Take the same case and hand it to two different trial lawyers.

Same evidence. Same judge. Same facts.

One wins the verdict. The other loses it.

That shouldn't happen if verdicts came down to evidence alone. And we'd all like to believe they do — that's the whole promise of the system. But cases are decided by how the argument gets built — what questions get asked, what the jury is led to feel, and when the argument actually gets made.

I've spent 25 years in sales, and I've come to believe the exact same thing is true of deals.

Because I keep watching sellers walk into presentations with the truth on their side — real problems, real risks, a solution that genuinely fixes them — and walk out with nothing.

Here's a recent one.

The Deal That Should Have Closed

A seller I know pitches IT services to a company that's clearly doing well. They're spending millions on billboards you can see across the state. They're hiring aggressively. Money isn't the issue.

He runs a technical evaluation of their systems, and it comes back ugly. Security exposure, infrastructure problems, more people with admin access than anyone could explain. Real risk, documented in black and white.

He presents it all to the prospect. And the prospect agrees with him — on every finding, every risk, every recommendation. Nodding the entire way through.

The solution was just over $2,000 a month, which wasn't much for a company pouring hundreds of thousands into growth.

And he still loses the deal.

When he told me about it, he said what every seller in this position says: "They need this, badly. I know I'm right about this."

He was. Which is what makes it worth talking about. He had the evidence. He lost the verdict.

Evidence Matters — Just Less Than We'd Like

Now — I'm not saying evidence doesn't matter.

A lawyer with no evidence loses. A seller with no real problem to solve has nothing to argue. Evidence gets you into the fight.

Unfortunately, it just doesn't win it.

We want to believe verdicts come down to facts — that a jury is a scale, and whoever stacks more truth on their side walks out with the win. It's a comforting idea. But a jury isn't a scale. It's twelve human beings. And human beings decide on emotion, then justify with logic. In that order, every time.

So evidence has a job. Its job is to justify the decision the argument made the jury feel. That's why the same exhibits win in one lawyer's hands and lose in another's.

And I'd bet there's a direct correlation between how good a trial lawyer is and how much of their craft is built around that.

Buyers work exactly the same way.

That prospect looked at billboards and new hires and felt growth. He looked at $2,000 a month of protection and felt an expense. Nobody made him feel what those documented risks were costing him — his people, his time, his exposure. So the risks stayed facts. And the facts sat in a drawer while the money went to what he wanted to spend it on.

His evidence was real. It just never got a case built around it.

Where the Case Is Actually Won

Watch a good lawyer question a witness, and you'll notice the questions aren't all doing the same job.

Some pull information — things the lawyer and jury genuinely need to know. But that's the smallest part of it, because a good lawyer already knows most of the answers before they ever ask.

Some questions exist to get testimony on the record — not for what it tells the lawyer, but so it's there to be used in the closing argument weeks later.

Some are asked to lock a witness into an answer, so when a contradicting claim shows up later, the lawyer doesn't have to argue against it. The witness's own words do the work.

Some walk the jury toward a conclusion step by step — because a conclusion a juror reaches on their own beats any conclusion a lawyer hands them at the end.

And yes — some are asked purely to make the room feel something. To let the jury sit with an answer for a moment before moving on.

But every question is deliberate. Every question is a move in the case. That's what separates questioning from conversation.

In sales, that questioning phase is discovery. And when it's run right, your questions are doing the same jobs.

Some gather facts you actually need. Some get the prospect to say the cost out loud — what it's costing when things break, how long it's been going on, what they've tried — because a documented risk becomes a felt one the moment they hear themselves describe it.

Some lock in answers you'll come back to: ask who weighs in on a decision like this in week one, and when four new names surface in week five, you're not scrambling for a rebuttal — you're just returning to their own words. And some walk the prospect to a conclusion they reach themselves, which is the only version they'll fully trust.

This deal died in discovery — well before the presentation — because the right questions were never asked. I don’t mean the technical ones. I mean the ones that would have helped the seller understand how the prospect was actually going to make this decision.

The Verdict Should Be Boring

I judged a national sales contest for IT service sellers a few months ago — the top closers in the country, closing at 68, 72, 76 percent.

Not one of them wins on technical brilliance. Two of the three didn't even come from tech sales. The same correlation I'd bet on with lawyers shows up right there in the close rates: the better the seller, the more of their process is built around how people actually decide — not how they should.

They win the way good lawyers win: they build the case early, question by question, so that by the time they present, the prospect has already reached the verdict on their own. The presentation just confirms it.

That's the tell. When the deal is run right, the close is anticlimactic. No arm-twisting, no silver-bullet rebuttal. Just: "Is there any reason not to move forward?"

If your closes feel like courtroom drama — objections flying, you scrambling for the perfect comeback — the problem isn't your closing skills. You're trying to build the case and win it in the same meeting.

Make your case before you present it. The verdict is the easy part.

Adios,

Ray

P.S. — This newsletter covers why the case gets won in discovery. The video covers how to actually run it — the five stages of the process, start to finish, and what each one is responsible for. Watch it here:

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