On trial, online

Problems with llamas? Snoogling? Orange juice? The Web site I'm Right You're Wrong provides a humorous forum for mediating life's little annoyances.

By GRAHAM BRINK, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published May 23, 2002

[Times photo: Brandon Jeffords]

So your roommate insists on keeping a llama in your home. Or maybe your significant other flirts with your friends. Dad too strict with curfew?

Now you can sue 'em -- virtually, that is.

The great American pastime of "sue thy neighbor" has come to the online world in the form of the fledgling Web site I'm Right You're Wrong. The humorous site's founders wanted to "revolutionize the way we fight" and to "provide the global arena for the resolution of contemporary human conflict." With 10,000 hits a month, they seem well on their way.

"Think of it as dispute resolution with doses of Judge Judy and Jerry Springer," said co-founder Louis Pizante, who graduated from New York University in 1998 with a law degree and a master's degree in business administration. "Many of these cases are more relevant to more people than what happens in real courtrooms."

The idea sprang from a backyard barbecue in New York City with Pizante, his law school buddy Elliot Karathanasis and Kerry Kennedy, a Harvard Law School graduate. The trio had enjoyed a few drinks and was "thinking freely," Pizante said.

Kennedy was lamenting the hardships of a long-distance relationship with her boyfriend in California. Karathanasis argued that Kennedy didn't have it so bad. Pizante was caught in the middle trying to mediate.

From there they thought of starting a serious online mediation site like Cybersettle, which settles insurance claims. The idea soon swung toward the less traditional. The Internet didn't seem to have an outlet for life's little annoyances, big breakups and just plain silly disputes.

I'm Right You're Wrong (www.imright.com) hit the virtual world last summer. Since then, the masses have battled over who should do the dishes, the proper etiquette for dating a brother's girlfriend and whether it's okay for a boyfriend to steal his ex-girlfriend's tent to court his new flame.

"All very serious stuff," as Pizante said.

To get started, an aggrieved party needs little more than an e-mail account and enough moxie to file a case that thousands of people could read. Plaintiffs choose a court -- lovers, friends, roommate, ex's, family -- to suit the issue.

Then @Ernie, the site's virtual attorney, helps plaintiffs write a short description of the dispute and the laws they think were broken, such as "Thou shalt not steal a friend's boyfriend" or "Farm animals don't belong inside the apartment." Like the site, @Ernie's services are free.

A "smoking gun" section lets a plaintiff really stick it to the defendant with evidence. One wife claimed to have Polaroid pictures of her husband drinking out of the orange juice container. Plaintiffs can also choose witnesses to testify on their behalf.

Next comes jury selection, a process that would make the most open-minded appellate judge cringe. Plaintiffs can limit who sits on the jury to those with some firsthand knowledge of the case, like family members or the entire 10th-grade class of Your Town High School.

In the ultimate in jury stacking, plaintiffs can also limit those who vote to regular I'm Right users who fit a certain profile, say, boys between 15 and 17 years old whose parents denied them their driver's licenses, or women who think their ex-husbands resemble wallowing hogs. Others elect to have all site visitors vote on the case.

When the paperwork is completed, the site sends a subpoena called a "supe-mail" to the defendant via e-mail. If the defendant refuses to respond, the case never makes it onto the site for the public to see.

Defendants who pick up the gauntlet get to fire back with their side of the story, bolstered by as many witnesses as they can muster. They also get their shot at stacking the jury.

Cases last up to a month, with the jurors weighing in with deliberations and then a vote to determine who's right and who's wrong.

Some combatants win over jurors using legal arguments, deftly twisting the definitions of "possession" and "intent" to suit their needs. Others use the time-tested defense of denial. Others admit wrongdoing and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.

Take the case of "Need loving vs. Come and get it," the Shakespeare-esque story of soon-to-be-wed Cledwym and Steve. She sued her intended for failing to pay enough attention to her on their last visit. He had not fulfilled the required 12 hours of "snoogling," she argued.

Steve countered with the "I'm a guy" defense but vowed to do better by the "single most beautiful woman in the history of the universe." The voters sided with Steve, giving him 55 percent of the vote and saying no one can snoogle for 12 hours a day.

Regardless, Steve assuaged his betrothed by sending an I'm Right e-pology card and suggesting a pair of red fur handcuffs from the site's Bailiff Boutique. The boutique sells makeup gifts, including roses, chocolates and various naughty goods, like those handcuffs.

Still holding a grudge? Send your unfaithful lover, backstabbing friend or anal roommate a "Loser" T-shirt or "Eat My Shorts" poster.

Unhappy endings are often the norm in lovers and ex's court. The cases deteriorate into an online version of a Jerry Springer episode, with antics that would get both parties held in contempt in a real courtroom.

Some deal with mature content not printable in a family newspaper. (Think complaints about thin walls and loud late-night activities.) The titles often speak for themselves: "She slept with my boyfriend vs. We were drunk" and "You stole my man vs. You cannot stop true love."

Family court presents a forum to settle life's truly weighty problems. Stinky, bullying brothers have a showdown with shower-hogging, CD-stealing sisters. A son complains of losing 20 pounds because his mom never makes him breakfast. A mother sends a subpoena to get her son to pull up his baggy pants.

One daughter sued her stepdad for not wearing a shirt at the dinner table. He said it was his house and he'd do what he wanted. The jurors spoke loud and clear: Hairy dad, put on a shirt!

"See, it's not just about the fight," Pizante said. "It can really help solve important problems."

The site has settled about 1,300 disputes, Pizante said. The main users are 16- to 34-year-olds, but the site gets fighters of all ages. Pizante hasn't done marketing for the site, saying it grows organically as more people "get sued."

The content is almost entirely user driven, which keeps costs low and allows the founders to make a small profit from advertising and the Bailiff Boutique. The I'm Right founders are also working on a radio show based on the concept, and a book is in the works. Once they have enough cases, Pizante said, they can write a "social constitution" about how the masses think we should behave in certain situations.

Revenue for the site and the potential spinoffs could hit $5-million in three years, said an optimistic Pizante, who works full time at Kick Start Advisors, a legal and financial consulting firm for small- and medium-sized businesses.

Consultants monitor the site but only occasionally censor the cases, Pizante said. Exaggeration is a hallmark of the site, he said, and some cases might not be based entirely in reality.

He remembered a case of a woman inviting homeless people in for a shower and a bite to eat, much to the chagrin of the other roomies. There was a man who constantly ate his roommate's chocolate treats. He regretted it the day the roommate sought revenge by baking a laxative into a batch of cookies.

Then there was the case in roommates court of Heman, KC and the rare brown llama.

KC owned the llama and allowed it inside the home. When Heman moved in, he thought "like, okay whatever," according to his lawsuit. His indifference waned when the llama began to stink "like a dozen rotting cows."

When KC refused to bathe the four-legged pack animal, Heman took her to court.

"Well, see, the thing is," KC countered, "the llama isn't supposed to be given a bath. It's supposed to smell that way!"

The jury sided 95 percent in favor of lots of hot, soapy water.

As often happens on I'm Right, one juror suggested a creative solution.

"The hell with it, man," Big Daddy Kool wrote. "Eat the damned thing and your problem will be solved."

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