Wrongful Termination

by Mike Farris

  “We need to raise our minimum hour requirement for partners and impose fines on partners who don’t meet that requirement. We do that a few times and I guarantee you partners will start working harder. We also need more billable hours out of our associates. Right now the minimum is twenty-one hundred hours. At that rate, they barely pay for themselves, much less leave profits on the table for us. I propose that we raise the minimum to twenty-three hundred hours for associates. Make them pull their weight, and if they don’t, let them go and replace them with associates who will.

  “I also propose that we set up time clocks where associates clock in when they get here and clock out when they leave. That way we can keep better track of their comings and goings.

  “The last thing we need to do is tighten our standards for making new partners. We’ve got a meeting in a few weeks to vote on our associates who are up for partner. This is a theme I’ve hit before and I’ll hit again when the vote comes. We have got to send a message to our associates that unless they are bringing in substantial amounts of business, they should not expect to be made partners in this firm. Unless our lawyers become business-getters, they need to look for work elsewhere. We already have enough unprofitable partners without adding to the ranks.”

  He paused, looking us over, wondering if we were with him. I wasn’t, but I worried that many were.

  “So in closing—”

  “What about my question, Josh?” Charlene said.

  Josh cleared his throat. A pained, almost constipated look crossed his face. I could predict his position. After all, less than ten percent of the partners were women, and none ranked in the upper levels of ownership points. Each partner was assigned a number of points, based on factors such as client originations and billable hours, that translated into a percentage of ownership. All partnership votes were weighted based on those percentages. So if you were a one-and-a-half percent owner, your vote counted one-and-a-half percent, while if you owned only a half percent, your vote counted a full percentage point less than the one-and-a-half percent partner. None of the women partners exceeded a one percent ownership, so Josh didn’t care about their views.

  “I think this firm should do whatever it takes to develop business. We seeded John Shaw seventy thousand dollars and he grew almost three million dollars in business out of that. That’s money in my pocket and that’s money in your pocket. This firm, this partnership, should encourage that kind of business development.”

  Having answered the question directly, Josh opted to pass over his summary remarks and abruptly sat down.

  “All right,” Alvin said. “Oscar? Got anything to say?”

  Oscar didn’t approach the microphone but simply stood at the front where he was sitting. Speaking from there had a phony spontaneity that looked planned. Four days’ growth of beard decorated his horsey face, adding to the aura of pre-planned nonchalance.

  “I’ll be brief,” Oscar said. “I agree with Josh on a lot of what he said. I agree we have to work on the firm’s bottom line, to make this firm more profitable. The way we do that is to grow all sections of the firm, not just the corporate section. We also need to add new practice areas. Management needs to actively seek out intellectual property lawyers with books of business to add laterally. We should also add municipal law lawyers. If we add a municipal law section, we can target all these small towns in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. There’s a lot of money to be made there, just waiting for us to go after it.

  “And, Charlene, to answer your question, I agree with Josh that we need to support our partners in client development. Maybe what we should do is try to refocus the efforts if we think they are inappropriate, but we’ve got to stand behind our partners.”

  He paused and sought me out with his eyes.

  “And speaking of standing behind our partners, we have to stand behind each other when we get sued. In this society, everyone with a deep pocket is a target for a lawsuit, including this law firm. When our partners get sued, we’ve got to stand behind them and support them. We’re a family, and what hurts one of us hurts all of us.”

  Did I hear an “amen?” I hadn’t thought of Oscar as being particularly close to Tripp, but he had sure bought into the party line. This sounded like a speech from a man who had been groomed by the existing committee. I wondered if they had also already salted the partnership ranks with votes.

  “This is one of the greatest firms in town,” Oscar said. “It can only remain that way if we all get behind it and push it forward. Thank you.”

  He sat down.

  “Muckleroy,” Alvin said. Was it paranoia, or did I hear a note of disdain? Still influencing the jury?

  I stood but stayed at the back. I liked the idea of making my partners twist in their seats, backs to Alvin, to see me.

  “I know I’m the last person most of you expected to run for the committee. In fact, if some of you had your way, I wouldn’t even be here. But I am here. And as I long as I am, I ought to at least say what’s on my mind.”

  I looked directly at Alvin. “Let me start by saying that I don’t agree with much of what I’ve heard here tonight. We are not a business, nor are we businessmen. We are in a profession and we are professionals. We are not only attorneys, we are lawyers. As attorneys, we represent our clients. But as lawyers, we represent the public role of professionals whose duties extend far beyond our clients to include the justice system and public interest. Our own Rules of Professional Conduct tell us that we have special duties for the quality of justice in our society. And that burdens us with a heavy responsibility.”

  I took my eyes away from Alvin and looked at the rest of my partners. “Not only is there a distinction to be made between the terms attorney and lawyer, there is even a distinction that should be made between lawyers being ethical and lawyers being principled. Merely complying with ethical rules does not, in and of itself, rule out unprincipled behavior. As Elihu Root once told a client, ‘The law lets you do it, but don’t. It’s a rotten thing to do.’”

  I paused, wondering if I had just lost my audience. I assumed these were foreign concepts to many in the room. Charlene caught my eye and winked. At least I still had her attention.

  “Being principled means you don’t take clients to strip bars and try to justify it as business development. Being principled means you don’t overbill clients, but instead you give them an honest hour’s work for each hour’s pay. Being principled means you don’t fire associates just to silence them. Being principled means you don’t allow ego and greed to push ethics and integrity into the back seat. Being principled means you don’t see clients merely as cash cows. Being principled means you treat associates as people and as equals, and not just as billable hours.

  “When my worth to this firm, and every other lawyer’s worth, is measured, not in terms of professionalism, loyalty, and honesty, but solely in terms of billable hours and originations…in terms of what we bring to the bottom line…we’ve gone wrong. When we turn the legal system into a game, to be won at all costs, regardless of what’s right and what’s wrong, we’ve gone wrong.”

  The room was deathly silent. I had their full attention, but probably not their full agreement. After all, the things I spouted would hit some of them right in the pocketbook, and they would never stand for that.

  “You remember that great scene in To Kill a Mockingbird after the trial was over and the jury had just convicted Tom Robinson, even though he was innocent? Everyone had already left the courtroom except Atticus Finch and all the black folks sitting up in the balcony. And Scout, Atticus’s little girl.”

  I saw a few nods. Most had seen or read the classic lawyer tale.

  “Atticus packs up his briefcase, then he starts to walk out of the courtroom, real slow, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. All the folks in the balcony stand when he walks down that aisle. All except Scout, who can’t figure out what’s going on. Then the old preacher prods her and tells her to stand, and Sc
out wants to know why. Do you remember what the preacher said?”

  I saw more heads nodding.

  “He said, ‘Because your father is passing.’”

  I paused to let the scene soak into whatever consciences remained in this firm.

  “When I first read that, then when I saw the movie, I said to myself, ‘Now that’s what being a lawyer is all about… Being an Atticus Finch.’ But in all my years of practice, I’ve never seen that kind of respect for lawyers. Not once. And you know why?

  “Because most lawyers don’t deserve it. Most lawyers spend all their time chasing dollars, padding their time, and stroking their egos. And if they happen to do right in the process…well, that’s just incidental. I always thought lawyering was a noble profession. I still do. But I don’t think many lawyers today are all that noble. There aren’t many Atticus Finches anymore. But that’s what I want for us. That’s my vision for Black West and Merriam…to be a firm full of Atticus Finches.”

  Then I sat down.

  *

  I got to the hospital as quickly as I could after the meeting. My heart skipped a beat when I turned the corner and saw Meg sitting up, writing on a pad, and passing it to her parents. Her face was still bruised, but her eyes had the spark I remembered from before the shooting. I stood in the doorway for a moment without anybody noticing.

  Then she saw me.

  Her smile spread, exposing perfect white teeth. Her eyes twinkled with a life that I knew couldn’t be extinguished.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She wrote on the pad then held it up to me.

  HEY!

  “She woke up about an hour ago,” Rachel said. Her voice danced with excitement. “The doctor said there’s no apparent brain damage. Everything seems to be okay.”

  “We’ve just been visiting,” Mark said. “We had some catching up to do.”

  I approached Meg’s bed. She patted the edge, then scooted over and held out her hand. I sat down and took her hand. We looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

  “We’re going to get something to eat,” Mark said. He and Rachel stood, gathering their coats. “I imagine y’all would like to talk.”

  I nodded, never taking my eyes off Meg’s.

  “I missed you,” I said when they had left.

  “Me, too,” she mouthed.

  She freed her hand so she could write on the pad.

  MOM SAID THEY HAD AN ELECTION TONIGHT.

  “Yeah. I didn’t win.”

  She lifted her eyebrows and wrote.

  YOU RAN?

  “Yeah. Can you believe it? I finished second, though.”

  WHO WON?

  “Oscar Hamilton. He and I made a runoff. Josh Froberg finished way back in third.”

  FROBERG’S SUCH A LOSER I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WOULD GET ANY VOTES.

  “He didn’t get many.”

  YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT. I’M SORRY YOU LOST.

  “How do you feel?”

  HEADACHE. THROAT HURTS. HUNGRY. CAN’T MOVE MY LEFT LEG. OTHER THAN THAT, O.K.

  I laughed. “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, did you enjoy the play?”

  She smiled, afraid to laugh.

  MOM SAID YOU WERE ALWAYS HERE.

  I nodded.

  WHY?

  If ever I had an opening to say it, there it was. The perfect time. All I had to do was open my mouth. But I recalled the lyrics to the old song:

  And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you.”

  “Just wanted to see how you were,” I said.

  She nodded, but her smile faded just a tad. A tear slipped over the edge of an eyelid and assaulted her cheek.

  I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Bill Patterson sat at his desk, going over year-end projections. Not a banner year. Profits were down, costs up. Especially legal fees. He had tried to stiff-arm the board of directors, but they had retained an outside accounting firm to formally audit Black West & Merriam’s legal bills. Patterson hadn’t told Tripp yet but knew he would have to soon. He didn’t look forward to it.

  His secretary entered, carrying a thick envelope. “This just came for you,” she said.

  Patterson looked at the envelope after she left. Marked confidential, it bore his name in bold ink.

  Patterson tore open the envelope and dumped its contents onto his desk. A thick stack of papers slid out. An index card was paper-clipped to the top page with a typed message:

  Compare these to the ones you got from Malloy.

  He picked up the phone and pressed a speed-dial number.

  “Bring me Black West’s fee statements.”

  *

  A man in an off-the-rack suit waited in the reception area of Black West & Merriam. The blonde receptionist sat behind her desk, headphones on, and watched him. She had learned to recognize process servers. Enough had been by in the past few weeks, each looking for Alvin Peoples. She wondered what was going on with the firm.

  Alvin strode into the area with a purpose. Anger clouded his face. He walked up to the process server and grabbed the document from his hand.

  “What is it this time?”

  “A subpoena from the U.S. Attorney.”

  Alvin fought to maintain his temper. Wordlessly, he spun and walked back down the hall.

  *

  Steve McGinnis, Matt Cunningham, and Oscar Hamilton joined Alvin in his office. Alvin had made copies of the subpoena and passed them around to his partners. They all sat silently, reading the categories of documents the Justice Department was requiring them to turn over.

  Oscar finished reading first and tossed his copy on Alvin’s desk. “Where did they come up with all this?”

  “It’s the same crap Meg Kelly’s lawyer asked for in her lawsuit, and then some. I took her document request and matched it with this. It looks like Justice copied it verbatim as part of the subpoena.”

  “It’s Robin Napoli,” Matt said. “She’s feeding the U.S. Attorney information. They both want to get a piece of a big law firm…and we’re it.”

  “I thought that lawsuit might go away,” Oscar said, “after the carjacking. I take it it’s not?”

  “We got deposition notices for a bunch of our partners,” Alvin said. “Ones who worked with Kelly. And one for Tripp with a duces tecum. Napoli wants all the same documents produced at his deposition that she asked for in her document request.”

  “Have we produced anything yet?” Oscar asked.

  “Just the ones we gave Patterson,” Alvin said. “We objected to all the others.”

  The door opened and Tripp entered. He seemed exhausted, his face drawn and his eyes lifeless.

  “You look like hell,” Alvin said.

  “I had a bad night last night, but I’m okay now. What’s going on here?”

  “Subpoena, like I said,” Alvin said. “From the U.S. Attorney.”

  “For all my billing records?”

  “Everything.”

  “Have you cleaned up your stuff yet?” Matt asked.

  “Most of it. I was waiting to see what was going to happen after Meg got…you know. I figured if she died, this would all go away.”

  “What are y’all talking about?” Oscar said.

  “This is not going away,” Alvin said. “This is the Justice Department now. They’re on to this.”

  “What are you talking about?” Oscar asked again.

  Alvin handed the subpoena to Tripp. “We’ve got five days to comply with this.”

  Tripp scanned the document. “File a motion to quash. That’ll buy us some time while I get started.”

  “What are we doing here, guys?” Oscar said. “Are we altering records that have been subpoenaed?”

  “Look, Oscar,” Tripp said. “Are you with us or not? Or was that just a bunch of bullshit the other night about standing behind each other when we get sued?”

  “It wasn’t bullshit. I just want to know what is goin
g on. And I want to know what the Justice Department is doing in this.”

  “Muckleroy’s behind it,” Tripp said.

  “What makes you think that?” Steve asked.

  “You think it was just coincidence his buddy Napoli takes on the case for the girl he’s been banging? You think it was just a coincidence the Justice Department copied her document request?”

  “That’s not Bay’s style,” Steve said.

  “Muckleroy doesn’t have any style.”

  “He used to. But that thing with Alyssa broke his spirit,” Steve said.

  “I’d like to break his friggin’ neck,” Tripp said.

  “Look, Steve,” Matt said. “I know you and Bay go back a ways, but I agree with Tripp. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “We’ve got to do something about him,” Tripp said.

  “Bay’s not our worry right now,” Steve said. “This subpoena is.”

  “Steve’s right,” Alvin said. “This U.S. Attorney’ll eat us alive unless we shut him down right here and now.”

  “I’ll get started on the documents tonight,” Tripp said.

  *

  After spending the morning at the hospital, I stopped by the office to catch up on several files I had been neglecting. I had just started thumbing through my phone messages when Ellie came in and closed the door.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “There’s that closed door again.”

  “Can you answer something for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why would Tripp Malloy want his secretary to go home at five o’clock then meet him back up here at ten o’clock for some overtime?”

  “Because he doesn’t want anyone to know what they’re working on.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “What did she say he wanted?” I asked.

  “He wouldn’t tell her, but he wants her for several nights. She’s afraid she’ll get in trouble if she questions him, but she’s worried about what he wants her to do.”