Roy Graham: When you are facing a jury, you just need to be yourself

Jury trials can be exhausting. The great trial lawyers live by one rule: be yourself.

Seminars will tell you what to wear, how to stand, which color tie gives the “right” impression.

My take? Dress and appearance are overrated. Juries want someone genuine—it’s not a fashion show.

If your seminar spent more than an hour on wardrobe choices, ask for a refund.

Trials often turn on one phrase, one look, one pause.

In criminal cases, walking the fine line between exposing mistakes and showing respect to the “Good Police Officer” is everything. Do it wrong and you lose credibility; do it right and the whole case shifts.

My favorite question to start a cross-examination, when it fits, is simple: “Have you misled the jury in any way?” We’re told never to ask what we don’t already know—but that’s impossible. No officer likes the question, but it starts a real conversation. It wakes up the jury.

I once watched a colleague who fancied himself the Indiana Matlock—and sometimes he was. In a child-murder trial, after the prosecutor needlessly berated a witness, my colleague stood, took a few steps forward, said nothing, smiled at the jury, shrugged at the prosecutor, and sat down. Perfect restraint. That moment turned the case. The verdict: not guilty.

Sometimes saying nothing is the strongest move you can make.

Inexperienced lawyers often feel compelled to cross-examine every witness. Sometimes the strongest cross is no cross at all.

Another lesson came from a prosecutor—now a fine judge—who did the shortest voir dire I’ve ever heard. Reviewing her case for appeal, I listened to the audio. She picked a jury in five minutes. Her only question: “You want to be a juror, why or why not?” Elegant. Efficient. She won handily.

Then there was a defense lawyer who rarely tried cases but had one unforgettable moment. During closing, addressing a trooper’s padded testimony, he pointed at her and said quietly, “She is the Great Exaggerator.” Ten minutes later, the jury came back: not guilty.

When I asked where he found the courage, he laughed. “My mentor told me, ‘Be yourself.’ So I told the jury, ‘Bear with me—you’re about to see a side you haven’t seen yet,’ and I let it fly.” His Southern accent came alive, his hands carved the air, and the jury never looked away.

That’s the real secret. The best lawyers aren’t performers—they’re people the jury believes.

Because the moment you stop trying to act like someone else, the jury will see right through you.•

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Roy Graham has practiced family and criminal law in Indiana for more than 35 years. A former bakery owner and percussion student at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music, he writes the column “More than Law,” exploring life, law, and what they reveal about each other.