Gary said, “So not worth it. Settlement?”
“I can make a call, but with this victory I doubt they’ll be interested.”
“Try for a walkaway.” Gary knew he had no money and his malpractice insurance didn’t cover intentional acts.
“I’ll make the call.”
“What else is there to do now?”
“For now? Damage control.”
Gary’s mind was churning. Friedman didn’t know about all of his other “special” clients. If the case didn’t go away fast, they might step up, go public, even testify against him. He couldn’t risk that. He particularly couldn’t risk detective Gonzalez nosing around about criminal charges—assault, rape, and though he had no inkling of it yet, murder. This had to settle or the trial had to happen fast.
“Can you turn the thing around? Spin it in my favor? I have a spotless record with the Bar. I head our local Family Law Section after all. You think you can help me?”
“The fact you head the Family Law Section, unfortunately, makes it more newsworthy, Gary. That works against you. Sexual harassment is big news now with the Hollywood and tech elites falling and Congress’s 17.2 million tax-dollar, slush-fund payouts.”
“What if I call the local newspaper? I’m popular here.”
“That’s the worst thing you could do. You keep your mouth shut. I’ll speak for you from now on. The media live on blood. They make sharks look like puppies. You need to keep the lowest profile you can. The only thing to come out of your mouth is ‘no comment.’ To everyone, including your wife. Everyone.”
“I can’t just take this lying down, Suzanne. I’m a fighter. My livelihood is on the line.”
“If you want my help, you’ll zip it, Gary. Do what I tell you, or I’m done. Same if you don’t pay my bills. Weekly.”
Gary’s blood boiled at a woman calling the shots—more humiliation. But he had no choice.
“Okay, Suzanne. You’re the boss of any media stuff. I’ll deal with Judge Vega on the trial.”
“Do that. Move to expedite the trial because your reputation is being tarnished and your income affected. It’s a good argument.”
“I will, and right away.”
Gary left both to do that and to tap the little equity remaining in his house and office building.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 49
The following days were media-riddled with news good for Eliana and very bad for Gary.
On Tuesday, the San Bernardino Sun and KCVR, the local public television and radio station, ran with Eliana’s story. By Wednesday, The Associated Press and other NPR stations had followed suit. It continued to spread in the days that followed to other news platforms and social media in Southern California, Northern California, and even nationally.
The San Bernardino Bar Association took it all very seriously. It stopped turning the other way. It created procedures to police its members by cleaning house of known predators and identifying those suspected but not yet confirmed in their maledictions.
The California State Bar and the bar associations of every other state in the nation were on notice to do the same. Clearer policies and ethical rules were being considered in an effort to stop sexual harassment, and even all sexual contact, between lawyers and their clients.
The American Bar Association asked a noted law professor at Harvard Law School to write an article on the case for the next issue of the ABA Journal. Law professors at some of the nation’s most prominent law schools raced to write articles about it and the issues it raised for law reviews in hopes of getting them published by the best ones.
Even the New York Times, with three million digital and print subscribers, and over worldwide, and over ten million readers in the U.S. alone, covered the salacious story with a shocking headline—“Rogue Divorce Lawyers: Sex For Your Divorce … Or Else.”
* * *
Gary slithered back and forth to work from his gated compound. The media was satisfied at first speaking with Friedman, and she savored the free publicity. She knew how to spin as fast as a tornado and just as destructively for Eliana.
As she had promised Gary, Suzanne called Dee Meyerhoff to offer a walkaway settlement. Dee rejected it out of hand. Why settle now with Gary on the run?
Suzanne held daily press conferences on the steps outside her San Berdoo East Hospitality Lane law office—making sure her attorney sign with her name and specialty was prominently visible in the background. She categorically denied all charges against Gary and asserted Eliana was a deadbeat client who wore suggestive clothing in meetings with Gary—setting him up for her claims.
Dee jumped on Friedman’s interviews. With the help of Payne’s marketing director and media manager, and with Jim and Kurt as backups, Dee countered her every assertion. Doing that was neither easy nor simple. But with Dee’s stature in divorce law and truth on their side they were winning the publicity war.
* * *
As the fervor grew, Dee as the senior attorney and Jim as a rising star took the lead on interviews and TV spots. Kurt was relegated to the background.
He buried his resentment. Objectively, he knew without Dee the case would never have happened, and he was not an expert in family law after all. Dee’s expertise, firm power, and legal savvy had been the quid pro quo for her going the distance with Kurt.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 50
As the media coverage spread Gary’s worse nightmare came to fruition.
Former female clients began to surface. Within weeks twenty-three had come forward—one dating back almost thirty years. Each had her own grotesque story of rape, assault, psychological abuse, or financial coercion by Gary to perform sexual acts on him or with him. They were sexually harassed and assaulted in Gary’s car and office, the courthouse—literally anywhere he could get them alone. One claimed she he had drugged her first.
None had stood up as Eliana had, but then none had a sister like Angela living with a top-flight litigator like Kurt.
* * *
Seeing the cascading frenzy of additional victims, the Payne trio was gratified at the opportunity to cull Gary from the legal herd.
“This is unbelievable,” Jim said. “They go back nearly thirty years, but he only had to drug one, I guess.”
“That we know of so far,” Dee responded.
Kurt looked at Dee. “That’s all there will be. It was a trial run. Stockton didn’t enjoy doing it to a flaccid body … he feeds on their fear and humiliation.”
“Kurt,” Dee said. “You’re getting too close to this.”
“No. I’m not. I’ve just squared off with this S.O.B. eye to eye. He’s evil, pure evil.”
* * *
The number of victims and their stories engendered a barrage of complaint letters to the California State Bar and the San Bernardino County Bar Association.
Its members were outraged, especially those in the Family Law Section. Some, who had “special” clients themselves, were frightened that with their sexual predilections would be spotlighted too—cockroaches that they were.
* * *
Gary’s “good friend” Randy Birch, the President of the San Bernardino County Bar Association, called him the morning of November 12th, another Friday. Gary eagerly took the call. He needed all the friends he could get.
“Hey, Randy, how’s the judgeship thing going? I hear the committee gave you a qualified rating.”
“Well qualified.”
“That’s great. You have my support and I’m really looking forward to the State Bar convention this year. I’ll do our section proud.”
Birch got right to the point. “Gary, stop. I don’t want your support and you can’t represent us at the State Bar convention this year.”
“What do you mean? I’ve spent hours on my presentation already. I have my plane tickets.” Gary lied easily, as he always had.
“Come on, you read the news. That together wit
h all the letters we’re getting leave us no choice.”
“You’ve already named me to the slot.”
“We just un-named you.”
“I thought you were my friend, Randy. I did your bar panels when no one else would. I sent a letter to the governor supporting your judicial application.” Gary lied again. “This stuff in the news is nonsense, an ex-client who didn’t want to pay up.”
“The Board doesn’t see it that way. It’s about appearances, and …”
“What?”
“I’ll also need your written resignation as head of the Family Law Section faxed today.”
“No way, Judas.”
“Then we’ll expel you. I’m—”
Gary slammed the phone down. “Ungrateful bastard.”
* * *
Gary sat staring into the air, uncharacteristically doing nothing for hours. Not even drinking. He had to think of a way out of this. The equity from the house was almost totally committed, and the credit card debt was mounting. He jumped when Vicky buzzed him.
“Detective Gonzalez is on the line.”
“Shit. Tell him I’m in court.”
“He’s not going to believe it. I told him I’d get you.”
“Make him. That’s your job.”
Two minutes later Vicky walked into his office carrying an envelope. “The detective wants you to call him and go to station for a chat.”
“When?” Gary needed time to think.
“He didn’t say. And I want … need to tell you—”
“Well? Spit it out.”
“I … I’m giving you my notice. My last day will be the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I’ll stay that long to help you out.”
“What do you mean? Last day? Notice? I’ll tell you when your last day is. I trained you. I made you. I taught you everything you know.” Gary’s eyes were dark and menacing.
“Yes, everything.” Vicky expression was no less menacing. “And I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t. I’m done.”
“This?”
“The lies, the made up bills—”
“Watch it. Just remember, you billed yourself at attorney rates. That’s how you got paid … and paid very well.”
“So what? You ordered me to and now I refuse. I don’t care … the way you treat your clients is—”
“What do you mean?”
Gary calmed down. What did she know? He could not afford to have Vicky as an enemy—not now, not before the trial.
Gary said, “Look. I’m sorry Vicky. I just depend on you. Please stay until the trial is over. I’ll make it worth your while. A bonus.”
“You don’t have the money and we both know it.”
Stymied, Gary stood and hit his hand on his desk. “You ungrateful …”
“Two weeks. And you make your own after-hours appointments.” Vicky handed Gary a plain white envelope. “This was just messengered to you. I’m leaving for the day.”
“Fine. Lock up.”
Vicky slammed the door in Gary’s face.
Gary thought, How much does she really know?
* * *
As Vicky got her things to leave, she worried about getting another job. She and her husband had overextended on the house they had bought. But she couldn’t stay. She even dreaded the next two weeks.
As Gary listened to Vicky leave, he stared through his door picturing his hands squeezing the life out of Vicky’s chubby little neck like they had Zaida’s ugly skinny wattle. His murderous revelry abruptly ceased when he remembered Detective Gonzalez breathing down his neck. Killing Vicky would be a bad move. Though I certainly would have enjoyed it, he thought.
He opened the messengered envelope and read:
“Effective immediately, you are hereby removed as head of the Family Law Section of the San Bernardino County Bar Association. You may not represent to anyone in any way that you hold any position with that section or our County Bar Association. In addition, your membership in the Association is hereby terminated. Enclosed is a check refunding the pro rata portion of your dues for the time remaining on your current membership.”
Gary ripped the letter and threw it in his wastebasket.
“Fucking assholes. Fucking assholes. All of them.”
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 51
First thing the following Monday, Gary prepared a motion for an expedited trial. He should have done it sooner when Freidman told him to, but better late than never. He had to end this onslaught—this destruction of his life.
With a quick bench trial before Judge Vega, he had a good chance of that. He counted on her being furious at the appellate court.
He got a late afternoon hearing on the motion late Thursday afternoon to put the Payne lawyers in the heart of the rush hour. The quicker the case went to trial, the less likely they could organize any of his other “special” clients to testify. Judge Vega could always exclude them as witnesses, but Gary didn’t want to run the risk that she wouldn’t.
He finished the motion mid-afternoon, styling it as an emergency motion for an expedited trial, and yelled, “Vicky, in my office, now.”
Vicky might be leaving, but until then he would make her work her fat ass off for him.
“Get this motion filed with Judge Vega and served by messenger and via email on the Payne firm today.”
* * *
In the evening in L.A., Dee Meyerhoff scanned Stockton’s very short motion and mumbled. “What the hell is this?”
She conferenced with Kurt and Jim. “What’s Stockton’s game here, guys? No judge is going to schedule a trial before Christmas. That’s only a few weeks away.”
Kurt said, “He wants to block us from screening those other women in the news and naming them as witnesses at trial.”
“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “And he’s probably still counting on a bench trial.”
Kurt suggested, “Our opposition should focus on how prejudicial an accelerated trial would be because we couldn’t address the newly-discovered witnesses.”
Jim added, “And we’ll move to have a jury trial reinstated, too. We got the clerk to reserve five days for a jury trial, but the judge hasn’t confirmed that yet.”
“Kurt, take Eliana with you for media pictures. We need to fuel the outrage,” Dee interjected. “And remember, kid gloves in court. Vega will be pissed about the reversal.”
“Fine. Damn that Stockton.”
Kurt was worried about more lost billable time with his paying clients. Not to mention more time coddling that idiot Eliana. Losing control of a client was the worst thing for a litigator approaching trial, and Eliana was less and less enthused about the case now that she had her divorce settlement.
Not so for Dee. She was more committed to Eliana’s case than ever now that they had drawn first blood.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 52
Wednesday, with the motion filed, Gary was in good spirits. He felt he was gaining control of his life again with his tactical move. He deserved a good lunch at The Central Cafe with his divorce lawyer buddies he hadn’t seen in weeks. He anticipated their sympathy and support. Any one of them could be in his shoes—he knew that for a fact.
As he approached the table, he saw the seats were filled. There was an unfamiliar new lawyer—young, crew-cut, sitting up military-straight.
“Hi, guys.” Gary grabbed another chair from an empty table to squeeze in. “I see we have a new addition.”
The group’s most senior and successful member stood and squared off with Gary.
“Gary, I texted you not to come … perception and all. I thought you understood.”
The others nodded, including the new guy.
“I didn’t come before, but I’m back in the saddle now. I’m in control and coming here is my choice. I started this group. Besides, what’s going on out there is bullshit. You all know that. This could happen to any of you. It’s not like you don’t dip in the
well yourselves.”
Every man at the table, including the crew-cut newbie, squirmed. The only difference between Gary and them was that Gary had been caught. They feared discovery and guilt by association. True, their chosen women might have been willing, confused female flesh, not coerced like Gary’s, but in the end that could cost them their licenses to practice law, too.
“You’d better just shut up and get out of here.” The new guy stood to his full imposing height.
Gary yelled, “I’ll go when I’m good and ready, you asshole.”
The commotion was drawing eyes from all over the restaurant and the manager double-timed over.
“Mr. Stockton, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Mr. Stockton? Mister! What is this, Murph? You’ve taken my money for years with no complaints. All of a sudden I’m not high-class enough for you?”
He stood his ground, but the manager, who was bigger and younger said, “I don’t want to have to dial 911.”
“You bastard,” Gary shouldered the manger as he charged out.
* * *
Gary sat in his Mercedes in front of the restaurant, humiliated and angry. As he glanced back to pull out, he froze. A black and white was driving by. He looked straight ahead, like a child who thinks turning away meant his mother and her ire were not there. He had good reason to avoid the cops—hundreds of assaults and two murders.
The black and white cruised past and Gary pulled out. He drove to Chez Bonne, the restaurant where he had first taken Eliana. He ate alone remembering the lunch that should have launched his new adventure—but had instead sucked him into the abyss that was destroying his life.
Rogue Divorce Lawyer Page 21
