Craven Conflict

by David Cooper

  “Can you not confirm from your own personal knowledge?”

  “Other than the fact that he was a paralegal, no.”

  “How about Mr Davenport and Mr Rider?”

  “No. But if I’d had a proper handover from Wayne, I’d have mastered all of that detail in two days at most.”

  “So you say. But there’s really no substitute for the trust that comes from personal dealings, is there?”

  The judge looked up from her notes.

  “Where’s this leading, Mr Collins? If the restraint clause was sound, there’s still quite a difference between wrongful enticement and exploiting a personal following, surely?”

  “Indeed, Your Honour. There is a long stop point here. It’s all about whether there’s any real difference in practice when this witness had no personal dealings with the lost candidates.”

  “Very well.” The judge was evidently satisfied with the explanation, but Soraya made a note to ensure it was challenged at the first suitable opportunity. “Please carry on.”

  “How about Mr Hillier and Miss Russon?”

  “They were both solicitors.” Karen replied. “Mr Hillier was an insolvency expert, and Miss Russon practised in education law. No, I never personally dealt with either of them. But I have good reasons to believe that neither of them would have left my agency if they hadn’t been enticed away.”

  “Can you clarify that?” The question came not from Collins, who would have been content to let Karen’s last answer go unexplained, but from the judge.

  “They were both looking for senior positions in big firms. So they wouldn’t have gone from a well established agency to a new one of their own accord. There wouldn’t be any guarantee that a new agency could open the same doors.”

  Collins decided to let the point go. He asked a set of mundane questions about the circumstances in which Avery had chosen to leave Ripple, steering clear of any attempt to accuse Karen of conducting a flawed redundancy process and thereby breaching Avery’s contract. All of the lawyers present knew that it would have been improper to resurrect the abandoned allegation. He soon found his next point of challenge, having first asked Karen to turn to the set of emails that had brought news of the initial defections from Ripple.

  “Let me take you back to Mr Thompson and his two fellow paralegals. If they and Mr Avery were all friends, as they say they were, it wouldn’t be at all surprising for them to follow him shortly after he’d set up, would it?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a big if. So I can’t be expected to agree with that.”

  “It would in turn be only natural for them to ask for some help on how to break the news that they were leaving you, wouldn’t it?” Collins not only ignored Karen’s answer, but also chose not to make it clear that he was expressly referring to the template that they had shared.

  “I don’t understand.” Karen replied. From her vantage point, Soraya knew that she would in due course have her chance to question the three paralegals about the very same issue. An idea was beginning to form in her mind. It all depended on the next exchange…

  “At the very beginning of this dispute, the first letter from your solicitors gave the impression that you had reacted badly – overreacted, if I may say so – to the sight of those emails. Isn’t it only sensible for those three individuals to ask their new agent for some assistance in what they should be telling you?”

  “Not like that.”

  Collins was again content to let the unsatisfactory answer pass. Soraya sensed that the moment had been lost, and that Karen might not recall the point fully if it had to be picked up in re-examination much later. But Judge Banks was of a different mind.

  “Can you explain that, for my benefit?”

  Karen pointed at the Thompson email, open before her in the documents bundle.

  “If everything had been identical, apart from the name and signature, I might have thought differently. But look at all those slight adjustments. To my mind they’re trying to disguise something. They’re working together on a subterfuge. It stands out a mile that someone’s telling them what to do and trying to cover it up.”

  “That’s only your opinion, of course.” Collins was oblivious to the fact that Soraya had triumphantly drawn a large red asterisk on her notepad beside the words ‘one by one, not all present together?’ that she had written in the margin beside her list of cross-examination points for the three paralegals.

  “Yes, that’s right. But I think it’s a sound one.”

  Karen stood her ground in the further exchanges that followed, before Collins changed tack.

  “This page in the bundle is your mailshot to the candidates on your books, after the first hearing. In your statement, you describe it as your ‘defensive marketing’ exercise.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you distributed that on April the eighteenth, less than a week after the first hearing in this case.”

  Karen glanced at the date.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And in that mailshot, you told all of your contacts that Mr Avery had set up on his own and had already been in touch with some of them?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Soraya frowned. Karen’s answer was not as accurate as it could have been, and Collins was not going to let it slip.

  “So in effect, you told all of your contacts who did not know about Mr Avery’s departure that they too could get in touch with him if they wished?”

  Karen blushed, realising she had put a foot wrong. But she remembered Soraya’s advice, and made a mental count to ten before finding an answer.

  “It was the lesser evil. If I’d sat back and done nothing, Christ knows how many more I’d have lost. By doing something, I thought I’d be holding back the flood.”

  “By getting your retaliation in first?”

  “I wouldn’t describe it like that. He drew first blood.”

  “But just look at that mailshot. You say he chose to bite the hand that once fed him. Professes the gift of the gab but not the experience or the integrity. ‘This craven conflict is not of my making.’ It’s all pretty retaliatory, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t agree. I needed to send out a strong message. I couldn’t just say he’d been naughty.”

  Collins decided not to labour his point any further, and moved on.

  “Now this ties in with your restraint period. You entered into an employment contract with Mr Avery, and it included a pledge not to approach your clients and candidates for twelve months after he’d left your company.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you aware of what the law on restraint of trade says about issues like this?”

  Judge Banks gave a disapproving look.

  “Mr Collins, that’s not something to ask a lay witness. Let’s keep that for submissions.”

  Collins nodded.

  “Certainly, Your Honour.” He turned back to Karen. “Why did you think you needed twelve months? Wouldn’t three months be enough?”

  “That’s not what I was advised. Sometimes it takes quite a while to find the right vacancy after we’ve done all the ground work with a new candidate.”

  Karen again managed to stand her ground as Collins sought to throw her off balance. He then flicked through his notes in an exaggerated manner, before pausing for dramatic effect.

  “I’d like to turn to Mr Craven.”

  With the first mention of Craven’s name, Karen involuntarily shuddered, unable to avoid immediately thinking of the Birmingham Post photograph of the line up outside BLH’s office. She hoped that Collins would not ask her to look at the copy in the court bundle.

  “Is it correct that you have not disclosed the contents of any Ripple Birmingham file in relation to Mr Craven?”

  “Yes, it is. But that might only mean that Wayne never opened one properly before he left.”

  “Or it might not. So you’ve no first hand proof that Mr Craven was ever a candidate of yours, then?”


  “Apart from what my PA told me, and apart from an entry in Wayne’s desk diary, no I haven’t. But as I’ve just said…”

  “And what did you personally know of Mr Craven and his specialisms? How unique he was, and the limited number of roles he could fulfil?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Thank you. This brings me to where Mr Craven is now.” Collins turned over some more pages. “Would you concede that you and your company would never have stood any chance of placing Mr Craven, or indeed any litigation lawyer, with BLH Solicitors or any of their predecessor firms?”

  Karen knew what was likely to be coming. She was well aware that she had no choice other than to ride the storm.

  “No, I don’t. Ripple had introduced candidates to Bastables before. The last one was about a year ago. Not to Lewis Hackett, though.”

  “And on that occasion, you had to involve Mr Avery in managing an introduction half way through, rather than complete it yourself?”

  “I did not have to involve him. I chose to involve him.”

  “You chose. I see.” Again Collins deliberately paused for effect. “May I ask you which Bastables partner was dealing with the interview process on that occasion?”

  “The head of department.”

  “You can’t bring yourself to say his name, can you?” Collins’ tone was deliberately mocking, and Judge Banks raised an eyebrow, wondering whether to intervene. Karen spared her the need.

  “Of course I can. Rufus Squire.”

  “Rufus Squire. Indeed.” Collins prolonged the moment. “Do you accept that you had an affair with Mr Squire last summer?”

  The atmosphere froze. With the exception of her clerk, Judge Banks was the only person in the courtroom who was shocked at the unexpected twist, knowing nothing of the full background to which Squire’s statement had only made tantalising hints. She noticed that Karen was struggling to keep calm as she glared towards Avery and his legal team, and threw a pointed question of her own in Collins’ direction.

  “Mr Collins, how is this relevant to the question of whether Mr Avery was in breach of contract?”

  “Only indirectly so, Your Honour. The position of the defendants is not only that Mr Craven was very specialist, as was the vacancy, but also that Miss Rutherford would have stood no chance of effecting that introduction herself. I need to enable the court to understand why.”

  “I see.” The judge sounded most unconvinced. “You had better tread very carefully, Mr Collins.”

  “Thank you, Your Honour.” Collins glanced back at his notes. “I will in that case only ask one more question on that issue after the one I have just put, which I will repeat.” He turned back towards Karen, having deliberately played on her anxiety. “A simple yes or no. Do you accept that you had an affair with Mr Squire last summer?”

  “Yes.” Karen put as much venom into the single word answer as she could. While Collins had been arguing points with the judge, she had looked anxiously towards the rear of the court in Edward’s direction. She had told him, but only as briefly as she felt she could, about the episode and how it had suddenly come back to haunt her.

  “Do you accept that after Mr Squire realised his mistake and broke off that affair, you committed an act of criminal damage against him?”

  “Oh, come off it.” Karen lost her cool. “I wrote one single word, a highly appropriate word, in lipstick on his windscreen. The word was Pig. I acted like a normal human being would have acted, when I’d had my heart broken. Do I have to spell it out any more?”

  “No, we can leave that there.” Collins knew that there was no need to embellish. “But there is a wider point about the candidates you claim to have lost. Can you say, with any certainty, that you personally would definitely have placed them and earned fees from placing them?”

  “Nothing’s definite in the recruitment industry. I might have placed none of them, and I might have placed all of them. But I was entitled to the chance, without Wayne stealing them away.”

  “So you would have it. And as far as BLH Solicitors are concerned, do you accept that you personally would have stood no chance of introducing a candidate to that firm?”

  “Only if that man wanted to cut their nose off to spite their face.” Soraya was disappointed to hear Karen’s answer. However heartfelt the emotion behind her response may have been, she had wasted the opportunity to confirm that she dealt with candidates in every legal discipline, not litigation lawyers alone.

  “It all means, does it not, that if we were trying to assess what you might have lost, we’d be looking at a fairly nominal figure.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  Collins soon reached his final question.

  “So when you’re suggesting that you need an injunction against Mr Avery now, because he might not still be trading in a year’s time, isn’t it just as arguable from your own records that he shouldn’t suffer one because you might not still be trading in six months’ time?”

  “I find that really offensive.” Karen replied venomously. She remembered the harsh picture of Ripple’s financial position that Avery had painted, with more than just a touch of exaggeration, when he was seeking an order that Karen should deposit funds before being allowed to continue with the claim. It had never ceased to trouble her that Avery had somehow found a way to lay his hands on a confidential complete copy of her management accounts.

  “Your Honour, I’ve no further questions.”

  Judge Banks scrolled through her typed notes.

  “I have nothing. Any re-examination, Miss Modaresi?”

  “Just one issue. Miss Rutherford, can you find your defensive marketing mailshot in the bundle, please, and read out the fourth main paragraph?”

  Karen quickly located it. “Yes, I’ve found it. ‘Regrettably he has chosen to bite the hand that once fed him. He suddenly left Ripple of his own free will, then deliberately set out to entice my candidates away and exploit the connections I have built up with law firms over many years. And in doing so, he has broken his contract.’”

  “So did that mailshot tell your clients and candidates that Mr Avery had set up on his own?”

  Karen read back through the text.

  “No.”

  “And did it tell them where they could find him?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’ve no further questions.”

  “Thank you, Miss Rutherford, you are released. Please feel free to go back to your seat.”

  Karen was only too relieved to leave the witness stand. However good an account of herself she felt she had given on the issues between her and Avery, the two questions about her affair with Squire had been just as unwelcome as she had feared. Regardless of how far off the main point they may have been, they had left her feeling dirty and ashamed. She sat down next to Lennie on the second bench from the front, unable to bring herself to look towards where Edward was sitting. Soraya stood up once more.

  “Your Honour, my next witness is Dawn Vallance.”

  Dawn took the oath and waited for Collins to begin. She was painfully aware that Karen’s private life had already been cruelly exposed to the courtroom audience, however fleeting the questions had been.

  “Mrs Vallance, can you find the pages with the text messages that passed between you and Mr Avery…”

  Dawn dutifully tracked down the items to which Collins had referred. She realised that Avery was looking sneeringly in her direction, and willed herself not to make eye contact with him.

  “They’re nothing but a friendly chat, surely?” Collins asked.

  “I wouldn’t say so.” Dawn replied. “I’d say he was deliberately trying to make me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Wasn’t he just being affectionate?”

  “Creepy, I’d call it. I can’t stand being called ‘babes’. And I didn’t ask him to draw me into his arguments with Karen.”

  “Isn’t offering you the chance of a new job an act of kindness?”

  “Not coming from him.�
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  “You sound as if you’re just keeping to a script. Didn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

  Dawn sensed that she was on the verge of having to step back in time and confront the incident she least wished to recall. She found a way to avoid it.

  “No, there wasn’t any doubt. I was happy where I was. I’ve been Karen’s PA ever since she started up in business on her own. I knew that she and Wayne had argued on that Thursday before he left. It was nothing to do with me.”

  “You haven’t always been happy there, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t agree with that.”

  Collins picked up a page of his notes and looked intently at it before putting it back down.

  “But didn’t you once invite Mr Avery round to your house for a meal, not that long ago, and tell him how much you’d love to change everything about your life, if only you had a chance?”

  For a few seconds, Dawn found herself drawn to Avery’s cool gaze, and she snapped.

  “I’d had too much wine. We all make mistakes.” She looked up towards the podium, pointing in Avery’s direction as she did. “Your Honour, that man sneaked a photo of me with my front undone when I was off my guard. I wish I didn’t have to remind myself about it. But maybe it’ll help explain why I’m so angry with him. I was his friend once. I’m not his friend any longer.”

  Judge Banks gave Collins a discouraging look.

  “I don’t think you ought to be taking this any further, Mr Collins. It’s a long way away from the real issues in dispute.”

  “Of course, Your Honour. I may need to invite Mr Avery to tell his side of the story later today, but I will let it rest for now.” As he flicked through his notes, Soraya crossed out an annotation of her own on her copy of Dawn’s statement. It irked her to think that Collins would now have more scope to argue that Dawn’s personal antipathy towards Avery had tainted her evidence.

  “So on the first day back after those text messages, you made a surreptitious copy of Mr Avery’s desk diary?”

  “I did copy it, yes.”

  “That was rather underhand, wasn’t it?”

  “Not in my book.” This time Soraya was relieved at Dawn’s bland answer, which she had not embellished with any further reference to past events.