How Federal Courtrooms Quietly Favor Prosecutors

In Federal Trials, Certain Advantages Favor the Prosecution

Two Bites at the Apple

Prosecutors deliver both the opening and the final closing arguments, thereby securing the benefit of primacy and recency—psychological effects where people tend to remember best what they hear first (primacy) and last (recency).

It makes sense that the prosecutor opens. But in federal criminal trials, prosecutors also go last. At the end of the trial, the prosecution delivers its closing argument, followed by the defense’s closing. Then the prosecutor gets a final rebuttal.

So the government speaks twice at the end—bookending the defense’s closing argument.

A Reversal of Tradition

For the first two hundred years of America, it was not the norm for prosecutors to speak last. Traditionally, the defense had the final word. The logic was simple and just: because the government bears the burden of proof, the accused should have the last chance to plead for their liberty before a jury delivers its verdict.

Now it is reversed. The prosecution gets the last chance to plead for the defendant’s imprisonment.

A 98 percent conviction rate is part of the DOJ’s propaganda. But what is the justice rate?

The Power of Proximity

There’s another structural advantage: courts seat prosecutors near the jury, often within arm’s reach. It starts with chairs. The government gets the good ones: front and center, by design.

The defense? Relegated to a distant table, off to the side, like a schoolboy who spoke out of turn.

The effect is subtle but powerful: jurors absorb the government’s case as the primary narrative, while the defense appears secondary,  peripheral, a polite guest in a house built for someone else.

So you understand it: The ones trying to put you in prison get to talk first and last. They sit right next to the jury, whispering in their ears like it’s story time – so close that they might as well pass them popcorn.

And your lawyer? He’s parked somewhere in the witness protection section.

That physical placement allows for sustained eye contact, real-time reaction monitoring. The prosecutors smile. They nod. They smirk. They catch a juror’s eye and hold it. They get to build trust without saying a word. 

The jurors are there day after day, backs straight and eyes inevitably drawn to the nearest figures in the room—the prosecutors, perched just a few feet away. And slowly, unknowingly, they pick a side.

The defense is on the other side of the room, behind an invisible wall called Assumed Guilt.

Let’s not pretend this is accidental. The defense is isolated. They shout across the courtroom like trespassers. Marginalized—not merely in argument but in geography. The jurors see the government most. They hear them best. And without realizing it, they begin to believe them first.

The Courtroom as Stage

The procecution table is within feet of the jury. The witnesses, the jury and the prosctuion have a cozy corner – while the defense table is off to the right.

Imagine a room where twelve people must determine a life’s course. On one side sit the agents of the state, mere inches from those twelve minds—conversing in glances, whispering without speaking. On the other, far away, sits the one voice meant to challenge them. But that voice is too distant. Too faint.

The layout is deliberate. A courtroom built like a stage. The lead actors sit close, commanding the audience. The bit players—those who speak of innocence, context, nuance—stand far off. The prosecution narrates the beginning and the end. The defense fills the gaps. And the judge? She’s running the scoreboard for the prosecution.

The message is clear: the trial belongs to the government. The defense is just visiting.

Performance Art for Fascists

The optics are the message: Every part of a federal trial is engineered for conviction. It’s performance art for fascists.

Over 90% of federal cases end in pleas. The system depends on the structural unfairness of the trial.

If you know you won’t get a fair trial—even if you’re innocent—then you’re more likely to take a plea deal. They even threw in a trial penalty – that is you get punished more if you go to trial and lose than if you took a plea deal on the same charge.

So yeah, sure, go to trial. Let me know how that works out.

Frank Parlato

Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist, media strategist, publisher, and legal consultant.

Frank Parlato

Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist, media strategist, publisher, and legal consultant.

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