When court's in session, it's a very formal affair. You've got a judge up in a flowing, black robe, who must be called "your honor." There are all these arcane rules, procedures and terms that all the players are tossing around throughout the proceedings.

And, in the middle of all that, there's a surprising amount of cussin'. Or, if not an outright curse, certainly plenty of things you wouldn't say in polite company.

On my very first time in court, as a juror on a child molestation case, I remember a public defender questioning a young witness about whether she'd "developed." The young woman didn't understand what she meant, so the PD tried posing it again, three or four times, before giving up on her attempts to be diplomatic.

"Did you have boobs at the time?" she asked.

The witness, as well as several spectators, broke out with a case of the giggles.

In the recent trials I've started covering, the courtroom has gone considerably more blue. This presents many unintentionally light moments amid otherwise heavy testimony, when you have eloquent attorneys pausing, clearing their throats and making finger quotes in the air as they relate that someone said the defendant was "a f--ing a------."

Last week, in The People vs. Williamson and Williamson, defense attorney Milton Grimes was cross-examining Arnoldo Ostorga, a friend of Filemon Ramos, the victim. Grimes, an immaculately dressed, lively presence in the courtroom, was quite interested in a mutual display of the middle finger between the victim's family and the accused, Alvaro Williamson. The two sides allegedly flipped each other off in the incident that led to Ramos' untimely death in front of his Arleta home.

"I flip the old-fashioned way, with that middle finger up in the air," Grimes said, flashing the gesture. "But you showed us something different."
"I haven't done it," Ostorga said.
"Could you show me?" Grimes asked.

Ostorga offered a little embarrassed grin, looked around as if asking permission, then sheepishly flipped off the jury.

"Would you like to describe it?" Judge Ronald S. Coen asked Grimes.

"You do it the old-fashioned way, too," Grimes proclaimed.

That moment of levity aside, Ostorga stowed the digit in question, then went back to describing how the accused shot his friend in the head.