Stolen Liberty: Behind the Curtain

by Thomas A. Watson

  Charlie knew the truth and had exploded. Interrupting the proceedings, he’d escorted the weeping woman from the room, leaving her with his paralegal Donna, and had returned to the conference room. Nelson, seeming somehow pleased by the turn of events, tried to engage Charlie in conversation, but the younger man had no time for pleasantries at this stage. Instead, he’d immediately gotten on the speaker phone in the room and had called the judge.

  Judge Womack had shared Charlie’s lack of amusement when he heard how Mr. Bentson, in receipt of the interrogatory responses from three months before listing Mrs. Melton’s brother Stanley as a current resident of the house, had questioned the widow. Charlie knew Stanley, and knew the only reason he’d moved in was to assist his grieving sister who was now solely responsible for raising her two sons. Charlie, given his relationship with Sarge’s family, could certainly relate.

  Bentson, for his part, had acted surprised and defensive, lashing back at Charlie for setting him up this way. Charlie, relying on reserves of calm he seldom needed in recent years, proceeded to flay the older, apparently underprepared Bentson in front of the judge.

  In the end, Judge Womack had threatened sanctions but stayed his hand when Bentson managed a show of contrition and blamed his conduct on miscommunication, after throwing his secretary under the bus by claiming he’d never received the amended interrogatory responses. Such tactics, on top of his previous misconduct, left Charlie convinced this Nelson Bentson was scum of the lowest order. His actions since had simply confirmed this judgment.

  Charlie came to the mediation forewarned that Judge Myers liked to hold first, an informal get-together of the parties as an icebreaker before beginning the presentations and the attendant round-robin of negotiations. So, he was not surprised that five minutes after hearing Nelson’s voice, Molly came in to invite him to join the judge in his office with the people from Luminous Power. Charlie, despite his antipathy for Bentson, agreed. He was here for Mrs. Melton and her children, he reminded himself.

  In Judge Myers’ plush office, Charlie found himself introduced to Bryan Akkard, general counsel for Luminous, and Paige Bishop with the insurance company, Reliant. Akkard’s name appeared all over documents held in the company’s Privileged Log, as apparently no one at Luminous took a bathroom break without consulting with their lawyer, before and after. So went the story, as the power company worked hard, in Charlie’s opinion, to hide reports and meeting minutes where the safety deficiencies of the company’s Delhouser Power Plant were discussed. As for Akkard, he was a golf-fit man in his early sixties, a regular country club and boardroom type who, according to Charlie’s research, hadn’t set foot in a courtroom in thirty years.

  The wildcard was Ms. Bishop. A tall, severe-faced woman dressed in a plain pantsuit and minimal makeup. The fortyish woman wore no jewelry and though her shoulder-length, ash-blonde hair looked to be well maintained, she wore it in a simple French braid. Charlie had never heard of the woman throughout the year plus the case had been pending, and he wondered how much authority she carried. A thoroughly modern man, Charlie’s concerns had nothing to do with her gender and everything to do with the depth of her pocketbook.

  After a bit of pleasant chitchat, mainly centered on the Browns and their chances this upcoming season, Charlie caught Ms. Bishop’s comment about her preferred team, the Jets. After the two sides were once again separated, Charlie took the time to do a little search for Ms. Bishop in the New York, New Jersey area. By the time the numbers started going back and forth, he also knew a bit more about the lady who could successfully resolve this matter.

  Charlie came with authority from his client to settle the case for two million dollars. For Ohio, that was high. In Illinois, he knew he could get twice that figure, but Ohio had experienced recent changes in the law, meant to cap damages. Coupled with a massive media campaign aimed at tort reform, this resulted in a jury pool that had been compromised by the ever-present television ads designed to “curb lawsuit abuse” to save jobs.

  Charlie, more than most, knew the system wasn’t perfect. However, he knew this case was trial-worthy, and he’d worked long hours getting all his ducks in a row before the court-ordered mediation. He’d sat for all the depositions, attended all the hearings, and he knew his industrial experts were solid when they pointed the finger at Luminous Power and their penny-pinching maintenance practices. Couple that with a deceased forty-seven-year-old boilermaker, a forty-two-year-old widow who was a stay-at-home mother of two young children, and he felt confident the jury would award a fair amount.

  From the beginning of the mediation though, Charlie could tell Nelson Bentson didn’t want the case to settle. From the way he postured, Charlie wondered if he wanted to really try this case, or…was it all a show for the Luminous folks? The more he mulled over that idea, as negotiations stalled at one and a half, the more he wondered if there was something else going on here. Was Nelson playing hardball in an attempt to hold on to a very valuable client? Or was he simply trying to run up FF&B’s billable hours?

  Finally, Charlie asked Judge Myers for one last session and this time, he asked to meet with Ms. Bishop privately. The request was met with an angry response from Bentson, but somewhat out of character, Akkard seemed interested when he offered a compromise. Akkard, as general counsel, and Ms. Bishop would meet with Charlie together. Bentson continued his complaints but Bishop, seemingly frustrated, agreed immediately.

  “He really has taken a dislike to you, Mr. Tucker,” Bryan Akkard confided when the three sat down in the temporary office set up for Charlie. By now, Charlie had managed to consume two pots of coffee and had eaten his way through the supply of danish that came with the room.

  “Well, the feeling is mutual,” Charlie replied, “as you no doubt can tell from the transcripts.”

  “I suspect it had to do with when you called Judge Womack during Mrs. Melton’s deposition. I’ve known Nelson a long time, and he really is sensitive when it comes to losing face in front of a judge.”

  “We don’t have time for this dickbeating, gentlemen,” Ms. Bishop announced, and the room fell silent.

  Charlie, at least, wasn’t surprised by the outburst. For all her fancy education while Ms. Bishop had both a law degree and a Master’s in Business Administration, in addition to her undergraduate degree in accounting, she was a straight-forward person. A bean counter, based on what Charlie could dig up. Her interests laid in getting this problem for her insured resolved. Period.

  “What’s your last offer, ma’am?” Charlie finally asked.

  “Do I look like a ma’am to you? Seriously, what century are you from, Tucker?” Bishop responded testily.

  “This century, Ms. Bishop, but apparently I spent more time in the south than I realized. Okay, last time. My number is $4.25 million, all cash. And you are now up to offering a million and a half,” Charlie recapped and then sighed theatrically. “Honestly, I think we are done here. We are too far apart at this point. Want me to go get Judge Myers and give him the news?”

  “There is always room for negotiation,” Akkard chimed in, and Charlie almost rolled his eyes. Yeah, now that the insurance company is footing the bill, the in-house is ready to break out the checkbook.

  “No,” Charlie replied instead, “I don’t think so. We’ll let the jury decide. Time for Luminous to carry their own dead.”

  The comment just slipped out. A combination of frustration and exasperation would have been the only reason Charlie might utter such words. Akkard didn’t seem to notice, but Bishop stiffened.

  “And is that some kind of threat, Mr. Tucker?”

  “No, ma’am, I mean, Mizz Bishop. That’s just an old saying.” Charlie replied, and then decided to press forward one more time, but Bishop started the festivities early with her response.

  “Well, I find it offensive,” she spat back.

  “Really?” Charlie shot back. “I think, killing a man on your job site who was hired to fix a piece of your antiquated equipmen
t, so you can continue charging outrageous rates, is pretty darned offensive. But we are done here. This case will be going to trial in sixty days and we’ll let the jury decide.”

  “You’re seriously going to try this case? In this country, with the political situation the way it is? No chance you are getting more than the $1.5 million we are offering today,” Akkard said, his voice sounding strained as he delivered the words. This was his first time dealing with Charlie this closely, without Nelson and his clutch of yes-men clustered tightly around.

  Charlie turned to the man in his five-thousand-dollar suit and his voice was low when he replied, “Yeah, I think my client would like to see a little justice done. Since the State of Ohio has only seen fit to levy a fine, Mrs. Melton has been dissatisfied with that process anyway. I’ll see you in court.”

  Picking up his paperwork and exhibits, Charlie almost missed what came next.

  “Three million,” Bishop said softly, not looking up. Instead, she was reading something off her iPhone. She was standing still now, her face blank but Charlie could somehow tell she was troubled by what she’d learned.

  “Four million,” Charlie countered, his voice casual as he continued to fill his briefcase. In his mind, he was already focusing on the motions in limine that would be due in one week. He had a great trial paralegal for the grunt work of prepping the motions, but he still reviewed every word that went out in his name.

  “I can’t do four million,” Bishop said, and Charlie registered the difference in her demeanor. In ten minutes, something had happened to turn this hardcase number cruncher into something approaching human. She caught Charlie’s eye and flicked a glance at Bryan Akkard.

  She didn’t have the authority. Over the years, Charlie had learned to read their faces and decipher the tells from the ones with the money. Everything else was window-dressing, after all.

  “Three million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,” Charlie snapped back, and he thought Bishop almost cracked a smile.

  “Smartass,” she replied, and after a pause, she continued. “I think I can sell $3.75 million, if you will accept payment in one hundred and twenty days,” Bishop said, and then she subtly shook her head at the same time. This was wrong, Charlie realized, oh-so-very wrong. Charlie was no novice in the practice of law, but this seemed to be something else.

  “I think I can get my side on board with three point seventy-five, but paid-in-full within thirty days,” Charlie countered.

  “Three point seven five million, full release, standard confidentiality order, and sixty days.” Bishop replied, “and I need you to answer one question unrelated to this case.”

  Quirking his good eyebrow, something he’d practiced while going through physio-rehab, Charlie felt the situation somehow slipping out of his control. On one hand, three million, seven hundred fifty thousand dollars was a lot of justice for the Melton family. Well, minus the firm’s thirty-three percent in attorney’s fees and expenses, but still well more than his authority from Mrs. Melton for the whole thing.

  On the other hand, what the hell came over Bishop? Charlie pondered that question while he stepped out into the hall to call Wanda Melton and give her the news. He knew she would accept the offer. She’d been trying to talk Charlie out of going to trial almost from the start.

  Wanda was a sweet lady, and sharp as a tack about some things. But, like many who’d never advanced beyond a high school diploma, she was not at all comfortable about being around lawyers, strangers, or crowds of any type. Her husband Floyd had taken care of her before his death, down to filling out the checks to pay their bills and making most of the major decisions for the family. Now, she was finding out how to make her way in the world on her own; and starting out in the deep end of the pool.

  “Take it, Charlie,” Wanda said immediately. “Does this mean I won’t have to come down to the courthouse again?”

  Charlie almost laughed into the phone, but he resisted the urge. “Yes, Wanda, this means you don’t have to come back down. All done.”

  “Then do it, Charlie,” the widow said, her voice going heavy for once. “You’ve dragged them through the mud, and now you’re making them pay for killing my Floyd. How can I thank you enough, Charlie?”

  Then Charlie did allow himself a smile before answering.

  “Just tell Billy how happy you are. That will be enough. Trust me.”

  After that, signing all the paperwork seemed anticlimactic. He had a full and final release for Wanda to sign, which he would drop by her house later to be signed and notarized, and that would be it. Nelson Bentson exited the office once he found out a deal had been struck, and Charlie wondered if his firm would ever see any more work from the power company. Probably, he decided. FF&B carried a lot of sway in local legal circles, and the political ones, too.

  For his part, Akkard seemed relieved the whole sorry episode was over, but remained noncommittal when Charlie asked if the company was going to go about replacing or overhauling the steam generators like the one that killed Floyd Melton. Which answered the question. Cheaper to pay almost four million dollars, most of it their insurance company’s money, than to fix the problem in the first place.

  Bishop still puzzled him, though. She was a solid, no-nonsense bean counter and yet, something had her spooked. Charlie remembered seeing that look before in officers who, scuttlebutt later claimed, received troubling, contradictory intelligence right before sending their boys out into the shit.

  Shrugging it off, Charlie finished gathering up his materials and placing them in the correct order in his briefcase. Everything had a place, and Charlie Tucker was meticulous about the order, even in the smallest details.

  As he headed out the door, planning to swing by the Melton’s humble little one-story rancher on his way to the office, Charlie was surprised to see Bishop waiting for him.

  “Ms. Bishop, what can I do for you?”

  “I could use a ride to the airport. The boys didn’t seem so happy with my company after ‘caving in’ to you. Plus, I still have that question I need answered.”

  “As long as it doesn’t pertain to this case or anything privileged, then I’m up for giving you a ride.” As soon as he said it, Charlie thought about Blaster, since it’d sounded like one of his lame pick-up lines.

  Bishop gave a nod and gathered her own briefcase and made no complaint as Charlie led the way back to his pickup in the nearby parking lot. He noted she didn’t seemed winded in the least by the walk or his brisk pace. She did hesitate when Charlie went around to open the door for her but kept any complaints to herself.

  The drive out to Hopkins passed in relative silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, right up until Charlie turned at the last exit.

  “What did you really mean by carrying your own dead, Mr. Tucker?”

  The question caught Charlie off guard, and he tried to blow it off.

  “Just an expression, Ms. Bishop. That’s all.”

  “No, I think you meant something more, Mr. Tucker. I saw it in your eyes. So, what does it mean?”

  Charlie found himself trapped after agreeing to answer her question, but he couldn’t think of a way to avoid telling her the truth. Or at least part of it.

  “When I was a Ranger, there were things we said and codes we lived by, ma’am. One of those was if possible, we always brought back the bodies of our boys. Didn’t leave anything for the enemy, you know? So, that’s all I meant.”

  “Once you’ve carried the body of someone as close to you as a brother, then you start to value life a whole lot more. Your guys there at Luminous, they haven’t ever learned that lesson. Probably never will.”

  “Thank you for telling me that,” Bishop said. “I had my suspicions, and it wasn’t just the scars that gave you away. Something about the way you move or carry yourself still says military. I did a hitch with the Air Force right out of high school to help pay for college.”

  Charlie nodded, encouraging her to continue. She wasn’t finished yet.
He could tell the lady had more to say. He pulled the long bed truck up to the Passenger Departing doors and shifted into park, then turned to listen again.

  “I’m not afraid of losing at trial, Mr. Tucker. We have a whole appellate firm on retainer, just sitting around and waiting for something to come their way. But while we were in that mediation, I received a message from an old friend still in the Air Force. Just a simple e-mail, but it was also a private code. I don’t know any details, but something is up. And I don’t want to be stuck in Cleveland, no offense, when whatever he was trying to warn me about goes down.”

  “So, what was your MOS, Ms. Bishop?”

  “I was in Intelligence, Mr. Tucker. An analyst. Not much different from what I do now. So, get your money in sixty days and stay out of trouble.”

  “Any idea about what your friend was warning you about?”

  “No, and he might not know either. But whatever it is, I think we still have a few months before it really hits the fan.”

  And with that she was gone, leaving Charlie with more questions than when he’d started the day. He decided to give Randy a call on the way home that night. Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was the start of something. He decided to start paying more attention to the news, for what good it did. Maybe he should start checking some of those alternate news sites he’d heard Cody mention. Couldn’t hurt, he thought.

  Chapter Seven

  Parma, OH

  For Charlie, the weekend came and went far too soon, and the next week looked to be more of the same. He worked for a successful plaintiffs’ firm with their main offices in downtown Cleveland and a satellite office in Parma, and Charlie ended up spending most of the week there. He was meeting with two potentially new clients and Thursday, he was defending the deposition of a treating physician in one of his older cases.