In the world of court transcripts, where the mundane meets the bizarre — occasionally — lies a
realm where scopists embark on adventures sometimes that are akin to the game of “Never
Have I Ever.” Did you ever play that game growing up?

Here’s a BTS of the transcript. Ready?

Picture this: A defendant, determined to outwit the system, adds in major complications for me
by weaving his own let’s call it “G” language in with English, his first language.

Instead of the English word “twenty,” he introduces us to the highly cryptic G language version,
“twigenty.” When I first heard it, I played the audio again and again and thought to myself, “Is he
speaking Italian?” Not quite.

This defendant, trying his level best to prove that his intelligence is far superior to any
government official secretly listening to his calls, peppered his speech with the letter ‘g,’
rendering his recorded jail phone calls a confusing puzzle for the uninitiated, namely me.

However, the veteran government official helped me out four lines down by interpreting every
single word in high detail. After all, according to him, he spent dozens and dozens of hours
listening to the defendant’s G language.

Needless to say, I secretly giggled and then began cackling at how silly this was and how
desperate this made the defendant look to the official, the jury, his legal advisor, the judge, and
anyone within earshot, including myself.

This official recited every word in English with a very flat, unamused, monotone delivery that
made me laugh for the next 40 pages of this “Never Have I Ever” transcript.

As a scopist, tasked with the very serious duty of transcribing the sometimes untranscribable
spoken word, I found myself thrust into eight hours of deciphering gibberish. Each ‘twigenty’
(twenty) and ‘phugone’ (phone) added a layer of intrigue to an already quirky transcript full with
made-for-TV content. Did I mention the defendant was representing himself? It was like
decoding a secret language spoken by criminals cosplaying kindergarten children during recess.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, there was a measure of fun that I had in all this madness. I
contacted the court reporter to ask how on earth she wanted me to handle these words. Her
answer was simple, phonetically and leave a check at each place. After some more giggles, I
did just that.

Each stroke of the keyboard, in that section, felt like unraveling a cryptic clue in a story that
would lead the victim of this crime to hopefully getting justice and prove to this short-sighted
criminal that they weren’t as clever as they thought they were with, fingers crossed, a jury
returning a guilty verdict.

The defendant’s linguistic game transformed a routine job into one of my favorite “Never Have I
Ever” transcripts.

Oftentimes while scoping, challenges are not hurdles to overcome but rather opportunities for
creativity and amusement. Whether it’s deciphering a defendant’s linguistic games or navigating
the complexities of legal jargon, punctuation, style, and format, every transcript is a story waiting
to be told by the skilled record keepers, court reporters, with us, scopists and proofreaders, by
their side.

So the next time you find yourself knee-deep in a sea of gibberish — transcripts or life —
remember this: Embrace the quirks, enjoy the eccentricities, and let the curiosity and
commitment to a well-kept record guide you through the world of scoping. After all, in the game
of “Never Have I Ever,” every transcript is a wild card waiting to be played.

If you haven’t already checked out our free assessment to determine whether or not you are up for all of the gibberish, eccentrics, and legal jargon of scoping, click on the link and find out for yourself today.

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