It did not take Hortensius [the then-most-famous Roman orator, acting opposite Cicero in this case as the defense] long to recognize what he was up against. Rather than argue the case on Cicero’s terms, he instead sought to have the trial postponed. It was finally set for a date just before the law courts went into a length recess. For the prosecution, this was a potentially devastating setback. The conventions governing an advocate’s mode of address was time-consuming, and, if Cicero were to stick to them, the trial might be expected to drag on for months. The longer it continued, the more opportunities for bribery and arm-twisting Verres would have.
As the trial opened the defendant had ever reason to crow. Cicero, however, had prepared a devastating ambush. Rather than follow the customary rituals of the law courts, he took the unprecedented step of laying out his evidence immediately in a series of short speeches. Hortensius needed to hear only the first of these to realize that the game was up. He waived his right of reply and the trial promptly collapsed. Verres, not wanting to wait for the inevitable conviction, cut and ran with his art collection to Marseille.
Cicero celebrated by publishing the full text of the speeches he would have given, no doubt nicely sharpened for popular consumption, and with a few well-aimed jabs at Hortensius thrown in for good measure. The news was broadcast all over Rome: the king had lost his crown; Hortensius’s rule of the law courts had been brought to a close.
Source:
Holland, Tom. “Fame is the Spur.” Rubicon: The Last Years of the Roman Republic. Anchor Books, 2005. 131-32. Print.
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