So Help Me God

by Larry D. Thompson

  Janice received the petition by fax and promptly flipped to the last page to see who the plaintiff lawyer was. The prominence of the plaintiff lawyer would tell the defense lawyer much more than the words in the petition. When she saw J. Robert Tisdale's name, she knew she was up against one of the best. She flipped to the front page and very carefully analyzed the facts that he enumerated and his counts of negligence, paying particular attention to the charge of assault. She was impressed that he had even attached a letter from a doctor that laid negligence at the feet of both Dr. Moyo and Population Planning. To say she was scared, awed or even intimidated because Johnny Bob was on the other side would be wrong. She stood in fear of no man. Instead, she felt challenged. If anything, she looked forward to assisting in the defense against Johnny Bob Tisdale. Bring him on! She would have a major, though secondary, role in the defense of the case. Provided the insurance company for Dr. Moyo had any sense, they would also get one of the best and he would be first chair. Far better to have the doctor out in front, with Population Planning taking a back seat. Her first job was to make sure that the doctor's insurance company sent the case to a damn good malpractice defense lawyer, not to some schmuck who wined and dined the adjuster often enough to get business.

  Picking up the phone, she called Population Planning and asked for the director, who immediately got on the line. "Gloria, just read the Brady petition. This one's liable to be a barn burner. I want you to get on the phone to Dr. Moyo's insurance company and track down the adjuster. Tell them that we insist that Tod Duncan be assigned to this case for Dr. Moyo. Don't take no for an answer. Got it?"

  CHAPTER 35

  The three divers dropped from the boat into the water and gave each other the "okay" sign. Raising their left hands to the sky and holding the air hose attached to their buoyancy compensator, they each pressed the release valve and descended below the surface of the Caribbean. The water was crystal clear with visibility in excess of one hundred feet as they entered the undersea world and drifted slowly to the ocean floor sixty feet below. If they had pictured the largest aquarium made by man, multiplied the numbers, sizes, varieties and colors of fish and other aquatic life by ten, added rainbows of coral, sponges, ferns and other undersea vegetation, then stirred in a vivid imagination, it might have come close to resembling the world through which they descended.

  At the bottom, Tod Duncan checked to make sure that his two sons were with him. Then he led the way through the coral filled with schools of small fish that fled as they approached. When they rounded the end of a reef, they saw it: a shark coming right at them, no more than twenty feet away. They watched with curiosity and excitement as the six-foot monster approached to within inches, glanced at them and with a swish of his tail silently passed by. It was the first time they had ever seen a shark up close. It was not the first time that the shark had seen divers. In fact, he had been expecting them. Ahead, they saw the rest of their group kneeling in a circle on the ocean floor around the dive master. As they closed the hundred feet, Tod and his sons could see at least three other sharks lurking off in the distance, their attention on the man in the middle of the circle. Like the divers, the sharks knew what was coming. It was feeding time, and they were hungry.

  Fortunately, they were expecting to eat pieces of fish fed to them by the dive master. They had no interest in a human feast. Not that they were incapable of taking off an arm or leg with one bite, but these were Caribbean nurse sharks, never known as man-eaters. Nonetheless, the dive master had warned the group to keep their arms folded in front of them as he fed the beasts. He opened the bucket and speared a piece of fish with a four-foot rod. More sharks began to assemble and circle. Up to seven feet long, at least ten of them had arrived for breakfast. They were joined by a handful of giant groupers weighing several hundred pounds ready to battle the sharks. As the dive master raised the fish over his head, a five-foot shark, mouth open, baring rows of razor sharp teeth, burst through the assembled divers. As he approached the dive master, another shark came from the other side of the circle. They met at the top of the spear where they collided before one was victorious and both swam away. The piece of fish disappeared.

  The feeding frenzy went on for twenty minutes with sharks and groupers fighting for the fish as fast as the dive master could spear them from the bucket. The sharks swam around the divers, over their heads, and between them, often brushing human shoulders with fins or tails as they broke through to the spear. This is what the divers had come to see and they got their money's worth.

  When the bucket was empty, the dive master motioned upward and started back toward the boat. The fish and the divers recognized that breakfast was over and the dive had ended. The sharks and groupers wandered off to cruise the reefs while the divers slowly made their way to the surface, making a safety stop fifteen feet below sea level as the boat rocked on gentle Caribbean waves above their heads. Tod's youngest son, Chris, used the three minutes to hang upside down in hopes of getting one more glimpse of a shark before they surfaced. Handing their flippers to the captain, they climbed the ladder into the boat and removed their air tanks, masks, and scuba gear. The boat was awash with conversations that bubbled with excitement. The dozen people could now say they swam with sharks and lived to tell about it.

  "Hey, Dad!" It was Tod's oldest boy, Kirk. "Wasn't that wild? Did you see me with that little grouper between my knees?" While the sharks and giant groupers were battling for breakfast, a baby grouper, no bigger than ten inches, had swum between Kirk's legs and stayed there, watching the others, knowing that he would have to add three feet and about a hundred pounds before he could join the game.

  "I saw it, Kirk," replied Chris, at fifteen, two years younger than his brother. "Dad, can we do it again before we leave Nassau?"

  Tod appreciated the excitement and enthusiasm in his two sons. He enjoyed it as much as they did. "Sorry, boys. This is our last dive. We leave tomorrow and head back to Houston. You know the rules. No diving within twenty-four hours of boarding a plane, but we're playing golf this afternoon and I'll spot you a stroke a hole. Anyone that beats me wins twenty bucks provided neither one of you wears that tee shirt."

  "Which one, Dad?" Kirk asked, a grin on his face.

  "You know exactly which one, that ugly green one with the old duffer on the front and the language on the back about 'Old Golfers Never Die. They Just Lose Their Balls.' Now you guys go join the others at the front of the boat. The Captain has put out a tray of fresh fruit. I've got to check in with the office."

  The boys headed to the front of the boat, arguing about who had seen the biggest shark. As Tod spoke, he was digging into his bag to find his cell phone. When he turned it on, he was surprised to find a message from Janice Akers. He and Janice had been friends for ten years, almost as long as she had been practicing law. They started off as adversaries when Janice had a medical malpractice case against Tod's client, an orthopedic surgeon. They fought through four days of trial like some of the sharks and groupers that Tod had just seen, finally settling the case just before it went to the jury. Afterward they became friends, and had frequently co-defended cases, still arguing over who would have won that first case.

  "Hey, Jan, it's Tod. What's up?"

  "Tod, where the hell are you? Your secretary told me you were out of town. Don't tell me you're off on another wild adventure with your boys?"

  "Jan, you know me too well. We're in the Bahamas. Been here for five days, diving and golfing. I'm calling you from the dive boat about two miles offshore. We've been down at the bottom, diving with sharks. Please, no cracks about lawyers and sharks. I've heard all the jokes."

  "Well, you need to get your ass back here. We've got us a case with J. Robert Tisdale and it may be a whopper. I've got Population Planning. You're going to represent the doctor. Tisdale's client was seventeen and had an abortion. Almost died. Damages are big and he's even claiming we assaulted the girl."

  "My doc do anything wrong?"

 
"Don't know. He perforated her uterus and there were some retained fetal parts. You and I both know those are complications of the procedure."

  "I don't mind one complication. Two get my attention."

  "When are you coming back?"

  "Tomorrow night. Why don't you send a copy of the petition and the clinic's chart over? I'll look at them when I hit the office on Wednesday."

  "You got it. By the way, it may be that you were safer down there with the real sharks."

  After the call, Tod considered Jan's last comment. J. Robert Tisdale, he mused. He'd been playing in the litigation big leagues for more than twenty years and this would be his first case with Johnny Bob. Not that they were strangers. Tod had been on the trial lawyer lecture circuit for years and frequently shared the same panel with Tisdale. He looked forward to the challenge. In his mind, he pictured Randy Johnson pitching to Barry Bonds. The best against the best. He had no doubt that he was Johnny Bob's equal. Hell, he was probably better.

  CHAPTER 36

  Thomas Oswalt Duncan inherited his names. Thomas came from his father. Oswalt was his mother's maiden name. It was only natural that with his father's first name and with those initials, he would be dubbed "Tod." He was born while his father, then a colonel in the Air Force, was based in San Antonio at his last duty station. Shortly thereafter, Colonel Tom Duncan retired from twenty-five years in the military. Tod had the advantage of two parents who worked hard at raising him right. While he lacked for very little, his military father made certain that Tod appreciated everything he got. It was understood that school came first. An occasional "B" was accepted but two on one report card brought a quiet, strong message from his father.

  Tod was destined to be an attorney. His grades were outstanding, his command of written English was near perfect, and he captained his high school debate team that placed second in the country. He convinced his parents to send him to San Diego State, figuring that he would get a decent education, experience a different lifestyle and then be ready for three hard years in law school.

  The four years in San Diego were just what Tod expected. San Diego State was certainly not the Harvard of Southern California. Still, he graduated with a 3.7 average, good enough to get 'cum laude' on his diploma. Along the way he learned to surf with the best of the Californians and brought his golf scores down into the middle seventies. After graduation he put away his surfboard and clubs, returned to Austin and entered the University of Texas Law School, considered one of the top law schools in the country, not far behind Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, at least in the eyes of Texans.

  His law school career was good enough to attract the attention of the big three Houston firms, the same ones that some years before had shown J. Robert Tisdale the door. He accepted a job with Sanders and Watson, then a firm of one hundred and fifty lawyers in downtown Houston. At twenty-four he was a licensed attorney, drove a Corvette and had the world by the tail. Sixty-hour workweeks were common in the firm and he accepted them. What he couldn't accept was the fact that he was expected to spend the next three years in the library, researching esoteric points of law without ever seeing the inside of a courtroom.

  At the end of the first year, he said good-bye to big firm life and joined a three-lawyer trial firm. The pay and prestige couldn't match where he had been. However, Tod witnessed a trial in his first week as he assisted the firm's senior partner at the counsel table. It was during that trial that the senior partner kidded him about looking sixteen even though he was now twenty- five. That evening, Tod studied himself in the mirror and realized that the partner was right. If he was to convince a jury that his future clients should win their lawsuits, he couldn't look like the president of the high school debate club. He pictured the face in the mirror with assorted types of facial hair before deciding that a mustache would give him just the right look. Shortly, one appeared on his upper lip where it remained throughout his career.

  Eight months after he joined the new firm, he tried and won his first case. It would be the first of many courtroom victories over the next twenty years as he took his place in the upper echelon of Texas trial lawyers. Over the years, medical malpractice defense became his specialty and his real love as he studied and understood the nuances of medicine as well as the workings of the human body. Unfortunately, it was the insurance companies for the doctors that selected counsel and Tod's reputation soon commanded fees that were far beyond what a doctor's insurance company would authorize. So, except for an occasional case where the company was worried enough about a multi-million dollar loss that they were willing to pay for Tod's expertise, he left medical malpractice defense behind. While he would not turn down a really good plaintiff lawsuit, he became known as one of the best defense lawyers in the state. National and international companies began to seek him out when they had a multi-million dollar case in Texas. Although he did not really plan to do so, by the time he was in his late thirties, he was on the way to building a giant firm. Then tragedy struck.

  CHAPTER 37

  Tod was thirty when he married Amy, a statuesque blond who worked as a paralegal for another firm in his building. Within a few years they had Kirk and Chris and moved to a rambling ranch house on two acres in northwest Houston. Tod's life revolved around his work and his family. Then, Amy found a lump in her breast. By the time it was diagnosed, the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes. Then it hit her bone marrow. She fought for a year before she died. The boys were ten and eight.

  Tod surveyed his life and decided that it had to be simplified. Simplicity did not include managing a firm with forty lawyers. There was no choice. The boys came before his firm. Two weeks after Amy died, he invited seven attorneys to join him in leaving the burgeoning firm to start a smaller, more streamlined litigation boutique, handling only select cases where the stakes were high and the fees were big. Certainly, it was a rare occasion when the attorney whose name was on the door packed up and left, but the change enabled him to spend even more time with his boys.

  While it took two years for Kirk to overcome the effects of his mother's death and more than three for Chris, they both learned to live with their loss. As the boys grew older, they each picked their respective sports. Kirk chose soccer and Chris wanted to be the next Michael Jordan. Nearly every evening there was a practice or a game. Tod coached each boy's team until they entered high school when he reluctantly settled for the role of spectator.

  Summer was their time for adventure. Tod arranged his schedule so that he and the boys could take three or four adventure vacations. Canoeing, mountain climbing, white water rafting and SCUBA diving filled their summer schedules.

  All three of the Duncans had adjusted to life without Amy. While they never closed her out of their lives, eventually they were able to accept her death. Although Tod could never replace the boys' love for their mother, he came as close as a father could. The boys reciprocated.

  Tod was satisfied with his life. He didn't have a serious romantic involvement. There were occasional dates, usually resulting from an attempt at match making by another lawyer's wife. He had a law practice, long known as a jealous mistress, and he had two boys to raise. He figured there would be time for romance when the boys went off to college, and in the meantime he served his boys and his mistress well.

  CHAPTER 38

  On the Wednesday morning after returning from the Bahamas, Tod was eager to get to the office. An adventure of a more familiar kind awaited him. He left the boys, knowing they would get themselves up and find breakfast around the house or at McDonalds. Life had become easier since Kirk had gotten a driver's license. Once he was satisfied that Kirk had no major wild streaks to endanger him, Chris or other Houston drivers, he bought Kirk a four year old Toyota pickup to get him and Chris to school, movies and friends' houses. A used pickup with sixty thousand miles was also a calculated parental decision. While money was not an issue with Tod, he refused to join so many of the other wealthy parents in playing a game of who could outdo the other in
outfitting their children with Corvettes, Porsches, and new pickups. For a seventeen-year old kid, a four-year old Toyota ought to be treated like a gift from the gods. Fortunately, Kirk felt the same way.

  As part of his strategic planning, Tod chose not to office downtown. Instead, he located on Washington Avenue, just two miles west of the courthouse. It was an older part of town that was originally about half Hispanic and half black. Now, it contained a variety of houses converted into small offices along with a growing number of yuppie townhouses.

  The office had originally been a City of Houston fire station, left behind as fire trucks grew bigger. It had been abandoned for years with only a small sign among the weeds, offering it for sale. Tod spotted it one day, not long after Amy died, and immediately placed a call to the realtor. The outside of the building was in reasonably good shape. Viewing it from the front, there were two large garage doors and a small pedestrian entry. The brick veneer appeared to be in near-perfect condition. As soon as the realtor unlocked the door, they found water, mold and fungus everywhere. Remnants of a campfire remained in the middle of the garage where, long ago, some winos had lived. Behind the station was an asphalt parking lot, full of holes and covered with weeds. About the only thing that seemed to still be functional was the fireman's pole that ran from the second floor to the first. After closing on the building sale, he hired an architect to convert it into a law office.

  It was six months later when Tod, seven other attorneys and their staff moved in. The outside had been sandblasted, revealing a burnt red color on the hundred-year-old brick, intended to match fire trucks in the early 1900s. The two garage doors were replaced with giant windows, curved at the top with planter boxes at the base. The entryway was covered with a brass awning. The reception area was decorated to maintain the fire station motif. The wall to the right of the door held hooks for coats and hats, including two from which hung a firefighter's hat over a firefighter's breakout coat from early in the century. A fireplace was on the opposite wall with pictures of old fire trucks above the mantle. The pole remained. Always polished like King Tut's gold, the pole was enclosed by a brass rail with a sign, "Danger! Falling Objects." The younger attorneys took particular delight in greeting first-time clients by sliding down the pole, landing with a grunt, and extending a hand in introduction.