“Civil.” That wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind as I braced for the sight of Duncan Fitz as opposing counsel.
The hearing was scheduled for 9:00 A.M. before Judge Korvan, roughly sixteen hours after I’d been served with the papers. I was well aware of the old adage that a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client, and I’d considered asking the judge to postpone the hearing. But searching for a lawyer and then bringing him up to speed on the facts would only have delayed matters. My father needed someone to get before a judge and plead the family’s case as quickly as possible, and I knew the case better than anyone. At least for round one, I was on my own.
I was the last to arrive at Judge Korvan’s chambers. Duncan Fitz and his New York partner, Maggie Johans, were seated on the battered plaid couch in the waiting room. They probably would have shaken my hand if I’d offered it, the hypocrites.
Maggie wasn’t a trial lawyer, so I assumed she was here not in her capacity as Cool Cash partner but as an officer of Quality Insurance. She’d brought down a pair of sharp litigators from the New York office to assist Duncan, a man and a woman I’d never met. Unlike my peers in the Miami office, they’d have no personal reservations about filleting me like a flounder. No one had bothered with introductions, but I knew from their engraved leather trial bags that they were seasoned litigators. Trial bags were badges of honor at my firm, the more beat up and battle-scarred, the better. Litigators at Cool Cash took their image seriously. Unlike corporate lawyers, health-care lawyers, antitrust lawyers, and so on, lawyers who specialized in litigation were never called litigation lawyers. They were “litigators,” a term that connoted more fighting than lawyering and that, quite appropriately, even sounded a little like “gladiator.” When business dealings went sour, nobody ever threatened to call in the real estate department. If lawyers were sharks-a joke I heard far too often, being the son of a fisherman-then litigators were the great whites.
“The judge will see you now,” announced her secretary.
The hearing would be held in chambers, rather than the main courtroom, which wasn’t unusual when a judge intended to hear only argument from counsel with no live testimony from witnesses. There was no stone-faced bailiff, no high mahogany bench from which the judge presided. The intimacy of a proceeding in chambers, however, did not mean informality. The judge wore the same black robe and the lawyers were just as respectful as in open court. Her carved antique desk was at the far end of the chambers, positioned so that the judge’s back was to the window. A table extended from the front of her desk to create a T-shaped seating arrangement. The lawyers sat on opposite sides of the table, the plaintiff to the judge’s left, the defendant to the right. The court reporter was off to the side, near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
“Good morning,” Judge Korvan said in an amicable tone. She reminded me a little of my grandmother before the Alzheimer’s, except that the smile seemed less genuine. Judge Theresa Korvan was a twenty-year veteran on the bench, who’d seen it all and had a reputation for smiling pleasantly no matter what she was doing, whether bidding you good morning or citing you for contempt.
The lawyers introduced themselves, four for Quality Insurance, two partners and two senior associates. And then me. Judge Korvan seemed amused by the lopsidedness.
“You must be quite a lawyer, young man.”
Duncan said, “Excuse the crowd, Judge, but our client takes this case very seriously.”
“So does mine,” I said dryly.
Duncan met my stare, then looked away.
“Splendid,” said the judge, still wearing her patented smile. “Now that we’re all so serious, let’s get started.”
Duncan said, “This is basically an action by an insurance company to enforce the confidentiality provisions of a kidnap-and-ransom insurance policy. Matthew Rey is the insured, and his family claims he was kidnapped. Quality Insurance Company has denied coverage.”
“I gathered that from your papers. Explain what you’re asking the court to do.”
“Essentially we’re asking for a moratorium on any lawsuit that could have the effect of putting the kidnappers on notice that a dispute has arisen between Matthew Rey and his insurance company.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to deny coverage, and you want me to enter an order that prevents Mr. Rey and his family from suing you?”
“Only until Mr. Rey is released from his kidnappers. In addition, we ask that the court seal the record in this proceeding, so that this action filed by Quality Insurance does not become public knowledge.”
Judge Korvan made a face, confused. “Why is this such a big secret?”
“It’s customary for a kidnap-and-ransom insurance policy to prohibit the insured from disclosing that he has insurance. The object is to keep the insured from becoming a target and to prevent kidnappers from making exorbitant ransom demands.”
“I understand that. But once Quality Insurance has denied coverage, why should you care about secrecy?”
“In an ordinary fraud case we wouldn’t. But this is no ordinary case.”
“Enlighten me,” she said.
“Me, too,” I added.
“First of all, Quality Insurance company does not deny that Matthew Rey was kidnapped by rebels.”
“A wise concession,” I said, “given three dead bodies in Cartagena.”
“Mr. Rey, please. You’ll have your turn.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
Duncan continued, “If he had staged his own kidnapping, we could deny the claim and have nothing to worry about. But we believe that he is truly in the hands of some dangerous people. The basis for our denial of the claim is that the insured revealed to a third party that he had kidnap-and-ransom insurance. That alone voids the policy.”
“You’re not alleging fraud?”
“We believe there is fraud, but Quality Insurance doesn’t have to prove that much to invalidate the policy. All we have to show is that he told someone he had insurance.”
“So it’s your contention that Mr. Rey told someone he had insurance, and then what?”
“Clearly the kidnappers are in cahoots with someone who knew that Mr. Rey was insured for a ransom payment up to three million dollars. That someone is getting a cut of the three million dollars. A referral fee, if you will.”
“If the kidnappers already know about the insurance, then why do you need secrecy?”
“At this point it’s not the existence of the insurance policy that needs to be kept secret. It’s the denial of the claim. If the kidnappers find out that Quality Insurance Company is refusing to pay, Mr. Rey will be in serious danger.”
“Then pay the claim,” I said.
“Mr. Rey, enough,” said the judge.
“I’m sorry, Judge. But it’s impossible for me to sit quietly and listen to Mr. Fitz suggest that it’s in my father’s best interest for the court to enter an order that prohibits him from suing the insurance company that denied his claim.”
“You’ll have your turn,” she said sharply.
I backed off. Duncan continued, his tone indignant. “Quality Insurance Company has no obligation to pay this claim. That doesn’t mean we want to see Mr. Rey’s father murdered when the kidnappers find out that the insurance company is refusing to pay.”
“I see,” she said, as if finally catching on. “If a jury were ever to decide that your denial of the claim was wrongful, the last thing you want is his death hanging over your corporate head.”
“It wouldn’t be on our head, Your Honor. We had a meeting with Nick Rey in our office last week, and he made certain comments that led us to believe he was foolish enough to jeopardize his father’s safety by filing a lawsuit that would make our dispute public. If the court allows him to do that, it’s on his head. And with all due respect, Your Honor, it’s on yours as well.”
I glared but held my tongue. Duncan had managed to push the judge into my corner, so I didn’t have to speak.
&n
bsp; “I don’t really care whom you wish to blame, Mr. Fitz. I still don’t see how your proposed moratorium works. You want me to prohibit Matthew Rey from suing until after his release from the kidnappers, correct?”
“Yes. Then, once he’s released, he can sue to his heart’s content, and a jury can decide whether the insurance company’s denial of coverage was justified.”
“Here’s the problem: How would the family ever pay the ransom to gain his release?”
“We can’t,” I said.
“They can,” said Duncan.
One of the associates from New York handed him a file. Duncan said, “I didn’t want to have to raise this issue in the context of this hearing, but the truth is, we’ve been in contact with the FBI.”
It was as if he’d punched me in the chest. Finally I was gaining some insight as to why the FBI had been breathing down my neck.
Duncan continued, “We have in our possession a detailed analysis-or perhaps ‘unwinding’ is a better term-of bank accounts that the FBI has traced back to Rey’s Seafood, Inc., a Nicaragua-based fishing company. Collectively, the cash on hand is close to ten million dollars.”
My jaw nearly dropped. The judge looked suspiciously at me, but she said nothing.
Duncan said, “Matthew Rey is a substantial shareholder of the company. I can list any number of banks that would loan three million dollars to anyone who can pledge cash assets of ten million as security.”
“Nicaraguan fishing company, huh?” she said, smirking at me. “What do you say to that, Counselor?”
“All I can say is that I’ve never seen this FBI financial investigation or analysis that Mr. Fitz is waving before the court.”
“It’s for real,” said Duncan. “I have here an authenticating affidavit from a supervisory special agent in the narcotics unit of the FBI’s Miami field office. His name is Sam Huitt.”
Agent Huitt, of course. I was wishing now that I hadn’t been so quick to rebuff Agent Nettles’s offer of the FBI olive branch.
“Thank you, Mr. Fitz. I believe I understand your position.” She turned and faced me. “Mr. Rey, what’s your response?”
I was almost reluctant to say anything, for fear of what other missiles might come flying out of the trial bags of my opposing counsel. “Your Honor, what I would like most is the time to prepare an intelligent response. By offering this FBI affidavit, Mr. Fitz has turned his request for a moratorium into an evidentiary hearing. I’ve had no chance to call witnesses on my own behalf and no opportunity to cross-examine any adverse witness.”
“How much time do you want?”
I thought quickly. My next communication with the kidnappers was less than three weeks away. I needed to have the insurance issue sorted out before then. “I’d like fifteen days.”
“I’ll give you ten.”
“Your Honor, my father is kidnapped. I have other time commitments.”
“All right, fifteen. But there will be no extensions. If you can’t get it done yourself, find a good co-counsel.”
Duncan said, “If I may make a suggestion. Rather than co-counsel, it would probably be advisable for Mr. Rey to retain substitute counsel, since it is very likely that he will himself be a witness at the upcoming evidentiary hearing.”
“That’s ridiculous, Judge. There is no legitimate need for Mr. Fitz to call me as a witness. These are simply more bully tactics. Last week the law firm suspended me without pay, and now they want me to pay for a lawyer.”
“I have two responses to that,” said Duncan. “One, it’s true that Mr Rey was suspended, and in the interest of fair disclosure I should note for the record that the decision has already been made to terminate his employment.”
“Very classy way to tell me.”
He ignored me. “Second, there very definitely is a good-faith basis to call him as a witness. I assume that Your Honor will require us to make some showing at the hearing that the decision of Quality Insurance Company to deny the coverage was justified.”
“That’s correct.”
“Quality has two theories in that regard. The first is as I described earlier: Matthew Rey told the wrong person that he had insurance, which the court may or may not decide was sufficient grounds for Quality to deny coverage. Our fallback theory is that denial of coverage was justified on grounds of fraud, and Nick Rey is a material witness in that regard.”
“I’m unclear. Is it your position that Matthew Rey defrauded you or that he simply has a big mouth?”
“In a way, both. He told someone he had insurance. That person then arranged for his kidnapping in an effort to defraud Quality Insurance Company out of a three-million-dollar ransom payment.”
“How is it that you intend to link Matthew Rey to a fraud committed by someone else?”
“The person who committed the fraud is someone very close to him.”
“How close?”
I was fighting to stay quiet, but I couldn’t. “Your Honor, I can see where this is headed, and I have to object to Mr. Fitz’s continued efforts to prejudice this court against my father by making further baseless accusations against his business partner in Nicaragua. Springing that surprise financial affidavit was despicable enough.”
“I wasn’t talking about any business partners,” Duncan said smugly.
My heart skipped a beat. The judge asked, “Then just who is the unnamed mastermind behind this scheme?”
“It’s a member of the Rey family.”
I nearly leaped from my chair. “Now you’ve done it, you-”
“Mr. Rey, please!”
“I’m sorry. But this is just a continuation of the charade that started last week when they suspended me. Mr. Fitz and his committee of henchmen cooked up this ludicrous theory that I steered my father toward Quality Insurance Company. Now they have the audacity to suggest to this court that I actually arranged for my own father’s kidnapping.”
“No one is accusing Nick Rey of anything,” said Duncan.
My mouth opened, but no words flowed. Duncan looked at me coolly and said, “The person who set up this kidnapping is his sister, Lindsey. Matthew Rey’s own daughter.”
I was utterly unable to speak, outraged that Duncan would make such a wild charge.
The judge broke the silence. “I’ve heard enough accusations for one day. We’ll convene in fifteen days for an evidentiary hearing. Until then I will temporarily grant the request of Quality Insurance Company for a moratorium, as Mr. Fitz calls it. Neither party will make any court filings or public disclosures that might lead the kidnappers to believe that a dispute has arisen between the parties over the payment of the ransom.”
“What about Mr. Rey’s status as counsel?” asked Duncan.
“I can’t tell in a vacuum whether he will or won’t be called as a witness. Since it’s a possibility, Mr. Rey, you had better have capable co-counsel who can step in and take your place in the event that you are called to the stand. Anything else?”
No one said a word.
“We’re adjourned,” she said.
The Cool Cash team left quickly, which was Duncan’s style. After any hearing that had gone his way, he always made a run for the door before the judge could change her mind.
I gathered up my briefcase slowly, almost shell-shocked. So much had landed on me, way more than I’d expected. Bank accounts with ten million dollars in cash. Cool Cash working arm-in-arm with the FBI’s narcotics division. The thought of being a witness at the upcoming hearing. All of those things were daunting enough, but they were nothing compared to the simple hurt and embarrassment of having a clever lawyer-my former supervisor-accuse my own family of fraud. In the heat of the moment I could easily have leaped across the table and grabbed him by the throat. Once he’d left, however, my anger dissolved into something much more disturbing. Deep down I was incapable of rejecting out of hand the possibility of Lindsey’s involvement in our father’s kidnapping.
Slowly I grabbed my briefcase and walked out of Judge Korv
an’s chambers, alone completely.
35
With so many problems, I wasn’t sure which to tackle first. I sat down and made a list. Several lists, actually. I ranked them in order of importance, then chronologically, then from easiest to hardest to solve, from most amazing to least amazing. It was getting me nowhere. In a snap judgment I made it a top priority to fire myself and find a new lawyer. One who didn’t make lists.
But first I needed to have an honest talk with my mother.
I entered the house through the back door and found her seated at the kitchen table. I checked my ominous expression at the door for fear that she’d think something horrible had happened to her husband. But I didn’t hold back on the truth. We were in legal battle with a nasty insurance company that was represented by one of the most powerful law firms on the planet. This was no time for any surprises from my own family. I told her everything. The meetings I’d had with the FBI narcotics agents. Dad’s share of a fishing company with ten million dollars in hidden assets. And finally the suspicions about Lindsey.
Mom didn’t answer for a time that seemed like forever. At last she said, “Your father doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.”
“What about Guillermo?”
“I only met him once. That brunch with your father in Palm Beach. Honestly, I don’t really know Guillermo.”
“I’m beginning to wonder how well Dad really knew him.”
“Your father never even hinted that the company had that kind of cash on hand.”
“It’s possible he didn’t know. The FBI’s financial analysis is a pretty sophisticated unraveling of a rather elaborate corporate structure. None of the bank accounts were held directly in the name of Rey’s Seafood Company. It was all a matter of tracing the accounts of wholly and partially owned subsidiaries back to the parent corporation. Rey’s Seafood was the ultimate parent. Or so they claim.”
A King's ransom Page 20
