“They’re like caged animals!” Joel Tenenbaum exclaimed to me, describing the attorneys representing the four major record labels who had brought a lawsuit against him. The lawyers in question could be heard just then enjoying a rousing game of poker in a back conference room. “They slink around the courtroom, always prepared to attack, and they never give you eye contact!”
The outburst was a rare flicker of animosity in an otherwise lighthearted conversation about keg parties, girlfriends, and courtroom hijinks. Fourth-year Harvard JD-MBA student Debbie Rosenbaum, who was assisting with Tenenbaum’s defense and occasionally serving as his ad hoc PR manager, made a quip about having had to flirt with a court marshal to get her Blackberry in. “A guy could never pull that off,” Tenenbaum retorted. “Did you tell him you’re into handcuffs?”
Tenenbaum was cracking a lot of jokes, after each of which he would flash a broad, close-lipped smile that lit up his entire face. Such incessant cheer made it hard to register that we were in courtroom two of Boston’s Joe Moakley Federal Courthouse, awaiting a verdict that was all but guaranteed to bankrupt the 25-year old Physics PhD candidate.
Tenenbaum was being sued for illegally downloading and sharing copyrighted songs. Roughly 35,000 similar lawsuits have been filed by the recording industry since 2003, but since most defendants end up settling for a few thousand dollars, Tenenbaum’s case is only the second to have made it to a jury trial.
The attorneys representing the record labels alleged that he downloaded and shared more than 800 songs, although he was only being sued for the 30 songs they could most convincingly prove he downloaded. They had offered to settle with him on multiple occasions—initially for $3,500—but the two parties never came to terms, and Tenenbaum opted instead to fight the charges.
At issue wasn’t whether he did it: after initially trying to claim that his sister and a couple friends had downloaded the songs under his name on a family computer in Providence, Rhode Island, Tenenbaum later admitted responsibility, both in sworn depositions and when he took the stand during day four of his trial. There wasn’t even a question of whether his having downloaded the songs was legal (the “fair use” argument his attorney, Harvard Law School Professor Charles Nesson, had originally hoped to use in his defense, was thrown out by the judge before the trial proceedings even started).
The question was simply how much he should have to pay. The judge instructed the jury to decide whether Tenenbaum’s admitted actions had been willful, and based on that, how much in damages should be awarded to the record labels. Since federal statutory law states that damages can range from $750 to $150,000 per song, that meant that Tenenbaum was about to be made anywhere from $22,500 to $4.5 million poorer.
Why, I wondered, did Tenenbaum seem so sanguine? He didn’t strike me as a zealot for the free digital cause. If he were, then why would he initially have tried to blame others for his actions? And while he’s comfortably well off – his father is a psychiatrist and his mother is a family law attorney – he’s hardly heir to an astronomical fortune that would render any potential damages inconsequential.