Dramatic voiceover:

Coming this fall! Are you sick and tired of unrealistic legal dramas? Do you yearn for a more accurate portrayal of lawyers and the legal system? Do you watch legal movies or shows and constantly scream out things like: “Hey! You can’t try 22 homicide cases in a calendar year!” or “That’s not how the rule against perpetuities really works!” or “Since when can you say a bunch of things that would get you held in contempt of court but save yourself from getting sanctioned or worse by just saying ‘withdrawn’?”

Well, this is the show for you! Watch lawyers spend months producing and reviewing documents and then even more time preparing for a trial only to see it get settled or plea bargained minutes before jury selection. Sit in the room with attorneys as they labor through hours and hours of meetings, conferences and hearings where nothing happens for long stretches of time. Experience what it’s like for young associates trying to make partner at their firm as they give up any semblance of a social life in order to generate billable hours.

Tune into Statements of Fact every weekday—and most weekends—from 9 to whenever your senior partner says you can go home for the next few years. Justice delayed is the status quo.

When it comes to law and pop culture, there’s a reason why dramatic license is more important than a bar card. Screenwriters have to be entertaining first—otherwise, no one will want to watch whatever they’re writing come to life on screen.

While some degree of realism is necessary in order to get viewers to become invested, it is not the primary factor.

“Writers want to tell a story,” says Christine Corcos, a professor at Louisiana State University Paul M. Hebert Law Center and co-author of Law and Popular Culture: Text, Notes and Questions. “In order to do it, they have to have certain things happen. Realism has to take a back seat.”

The litigation process—especially trials—is almost never portrayed accurately on screen, page or stage. There’s good reason for that. Most of the time, it’s mind-numbingly boring. And it takes a long time for any case to even get to trial, let alone have a verdict.

That being said, there are some scenes that accurately reflect what it is to be a trial lawyer.

Michael Asimow, professor of law emeritus at UCLA School of Law and Santa Clara University School of Law and co-author of Law and Popular Culture: A Course Book, brings up a scene in Anatomy of a Murder he says is quite accurate in portraying how lawyers prepare cases for trial and deal with unexpected issues that might pop up in court. The 1959 film, which was adapted from a novel written by a Michigan Supreme Court justice and stars Jimmy Stewart and George C. Scott, culminates with a courtroom scene involving a surprise witness, and what happens gives life to an oft-repeated maxim among trial lawyers.

“The prosecutor is forced into asking the witness a question he doesn’t know the answer to, and it blows up miserably in his face,” Asimow says. “All trial lawyers know that on cross-examination, you should never ask a question you don’t know the answer to. This scene really illustrates that rule.”

On the other hand, a show like the original Perry Mason, which ran on CBS from 1957 to 1966 and starred Raymond Burr as the titular figure, is often held up as perhaps the ultimate exemplar of unrealistic trial lawyering. In court, Mason would always figure out a way to crack the case—whether it was breaking someone on the stand or unveiling exculpatory evidence at a crucial time. Essentially, he would serve as both detective and defense lawyer before forcing the judge or jury to render a verdict so obvious and necessary as a result of his revelations that he might as well have been the trier of fact too. In real life, these so-called Perry Mason moments are rare and almost never happen.

But the TV series was true-to-life in one sense.

“There was a lot of accuracy in terms of procedure,” says Corcos, pointing out that the author who wrote the novels the show was based on was heavily involved with the production and wanted as much accuracy as possible. Corcos adds that the adversarial but congenial relationship between the prosecution and defense was more realistic than in later shows, which often depict them as bitter enemies who would do almost anything to beat the other.

“Even though the prosecutor wants to win, he is extremely honest and doesn’t do anything unethical, which is not necessarily the impression you would get on legal shows today,” she adds.

Other aspects of the litigation process have proven to be fertile ground for realism. Shannon Mader, of counsel at Gibson Dunn & Crutcher and Asimow’s co-author on the first and second editions of Law and Popular Culture: A Course Book, points out a scene in The Verdict where the character played by James Mason is preparing a witness for a deposition. While the movie as a whole is quite unrealistic—for instance, the lead character, played by Paul Newman, rejects a settlement offer without conferring with his client, a potentially serious ethical violation—Mader says the witness preparation scene accurately portrays, for the most part, how lawyers prep witnesses to testify.

“You can’t tell a witness what to say, and you obviously can’t tell them to lie,” Mader says. “But you can coach them on attitude. You can get them motivated and ready to testify. And that’s what Mason’s character does—he gets his witness motivated.”

The deposition itself can also be a source of authenticity. Adam Perlman, a lawyer and writer/executive producer for the Showtime series Billions, remembers a scene he wrote involving stars Paul Giamatti and Damian Lewis.

“The scene takes a dry legal concept—damages —and unpacks what it means to admit damage,” says Perlman, a former associate at Cahill Gordon & Reindel who also has written for The Good Wife and The Newsroom.

“It turns on the idea that the billionaire, in order to win his lawsuit, would have to admit that he had been damaged, only his pride could not admit it,” he says. “So his entire case falls apart on the plain English meaning of the word, which somewhat differs from the legal meaning.”

Perlman adds that he wanted to create a “gotcha” moment that was more realistic than a typical Perry Mason moment.

“‘Gotcha’ moments do happen in real life, but it’s usually a small moment where you catch someone in a lie and the jury is able to see them for who they are,” he says. “In this case, the billionaire realizes he’s not going to get the victory he thought he would. The nuances of depositions turn on character and psychology. The best shows have moments like these, and in real life, the best courtroom lawyers are able to utilize those things.”

Another good source of inspiration? Statutes—especially if there’s something that can be used to ramp up the drama or conflict.

Ted Humphrey, who was a writer on The Good Wife and is executive producer for The Lincoln Lawyer series on Netflix, recalls how he was able to structure an entire episode of the former around a criminal procedure law in Illinois where the state must take a defendant arrested without a warrant before a judge within 48 hours.

“The audience has a passion for procedural elements of the law, so you can build drama around that,” says Humphrey, who is working on the next season of The Lincoln Lawyer, which completed filming in June.

On the flip side, a movie like A Civil Action can reflect the cynical side of being a trial lawyer. The movie, based on a true story about a high-profile environmental contamination class action in Massachusetts in the 1980s, ends with the plaintiffs losing and the crusading plaintiffs lawyer in financial ruin. The defendants eventually have to pay, and the plaintiffs lawyer eventually recovers. But “the moral of a movie like that is that, sometimes, no one wins,” Humphrey says. “Sometimes those giant cases benefit no one—except maybe the lawyers.”

For Asimow, the most realistic scenes in pop culture often revolve around legal ethics—or sometimes the lack thereof. He points out that writers can generate compelling conflicts through ethics rules—especially surrounding the duty of confidentiality or how far lawyers can go to zealously defend their clients.

“The Practice and L.A. Law were really good about showing ethical conflicts,” he says. “For instance, what problems can arise by knowingly eliciting false testimony? Or when you can disclose a client’s plans to commit crimes? These issues really are timeless.”

Ethical dilemmas are not limited to potential malfeasance. Jill Goldsmith, who served as a writer on The Practice from 1998-2001, recalls an episode she wrote in which Ellenor Frutt felt strongly that her client needed drug treatment rather than prison, but she could not work out a deal with the prosecutor and had to take her chances at trial.

“There was one case I had tried, and my client was charged with being a dealer, but he was just an addict. To drive home that point, in the middle of the trial, he fell asleep on my notebook—I had to pry it out from under him,” recalls Goldsmith, who was a public defender in Chicago for seven years before serving as a writer on shows like NYPD Blue, Law & Order, Ally McBeal and Boston Legal.

She adds that oftentimes, defense lawyers are faced with this dilemma and have no choice but to take their chances at trial because prosecutors might overcharge defendants or not want to pursue alternatives to incarceration.

“It’s a little more dramatic on the show, but similar to what happened. In Ellenor’s closing, she said something to the effect of ‘underneath the visible wreckage, there’s a human being.’ She was trying to speak to the jury and get them to understand that defendants can be victims of tragic circumstances, and it doesn’t mean they did what the state accused of them of.”

Another area of legal practice where the truth is often stranger than fiction is the business of law.

For instance, while Mader cautions that a show like Better Call Saul is “not the most realistic,” one area the show gets right is the everlasting hustle for clients and business.

“When Kim becomes outside counsel for a bank, I thought that was pretty accurate,” Mader says, explaining a subplot from the series in which co-lead character Kim Wexler, Saul Goodman’s love interest and later wife, woos the bank’s general counsel and wins them as a client, taking them from her old firm. “Whether you’re at a big firm, a medium firm or a solo practice, you have to get clients and get your hours in.”

Marc Guggenheim concurs, adding that when he was co-creating Eli Stone, a series that ran on ABC from 2008-2009, he drew on his own experiences as a large-firm lawyer. Guggenheim, who worked at Hutchins, Wheeler & Dittmar in Boston for about five years, left for Hollywood and went on to write for The Practice and serve as a producer on Law & Order, CSI: Miami and In Justice. Eli Stone was a surrealistic comedy-drama about a lawyer who has prophetic visions as a result of an inoperable brain aneurysm—with recurring George Michael theme music heard only by the main character and visible to the audience. The singer himself made guest appearances on the show.

When it came to showing how lawyers billed their clients, no fantasy elements were needed. “Eli Stone captured the ennui I felt about representing large corporate clients for billable hours,” he says. “When we meet Eli, he’s a commercial litigator, just like I was.”

Other elements of law firm culture include dealing with internal politics, getting promoted and encountering difficult personalities—themes that resonate with most viewers, regardless of whether they have any knowledge about the law or experience with law firms.

“Viewers want to see good stories; they don’t want to see a show were everyone gets along,” Corcos says.

Even in movies or shows where it seems like the only thing that’s accurate is that the lawyers are dressed professionally, there can be tiny slivers of truth that shine through.

In that vein, Suits—a show that ran on USA for nine seasons and was spun off into Suits: LA, a series that aired for one season on NBC—probably best epitomizes that statement. Jessica Silbey, a professor at Boston University School of Law and co-author with Asimow of the third edition of Law and Popular Culture: A Course Book, calls Suits “the most ridiculous law show because they are always breaking the rules and scheming—it’s more a buddy heist show than a law show.”

Suits’ premise revolves around con man Mike Ross, who impersonates a lawyer and works for a top law firm under the protection and mentorship of one of the firm’s top partners, Harvey Specter.

However, Silbey points out that she found the character of Donna, a legal secretary, and her relationship with Harvey to be reflective of how firms really work.

“Harvey’s relationship with his secretary, Donna, is to me something that is fundamental and important about great lawyers—they almost always have a trusted and brilliant legal secretary/assistant who gets so much done behind the scenes and without whom they could not do their work,” Silbey says. “In all the legal situations I have worked (law firms and courthouses), the secretary to the boss (or to me!) was an essential partner in the pursuit of good outcomes in law.”

Corcos, meanwhile, brings up the sitcom Night Court, which originally ran on NBC from 1984-1992 and was recently rebooted. While comedies often rely on legal tropes that are played for laughs or exaggerated to absurd lengths, they can be grounded in some degree of realism.

For instance, she points out that writers refused to portray Judge Harold T. Stone (Harry Anderson) as a typical “hang ’em high” judge or a jaded burnout. Instead, his character was more nuanced and hewed close to how a lot of real judges are.

“In Night Court, you have a judge that tries to do justice without being draconian,” she says. “It’s a very interesting show about the power a judge has to understand the people who come before him and apply the law. It’s an unusual show in that way.”

She also points out that otherwise ridiculous premises, like first-year student Elle Woods in Legally Blonde defending a client in a murder case and the judge in The Untouchables switching out juries in the middle of Al Capone’s trial as being somewhat grounded in fact. For instance, the real judge in the Capone case did switch jury pools—but not the seated jury.

And as for Woods, there is a rule in Massachusetts that allows law students to practice with the supervision of a licensed attorney. The rule applies to law school clinics and governs 2Ls and 3Ls—not a first-year like Woods. That’s assuming you can accept the premise that a murder defendant would go with being defended by a law student in the first place.

“Think about the plausibility of that,” she says. “Is it likely that a first-year could be carrying out examinations in a courtroom and the lead counsel would just be sitting back? That’s odd. But because she’s the star, we’re watching this and think ‘OK, that’s fine; we just let that happen.’ We have to suspend disbelief.”

Asimow, meanwhile, states that many of the most popular movies and scenes used in law school classes—such as the cross-examination scenes in My Cousin Vinny, the Socratic method scenes in The Paper Chase and the Rule Against Perpetuities scene in Body Heat—are completely unrealistic. For one thing, trial lawyers rarely nail witnesses as well as Vinny Gambini did to several of the prosecution’s witnesses.

Instead, Asimow points out that the more accurate scene is the one where Gambini has his hairdresser girlfriend, Mona Lisa Vito, qualified as an expert in auto mechanics, in the sense that anyone with a certain degree of relevant knowledge and experience can be called on to give expert testimony. The Body Heat scene is also inaccurate, he says, because that form of the rule was not in effect in Florida at the time the movie was shot.

As for the infamous Socratic method scenes in The Paper Chase, Asimow states that it was accurate in the past, but no longer. “If you bully and harass students today, you’d get fired,” he says. “We don’t use the Socratic method to bully students anymore. We don’t do the ‘look to your left and right—one of you won’t be here by the end of law school’ thing anymore. Our goal is to keep people in law school and provide them with the tools to succeed in law. But it’s entertaining.”

Entertainment often forces writers to truncate the timeline and eliminate the long lag time that characterizes much of the justice system.

“So much of law is a waiting game, disappointingly so,” Silbey says. “And in these shows and films, time is at the filmmaker/showrunner’s discretion and really is their main mechanism for telling a story: pacing, slowing down, speeding up, climaxes, etc.”

Humphrey agrees and adds that one of his biggest frustrations when watching a legal show or movie is how someone would commit a murder and face trial almost immediately. On The Good Wife, for instance, Humphrey says he was proud of how they tried to account for the passage of time. “From the first day of Season One until the beginning of the final season, the thing I brought was a certain verisimilitude of timing,” he says. “The timing always made sense. We would have entire episodes in settlement conferences or depositions or pretrial conferences. Or there would be a verdict in the opening scene, and then we’d look back. The timing always worked.” He notes his current show, The Lincoln Lawyer, often employs fast forwards or time jumps to make things seem more accurate.

And no matter how unrealistic things might be, the audience is always willing to suspend disbelief as long as there’s a compelling, entertaining story.

“If you tell the audience, ‘These are the rules: You can take this potion, and it only lasts for three hours, and you are invisible,’ the audience will accept that and get invested,” Humphrey says. “Law is the same way. The audience will go along for the ride. It speaks to this evergreen fascination people have with the law.”