you show. When a defense witness says something outrageous, the jury will look at you. If you show anger, the jury sees instability. If you remain calm and confident — the jury understands that you are not afraid of what that witness just said. That you expected it. That your lawyer expected it too.
Every plaintiff comes into the process with a mental image of trial built from courtroom dramas. The climactic cross-examination. The dramatic reveal. The lawyer who destroys a witness with a single devastating question.
That is not how cases are won. In thirty years of trying these cases, I can tell you: the most important moment in any sexual harassment trial is the direct examination of the plaintiff. Not the cross. Not the closing argument. The moment when your lawyer asks you to tell your story — and you tell it.
Here is how a defense attorney quietly destroys credibility — without a dramatic moment. Consider a plaintiff who waited a week before reporting harassment. Watch what happens when she hasn’t been prepared:
Defense attorney: “You say you were sexually harassed on June 1st?”
Plaintiff: “Yes.”
Defense attorney: “And you knew you were supposed to report it right away?”
Plaintiff: “Yes.”
Defense attorney: “Yet you waited seven full days. Isn’t that true?”
Plaintiff: “Well, what happened was—”
Defense attorney: “Move to strike. Non-responsive.”
The jury has now watched the plaintiff try to avoid a simple question. Credibility, quietly, begins to erode.
The answer is not coaching the plaintiff to be evasive. The answer is to get there first. Here is how the same moment looks when the direct examination has been done properly:
Plaintiff’s attorney: “You knew you were supposed to report this right away — and you didn’t report it for a full week. Why not?”
Plaintiff: “I was afraid. I was ashamed. I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. I was terrified that people would think I was lying. And I kept asking myself — what if he does this to someone else, and I stayed quiet?”
Plaintiff’s attorney: “So what did you finally decide to do?”
Plaintiff: “I decided I was not going to let him get away with it and hurt someone else. So I reported it.”
The same fact — a week’s delay — turned from a credibility problem into a window into the plaintiff’s character. The defense attorney still gets to ask about the delay on cross. But the jury has already heard the answer, in the plaintiff’s own voice, before the attack came. The ambush never lands.
Note also what the defense will do regardless: if the plaintiff reports the harassment immediately, the defense attacks her for being money-motivated. If she waits, they attack her for the delay. There is no version of events where the defense does not attack. A trial lawyer’s job is to anticipate every angle of that attack and neutralize it before it arrives.
For the first days of trial, most plaintiffs experience a sustained anxiety that does not fully lift. The courtroom is formal and unfamiliar. The jury is strangers. The defense table is close. Every moment feels observed — because it is.
What I tell every client before we walk in: your job at counsel table is not to react. When a witness says something false, you do not shake your head. When the defense attorney makes an argument that infuriates you, you do not let it show. You remain composed, attentive, and present. Not because you are hiding your feelings — but because composure signals confidence, and confidence signals truth.
Plaintiffs who have been properly prepared eventually reach a point in trial where the anxiety transforms into something else entirely — a clarity, a sense of purpose, a feeling of being exactly where they are supposed to be.
The composure that a well-prepared plaintiff carries into that courtroom is itself a form of testimony. It tells the jury: I am not here because I am weak or looking for an easy payday. I am here because what happened to me was real, I survived it, and I am not afraid to let twelve strangers decide whether it was wrong.
If you are sitting on a settlement offer right now, the question you need to ask is not whether the number feels like enough. The question is whether your lawyer is genuinely prepared to turn it down.
A settlement offer made by a defense team that believes your lawyer will never try the case is not a real offer. It is a number designed to make the problem go away cheaply. That number bears no relationship to what your case is worth in front of a jury.
I turned down $450,000 on behalf of a client whose prior lawyer had dropped her case entirely. We tried it. The jury came back with $1.47 million. That outcome was not luck. It was the result of a lawyer who had been in that situation enough times to know that the offer on the table was not a reflection of what the case was worth — and who was prepared to prove it.
A Recent Result -$1,470,000
Turned down $450,000 at the settlement conference. Tried the case over several weeks. The jury returned a verdict of $1,470,000. The prior attorney had dropped the case.
About the Author
Brian G. Hannemann is a plaintiff’s employment trial lawyer with over thirty years of experience representing victims of sexual harassment and discrimination in Southern California. The Hannemann Law Firm represents plaintiffs only — never employers, never carriers.
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