Scott Turow - Personal injuries

They were crossing the parking lot by now. The temperature had increased and the sun was seen some days now, but winter, a stubborn old witch, held on. The sky was piled with ugly soiled messes of clouds. Robbie, caught up in his reverie, looked to the pavement where oily rainbows had gathered.

"I think, you know, when it came to the actual act, she was probably pretty prudish, like a lot of ladies that age. I mean, I don't really know. She had one boyfriend for a while, a few years after my old man skipped, but that came to the usual sad ending, and after that she pretty much scrapped the whole notion. I caught her crying one night and telling herself and me it was for the best. He was a goy. A gentile. And younger than her. I was frantic. I couldn't stand that she was crying. I was eleven years old and I wanted to go after this guy with a bat, especially when I began to get the picture. With my mother?" Robbie had a sudden laugh. "I still would," he said. "I'd still like to kill him." His breath, turned to smoke by the cold, raced upward and he smiled at Evon, inviting her to laugh with him at his sudden recognition of himself.

The Hash Sennett had made of the first encounter with Judge Skolnick left him with serious tactical problems. Robbie could have employed the usual gambit, announcing that the case of the painter with cancer had settled and making his drop. But Stan felt he'd be left with a relatively weak case on the judge, much less imposing than what he needed to finally get Washington off his back. Skolnick's lawyer would argue to a jury that the first payoff had been refused-the recording supported that-and that the second, even if accepted, was not intended to influence any official act, since Skolnick had emphasized in the Lincoln that he would stay discovery for any party.

Instead, Sennett decided that Robbie should appear before the judge with McManis and actually ask Skolnick to grant his motion for judgment on the pleadings, a claim that his client deserved to win the liability phase of the lawsuit without a trial, or even discovery. In his car, Skolnick had said flatly he'd never grant such a request. Sennett, therefore, felt there was little to lose, particularly since Stan thought there was some chance Robbie might even win.

"If you show up," Stan explained to Robbie, "that tells the judge that McManis won't settle. So if Skolnick denies the motion, he knows discovery starts and McManis finds out your client has cancer. You'll get nothing, the kids will get nothing-and Skolnick will get nothing." Stan was convinced he had the judge cornered.

"You're missing one thing," Feaver told Sennett. "Barney isn't smart enough to figure all of that out."

When McManis and Feaver arrived in court to argue the motion, Skolnick sat on the bench with his perfect judicial hairdo and his florid face scrunched down among his many chins. He seemed to understand nothing but the fact that a plaintiff's motion for judgment on the pleadings was virtually never granted. Just as Robbie had predicted, the judge swiftly denied his motion.

Yet this setback proved only momentary. After ruling, Skolnick invited Feaver and Evon and McManis back to his chambers. He was entirely agreeable as he sat behind his desk, still in his robe. He offered coffee, told a few of his usual jokes, and then began mercilessly pressuring McManis to settle the case.

"You got out of here with your gatkes today, Jim," he said, addressing McManis, who'd never been in Skolnick's courtroom before, as if he were a friend through the ages. "You know what that means? Rough translation, you got out with your boots on. But who knows about next time, when Feaver makes another motion? Not that I'm prejudging. I'm not. I'm keeping an open mind. Completely open. Believe me, after twenty-six years on the bench, that's one thing you learn to do. You have to learn all the facts and hear both sides. Next time, who knows, maybe I'll still lion. I very well could. I was about this far." The judge held up his thumb and index finger, which were not parted at all. "Then where are you, Jim? The insurance companies, I don't know why they like to hang on to their money so long. It's like those cartoons where the moths fly out of the wallet. A case like this. Does he have a family?" Skolnick asked Robbie innocently. "The plaintiff?"

At the end, Skolnick stayed discovery another month to allow the parties to consider his remarks. He could not quite bring that off with aplomb; his eyes never left his leather desk blotter.

The FoxBIte had captured the judge's song and dance perfectly. Sennett accepted congratulations without preening, knowing, as we'd all seen, that there was no end to the way things could yet go wrong. Skolnick still had to take the money, and the complicated equipment in the Lincoln had to function. On April 12, Robbie, having reported to Pincus that the painter's case was now settled, prepared to visit the judge again in his car.

"We need this," Stan told Feaver before he departed from McManis's. Considerably shorter than my client, Stan laid his narrow hands on Robbie's shoulders and looked at him almost plaintively. The brotherly appeal, the fact that Stan was asking and not commanding, seemed to impress all of us, even Robbie. "JUDGE, I'M SHAVING YOU a little," Robbie said, almost as soon as he was on the nail-polish-red leather of the front seat. Feaver had seen the prior tape a number of times and had his mark exactly. He held the envelope containing the cash in his left hand and waved it in front of the lens. The picture today was noticeably better. Alf had added a signal booster, and at considerable expense, Sennett had requisitioned a second surveillance van from the Drug Enforcement Administration, which was also receiving the picture as a backup. Alf manned the dials feverishly, while Stan and McManis and I were belted to our little tin seats on the walls.

"Hah?" asked Skolnick. The judge had been providing his own windy analysis of what the Clintons should do about health care reform and had seemed sincerely oblivious as Robbie prepared to deliver the payoff. Even with the camera, Feaver had to find some way to get Skolnick to talk about the money. If the envelope was simply stuffed into the seat unnoticed, a defense lawyer would argue Skolnick knew nothing about it. Thus, Feaver had employed a variation on the ruse with Walter.

"Judge, you know, like I say, it's a little less, but to get this done, I had to undercut myself on the settlement. And I'd like to leave the family, the kids, with as much as I can. Only I don't want you to think I'm stiffing you."

Skolnick's large face labored through the calculations inspired by this deviation from form. He finally looked straight down at the envelope.

"Veefeel?" he asked quietly, meaning `How much?'

"Eight. If that's okay."

Skolnick laughed out loud. "My God, they should all worry like you. Genug. We're friends, Robbie. We've done a lot together. What you think is right, fine. Besides," said Skolnick, "you gave me last time. For nothing." Robbie played dumb and Skolnick added, "With Gillian."

Across from me, Sennett rattled his fist in the air, but issued no sound. He'd learned better. In the Lincoln, Skolnick's garrulousness had overtaken his caution.

"See, you know, you hear stories, some of my brethren, they're like bandits with pistols, really, what they do, it's a stickup. Here, with me, it's good for you, okay, so it's good for me. I'm not for grudges. I appreciate what you do. And if you did nothing, it would be the same, you know that."

"I do," Robbie said. Sennett recoiled, but Feaver quickly sent things in the proper direction. "It's just this time, you really went out of your way, Judge. You know, when you denied that motion, I was--:'

"I could see," said Skolnick. "You looked like I had my finger in your kishkes. Right? Come on. I could see. You were thinking, What's this guy doing to me? Am I right? I could see that."