The Reform Artists: A Legal Suspense, Spy Thriller (The Reform Artists Series Book 1)

by Jon Reisfeld

  “You wanted to see me?” Martin asked.

  Santori glanced up from his report with a pained look in his eyes. “Marty, glad you could make it,” he said flatly. Then, he took a deep breath. “Lock the door behind you, please, and take a seat.”

  “Lock the door? What’s going on, Joe? You look like someone’s been putting the screws to you.”

  Martin and Wainwright exchanged quick nods of recognition. “No offense meant, Rick,” Martin began, turning back to his partners, “but why is counsel here?”

  “None taken,” Wainwright said.

  “We have a serious problem on our hands, Marty,” Santori began, “with potentially grave implications for the firm...and for you, in particular.”

  “For me?” Martin frowned, as he sat down at the opposite end of the couch from Wainwright. “Why, me?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute,” Santori said.

  “Rick’s been briefing us,” Feldman added.

  “Briefing you on what?”

  “‘What’ is not the operative word, Marty,” Santori said. He paused and briefly closed his eyes, while he gathered his thoughts. “The correct word, in this instance, would be ‘Who.’ And, although I’m still trying to get my head around it, the ‘who,’ appears to be ‘you.’”

  “Me? What the hell did I do?”

  Santori’s eyes flashed rage. “It’s really what you didn’t do, Marty. It appears you didn’t tell us the truth yesterday.”

  “I most certainly did,” Martin said, straightening up in his seat. “I was incredibly forthcoming with you guys. In fact, I volunteered the information that Katie and I were separating and would likely be getting a divorce. And I was under no obligation to tell you anything. You said so yourself, Joe, when you told me how much you appreciated me coming forward.”

  Santori glared at Martin. “What do you take me for, Marty, a fool? Your divorce was never the issue.”

  “Then, what is?”

  “When you left here yesterday,” Santori said, “I was deeply concerned that serious trouble might lie ahead for you. Ironically, I did not want you to encounter any unpleasant ‘surprises’ along the way. I consider you a valued partner and friend, and I wanted to help. I knew you’d never contact Rick on your own, so I asked Dave to get in touch with him on your behalf.”

  “You did what?” Martin asked.

  Wainwright cleared his throat. “Marty, your partners asked me, as corporate counsel, to dig around a little and check out the lawyers representing you and Kate. They wanted to know about their past success rates and the kind of tactics they typically employ. I sent one of our junior associates out to review the case filings in Circuit Court, in order to identify the attorneys of record. She called me a little while later concerned, because she couldn’t find any paperwork about your divorce.”

  “Of course not,” Martin said. “Those papers haven’t even been filed yet! That proves how early I brought you guys into the loop.”

  “Well,” Wainwright continued, “to be thorough, and since she already was at the Courthouse, I asked her to swing by the district court on her way back. There, she found a filing for the only active Silkwood v. Silkwood case, in Montgomery County.”

  Martin swallowed hard.

  “It was a petition for a Temporary Restraining Order against you, Marty, brought on charges stemming from four ‘alleged’ instances of domestic violence. And, as I assume you know, the petition was granted last Monday.”

  “That’s right,” Martin said.

  Santori was seething. “How could you, Marty?” he asked. “I stood there at the door with you yesterday, and I asked you, man-to-man, if there was anything else related to your divorce that we should know about—anything that could potentially harm the firm. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And knowing about these charges, and the potential damage they could cause, you still looked me in the eye and said, ‘No?’”

  “That’s right.” Martin said.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Well, to start with, Joe, the charges Katie made are completely false, and I intend to prove it.”

  “Who cares?!” Santori shouted, throwing his copy of Wainwright’s report flying across the room. “True, false, it doesn’t matter! The charges exist, don’t they? They’re now part of the public record. Don’t you understand what that means?”

  “Apparently not,” Martin said.

  “It means the charges are out there, Marty. A black mark on your character is now available for anyone with an Internet connection to see—including our potential clients. Any firm that performs due diligence prior to engaging us, and runs background checks on the partners, will be able to find it. Your prospective audit clients will see that you’ve been accused of domestic violence. How do you think that’s going to sit with them?”

  A silence fell over the room. Martin looked anxiously at Wainwright. “Is he right, Rick? Will these records remain out there even if I win in court?”

  Wainwright seemed taken aback. “Even if you win, Marty?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I hope you’re not serious. If you fight this thing in court, and lose, it could destroy your career. As Joe just explained, you could become a major liability for the firm.

  “You know,” he added, “there’s a whole HR side to this issue that we haven’t even addressed yet, although it’s in my report.”

  “What are you talking about?” Martin asked.

  Feldman spoke up. “As lead auditor, Marty, you oversee teams of men and women—married and single—who travel with you out of town, often for several days at a time, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, suppose a woman who works for you proves to be incompetent. You let her go, as you should, but then, she, or her attorney, discovers that you’ve been named, publicly, as the aggressor in a domestic violence case. That might encourage her to retaliate by filing sexual harassment charges, or something equally unpleasant, against you. The mere threat to file would give her enormous leverage. We probably would have to settle."

  “Is that a real possibility?” Martin asked Wainwright.

  “I put it in the report, Marty. What do you think?”

  Martin shook his head. “This thing is an absolute nightmare!”

  “Now, he’s starting to get it!” Santori said.

  “Marty, would you like my opinion?” Wainwright asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I think you need to make this case go away as quickly, and quietly, as possible. Settle with your wife. Get her attorney to withdraw her complaint, if possible. Who knows, you might even get the judge to remove the filing from the public record for the very reasons we’ve just discussed.”

  “Otherwise?” Martin asked.

  “Otherwise?” Santori said mocking him. “Marty, there is no ‘otherwise.’”

  “Are you guys telling me—no, orderingme—to give up my right to a hearing?”

  “No,” Santori said. “We are strongly encouraging you to be practical here, to consider your career and your continued involvement with this firm and to exercise sound judgment.”

  “Why would you want a trial anyway?” Feldman asked. “It’s not like you’d have a chance of winning.”

  Martin glared at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Well,” Wainwright, interjected, “if we go by your lawyer’s track record, Dave’s got a point. I looked it up. Swindell has faced Beverly West six times in domestic violence cases. He settled five of those cases before trial, and he lost the remaining one in court. That makes him 0 for 6 in terms of outright wins.”

  “He’s batting a big goose egg against her,” Feldman said.

  “Were you aware of that, Marty?” Santori asked.

  “No,” Martin said. He was starting to feel nauseous.

  “You’ve got other problems, too,” Wainwright added. “You may have a strong case, and your wife’s allegations may be completely
false, but you still have to prove that in court.”

  “Right,” Martin said, “because the judge already has ignored any presumption of innocence on my part?”

  “That’s correct,” Wainwright said. “So, how do you expect to do that?”

  “Well,” Martin said, “each time Katie claims she called the police, I was out of town doing audits.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Wainwright asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Your wife’s got some nerve!” Feldman said, with genuine admiration.

  “Perhaps,” Wainwright said. “Or maybe she knows the odds of a case like this ever going to trial. Remember, her attorney, Beverly West, is a master strategist in these kinds of domestic violence cases.

  “If you’re right, Marty, and Katie made the whole thing up,” Wainwright continued, “then one way to prove your innocence would be to show the judge that the police reports from her alleged 911 calls don’t exist, right?”

  Martin nodded agreement. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Forget it,” Wainwright said. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Why the Hell not?”

  “Marty, your court date is set for next Monday, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a legal requirement. The court must give you a hearing within seven days of issuing a Temporary Restraining Order against you. Sounds reasonable enough, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The problem is, the law also gives the police ten business days, or two weeks, to respond to any evidence request. That means, they don't have to produce those police reports until a week or more after your hearing date.”

  Martin looked stunned. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  “Welcome to my world, Marty. The legal system is sometimes as close as we may ever get to experiencing life in a parallel universe.”

  Santori spoke up. “Marty, perhaps I’ve judged you a bit harshly.”

  “You think?” Martin asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s clear you didn’t fully understand all the ramifications of this thing.”

  “Thank you,” Martin said.

  “I want you to know, that I, for one, have no doubts regarding your innocence.”

  “I’m still on the fence though,” Feldman quipped.

  Santori glared at him. “This is no time to joke around, Dave.”

  “OK, scratch that last remark.”

  “While we might like to force your hand on this,” Santori added, “we would never actually try to dictate what you should do. That decision must remain yours.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “But that said, we also have to protect the firm against any negative fallout. So, until this case is either settled, proven meritless, or the public record regarding it is cleared, we’re going to have to officially limit you to a support role in all current and future audit assignments.”

  “What!?” Martin felt the bottom fall out of his already compromised world. “Joe, you can’t be serious.”

  “Sadly, I am, Marty. We all discussed it. As far as your clients and staff are concerned, though, your status will not change. You will remain the team leader, but clients will think you’re acting in an ‘advisory, support capacity’ on their projects in order to mentor more junior staff members in the leadership function.”

  “This won’t affect the Great Plains audit, will it?” Martin asked, with sudden concern.

  “I’ve asked my nephew, Tony, to take the lead on that one, Marty.”

  Martin looked stunned. “Shouldn’t that have been my decision, Joe?”

  “Too late. I discussed it with him this morning, unofficially, so that he could immediately start getting up to speed.”

  “You went behind my back and did that, knowing I was opposed to giving him that level of responsibility?” Martin asked. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.”

  “At the time,” Santori said, “whether fair or not, I really didn’t care what you thought.”

  “Well, now you can deal with the consequences,” Martin said, rising. “I suggest you buy a plane ticket, fly to Chicago next week, and do your best to manage the audit and mentor your nephew. And ‘good luck’, explaining all of this to Paul Miller, at Great Plains!

  “Meanwhile, I think I’ll stay back here and see what I can do to undermine your position.” Martin started walking toward the door. “I’m out of here.”

  “Wait just a minute, Marty, please!” Santori said.

  Martin already had unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Why should I?” he asked, turning around. “How much more of your holier-than-thou bullshit do I have to take?”

  “Listen, I didn’t do anything to undermine you,” Santori said. “Yes, I went behind your back, and I probably shouldn’t have, but I told my nephew this was part of a new training initiative that we will be rolling out across the board. I didn’t present it, in any way, Marty, as a knock to you.”

  “So?” Martin said, opening the door a few inches farther.

  “So, first of all, I’m sorry. I will never do it again.”

  “Do I have your word on that?” Martin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And second?”

  “From now on, you will decide who takes the lead and on which projects. Now, please,” he said, gesturing toward the couch, “come back in here so we can wrap this up.”

  Martin shut the door. “OK,” he said.

  After Martin returned to his seat, Wainwright cleared

  his throat. “Marty, there’s one more caveat I want to leave with you. If you decide to settle this matter, do not—I repeat, do not—sign a Consent Decree.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It is an agreement that, without any formal admission of guilt on your part, keeps you, for a period of time, under the judge’s supervision. The closest corollary in criminal law would be ‘probation before verdict.’”

  “Why would I ever consider such a thing?” Martin asked. “I want the charges against me dropped.”

  “Precisely. You need the record to show that your wife’s case was completely without merit. And for that to happen, the judge must either dismiss the case or rule in your favor. There’s really no other option.”

  “Then, signing a Consent Decree is the last thing I would want to do?”

  “Right,” Wainwright said, “but that assumes you would be fully and properly informed.”

  “Are you suggesting that my lawyer, or any lawyer for that matter, would deliberately mislead a client about something that important?”

  “You’d be surprised what happens,” Wainwright said, as he slowly began returning papers to his brief case.

  “What I just said, Marty, probably does not apply to your attorney. It appears local lawyers hold Swindell in fairly high regard.”

  Martin smiled. “At least that’s good to know.”

  “But some of these judges take civil domestic violence charges extremely seriously, far more so than I think they should, given the current state of family law practice. The judge might insist that you sign a Consent Decree before he agrees to drop the charges against you—even if your wife’s attorney has proposed dismissing the case.

  “If that happens, Marty, don’t do it. Hold your ground and, if you must, go to trial. You’ll do better for yourself and your career by taking your chances and slugging it out in court. Remember, to clear your name you must either win this case or have the charges against you dropped, nothing less.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Rick?”

  “Because once you sign a Consent Decree, your case cannot easily be removed from the record. Civil court doesn’t operate the way criminal court does. The court has a completely different process for expunging charges...or convictions. What’s more, should you wish to sue your wife for damages caused by the false domestic violence charges, you won’t be able to remove anything negative from the court record for up to three years!”

  Martin�
�s eyes bulged. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” Wainwright stood up and sighed. “Gentlemen, I believe that concludes our meeting.” He shook everyone’s hand. Then, he turned to Martin. “I hope you come out of this thing whole, my friend.”

  Martin attempted a smile. “That makes two of us, Rick.”

  Chapter 12

  Even before Martin had returned to his office, he could feel the shock and panic of the previous Monday night returning. Once more, he shook from an adrenalin-induced fight-or-flight response similar to what he had experienced when sheriff’s deputies abruptly threw him out of his house.

  This time, however, his partners had figuratively ‘thrown him out’ of his role as ‘lead auditor.’ He had feared that if they learned about the domestic violence charges they might have forced him to assign junior staff members as backups on most projects. But he had never expected this. They had cast him in the backup role—even if under the guise of mentoring his team in project leadership skills.

  Martin desperately wanted to gain some perspective and to sort through what Wainwright had told him, because he now felt completely adrift, without any reliable plan or strategy, and because he suddenly had serious concerns about Swindell’s judgment and forthrightness. He needed the advice and counsel of a good friend.

  He decided he would to try to get Ted Gardner on the phone. Once back at his desk, Martin dialed Ted’s work number, only to learn he was in a client meeting that would probably run through the dinner hour.

  Martin deeply valued Ted’s advice. Aside from being the successful founder of a commercial construction company, Ted was, at heart, a pragmatist who had a great head for business and a knack for quickly isolating the essential points of any argument or situation. Martin also appreciated Ted’s straightforward communication style. Ted did not mince words or sugarcoat the facts. You always knew where he stood on an issue, and that helped Martin maintain his own bearings. Most of all, though, Martin valued Ted’s advice because he knew it was rooted in their deep, and enduring, friendship. He considered himself lucky to have such a friend.