A congressional hearing is a press event with a witness table. The transcript is public the moment the gavel falls, and the clip that runs on the news that night is rarely the most legally significant thing said — it's the most quotable.
Lawyers prepare witnesses for substance: what's true, what's supported, what holds up under a member's follow-up. That preparation is necessary and it isn't mine to do. What I prepare separately is the fifteen seconds that leaves the room: the plain-language version of the answer that a producer will actually clip, because if you don't shape that sentence, the member asking the question will, and their version is built to make news for them, not to represent your client accurately.
A deposition is adversarial but private until it's filed. A hearing is adversarial and instantly public, often live-streamed, and members ask questions designed for the cameras in the room, not just the record. The same fact pattern that reads as measured in a filing can read as evasive in a 20-second exchange if the witness answers like a lawyer instead of like a person. Preparation has to account for both audiences at once — the record, and the room.
I work from the hearing's public docket and the member's own public statements to anticipate the questions built for a clip, not just the questions built to establish facts. Then I help find the plain-language version of the true answer — not a talking point, not a dodge, just the sentence that's both accurate and survives being played back without its context. Coordinated with counsel throughout, timed to what's already scheduled and already public. Nothing here is lobbying, and nothing here is off the record — a hearing doesn't have an off the record.