There's a big difference between a legal argument and a policy argument. A legal argument can draw on authority, or textual interpretation. They are formalistic. A policy argument is persuasive on the basis that the world will be a better place if X wins. It's not founded on precedent or text, but on debate around economic or social policy.
A reciter should be able to draw conclusions based on both formalistic and policy concerns. There will be disagreement: that's the process. Some may come from the class.
How do lawyers deal with statutory interpretation in a common-law system? A statute is an opportunity, not a limitation, on a good lawyer's argument on behalf of his/her client.
How do lawyers deal with constitutions? Is that different from a statute?
Ratione soli: who owned the land.
The term "possession" when it refers to land (or other things) turns out to be ambiguous.
A "relevant" fact has bearing on the holding in the case. We criticize lawyers for including irrelevant facts, and ourselves for ignoring relevant ones. Note also that there are facts, and there are allegations.
Note that we have synopses of the lawyers' arguments here; that's only there with old cases-- nowadays briefs are all 50 pages long, and written. In Olden Dayes, they were sometimes oral, and so the summary of the case would be where they were preserved.
Lots and lots of times, by the way, briefs have a ton of stuff not in the opinion that can help how you might use a case.
Justinian did not write the Justinian code-- he formed an institute of lawyers to do it. Justinian code was the first influential European code (Hammurabi was, of course, a millenium earlier). Corpus Juris Secundum is so named by West to ride on these coattails.
The USSC's request for a writ of certiorari is a request for a certified copy of case materials from the lower court, indicating that they plan to hear it.
Bracton: the first English lawyer to write it all down. Fleta: a Latinization of Fleet St., where there was a prison, in which an anonymous lawyer wrote down his thoughts on common law. Fleta was the second. Blackstone was the most famous. In NY, Kent's Commentaries are the analogue-- Kent was a judge in a court above this jurisdiction. If Kent had said anything about wild animals, he would surely have been cited.
Note that Pierson's lawyer gives no policy argument about why he should win-- he just says that precedent should be interpreted on his side. This is not adequate by our standards. :)
Post's lawyer gives a similarly weak argument: he just says that he has some precedent too. And then the rebuttal is just "your sources are weaker than my sources."
Neither of these lawyers earned their pay in this case, and it was substantial. One of the parties had to sell his house (to the other party) in order to pay the legal bills. HLS has the deed of sale in their library.
Note that the dissenting judge says "full pursuit," whereas the majority opinion says "mere pursuit." They treat the facts very differently.
One way to deal with precedent: dismiss it as irrelevant (i.e., Justinian was so long ago).
What this case stands for: certainty has a very high value. So does precedent, incidentally: when we find it, we follow it.
Post is Dutch (Lodowick). Pierson is a British name. There might be some tension there. This changes the meaning of the holding: the English defeat the Dutch. There was strife in 1812.
Note that finding for Post would mean transferring (by court fiat) the fox pelt. This is part of why "possession is 9/10 of the law:" sending sherriffs in to recover property is expensive and dangerous.
The economic arguments are not relevant-- this is not an economic case: it's spite, or ethnic strife, or petty nuisance or something. (this is an argument for Pierson).
From Post's perspective, there's certainty as well: sportsman's code, plus if Pierson knew Post was pursuing, then there was certainty.
Into this confusion, Hichens's crew comes, and drops his net inside Young's net, and they close the net (because they know what they are doing). Hilarity ensues, and in the dispute, some fish are lost, but some are captured by Hichens, who takes them to town and sells them.
Young sues: first off, for the damage to the net. That was 1 pound. Nice to win, but not much compared to the fish. "He converted my fish!" (the criminal version of "conversion" is theft). The lower court found for Young, saying the fish were in his possession (which means that he owned them as property). Note that it was a jury who found this fact (i.e., that the fish were in Young's possession). But this wasn't really a question of fact: Pierson makes it clear that this is a matter of law. Juries only get to decide matters of fact-- we don't trust them with matters of law and policy, in theory. In reality, lots of questions submitted to juries are policy questions in disguise.
Still the matter of possession is a matter of law, not fact. Whether or not Hichens zoomed in between Young's boats, etc., are questions of fact. But "possession" is a legal term.
Queen's Bench (an appellate court in England) takes up this issue. Look for Denman (the justice) again.
This is a glaring example of a court not giving a reason. They simply say that Young did not possess the fish. The end. They note that Hichens may have acted unjustifiably, but that doesn't mean Young was a fish-owner.
The second opinion says that whatever "possession" means, it doesn't mean something short of possession, so we can't let Young win.
The final opinion: it would ridiculous to say that Young owned the fish, and some of the fish escaped, then we'd get trouble when someone else captured the fish. But this is a bogus premise: escaped wild animals are no longer anyone's property.