I have not been one much for focus upon holidays in this venue, though Memorial Day (each of them) were noted recently. See Happy Memorial Day (April 2022) and A Day to Reflect (May 2022). In keeping with the spirit, today I focus momentarily on the Fourth of July.
The momentous July 4th reminded me of the discussion of America's independence. According to the National Archives, A committee was formed June 10 "to draft a statement of independence for the colonies." It was drafted sometime "between June 11 and 28." and the Lee Resolution was adopted July 2, 1776. On the afternoon of July 4, 1776 "the Declaration was adopted." But, it was not printed until July 5, and entered into the "rough journal of the Continental Congress for July 4th." Only two delegates (John Hancock, President, and Charles Thomson, secretary) signed on July 5.
Only on "July 19th (did) Congress order() that the Declaration be engrossed on parchment" (meaning copied "in a large hand."). It took until August 2, 1776 before John Hancock signed the engrossed copy, followed by others. There were "late signers," and "some delegates . . . never signed the Declaration."
Thus, was the Declaration might be deemed to have occurred June 10, July 5, August 2, or otherwise. But, it is notable it was not signed July 4th, the date we will celebrate soon. It is the day we all associate with independence from Great Britain. We call it "Independence Day." However, that was essentially a day of a verbal conclusion, or decision, or endorsement. Does it matter what day it is signed? Does it matter what day it was engrossed?
This historical curiosity came to mind recently when I read a decision from the Florida First District Court in Barnes v. State of Florida, 1D22-1663 (June 6, 2022). The case involved a petition for writ of certiorari, one of the "extraordinary writs" that finds its way into use when one is seeking relief from an appellate court in an instance not yet ripe for appeal. See Writ Protection as Opposed to Appeal (July 2017) and Reweighing Evidence (November 2017), and A Law Student (May 2018).
The petitioner (Barnes) asked the appellate court to "to quash an oral ruling" made by the trial judge. This ruling concluded he is "competent to proceed" to trial. It sounds like an interesting legal issue, but the Court dispatched the case succinctly. It "dismiss(ed) the petition because . . . (it) cannot review an oral ruling by certiorari." Perhaps like a voice vote on July 4, 1776, that required thereafter a writing and signature?
The Court pointed the parties to the Florida Rules of Appellate Procedure, and reminded that "a petition for a writ of certiorari must be filed within thirty days of 'rendition of the order to be reviewed.” In addition, another rule provides that “[a]n order is rendered when a signed, written order is filed with the clerk of the lower tribunal." Thus, the action of voicing a conclusion is not "rendered" in this context.
The Court noted other deficiency, which it said would lead it to dismiss the petition even if there had been a signed order. However, the real point seems to be that the absence of a written order is fatal to review by petition for this extraordinary writ.
The totality of the decision reminds of another discussion in My Fish Would not Start (June 2022) and more recently in Is there a Doctor in the House (June 2022). Legislatures can define words specifically. Similarly, courts can draft rules and rely on the definitions therein for subjects such as "rendition." Having done so, courts can follow such a definition in determining whether relief is or is not appropriate in a particular case. The decision in Barnes reminds us of that, and of the importance of knowing not only the law but the rules as well.
Finally, whatever day you deem "Independence Day," I hope you have (had) a safe and prosperous holiday. As I reflect on the turmoil that exists throughout so much of this planet, I am grateful for this imperfect, sometimes tumultuous, and yet so far better than the rest country, in which I am blessed to live.
