Imagine this: an elderly woman, Mrs. Wilson, arrives at Meadowvale Grocery for her weekly shopping. She parks her car, steps gingerly toward the cart rack — but the carts there are all old, locked together, and none are available. Instead, in a hurry to grab some fresh produce before the store closes, she sees a lone cart pushed to the side with a bright tag: “BROKEN – DO NOT USE.” Distracted, a bit anxious about walking too far on her sore knees, she grabs that broken cart anyway. As she pushes it toward the entrance, the front wheel locks, the cart stops short, and her body doesn’t. She stumbles forward. Her foot catches on a broken patch of asphalt the store’s maintenance team meant to fix months ago. Before she can catch herself — she falls hard on the concrete. The result: a broken hip, pain she’ll carry for life, therapy, hospital bills, and a grocery-store insurer eager to argue that she was negligent for using a “clearly marked” broken cart. That’s the core narrative. How should you present it in your opening statement? Do you walk the jury through the timeline step by step — 5:07 p.m. arrival, 5:10 p.m. fall, 5:13 p.m. EMS — or do you tell a story that lets jurors feel Mrs. Wilson’s frailty, her rush, her split-second decision, and the store’s choices that put her on the ground? As consultants to litigators, we at Persuadius believe — strongly — that persuasive storytelling in trial almost always requires more than a bare chronology. And importantly, these techniques are not just “plaintiff tricks.” The very same narrative tools are extraordinarily effective for defense teams and complex commercial litigators too.


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