by John Moralee
“Why not?”
“They’re dead,” she said.
Dead. He could think of nothing to say. He felt stupid for patronising her. “I’m sorry,” he said lamely.
“I live with my Aunt Chloe, but she doesn’t know I’m here. She’d be angry and upset. She hates lawyers. Thinks you’re all leeches. But I need a lawyer, Mr Swanson.”
“Why me?”
“Your office is the closest one on my bus route home.” That was an honest answer, he thought. “I looked you up in the Yellow Pages. You had the smallest advertisement ... so I figured you must be desperate for clients ... so you’ll try harder to win.” Her logic was impeccable and frighteningly accurate. “It also says in your advertisement you don’t charge a fee unless you win. I want to sue somebody, but I can’t pay you. I was hoping you could it for what do you call it, a percentage? Is ten percent fair?”
She seemed utterly serious. He decided to be, too.
“I normally take forty percent,” Jeff said.
“Oh. Okay. Forty. As long as you win.”
“I can’t guarantee that,” Jeff said. “Who exactly do you want to sue?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I was hoping you could tell me. You have to help me get justice.”
Her voice cracked when she said “justice” and tears filled her eyes. Jeff reached over his desk and pushed a Kleenex box towards her.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
Jeff had found out early in his career as many people cried in his office as in a therapist’s. Some people visited a lawyer instead of a therapist because they were hurt and needed someone to listen to their problems, but he sensed Sarah wasn’t one of them. The girl wiped her eyes and blew her nose before continuing. She opened her bag and took out a box file filled with legal documents. Dry-eyed, she explained - in language he considered incredibly sophisticated for a girl aged eleven - why she was there.
When Melanie buzzed him, providing him with an excuse for getting the girl to leave, Jeff told Melanie to cancel his next scheduled appointment. What he had already heard had convinced him he would represent Sarah, but he could not do that without her legal guardian’s permission.
Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t want him to involve her Aunt Chloe - but he could not proceed without her signature. Sarah reluctantly accepted the fact her aunt would have to know eventually, so she invited Jeff to visit her home later that evening ... after she had told her aunt to expect him. They set the time for six o’clock.
Melanie entered after Sarah had gone. She had on a thick cashmere sweater because it was cold in the outer office. The radiator there was busted and their landlord was too lazy to fix it. Jeff was holding back the rent until he did it, but in the meantime Melanie came to work every day dressed for the Arctic. She warmed herself up by standing next to his radiator, making pleasurable sounds as the heat rose in her frozen extremities.
“Boy, you had a long conversation with the little girl. What was that about?”
Jeff sighed. “She was screwed over by some lawyers. It sinks, what happened to her family.” He could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. He felt like smoking but he had given up last year. Instead, he poured himself some coffee and told Melanie all about their potential client.
When Sarah was seven both her parents had been alive, living in a good house in a good street. Her father Joseph Croft was a construction engineer. Her mother Anne was a sales assistant at a department store. They were not wealthy by any means but they managed to successfully pay off their mortgage payments on their joint income of $47,000 and have enough left over to be happy. But then Joe began having migraines that resulted in him having to take days off from his job.
Worried it was something serious, he saw the family doctor, who sent him for tests at the local hospital, where he was given CT and MRI scans, which discovered nothing. Joe went back to work with no treatment except the recommendation he took a few Tylenol the next time he got a migraine.
Six months later Joe collapsed and died at work. His autopsy revealed a brain tumour that should have been seen when he had the MRI examination. There was an investigation that revealed there was a fault with the hospital’s MRI equipment. The resolution of the scans had not been optimal – a problem the hospital’s administrators had known about - but it would have cost $250,000 to fix the problem. Though the medical staff had warned their superiors some misdiagnoses would be inevitable unless the machine was fixed, they had done nothing. They missed detection of Joe’s tumour when it was small and operable because they had wanted to save money. Their negligence cost him his life.
It was a classic medical negligence suit.
So, Sarah’s mother Anne had hired a lawyer and sued the hospital. She should have received a significant sum in compensation, but for some reason she had accepted an out of court settlement of only $50,000.
Clinically depressed, Anne died a few months later from taking too many sleeping pills, leaving Sarah with nothing, not even a place to live in, as the bank reclaimed her home when the mortgage payments ended. Sarah had been living with her aunt for the last four years. She had tried to forget what happened to her parents, but now she was old enough to understand the legal case she had decided on her own to see another lawyer.
Jeff just wished she had seen him first. He would never have allowed her mother to accept $50,000. Minus legal fees, that was nothing.
“Fifty thousand?” Melanie said. “I can’t believe it. Why on earth did her mom accept that?”
“Sarah thinks her mom was tricked her into it somehow. That’s why she wants to sue.”
“Who was her mom’s lawyer?”
“Harry Dolz.”
Melanie raised an eyebrow.
“I know,” Jeff said. “He’s not exactly Perry Mason, but even for him it was a lousy deal. He’s no scholar, but he’s a fighter. I don’t understand why he would let her settle for that amount. I’ll talk with him tomorrow - if her aunt says yes tonight.”
“Who defended the hospital?”
“Sloane Rittel,” he said. It was one of the largest law firms in New York. They owned an entire building. They had over 600 lawyers working for them. “I can understand why Harry Dolz would want to settle it out of court but for chump change? We both know Sloane Rittel would’ve charged the hospital more than that per day. It stinks, Melanie. I want some justice for Sarah. I just hoped her aunt will listen.”
“You want me to come with you? I could hire the babysitter for a couple of extra hours.”
Melanie was a single mom with a lovely four-year-old son Jeremy.
“No – you go home, enjoy your night.”
“Sure?”
“Yes! I can handle it myself, but thanks for volunteering.”
“Wear the suit,” she advised.
Jeff had a good double-breasted suit he usually reserved for courtroom appearances, preferring clothes that were more comfortable in his office, but (on Melanie’s advice) he changed into his suit before leaving for his appointment with Sarah’s aunt.
Sarah and her aunt lived on the third floor of a five-floor U-shaped housing complex called Hollow Place. Residents had nicknamed it Hollow Point because of the frequent shootings.
Jeff parked his SUV in the glass and litter-strewn parking lot hoping not to run over something sharp. He could see a concrete courtyard containing what had been a brand-new basketball court and playground twenty years ago, but now weeds poked out of the cracks. Youth gangs eyed the cars parked in the lot, including his. Jeff hoped his vehicle would not appeal to them too much due to its age and appearance. The vehicle was practically falling apart, but he didn’t want to part with it until it could no longer function. He locked it up and climbed the stairway up to the third floor, passing several creepy-looking guys sitting on the stairs. They looked like junkies. Sarah’s apartment had two doors, one made of steel bars in front of a normal one. There were security bars on the windows, too. He knocked and waited, looking left and
right, making sure no crackhead muggers were creeping up on him.
The word “aunt” conjured up in his mind an image of an old lady, but the woman who answered his knock was in her mid-twenties. Her hair was bleached platinum blonde like a Barbarella extra, though it suited her angelic face. She was wearing tight jeans and a baggy Che Guevara T-shirt, reminding Jeff of his rebel youth.
“You must be the lawyer,” she said, but she didn’t open the metal security door. “Sarah told me you were coming.” He could see Sarah behind her in the small apartment, watching from behind her cracked bedroom door. Chloe looked at him solemnly. “I think you should just go now because I’m not signing anything.”
“Please, just five minutes. You don’t like what I say, I’ll leave - no argument.”
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. No.”
She started closing the door.
“Wait!” Sarah cried, racing out of her room, grabbing her aunt from behind, wrapping her arms around her aunt’s waist. “Please just listen to him, Auntie. For meeeeee.”
Chloe hesitated, looking torn between decisions. “Okay, Sarah – I’ll talk with Mr -?”
“Swanson. Jeff Swanson. Call me Jeff.”
“- I’ll talk with Mr Swanson, but you’ve got to finish your homework.”
A grin appeared on Sarah’s face. “You’ll really listen to him?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Now – your room.”
Sarah gave him the thumbs up before returning to her room. She would be a brilliant lawyer when she grew up, he thought, the way she manipulated her aunt’s emotions.
Chloe unlocked the door and let him in.
The living room/kitchenette looked like Chloe had spent a lot of time and effort making the room feel as warm and inviting as humanly possible. Bright colours, cheery lighting, fresh flowers. She had obviously been limited by budget, though. The furniture was second-hand and despite the apartment being clean and tidy, he could not help but notice a cockroach crawling over the carpet.
“Coffee?”
“Thanks,” he said.
She walked over to the kettle and filled it with water. “You have until you’ve finished the coffee to convince me why I shouldn’t throw you out.”
“Okay, I should tell you something about myself. I’ve ran a small law firm here in New Jersey for the last five years. Before that, I worked for a big law firm in New York. There my clients were always guilty to some degree but they wouldn’t accept responsibility. I kept their butts out of the fire, but I hated it. It was so stressful trying to climb the corporate ladder to partnership I lost sight of why I had wanted to be a lawyer in the first place. The stress got so bad I ended up in hospital with chest pains, thinking I was seriously going to die. I quit to be the kind of lawyer I should have been before: someone who actually helps real people. Now I only accept cases when I like my clients and believe in them. I’ve listened to Sarah and strongly believe her mother got a very raw deal. It was in fact so bad no decent lawyer would have let her accept it. The hospital should have paid a lot more for what they did.”
The water had boiled. Now Chloe was pouring it into two cups, mixing it with instant coffee. “You certainly have a way with words, Mr Swanson. But so far you’ve not said anything convincing. Do you take milk and sugar?”
“Just milk,” he said.
She came over and handed him his cup. Then she sat down opposite him on an easy chair. They were so close their knees almost touched. There wasn’t space to put the furniture further apart.
“We can’t sue the hospital twice,” Chloe said. “My sister accepted the deal, as terrible as it was. We can’t appeal the verdict. I know – I looked into it myself.”
“Yes, you’re right. That case is over, but there may be legal grounds for suing your sister’s lawyer or their lawyers. I would have to investigate it to find out of there’s a case to pursue.”
“Look,” she said, quietly, looking at the door of Sarah’s room, “I have to think of what’s best for Sarah. She’s lost her parents, Mr Swanson. She needs to get on with her life, but she can’t if there’s another lawsuit dragging up the past. It’d just prolong her suffering and result in disappointment. No offence – but I’d be happier if she never had to see another lawyer in her life. You people have already done enough damage.” She lowered her voice even more. “I think the stress of the lawsuit might have contributed to why my sister took those pills.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not here because I want something. Sarah wants this. Has she shown the work she has done researching? It’s really impressive. She persuaded me she had something worth pursuing. An injustice had been done. If I can help her, don’t you think she deserves a chance of getting some justice?”
“Justice? What’s justice?”
“Money,” Jeff said. “Make someone pay.”
“Money? I don’t care about money,” she said. “I care about Sarah’s mental health. Did you know she cried herself to sleep for two years?”
“No,” he said. “There are many things I don’t know. I was hoping that you could tell me.”
“I don’t think so,” Chloe said. “I don’t even know you.”
“Can I be blunt?” Jeff asked.
She shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“Do you like living here?” he said.
“No. It’s all I can afford right now.”
“Is it safe for Sarah, living here?”
She didn’t answer.
“Some money for Sarah could improve both your lives,” Jeff said. “Let me try to get her some.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes and sighed. She clearly did not trust Jeff, but he could not blame her. “I suppose you’ve got a contract in your pocket?”
“Yes – but I can leave it with you and let you read it at your leisure. Think it over tonight. I don’t want you to feel pressure.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll agree to that. Reading the contract, that is. Nothing else. Goodbye.”
It was dark when Jeff exited the apartment. He hurried down the stairways, avoiding eye contact with everyone lurking in the darkness. He survived all the way to the parking lot, now lit by unhealthy yellow streetlights. His SUV was where he’d parked it, intact – except for the wheels.
Feeling stupid, Jeff walked back to the apartment and knocked again. It took a minute for Chloe to open the door, frowning.
“Hi, it’s me again. I’m sorry to bother you, but I kind of just found the wheels are missing on my car.” He grinned awkwardly. “Can I use your phone to call a taxi?”
“I guess,” she said. She opened the door. “Sorry about your car. Should’ve warned you.”
The taxi would be twenty minutes.
Perhaps because she was feeling guilty, Chloe talked to him more openly while he was waiting. He found out Chloe had dropped out of her journalism internship to look after Sarah and get a job that paid a living wage. Unfortunately finding such a job had been impossible. Chloe currently earned minimum wage as a waitress. She had been forced into moving into the roach-infested neighbourhood by economics. She had done her best to make the place nice, but there was no escaping the poverty and danger around their tiny enclave. It was as if they were in a prison cell, not a home. She showed him a photograph album of where Sarah had lived before – a real house with a two-car garage, located in the quiet suburbs.
“Sarah still goes to the same good school she used to, but she has to travel on the bus 30 minutes every morning. I’d like for her to live closer. If you think you can help her get money to get out of this place ...” She sighed. “I know I shouldn’t do this but ...” Shaking her head, she signed the contract and handed it to him. “Don’t let her down, Mr Swanson. Don’t.”
The contract was signed.
Now it was up to him.
*
“So what was the aunt like?” Melanie asked after he told her about his night.
“Young. She’s like 24 or something. She’s feisty.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said. “She didn’t like me much, though. Her experience of lawyers has been less than perfect. I think she signed the contract because she felt sorry for me because of my car. Now I feel like I really have to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Can you find out everything there is to know about the background of the case in a couple of hours?”
“Hey, I’m not your secretary, Jeff. I’m your partner. Why can’t you do it?”
Jeff often forgot Melanie was an equal partner in their firm, not just his paralegal. Becoming a full partner was one of the reasons why she had joined him.
“You know you’re better at that sort of thing, Melanie. You research better. Please do it – I have to two courtroom appearances this morning and I have to arrange a meeting with Harry Dolz. Pretty please ...”
“You take advantage of me,” she said. “Okay – but next time you do it yourself, right?”
“You’re the greatest,” he said. “I love you.”
Melanie was grinning and shaking her head as Jeff went into his office. Jeff sat down at his desk and flipped through his Rolodex. He knew Harry Doltz. He was an ambulance chaser who rarely made appearances in court, preferring to negotiate deals before they got to trial. Harry was notorious for a TV advertisement of his services featuring a smashed vehicle in the background, bodies in the foreground, over which Harry stepped to face the camera, saying: “If you or a loved one has been injured in an accident, you could claim compensation. My name is Harry Dolz. Call me on 555-HDOLZ. I am the man to help you.”
The rumour was Harry never turned down a free lunch. The rumour proved true. Harry didn’t even ask why Jeff wanted to have lunch with him before agreeing to meet him at Volerio’s. Volerio’s was perhaps the best restaurant in New Jersey. All the Mob lawyers ate there. When Harry came in, he looked like he was casing the joint for a robbery. He was a squat, hairy man in his fifties. He looked like a Mafia don. Jeff shook his hand and invited him to sit down. Jeff ordered some wine for the both of them. Harry ordered the steak tartar with a side salad before saying anything. Then he looked straight into Jeff’s eyes.
