by Martin Clark
According to every Northern Virginia lawyer Phil Anderson and Robert Williams had contacted, Judge Dennis P. Klein was always—no exceptions—the smartest person in the courtroom, a nimble legal mind who, for kicks, taught constitutional law as an adjunct faculty member at George Washington University Law School and was all the more imposing because he still retained the residue of his native Brooklyn accent, chopped off an occasional vowel or whipped quickly through whole sentences if he became peeved or annoyed. He was unanimously regarded as a fair, thoughtful and scrupulous jurist, which is no doubt why the Supreme Court selected him to travel five hours from Arlington and preside over the case of Joe NMN Stone v. Benecorp, Inc. et als.
At the beginning of their motions hearing, Klein was professional and polite, mentioning how much he liked the Henry County Courthouse’s architecture and thanking the bailiff for making him feel welcome in a new jurisdiction. Klein asked the lawyers for their names and wished them a good morning when they replied. “Let’s take up this request by the plaintiff for additional time to answer discovery,” he said after he’d finished with the preliminaries. “There’s nothing unusual or difficult about the interrogatories, not that I can see. Why do you need a delay, Mr. Williams? In addition to the extension Mr. Nicholson has already graciously volunteered?”
Robert Williams stood. “Judge, perhaps I can short-circuit this. We just received some new information that will have a dramatic impact on our case. It will also determine whether we even require discovery. I’m not going to waste time squabbling about the interrogatories and requests for admission. Nor am I going to go through our original grounds for a modest delay.”
“I read your motion,” Klein told him, thumbing through the papers inside a stiff green folder. “So what’s changed? I don’t see anything new in here. Did I miss something recent?”
Williams stepped out from behind the counsel table. Joe was seated to his left, Phil Anderson at the opposite end. “Sir, we recently received a remarkable piece of information. We have every reason to believe Miss Lettie VanSandt is alive.”
“The testator?” Klein asked. “The author of the will we’re all here to debate?”
“Yes sir,” Williams replied. “We’re as flabbergasted as can be, but we hope to make her available to the Court and, of course, once that happens the complexion of this suit will change drastically. To state the obvious, much of why we’re here becomes moot—neither Benecorp nor my client will own the VV 108 formula. If Miss VanSandt is alive, and we believe she is, then she is the owner of her Wound Velvet.”
Edwin Nicholson walked to where Williams was standing. Anton Pichler and Mack MacDonald were still seated at the defendant’s table. “Judge, the first we heard of Miss VanSandt’s resurrection was around thirty minutes ago, and I have to say the timing and motives really cause my radar to alert. If Miss VanSandt is alive, I’m curious to know how the DNA from the female body found at her property matched up. I’m curious to know where she’s been for months and months, and I’m really curious to learn why—exactly when the plaintiff appears to be in dire need of a delay—we suddenly hear this tale about wanting to check to see if she’s truly deceased.”
“Mr. Williams, what, precisely, does ‘received information’ mean?” Klein asked. “A thirdhand rumor she’s living in a cave in Tora Bora? A sighting by a local at the Memphis Baskin-Robbins? Or did she appear in the flesh to you or your client?”
Williams smiled. He moved sideways, close enough to Nicholson that their shoulders nearly touched. “I understand the Court’s concern. I certainly understand Benecorp’s concern. Miss VanSandt has contacted both Mr. and Mrs. Stone. Mrs. Stone has personally met with her. A letter she recently sent to Mr. Stone has been analyzed by the state forensics lab in Roanoke, and the prints match those on Miss VanSandt’s gun permit.”
Nicholson shook his head theatrically. “Judge, as I understand matters, this fantastical report of a meeting comes from Mr. Stone’s wife and law partner. His coactor in collecting my client’s money from an offshore bank. As for the so-called print match, the new prints came from a half sheet of paper provided by Mr. Stone. The same Mr. Stone who represented Miss VanSandt for years and no doubt has files full of her paperwork. Am I the only person who thinks that’s convenient? A little scrap of paper? Of course, none of our experts have had a chance to check the prints or the handwriting.”
“So where is she?” Klein demanded.
“We’re not certain,” Williams said, but there was no hesitancy, no chagrin in his voice. “However, we plan to present her to the Court. In person.”
“A death certificate and a DNA analysis confirm that Lettie VanSandt is deceased,” Klein said. “How do you explain away those facts?”
Williams leaned forward and gestured at Pichler. “Judge, I think perhaps the issue of how her death was manipulated is best answered by the defendants. Or by Miss VanSandt herself.”
“So you’re planning to produce a person who claims to be VanSandt?” Klein asked. “Then what, we play twenty questions and compare old yearbook photos?”
“Here’s our proposal,” Williams offered. “And let me give the Court a brief bit of history and context. Miss VanSandt is eccentric, and that’s putting it mildly. She was—well, is—a local character. She’s very, very different. We now know that she believed the arrival of Benecorp’s representatives was a biblical sign. If the Court would like, we can play a 911 call from Miss VanSandt that occurred as a result—”
“Judge Klein,” Nicholson interrupted, “none of this has been raised in pleadings, it’s all conjecture and hearsay, and we’re just being ambushed. We had no notice of any of this.”
“I apologize for that,” Williams said. “I do. I will say, in our defense, that the state expert only provided the print report late yesterday, and it was done as a priority rush job. If the Court would prefer, I can put this all down on paper, and we can leave and give Mr. Nicholson time to review it and respond, and then set another hearing.”
“Which would only serve to grant them the delay they’re so anxious to have,” Nicholson complained. “They’re stalling because if they answer discovery truthfully, this nonsensical case will be dismissed.”
“Let me hear what Mr. Williams has for us,” Klein said. “I’m still on the skeptical side of the fence as well, and I’ll certainly protect the defendants’ interests if we somehow reach the point of my taking this seriously. I might simply listen to counsel’s colorful narrative and be done with the whole issue.”
“Miss VanSandt,” Williams continued, “truly believed that the arrival of Benecorp on her doorstep signaled apocalyptic events. That’s not conjecture. I have the recording here with me and will be glad to play it. We have the records custodian from the 911 office on standby if authenticity is a problem. We have an extra copy for the defendants.”
“Okay, I have a lady who thinks the world’s about to end.” Klein folded his arms over his chest. “A lady you admit is not exactly…normal…in terms of her personality.”
“She’s afraid of Benecorp. Frightened. She feels threatened. She—”
Nicholson objected again. “How do we know any of this?” he demanded. “This is entirely cut from whole cloth.”
“Judge, if we can’t prove it, then we expect you will have no problem handling matters appropriately. As I volunteered, if Mr. Nicholson would like for us to jump through all the formal hoops, we’ll be more than happy to. We can adjourn and I can write all this down for him.”
“I’ll note your continuing objection,” Klein told Nicholson.
“Essentially, Miss VanSandt went into hiding. I’m guessing the defendants will scoff and object and complain about this fact as well, but we can also offer proof from several witnesses that Benecorp played very similar hardball with a man by the name of Dr. Steven Downs, a Benecorp employee who was instrumental in discovering the value of the VanSandt formula. Downs and Miss VanSandt were friends, and she had every reason to believe
she would receive the same gross intimidation that Dr. Downs suffered. Benecorp constantly followed and harassed him, and we have the Henry County sheriff available to confirm this. Dr. Downs is now dead.”
Judge Klein removed his arms from across his chest. “So you’re claiming VanSandt fled because she was fearful of Benecorp?”
“Yes.”
“And another individual by the name of Dr. Downs—who had a connection to her formula, or whatever you want to call it—was being bothered by Benecorp, which would justify her fear?”
“Precisely,” Williams replied.
“I hate to interrupt,” Nicholson said, wagging a finger to emphasize the important correction he was about to make, “but I’m far more familiar with Dr. Downs than anyone else here. He was the subject of numerous police interventions and court orders. He was unbalanced and had threatened Mr. Garrison. Mr. Garrison had him watched as a matter of legitimate self-protection. Dr. Downs is dead because, unfortunately, he took his own life. I have a cache of court orders and police reports I’d be pleased to share with the Court—simply put, Dr. Downs was dangerous and a threat to my client, and we have the paperwork to establish that. How Downs’s years of misconduct have any bearing on Mr. Stone’s dishonesty and fraud is beyond me. Mr. Williams’s sinkhole keeps growing and growing. Soon it will swallow the entire room, all of us included.”
“Have the bailiff pass your information to me,” Klein said. “But at least we finally have a point of agreement: Dr. Downs, mentally ill or not, was of interest to Benecorp, and now he’s deceased.”
Williams continued the instant Klein stopped speaking. “And his death only confirmed Miss VanSandt’s suspicions. Whether there is any legitimate reason for her being afraid really isn’t our issue. We concede Miss VanSandt is erratic and very much her own woman. The point is, Your Honor, we can demonstrate that she was afraid. We can present you with evidence of the world as seen from her perspective, which will explain her disappearance.”
“So when do I get to meet her?” Klein challenged.
“Here’s our proposal,” Williams answered. “We believe she is extremely paranoid at this point. She’s very fragile. On the verge of full collapse. She would physically meet with the Court, but only the Court. Fair or not, she believes Benecorp and Mr. Garrison mean to do her harm. She wants her whereabouts kept secret. So she will meet with you, Judge, at a Virginia location you and you alone select and communicate to us twenty-four hours in advance. The attorneys will watch and participate via closed-circuit video and audio. She will not, however, agree to being in the same space with anyone connected to Benecorp, even my esteemed colleagues. She especially does not want her son in the room with her, inasmuch as she feels he betrayed her and has sided with the defendants.”
“How the heck will that accomplish anything?” Nicholson snorted. “Judge Klein, gifted as he is, won’t be able to discern whom you’ve run in on him. He’s never met this woman, nor have I. This is a wild-goose chase and a distraction. Come on, Mr. Williams.”
“She can’t disguise her DNA, and we propose to have her son in the building at the same time, along with a lab tech, and we’ll do the DNA test there and then. We only ask that it be done immediately, while you watch and wait, Judge. We worry that if the saliva leaves your sight, Benecorp has the reach and resources to taint it. We also request that there be two labs, and that the Court select them both without letting us know their identities until after the tests are completed. Mr. Stone will pay all costs associated with the testing. He will pay for Neal VanSandt’s transportation to the site.”
“Now there’s some judicial adventure,” Klein said. “Sounds more entertaining than the usual picking fly dung from discovery pepper. What do you think, Mr. Nicholson?”
“I think it’s wrongheaded and bizarre. Most important, if this woman is in fact alive, we should have a right to depose her, question her and have her subject to cross-examination at trial.”
“Two points,” Williams said. “First, if Miss VanSandt is alive, there won’t be any trial, much less any cross-examination. Exactly what would you ask her, Mr. Nicholson? ‘You sure we can’t just keep your billion-dollar invention, ma’am?’ ” Williams paused, slightly bowed his head. He looked directly at Klein. “But to sweeten the bargain, we’ve already answered the majority of the defendants’ requests for admission, document productions and interrogatories. In particular, we have admitted virtually all the document-intensive issues, such that the trial will be streamlined and Benecorp’s evidentiary load will be lightened. We will agree that Mr. Garrison’s testimony from the disciplinary hearing can be read to the trial jury by transcript if they would prefer to save him a trip to Henry County. We have admitted the authenticity of all bank documents. We have admitted that Mrs. Stone was in Nassau on the day in question. We have admitted the phone calls to Mr. Pichler are true and accurate recordings. We agree they can simply hand that information to the jury without any further foundation or proof. We will tender that signed and sworn discovery to the Court, but ask it not be considered formally filed and entered as a part of the record until we have a chance to produce Miss VanSandt.”
“Have you answered or responded to every single item?” Nicholson asked.
“No,” Williams replied. “We both know a few interrogatories simply aren’t proper, and we can revisit those if Miss VanSandt doesn’t appear. We’ve disputed a couple production requests, and several minor questions we just haven’t gotten around to answering. But my goodness, we’re giving you documents from Bahamian banks you probably couldn’t establish otherwise. We’re conceding entire chunks of your counterclaim. Stated differently, we’re giving you ninety percent of why we’re here today in exchange for a few weeks’ delay. More to the point, it doesn’t serve either side’s interest to litigate a case for absolutely no reason. If Miss VanSandt is alive, we’re spinning our wheels.”
“So Judge Klein won’t misconstrue your generosity, I think I’m accurate in saying that Mr. Anderson has visited the Nassau bank and spoken with the manager, Mr. Pinder, who confirmed the Bahamian end of the transaction. While we appreciate not having to get Mr. Pinder here in person, let’s be clear that you’re not giving us much of anything—we all understand that Mr. Pinder will vouch for the accuracy of the Bahamian documents.”
Klein set both elbows on the smooth wooden ledge in front of him. He arranged his chin on two loose fists. “Does Section 8.01-271.1 ring a bell, Mr. Williams?” he asked.
Williams chuckled. “Oh, yes.”
“Good. Good to hear. I’ll give you your chance to bring Miss VanSandt back to life, but if you don’t pull that necromancy off, well, then you and your client will be looking at sanctions, both monetary and evidentiary. You’ll pay all attorneys’ fees and costs for Benecorp related to this grand detour, plus a punitive amount. Every dime, from mileage to lunch to tolls. I’ll hold the discovery you’ve submitted in abeyance, but should Miss VanSandt remain unavailable, you and your client will pay all costs associated with any subsequent discovery hearings.”
“We understand,” Williams replied.
“One more ground rule,” Klein added, still propped on his elbows. “Should this go awry, or prove to be a hoax, I plan to grant other ‘appropriate sanctions’ as the law allows in terms of the trial proper. You will start well behind the eight ball, if not underneath it.”
“Acknowledged,” Williams said.
“Note our objection,” Nicholson added.
Klein took down his elbows and sat normally. “Now, Mr. Williams, I want you to file a formal written motion containing everything you just told me and ask for a delay. I also want you to file a formal written request for production from a person not a party and have it served on Miss VanSandt, or accepted by her at the time of her test. We’ll see if she indeed consents. As you requested, this will simply be judicially supervised discovery, no more and no less. Since Neal VanSandt is a party, he’s expressly subject to Rule 4:10, and it would see
m he’ll have to produce a sample, though he and his lawyer will have an opportunity to respond and be heard if he objects.”
“Yes sir,” Williams replied. “Understood.”
“I’ll simply postpone ruling on our other issues and the various motions until we see how this resolves,” Klein said. He finger-scrolled through a smartphone, spoke while he was still reviewing the screen. “The big show will take place on September twenty-eighth at four in the afternoon. I’ll confirm the labs, location and particulars the day before so we can arrange for the video.”
“Judge, one final request,” Williams said. “As odd as this may sound, even though this isn’t being done in court per se, could you please wear your robe? My client thinks it might help calm and reassure Miss VanSandt.”
“Why not?” Klein answered. “Would she like me to don a powdered wig and buckle shoes as well?” “Pahduhedwig” was how it sounded when he said it, the words and syllables rolled into one quick burst.
—
“What a bizarre day,” Joe remarked as they were returning to their office from the hearing with Judge Klein. It was raining, drab, damp, the sky a uniform, foggy gray. The first cool pinch of fall was mixed with the wet air. “Hard to believe summer’s gone. Found the first cocklebur in Sadie’s forelock yesterday. My granddad always said that meant fall was coming. It was spring when ‘the buds were the size of a possum’s ear.’ ”
“Robert did a great job for us,” Lisa said quietly. “And we seem to have a fair judge.”
“What are the odds of pulling this off? Of her paranoid ass showing up?” Joe frowned. “We have a few weeks to get her to a precise spot at a precise time, and we basically have no reliable way to even contact her.”
