Legal Reserves

by James Rosenberg

  Jack knew he probably had gone too far. He put his hand on Mike’s arm and flashed his smile. Mike yanked his arm away and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Breakfast is on me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Jack, you better make sure you don’t cross the line.”

  Mike picked up his papers and walked quickly through the diner’s glass door into the cold, brisk air outside.

  Chapter 26

  May 16, 2017—Four Years after Graduation from Law School

  STEPHANIE REGALSKI SAT calmly at her desk that faced the door to the law office, prepared to greet anyone who dragged themselves in from the frigid cold. The trim redhead attempted to appear busy by scribbling on her note pad, but her attention was riveted on the commotion coming from the conference room immediately to her right. Dressed in a red blouse and dark woolen pants with spotless leather boots, she looked more like a lawyer than an assistant or paralegal or receptionist or any of the myriad of other positions she held at the law firm.

  Stephanie had worked for Stan for over 20 years, beginning when she was fresh out of college, and believed her employment was a steppingstone to a job in fashion or real estate in New York City. Marriage at age twenty-two and three kids in five years disrupted her long-term plans. She and her husband settled in Pottstown with the thought that it would only be temporary..

  After starting with the firm and working six months answering phones and scheduling appointments, Stephanie went to Stan seeking more responsibility. Stan had already recognized Stephanie’s innate intelligence and common sense. He gradually assigned Stephanie a greater variety of tasks. Soon she was the firm’s expert in probating wills, navigating the bureaucracy of workers’ compensation, and conducting legal research.

  Stan and his now deceased partner had long considered hiring a younger attorney to help with their workload. But he found in many ways Stephanie was more competent, less expensive and easier to deal with than an opinionated newly-minted lawyer.

  Stephanie understood her worth to her firm, but so did Stan. She never needed to ask for a raise and every Christmas she received a generous bonus. In a sense, their lives were symbiotic−Stephanie providing a growing array of legal services as Stan’s practice grew and Stan offering support, financial and otherwise, Stephanie could not receive elsewhere.

  Perhaps Stephanie’s greatest attribute was her ability to relate to Stan’s clients. Comprised primarily of individuals who were physically hurt or financially aggrieved, they differed from corporate clients who generally understood how litigation worked and the amount of time and energy necessary to move from the filing of a complaint to a verdict.

  Stan’s clients, on the other hand, had one lawsuit and to them it was the most important thing in their lives. They didn’t understand it was common for months to go by with nothing happening on a case. The majority were looking for constant updates that Stan, like most other busy plaintiff lawyers, couldn’t provide.

  Many of the calls the firm received came from people wanting reassurance their cases were moving forward and that Stan had a plan specific to their case. This task gradually fell to Stephanie, who with a nearly encyclopedic familiarity of all of the files in the office, was able to tell a client exactly what was happening with their case.

  The turmoil in the conference room was interfering with the tranquility of the office, preventing Stephanie from getting any work done. The anguished cries breaching the walls beckoned to Stephanie, who wanted to offer her assistance, and was working on an excuse to enter the room.

  As she was about to intervene, the glass door swung open, revealing Mike, weary and disheveled. He approached Stephanie’s desk wide-eyed with fear. She kept silent, waiting for Mike to volunteer information.

  Mike met her gaze to exclaim, “Oh my god, this is a disaster.”

  Stephanie maintained her silence, but cocked her head.

  “She is a mess and losing it before my eyes. I can’t settle her down.”

  “You’ve been in there for nearly three hours. What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure. I met with them twice at their house already and I didn’t sense any major problems. They came here today and it’s a complete disaster. For some reason just coming to the office has raised her anxiety off the charts.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I’ve been hearing her wails through the walls and they are only getting worse. The depositions are supposed to take place in less than an hour.”

  Mike peeked at his watch. “I know, it’s a serious problem. She doesn’t think she can do it. She says she doesn’t want to relive what happened. Her husband tried. I tried. Nothing is working. This case is about to go down the toilet.”

  Stephanie stood and patted Mike on the back. “I’ve talked to Mrs. Gebbert some on the phone. I’ve communicated with her spouse a lot. Can I try talking to her?”

  Relief passed over Mike’s face. “Please, would you? I think it might help,” he said. “Whatever you can do would be great. I like these people. Somehow I want to help them deal with this.”

  Stephanie peered into the conference room. Paul Gebbert was staring out the window overlooking the neighboring industrial park while Martha meekly sipped coffee from the cup she held with both of her hands. Even with only a quick assessment, Stephanie could tell the situation was precarious.

  “Hi Martha, how’s everything going?” Stephanie asked as she approached the conference room table. Martha did not look up, but replied, “Oh, not so well.”

  Stephanie smiled directly at Martha as she sat down in the chair next to her and placed a hand gently on her arm. “This isn’t easy, is it?” Martha stared out over the table, but at nothing in particular. Her eyes were glassy and the little bit of mascara she was wearing was running. “No,” was all she mustered.

  Mike stood silently a few feet behind Stephanie and Martha, his brow furrowed. Stephanie, probably better than Stan and Mike, understood the toll lawsuits took on the litigants. Even though someone suing another company might be completely in the right, and entitled to significant compensation, the litigation game posed difficulties for those with little experience. Not just answering discovery requests and getting documents the other side requested, but the constant uneasiness of being in the dark, of not understanding the process, and never knowing when the game was to finish, all sucked the life out of litigants.

  Stephanie placed a hand on Martha’s elbow. “Hey Martha, why did you decide to sue the department store?”

  Martha took a deep breath. “Paul wanted me to do it. He thought they messed up our lives. I’m not worried about making any money from this, but I didn’t want anyone else to go through what I did.”

  “So what’s the problem now−why are you so upset?”

  “Every time Mike starts to question me about what happened at the store, I picture the security guard and the smile on his face. I think he enjoyed what he did to me. I can’t force the image of his face out of my head.” Martha started to take in air rapidly. “I see him and I can’t get out of the room. I’m stuck there.”

  “Martha, are you still chained in the room?”

  “Yes, every day.”

  Stephanie let Martha catch her breath and handed her a tissue. “I’m not much of a psychologist, but I think I can help you out of the room.” Martha eyes locked with Stephanie. “If you can talk about what happened, if you can stand up to their lawyers and show them they can’t get the best of you, I think you could find your way out of the room. If not, you may be stuck for a long time. The other thing, Martha, if you are able to find your way out of that room, I think you might prevent a lot of other people from ever having to go into the room again.”

  Martha continued to search Stephanie’s eyes.

  “I don’t know. Their attorney is going to ask me a bunch of questions about what happened.”

  “Do you remember what happened?”

&
nbsp; “Absolutely, every detail.”

  Mike nodded and bent down so he could look Martha in the face. “In every conversation I’ve had with you, you’ve told the same story, with the exact same details about your detention at the department store. It’s still in your head. You just have to let it out.”

  Stephanie was now squatting on the other side of Martha. She said, “Do you have any problem telling the truth?”

  “No.”

  “What if the store’s attorney challenges you on what occurred?”

  “He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what happened.”

  “Martha, what do you think will happen if you can’t go through with the deposition?”

  “I guess my lawsuit will be over.”

  “True. Anything else.”

  “They probably won’t change anything they are doing.”

  “Martha, that’s right. Nothing will change and other people might end up in that room.”

  With her husband now standing behind her rubbing her neck, Martha gathered her thoughts. Everyone else waited for her to make the next move.

  After a few minutes of silent deliberation, Martha stood up, faced Mike, and stated emphatically, “I think I’m ready for my deposition.”

  Mike turned to her husband, seeking confirmation she would be able to get through the questioning. Paul shrugged his shoulders. “If she says she’s ready, then she is ready.”

  Chapter 27

  May 16, 2017—Four Years after Graduation from Law School

  NOTHING IN THE law office appeared out of the ordinary when Jack Rogers entered pulling his stuffed, wheeled briefcase. No evidence of Martha Gebbert’s near meltdown remained and Jack had no idea how close he had been to winning his lawsuit only minutes before. He strutted to Stephanie’s desk and announced his presence.

  Mike soon emerged from the conference room to shake Jack’s hand. Mike’s demeanor evinced no residual anger from their earlier encounter at the diner.

  Mike guided Jack into the conference room and introduced him to the Gebberts, who timidly stood and offered handshakes. Jack ignored the Gebberts and strode immediately to the head of the table while asking the court reporter if she was ready to begin.

  Martha Gebbert sat across from Jack while Mike eased himself into the seat next to her. He placed his hand lightly on her arm and whispered into her ear. Martha indicated she was doing fine, but her gaze did not rise above the table top. Mike placed his yellow pad in front of himself and jotted a few quick notes.

  After unpacking binders and papers from his briefcase, Jack avoided making eye contact with Mrs. Gebbert, and asked the court reporter to swear in the witness. Once Martha indicated she would tell the truth, Jack began to give her instructions as to how the deposition would proceed.

  He started by informing her that the court stenographer would be taking down all of her testimony so she needed to respond clearly and verbally. Martha indicated she would be able to do that. She also agreed she would wait until Jack completed his question before she would begin to answer and Jack said he would not speak over Mrs. Gebbert while she gave an answer. Mike did not contest these instructions, as they were given in some form at every deposition.

  When Jack told Martha she must answer every question he asked her without consulting with her attorney, Mike interrupted and told Martha that if she wanted to ask him anything at any time they would confer. Jack countered that if a question was pending, Martha had to respond before doing anything else, to which Mike told Martha that if she ever wanted to discuss anything with him at any point during the questioning, she should say so and they would find a private place to talk.

  Jack shook his head at Mike’s interruption and continued his instructions. “Mrs. Gebbert, you are aware you are under oath, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You understand what being under oath means?”

  “Yes. I am supposed to tell the truth.”

  “Correct, and I am informing you if you aren’t completely honest, you can be brought up on charges of perjury and if you are convicted, the court can impose sentences including substantial fines and jail time.”

  Mike jumped out of his chair, his face turning fiery red. “Hold on right there,” he spat out. “What the hell is that, Jack?”

  “I am instructing the witness about what will happen if she lies during the deposition.”

  “No you aren’t. You can tell her about the procedures in this room, but don’t you tell her anything about what the law is. That is my job. Don’t suggest to her there may be any penalty for how she testifies today, because there aren’t. Don’t you ever try to threaten my client. That is garbage, and if you try anything like that again, we are walking out of this deposition and we will seek sanctions against you for your behavior. How’s that for a threat, Jack?”

  Mike took a deep breath and sat down. “Jack, we may be friends, but don’t think I’m going to let you try anything improper. My first allegiance here is to my client and I will do everything within the bounds of the law to protect her, you understand?”

  Jack did not respond, keeping his eyes cast downward, looking at his yellow pad. Mike did not let up. “Well Jack are you going to begin your questioning?” Martha perked up watching her lawyer come to her rescue. A small smile came to her face as she waited for her first question.

  Chapter 28

  May 17, 2017—Four Years after Graduation from Law School

  THE SMELL OF the hospital had been the same every time Mike walked down the hallway over the past few weeks: clean, antiseptic, with a slightly sweet tinge that made him wonder whether the odor was the result of overzealous cleaning in an attempt to fight the viruses that had recently plagued the hospital.

  Arriving at the semi-private room his uncle had been in for nearly three weeks, Mike was relieved to see Stan sitting up in bed, perusing a baseball magazine. Knocking softly while peeking into the room, Mike said, “Anybody up for some visitors?”

  Seeing his nephew entering the room, Stan tossed the periodical aside. “Please, come in. Talk to me, let me know what is happening in the real world.”

  Mike pulled a chair to Stan’s side and sat looking at his uncle in his pale green hospital gown. “Your attire has not improved much since last time.” Stan chuckled and turned off the television.

  “How are you feeling, Uncle Stan?”

  “Not bad. This new medication is taking a toll, but my doctor says I am doing much better.”

  “Sounds like you are ready to get out of here. Can’t wait to have you back in the office.”

  “I’m looking forward to it too. I feel like I’ve been gone forever. Tell me what’s going on there, Mike.”

  “Come on Uncle Stan, you know exactly what is going on. I know you talk to Stephanie for two hours every day. I’m sure you know how many paper clips we bought last week and every motion I filed since you arrived here,” Mike said.

  “Humor a sick man, won’t you Mike? Tell me how things are going at the office.”

  “Sure, play the sympathy card. I’ve been here every day for the past three weeks and have told you what is happening. I know you think this will help your recovery, so I will give you a brief update.”

  Stan adjusted his pillow behind him and sat up straighter.

  “Things are going fine so far, but we miss you,” Mike began. “As we discussed earlier this week, I settled a few cases so we got enough money in to make payroll.”

  Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not too worried about the firm’s finances. We can all survive a few more days with me in the hospital. This isn’t like it was in the old days when all of us were living paycheck to paycheck. Come on, give me some real information.”

  “Fine.” Mike began to reach for his yellow pad with the notes he took during the Gebberts’ depositions, but hesitated. He then leaned in and told Stan abou
t Jack’s hard-handed ploy at the diner and how Mrs. Gebbert nearly imploded before the questioning began. When he mentioned that Jack suggested Martha could go to jail if she lied, Stan flushed with anger, but said nothing.

  “I was worried about how Mrs. Gebbert would do. We met three times to prepare but as the deposition got closer she got more nervous. I told her she would be okay and after he asked a few easy questions at the beginning of the deposition−like ‘What is your name?’ and ‘Where do you live?’−that she would relax, but Jack’s first question was, ‘You stole the chocolate didn’t you?’“

  Stan gripped the rails of his bed, his eyes widening. “That was his first question? Did Mrs. Gebbert collapse?”

  “No, the exact opposite. Perhaps it was the audacity of asking it, but she collected herself, locked eyes with Jack, and said, and I quote: ‘No, it was sitting right on the counter like samples are laid out in any store and I took one. The chocolate was so tasty I wanted to buy a box, but before I got a chance your security guard grabbed me.’“

  Stan laughed. “A perfect answer.”

  Mike nodded and continued: “I actually think Jack was thrown a bit by how easily Martha handled the questions about the incident. She kept right on answering even when the same question was asked two or three times. She kept giving consistent answers. You know she has always said the same thing about how the incident occurred since I met her.”

  “How long did her deposition take?”

  “It was a little over five hours. He spent about two-and-a-half hours on the incident and almost as much time on her damages and then asked for all of the education and prior hospitalization information at the end. Martha’s problem was answering questions about how this incident has hurt her. She didn’t say much and wouldn’t, or couldn’t, open up about how this incident still causes her problems.”