Michael T. Brody, co-chair of Jenner & Block.

I hope this column finds you healthy, safe, and connected to others.

As we are into the second month of the so-called new normal of working remotely, communicating with family, colleagues, and clients through internet-based video conferences, and dealing with uncertain court schedules, we are all trying to figure out how the social distancing meshes with the business of the courts and our legal practices.

In the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit, outward appearances are unchanged. The court has not cancelled or rescheduled arguments, and the clerk's office remains open. Yet, there are changes. The Seventh Circuit is hearing arguments by telephone. As before, the court will record the audio of its arguments and post the recordings on its website, but that is the only means of public access to arguments as the courtroom is closed. In-person mediations have been rescheduled as telephone conferences. Although the clerk's office remains open, it will no longer accept paper copies of most filings and has implemented its "Continuity of Operations Plan" by which court staff may perform their work duties remotely.

The outward appearance of judicial normalcy should not conceal the human costs of the COVID-19 virus. For many of our neighbors, colleagues and family members, things are far from normal. Some are sick and more are newly financially insecure. Schools are closed, businesses are shuttered, and people are out of work. The "new normal" is anything but normal.

One recent Seventh Circuit decision, although hardly noteworthy for its place in the development of the law, is good reminder of this difference between the outward appearance of a case and more troubling issues that sometimes lurk beneath the surface. Even a case that presents a simple legal issue that may be easily resolved without heavy lifting may implicate an important problem with far-reaching consequences. The outward appearance of a case may obscure the complexity of the problem and its human consequences. Appellate courts decide abstract issues of law, but their decisions, and the work of lawyers who appear in the courts, are profoundly human, as are the challenges that many of our colleagues and neighbors now face.

The case, Lord v. Beahm, 952 F.3d 902 (7th Cir. 2020), is an unremarkable prisoner's rights case.  Plaintiff, Levi Lord, is an inmate in the Wisconsin prison system. After a prison guard told Lord that she would write him up for a disciplinary violation, Lord stated that he possessed a razor blade and intended to kill himself. Later, a guard went to his cell, ordered him out, and observed Lord had minor scratches treatable with a gauze bandage. Lord sued the prison guards under Section 1983, alleging they acted with deliberate indifference to the material risk to his life by not responding faster to his threat. The district court entered summary judgment for the Defendants, and the Seventh Circuit affirmed. Even considering the factual record in the matter most favorable to Lord, the Seventh Circuit concluded that Lord's threat was an insincere call for attention, and the prison's response was not a civil rights violation. The court did not appoint counsel for Lord and decided the case without oral argument. The court affirmed the district court because "Lord (thankfully) did not hurt himself and that reality leaves nothing for a jury to decide."

There are numerous similar civil rights actions brought and resolved in the federal district courts, and appealed to the Courts of Appeals in every circuit, every year. Many, like Lord's, are decided quickly and quietly as the wheels of the judicial process continue to turn.  Despite the routine nature of this case, the Seventh Circuit decided the case in published opinion, and it appears to have done so to make an additional point about a serious issue that bubbled under the surface of Lord's case.

After resolving Lord's claim, the court explained "prison suicide is very real and very serious." The court cautioned not to read too much into its rejection of Lord's case. It explained that future cases involving threats of prison suicide "may entail a fact pattern nowhere near as straightforward" as Lord claimed. Citing statistics maintained by the U.S. Department of Justice, the court explained that the "reality" of prison suicide "is not hypothetical, for inmate suicide [is] on the rise in our nation's prisons." Those statistics showed suicide in state and federal prisons reached a 15-year high in 2016. The court cautioned that "it suffices to remind the Eighth Amendment prohibits prison officials from imposing wanton or unnecessary pain by ignoring an inmate who, whether because of major mental illness or some other serious mental need, goes beyond voicing an idle threat of suicide." The court affirmed because the Plaintiff fortunately fell on "the opposite side of the spectrum."

There is an important lesson in this case. Judges and lawyers can become callous to the human consequences of the cases they litigate or decide. While not every case presents a serious harm, and Lord's case fortunately did not, many cases do. Even in rejecting Lord's claim, the Seventh Circuit's decision reminds us of the humanity behind case names and pleadings and public officials and courts should not be complacent as to those consequences.

At this time, as always, many of our colleagues and neighbors are suffering. The veneer of normalcy that settles over our lives—even in this new "normal," which is anything but normal—makes it easy for us to ignore suffering unless it is right in front of us. The court's opinion—even in an objectively inconsequential case—is an important reminder of the importance of what we do, who we do it for, and all who support us in our professional lives.