The Socialist

by Calvin Wolf

The Judged

  1.0

  “My client is no saint. He is the child of privilege, and grew comfortable playing the system. He worked in the most controversial industries, where profits came easy and the public had no choice but to fund them. Perhaps he was callous and lacked compassion when he terminated the employment of fourteen workers.

  But Educorp broke the law. It has broken the law for years. It broke the law when it hastily removed my client from his position without just cause. It broke the law when it removed his daughter from her Educorp campus without just cause or offer of an appeal. Most of its lawbreaking has gone unnoticed because its clients, if you will, lack the means to seek justice. Most of its lawbreaking has gone unnoticed because government regulators are in cahoots with it, consciously or not.

  As an attorney, I have drained my firm’s entire savings account in order to hire enough help to deal with Educorp’s vast legal division. I could go into dollars and cents, but I know that everyone in this courtroom can see that this is a case of David versus a designer-suited Goliath.”

  A few laughs from the galley.

  “Educorp knew what it was doing. They held all the cards. They had the lobbyists, the lawyers, and the remnants of the public schools as a coward’s pressure-release valve. So much for competition and consumer sovereignty!

  All the documents we have sought from Educorp and any of its campuses have mysteriously disappeared. All the personnel we have subpoenaed and deposed have testified under the greatest reluctance, and with almost certain perjury -”

  Opposing counsel is yelling objections. The judge shushes him and snaps at my lawyer to watch it.

  “But exhibits C, F, M, and T are irrefutable evidence of Educorp’s fraud and abusive employment practices. Corporate followed none of its own public documents regarding employee demotion or termination, nor did it provide my client with a required right to appeal, or even due process. The exact same situation occurred with the other complainants attached to this case. Since the beginning of the trial, I have been contacted by local counsel for at least another dozen -”

  More objections, and the judge sustains. My lawyer apologizes and continues.

  “With the evidence we have presented, and which everyone knows in their hearts to be absolute proof of Educorp’s fraud and deception, we rest.”

  2.0

  It is Educorp’s ballgame, and their strategy appears to be to muddy the waters rather than present contradicting evidence.

  They criticize my lawyer’s arguments as nonsense. However, instead of presenting anything to contradict them, they bring in scores of people to testify against me, personally. Former teachers and support staff are sworn in and tell the jury that I was a schmuck, a sleaze, a corporate stooge, and a passive-aggressive tyrant. These witnesses lay the blame for the demotions and terminations I meted out as head principal squarely on my shoulders alone.

  “Do you believe that he was acting on orders from above, or in his own capacity?” Educorp’s lawyer asks with a smile. They all say I acted in my own capacity.

  Well, they say they believe that I acted in my own capacity. Nothing definitive, nothing objective, but it makes me look bad as hell.

  To his credit, my lawyer objects aggressively, insisting that the opinions of disgruntled former employees constitutes no evidence. “How poignant!” snaps Educorp’s chief counsel, glaring at me. “Isn’t that what we’re here about?” I feel punched in the stomach.

  The exchange gets all lawyers leaping to their feet, and we almost have a bench-clearing brawl right there in the courtroom. “Everyone to chambers!” the judge howls after trying to shush the bickering attorneys.

  With the lawyers squeezing into the judge’s office, I remain in the spotlight. Reporters watch me like a hawk. There I sit, the disgruntled former employee of Educorp, reaping from my own former teachers what I had sown. Nobody will sympathize. I don’t sympathize.

  My wife has taken Max and Madison out of school for an early Thanksgiving break, taking them back east to visit her parents. She is not responding to my texts.

  At this point, I do not care if I win or lose. I am lost.

  3.0

  “Let’s go over the day of the incident,” Educorp’s lawyer says as I slump, exhausted, on the witness stand. “I have your sworn statement right here.”

  We talk about the fateful day I had summoned an insurance executive and his wife to the school to bilk them of more money.

  “What was the reason you told them as to why they had to pay more money?”

  “I told them that their son’s learning disabilities were pre-existing conditions, which meant they were not covered by their education insurance.”

  “I see. Do you recall who sold them on that education insurance?”

  “Well, I did. Before the student’s freshman year.”

  “At the time, did the parents disclose the student’s learning disabilities?”

  “Yes, they did. Well, sort of. It’s hard to remember.”

  “And, at the time, did you approve their coverage?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  The jury absorbs my treachery with silence, as does the galley. I am a complete asshole. Unfortunately, I cannot leap to my feet and point out that the family was quite wealthy and that the student in question would undoubtedly go on to a comfortable career with his father’s connections.

  “Ah. And, whose signature would be on both the education insurance contract and the itemized bill you later submitted to the parents in question?”

  “Mine,” I sigh. By now, I have admitted to scores of signatures, all of them harmful.

  He doesn’t ask me why I did what I did. He won’t give me an opening.

  3.1

  “When Educorp replaced you with Mr. John Gunderson, did you file an appeal?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Why not?”

  “They certainly did not offer, like they were supposed to. And anyway, it would have been futile to appeal. Given the severity of the incident, and the likelihood of bad press, I was simply grateful that Educorp gave me an opportunity to remain on the payroll and keep my health insurance.”

  “Do you realize that employees are required to follow proper grievance procedures through Educorp’s human resources department before seeking legal recourse?”

  “Yes. I also realized that such a path was futile as well, and even harmful should I undertake it.”

  “And why is that, if I may ask?”

  “Intra-company appeals? Arbitration? Anyone who has worked in a large corporation knows that those processes are rigged in favor of management. I knew, without a doubt, that I would lose any appeal or arbitration. Then, they could hit me up for legal fees for the whole process.”

  The lawyer is trying to make me look bad, but I feel hopeful: The arbitration argument is fraught with peril. Educorp has tried to get my lawsuit thrown out, but has been overruled. It did not taken my lawyer long to discover that two “independent arbitrators” working for Educorp had developed personal relationships with high-ranking executives. One “independent arbitrator” had even worked in the law firm owned by the brother of Educorp’s CEO.

  “You knew the rules, but you chose not to follow them. Is that right?”

  “If you say so,” I reply coolly. The lawyer gets in a few more shots, and then releases me from the clutches of the witness stand.

  4.0

  I drink alone in the house, its emptiness allowing me the comfort of drunkenness. The press has been relentless, my family has left me, and everything seems bleak. Days ago, I felt like a crusader, a righteous knight. Instead of opposing me nobly, with its own lance and armor, Educorp has just thrown endless mud in my path. I am not struck down, but stuck down. Mired in muck.

  My downfall has been so swift, my fight for justice so long and slow. Laying on my couch with a beer, more warm than cold, I curse myself for not taking the deal they offe
red.

  Underneath the couch cushions, something buzzes. A phone. But whose? I reach down into the crumbs and wrappers of couch litter and fish around for something electronica. I feel a phone and pull it out. It’s the one my old acquaintance at Educorp gave me, before the trial began.

  I hadn’t heard from him, and had evidently forgotten the phone. He has only sent me one text, just now. I’m surprised the thing still has battery.

  I read the text and my breath catches as I see that he’s overheard some office gossip. Educorp executives are talking about changing their policies, a real public relations blitz, and they are willing to pay me off to end the trial and keep me quiet. Apparently, Educorp’s stock has been a bear recently.

  I heard 3 million, full nondisclosure. U take the $ and stay quiet. Corporate may throw in another mil if you move somewhere quiet, where media wont know u.

  My only reply is thanks. I don’t know what else to say. After all, it’s just a rumor.

  I grab my tablet and check Educorp’s stock, which still makes up the bulk of my portfolio. Sure enough, it’s way down. What a way to add insult to injury - the better I do, the worse my portfolio does. “Reason four hundred why you don’t sue your corporate employer,” I slur to myself. Well, I guess it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have stock options. I check my HumCap profile and see that I’m still deep in junk status.

  Suddenly, there is a buy. The notification flashes briefly onscreen, one hundred shares, and my share price goes up a dime. As I try to absorb this, there is a second buy, and my share price rises by another nickel.

  5.0

  The man who kicked me in the face with his heavy shoe is now sitting in the witness box. As their final witness, the motherfuckers from Educorp have the audacity to bring in the man who ruined my life. He seems nervous and is noticeably thinner than when we brawled back in the spring. “Please state your name,” Educorp’s legal mercenary says with a shark’s soothing.

  “John Bush,” the man replies. I had almost forgotten his name. It’s an unremarkable name. I sit in my chair and clench and unclench my fists. John Bush walks us through his background. He has worked for GreenShield, Inc., the health insurance conglomerate, for most of his career. His title is gobbledygook, and he describes his position as something of an actuary. He is forty-nine years old.

  “Tell us about your son, the one who attended the complainant’s school.”

  “My son’s name is Tommy. He’s a great kid, loves sports. Wants to be a lawyer, actually.”

  “What about his performance in school?”

  “Well, we noticed in elementary school that he was having some trouble reading. We eventually had him tested, and found out that he had ADHD and some personality issues. We got him some prescriptions, got some counseling, and things improved during junior high. Then we got to the high school, and we bought the top level of education insurance. Full coverage, everything. It allowed us to get tutors, tutorials, custom lessons.”

  “And then what happened?” The lawyer is practically gleeful.

  “I got a call from the school one day. They said we had to pay for all the tutorials and extra services we used. Obviously, my wife and I wanted to know why. We went down there for a meeting, and the head principal and a number of assistant principals were there. I had done everything I was supposed to do, and I was being told that they were considering my son’s ADHD and other issues to be ‘pre-existing conditions.’ I just lost it.”

  Everything is silent. I look closer and I can see tears running down Bush’s cheeks.

  “So then what happened?”

  “I attacked him, I guess. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not a violent person.”

  “What were you feeling?”

  My lawyer objects, and the judge sustains, but suddenly Bush stands up in the jury box. “I demand to speak!” he yells, like a Southern preacher. It is bizarre. Unexpected.

  “Mr. Bush, please sit down,” the judge admonishes, looking surprised.

  “No! You want to know how I felt?! I felt betrayed! I felt kicked in the stomach! Kicked when I was down! It was fucking wrong and I knew it!”

  “Mr. Bush!” yells the judge. The galley is getting excited, as is the jury.

  “I wanted to fucking kill him for what he was doing!” Bush points right at me, and my eyes widen. Fortunately, I don’t gasp.

  “Mr. Bush, that is enough!” roars the judge, his own eyes wide with confusion. I could tell that nobody knew what to do. I look around for the bailiff, who is an old sheriff’s deputy with Elvis Presley sideburns. Will he tase him, bro?

  “I knew it was wrong because we do the same thing at GreenShield! Exact goddamn thing! We run the same plays, how about that?” he laughs crazily. Collapsing back into his chair, he begins sobbing. Everyone is still and silent.

  “I did the exact same thing my whole career! I deserve it! Fate or karma, I deserve it!” Shock overwhelms the courtroom. The witness is confessing his own crimes, and this definitely wasn’t part of any legal team’s preparation. Awkwardly, Educorp’s lawyer approaches the witness stand, trying to rein in his irate and blubbering witness.

  “Fuck you!” Bush wails as the attorney gets close. “Fuck Educorp! I know corporate told their principals what to do, and so does everyone else! That’s how the whole thing works!”

  “Mr. Bush, I know you’re upset,” the lawyer soothes, his well-lacquered veneer finally cracking. Harvard Law didn’t prepare him for this, I think.

  “My wife and I are getting a divorce! My career is shit!” Bush hisses, rising to his feet again. He begins twisting and glaring, challenging everyone. He points at me again. “We’re both getting fucked by the big corporations! They tried to buy our silence! Play nice and keep your head down and it all goes away?! Well, not this time!”

  Suddenly, Bush lunges out of the witness box and bounds toward the galley. He rushes toward a well-dressed man in the first row. “I want a word with you, asshole!” he yells at the gentleman, who appears to be about sixty years old. The man does not shrink back in fear, but seems surprised. Fortunately, he is behind Educorp’s massive bench of lawyers. Amazingly, Bush plunges into their midst, determined to get into the suited man’s face.

  Instantly, tense awkwardness turns into pandemonium. The bailiff and a second deputy rush in to restrain Mr. Bush, who grabs two lawyers by their expensive blazers. “It’s my right to talk!” Bush hollers. He manages to spin around and grab the fancy man he seeks, his hands on the man’s lapels. The man tries to break free, and everyone is yelling.

  “Be cool!” one of my many lawyers hisses to me. My bench remains still and silent. I look at the judge and he is yelling into a handheld radio, presumably for more deputies. Sure enough, within seconds more deputies are rushing in from next to the jury box. The jury is stunned into frozen silence, with mouths agape.

  Bush is taken down and dragged out of the courtroom through the door by the jury box, now crying softly instead of yelling.

  I need to pee and lawyers are now shouting at the judge and each other. I hear the word mistrial.

  5.5

  “He has prejudiced the jury!” snaps Educorp’s legal beagle. “And nothing he said constitutes evidence!”

  “Well, he was your witness!” retorts my lawyer. I stand silently in the middle of a formally-dressed scrum, not knowing what to hope for. The judge is behind his desk, and appears out of his element.

  “The shit’s going viral,” a lawyer says from behind me, evidently looking at his phone. I do not know if he is one of my lawyers or one of Educorp’s. Frankly, a lot of them look pretty much the same.

  Calmly, the judge looks up from his hands and tells all the lawyers to shut up. He tells me to go home and wait to hear from my attorney. Apparently, there is a lot of stuff to sort out, and it will take hours. I nod silently and a deputy is summoned to escort me to my vehicle.r />
  ACT III