“Do you want me to hang up so you can call back?”
“No, no. I didn’t want to interrupt something important.”
“Normally I wouldn’t have been able to take the call, but I’m in a conference room waiting for a lawyer to get here so we can take a deposition. His assistant claims he’s stuck in traffic, but I breezed over here from my office, so I suspect he’s lying. What’s going on?”
Ray told her about the job offer. He hesitated before revealing the starting salary, but did anyway.
“The amount of compensation is supposed to be confidential,” he said, “but I can tell you. Hey, would you be willing to look over the agreement as my attorney and make sure I didn’t miss a red flag?”
“Have you signed it?”
“Yes, and sent it to Nate Stamper.”
“It’s better to get a lawyer’s advice before you sign something.”
“I know, but I was pumped up and excited. Anyway, I’m sure it’s fine. I studied the important parts myself.”
“Did you suggest any changes?”
“No.”
“Then let’s hope it’s okay. Hey, I’m happy for you. That much money will stretch a lot farther in Alto than it does in Atlanta.” Roxy paused. “Did you see our father this past weekend?”
“Yeah, he came to Billy’s soccer match, then took him fishing. I don’t think he drank while they were out in the boat.”
“That’s positive. Do you think his interest in AA is for real? Or is it a new form of manipulation because he’s afraid of losing time with Billy?”
“Time will tell. And I heard from Janelle that he stopped off to see you on Friday, but when I asked Dad about it he told me to drop it. What happened?”
Roxy told him. “And I’ve been upset about the way I acted ever since,” she finished.
Ray sat up straighter in his chair. It was a rare admission of fault from his sister.
“Do you want me to talk to him for you? It might take him a few days to calm down before I can bring it up.”
“Whatever you think is best. After Mom’s funeral I came back to Atlanta prepared to write him off.”
“I don’t blame you. A lot of what he did rolled off my back, but it didn’t work like that for you. You absorbed it. Mom would pray. That was her outlet.”
“It didn’t do her any good.”
“Not yet. But just because she’s gone doesn’t mean her prayers died with her.”
Roxy was silent.
“Are you there?” Ray asked.
“Yes. It’s just I’ve never thought about things like this before. Or talked about it. Peter is making me face things I’ve stuffed way down deep. I even went to church with him yesterday.”
Ray almost dropped the phone. One of their mother’s constant prayers was that Roxy would return to God’s sheepfold, but his sister’s heart was diamond hard.
“That’s great,” he said, trying to sound casual.
“But I’m not sure it’s for me.” Roxy paused again. “Opposing counsel has arrived. Gotta go.”
The phone went dead. Ray lowered it to his desk. He had more surprising news to share with Cindy.
TWENTY-SIX
Corbin reviewed the complaint and declared himself pleased with his work. He’d located several toxic tort cases via computer research, and the work of the other attorneys helped him structure his opening salvo in a professional, organized way. Because he wasn’t sure which theory of liability would eventually stick, he included several. One yellow brick road was all he needed to find his way to a huge recovery. He stepped out to Janelle’s desk with the complaint in his hand.
“What did you think when you typed it?” he asked, holding up the stack of papers.
“You’ve worked harder on this than on anything I can remember in years,” she replied. “It tells the story and lays out the claim pretty well.”
“Thanks.” A compliment from Janelle had to be earned.
“Have you made any progress finding an expert?” she asked.
“No, but I’m not going to file any interrogatories or requests for production of documents until I have one. The complaint puts Colfax on notice that I’m coming after them. I want my discovery questions to be more focused. And I’ll have at least sixty days after I serve the complaint to find an expert. One of the cases I reviewed involved a claim against a chemical company. I’m going to get copies of what was filed and find out who the plaintiff used.”
“Was it a Georgia case?”
“No, California.”
This time Janelle rolled her eyes. “That means paying a bunch of money for travel, in addition to the expert’s time analyzing the evidence,” she said. “And it will be hard to convince a Rusk County jury to believe a guy who comes into court looking like he just got off a surfboard.”
“Don’t profile him yet.” Corbin put the complaint on her desk. “Format the complaint in final form along with the service copy for the defendant.”
Janelle picked it up and held it loosely in her hand. “Are you sure—” she started, then hesitated.
“Yes. As much as anything I’ve sent out of this office in the past twenty years. This is a righteous cause.”
Energized, Corbin returned to his office and worked on several matters he’d put to the side while he focused on the Colfax case. Working on the big case seemed to give him the ability to focus on other matters as well. He felt more like a lawyer than he had for years.
A little later there was a light tap on his door, and Janelle entered.
“Okay, here it is,” she said. “I advanced the filing fee since I assumed you weren’t going to wait for the plaintiffs to pay it.”
“Right. That’s pocket change compared to the money I’m about to spend.”
“Do you know the amount of reserve in your operating account?”
Corbin usually did little more than glance at the bank balance to make sure he had enough to keep going for another month. Janelle balanced the books and paid his personal and business bills. He tossed out a figure.
Janelle nodded, and he felt good—until she spoke.
“Cut that in half,” she said. “The property tax on this place is due this month, along with your annual malpractice premium and a three-month deposit on your health insurance, which is up 20 percent over last year.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
Corbin picked up the complaint, turned to the final page, and signed it. He returned it to Janelle.
“Like Colonel Parker, I’m not dwelling on past failures but pressing on into future triumphs.”
“What about the newspaper?” she asked.
Corbin hesitated. The complaint would be public record as soon as he dropped it off at the clerk’s office, but without a push from him it might never generate a newspaper article unless the case went to trial. Without publicity he wouldn’t have to worry about disqualifying a potential juror who’d formed an opinion against the company. But he also wouldn’t have the benefit of the pressure that public opinion would exert on Colfax. The company took great pride in its community image.
“I’ll decide after the case is filed,” he said. “I’ll take the complaint to the courthouse myself.”
“Today?”
Corbin checked his watch. It was just past four thirty. “Yes, so I can try to find out which judge is on deck.”
Fifteen minutes later Corbin left the office and waited for the light to change before crossing the street. Since it was near the end of the day, he hoped the atmosphere would be sufficiently relaxed that he could engage in the time-honored practice of judge shopping.
New cases were assigned to either Judge Ellington or Judge Perry. In virtually every situation, Corbin preferred the crusty independence of the former to the subtle hostility of the latter.
“Good afternoon, June.” He greeted the assistant clerk, a plain-looking young woman with mousy brown hair. “How’s business?”
“Booming, if you like divorce
s,” she replied.
“Is your husband still treating you like a queen?”
Several years before, Corbin had represented June’s husband for injuries sustained in a car wreck. At Corbin’s suggestion, the first thing the young man did with his settlement money was buy a legitimate diamond ring for June. The ring still sparkled on the young woman’s stubby finger.
“Most days. What do you have for me today?”
“A complaint.” Corbin leaned against the counter and tried to make out the images on June’s computer screen. “Who’s up to bat?”
The clerk’s office would assign cases to the judges according to a rotating formula, three cases to Judge Ellington followed by three for Judge Perry, or some other system for the week or month. Knowing the code and each judge’s status was highly desired information to the local bar.
“Mr. Gage, you know I can’t tell you that,” June replied.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Corbin replied smoothly. “But if you would pull this case for me, I’d really appreciate it.”
He reached across the counter and handed her a slip of paper with a file number on it. June gave him a knowing look and smiled. As she got up from her chair, she turned her computer screen so it faced Corbin. He could barely make out the names of the last five cases that had been opened as active files. There were two with E after the number, followed by two with a P, followed by one with an E. The next case would be assigned to Judge Ellington. June returned with the file he’d requested.
“You dismissed this case two months ago,” she said as she flipped through the folder.
“And I’m thinking about refiling before the statute of limitations runs out.”
It was a true statement. Corbin had discussed the matter with the client while he waited for Janelle to finalize the Colfax complaint. He handed the complaint and filing fee check to June.
“Stamp this in for me, please.”
The clerk looked at the style of the pleadings where the names of the parties appeared. It included the names of the boys, their parents, and Colfax as defendant. June’s eyes widened.
“Yes, sir.”
Two days later Ray and Cindy were having their morning time together at the kitchen table after Billy left the house for the bus stop.
“What’s on your schedule today?” Cindy asked him.
“I’m going by the law firm to begin setting up my office, and I may try to see if Dad is available for lunch.”
“Has he been to another AA meeting?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to suggest he reach out to Roxy. He’s had almost a week to settle down, and I’d like to tell him the positive things happening in her life.”
“Will he think going to church is positive?”
“Since it’s Roxy, I think so. He knows how hardheaded and independent she is.”
“Does he know where she got those traits?”
“Our family isn’t very self-aware,” Ray replied with a smile, “but if I can deliver the message that she’s sorry for the way she acted when he came to Atlanta, it’ll get his attention.”
Cindy took a final sip of water. She’d sworn off caffeine for the rest of the first trimester.
“I told the Realtor I’d let her know if I’m up to seeing a few houses,” she said. “I received an e-mail this morning about a place that just came on the market. It’s a four-bedroom on Walker Street, not far from the intersection with Lafayette Place. I’m meeting the real estate agent there in forty-five minutes.”
The area was familiar to Ray. It was an established neighborhood.
“Those are older homes,” he said. “I thought you wanted something new.”
“She claims this place has been totally modernized. And it’s on one of the bigger lots in the subdivision, with a lot of mature trees.”
“Let me know the address if you like it. I might run by before I come home.”
After Cindy left for her meeting with the real estate agent, Ray called the law firm to make sure it was a good time to stop by and begin organizing his new office.
“This is Ray Gage. I’d like to—”
The British receptionist cut him off. “Nate Stamper told me to let him know immediately if you called or came by. Please hold.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Let’s take a ten-minute break,” Roxy said. “I’m about halfway through my questions for the witness.”
“No, we’re going to proceed,” came the crisp response from Eric Shoemaker, the older lawyer on the other side of the table. “Dr. Callahan has a limited amount of time available, and we’re not going to prolong the deposition.”
“I could use a bathroom break,” interjected the female court reporter, raising her hand. “I had an extra cup of coffee on my way here this morning.”
“All right, but make it five minutes or we’re going to suspend questioning and excuse the witness,” Shoemaker responded.
Roxy pulled out her phone and started her timer. “Should we coordinate our stopwatch apps?”
The older lawyer ignored her. Roxy and the court reporter walked rapidly to the restroom together.
“Thanks,” Roxy said.
“I’ve seen him pull that stunt before.” The court reporter smiled.
When everyone returned to the conference room, Roxy placed her phone on the table. “We have twenty seconds left in our break, but I’m ready to proceed if you are.”
“It’s your deposition,” Shoemaker grunted. “Get on with it, and if you try to cover the same ground twice, I’m going to instruct the witness not to answer.”
“And I’ll file a motion for sanctions that will be waiting on you when you return to your office.”
Contrary to popular belief, the most contentious aspects of a trial didn’t occur in the courtroom, but during the long discovery process. Without a judge present to force the attorneys to behave as adults, petty hassles and groundless controversies frequently erupted. One of the most common tactics used by older lawyers against younger ones was raw intimidation. However, Roxy didn’t hesitate to call an obstinate lawyer’s bluff, and used belligerence as fuel for increased focus. Also, she knew that if she backed down, the chewing out she’d receive from Mr. Caldweller after he reviewed the transcript would be much worse than anything opposing counsel could dish out.
An hour later she scored a big point with the witness that caught the defense lawyer off guard.
“Objection!” Shoemaker shouted.
“On what grounds?” Roxy shot back. “You’re limited to the form of the question, and your problem is with the answer.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Roxy saw Heather Lansdowne, the younger lawyer who’d accompanied her boss to the deposition, cover her mouth to keep from laughing. He spouted a few words of legal-sounding gibberish that Roxy knew wouldn’t hold up in front of a judge.
“Is that all?” she asked him when he finished.
“Subject to supplementation.”
Roxy didn’t revel in her momentary triumph. She had other important matters to cover. When she finished, the defense lawyer did a good job of trying to undo the damage. Roxy didn’t get upset. The ability to point out inconsistent answers in a deposition would quickly render an expert useless at trial. She doubted she’d see Dr. Callahan again. She finished the deposition an hour earlier than she anticipated.
“See, that didn’t take too long,” she said to Mr. Shoemaker.
The man didn’t respond as he packed up his briefcase. His female associate cast a secret smile in Roxy’s direction.
“Let’s go,” her boss said.
Heather lagged behind for a moment and made the motion of drinking from a coffee cup.
“Yes.” Roxy nodded and handed her a business card.
Returning to the office, she passed the church she’d attended with Peter. It looked like a typical Atlanta office complex. Often what took place inside a building couldn’t be discerned from its exterior. People were like that too.
Co
rbin finished reading the résumé of Dr. Vincent Westbrook, the expert witness who testified in the California chemical exposure case. Dr. Westbrook was certainly a seasoned courtroom warrior, having testified in over 120 tort cases. But the very scope of the chemist’s experience made Corbin nervous. The defense lawyers hired by Colfax would comb the record in every one of Westbrook’s cases in search of inconsistent statements or nuggets of testimony that could be turned into mountains of criticism. The more an expert testified, the bigger the target he became.
It was too early to call someone in California, so Corbin slowly typed a brief e-mail to Dr. Westbrook explaining the type of help he needed in the Colfax litigation. At the least Corbin might pick up a few pieces of free information via preliminary dialogue about the case. After sending the e-mail, he looked at an unopened stack of mail from the previous two days on his desk and buzzed Janelle.
“Come into my office and bring a steno pad,” he said.
A few seconds later Janelle opened the door and hesitantly peered inside.
“Are you going to make me use my shorthand?” she asked. “I told you five years ago to let that die a natural death, and I haven’t practiced since. Nobody within fifty miles of this office expects a secretary—”
“Calm down.” Corbin held up his hand. “I just want you to take a few notes on what we need to do as I open the mail.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Janelle sat down and crossed her legs. Corbin picked up an envelope and sliced it open. Fifteen minutes later, they completed the task.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Corbin asked. “And it forced me to address things that might have gotten buried on my desk until they rose up to bite me.”
“Okay.” Janelle nodded. “What made you think about doing that?”
“Something I heard recently about making a searching and fearless moral inventory. Putting things off can be a problem for me, and I need to do something about it.”
“Moral inventory? What’s that?”
“Identifying and facing your problems instead of ignoring them.”
A House Divided Page 19
