Randy Singer - The Justice Game

Jason looked up. “Like every other normal human being, I don’t spend much time at the beach in January and February.”

“I’m not talking about layin’ out or swimmin’ or something. I’m just talking about strolling on the boardwalk when the tourists are gone or eating at one of those restaurants that overlook the ocean. When’s the last time you did anything that wasn’t work related?”

Jason put down his pen. She had a point. A small one, but a point nonetheless. When he moved to Virginia Beach, he had been drawn by the ocean, the sand, the water, the laid-back culture. He was going to learn to surf or maybe master the paddleboard. He would run on the boardwalk and join a gym and be part of the young lawyers’ association.

He had done none of those things. Instead, he’d done what he always did: thrown himself into the intellectual challenges. Sure, he had played soccer in high school and starred in the school play, but mostly he studied. In college he avoided the fraternities and extracurricular activities so he could focus on the books. Because of what he’d been through, he didn’t drink and felt out of place at parties. He went to an SEC school but never attended a football game. It wasn’t until law school, where it was finally okay to be a nerd, that he had begun to thrive. Law review, moot court, and high class rank made him the envy of classmates rather than an outsider.

But even in law school, he ate lunch alone every day at an out-of-the-way restaurant or in the kitchen of his one-person apartment. Jason was an unrepentant introvert. He had always considered himself a paradox-a loner who liked to perform. Since law school, he had learned that a lot of other public speakers and actors were introverts as well. He couldn’t change who he was, so why not accept it?

“When’s the last time you went to the beach?” Jason asked, turning the tables on Bella. Deflect and distract, always a good defense.

But Bella had worked for a lawyer for thirty years. “This isn’t about me, ” she said. “Besides, you want to be like me someday? Fifty years old and all I have is my job?”

The honesty of her assessment surprised Jason. And it may have surprised Bella a little as well, because she quickly added, “And my faith and friends at church. But… I mean, I wish I had done more stuff when I was your age.”

In that moment of transparency, Jason felt a wave of sympathy for his assistant. He hadn’t really given much thought to what it would be like in Bella’s shoes. For Jason, the law was an intriguing mistress, a challenging intellectual exercise, and a way to make money while serving the clients. For Bella, it must have been a grind-all menial and administrative tasks. And worse, after spending most of her career with one lawyer, she had to start all over again with somebody new.

But Jason wasn’t a counselor. Quite the contrary, he hated talking about personal issues. He decided to resort to another time-tested advocacy weapon-procrastination.

“Let’s just get through the Crawford case first,” Jason said. “And then we’ll both turn into Virginia Beach socialites.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bella said. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

The look on Melissa Davids’s face had been smug and impatient in her first deposition, but today it was pure contempt. Jason worried that his client might say something she would regret later, something that Jason might not be able to overcome no matter how skillfully he picked and cajoled the jury.

Even as Kelly asked her preliminary questions, Jason’s palms were practically dripping with anxiety. He caught his leg bouncing nervously under the table and stopped before he bumped Case McCallister, sitting next to him. What did Kelly Starling have that was so important it required a follow-up deposition?

“In your last deposition, I asked if you were aware of the fact that Peninsula Arms had received three citations from the ATF even before Rachel Crawford’s death. You said you might have been aware of that. Do you remember that testimony?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to amend that answer?”

“Of course not.”

“Were you aware of those citations?”

“Objection,” Jason said. “How many times does she have to answer the same question?”

Kelly ignored him. “Ms. Davids, are you saying today, under oath, that you don’t recall whether you were aware of those three ATF citations?”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again: I might have been.”

Kelly snorted at the answer. Jason tensed even more, leg bouncing, heart pounding. He didn’t like where this was headed.

“I also asked you whether you ever considered shutting down Peninsula Arms as a dealer.” Kelly consulted her bound copy of the prior deposition’s transcript. “And your response was, ‘No. If anybody had suggested such a thing to me, I would have told them I still believed in the Second Amendment and the free enterprise system.’ Do you remember that testimony?”

“Not particularly. But if that’s what the transcript says, I don’t deny it.”

“Isn’t it a fact, Ms. Davids, that you definitely considered whether MD Firearms should cut off rogue dealers and definitely decided against doing it because you wanted to protect the company’s bottom line?”

Jason opened his mouth to object but it was too late.

“Of course not,” Davids shot back. She looked like she wanted to jump across the table and attack Kelly. “That’s just your fantasy.”

Jason knew what was coming next. Part of it was the smirk on Kelly’s face. Part of it was the way she let the answer hang out there as she deliberately pulled out a set of documents, slowly removed the paper clip and separated three copies.

She kept one copy, handed one to the court reporter, and slid the third across the table to Jason. “Since your last deposition had twenty-six exhibits, I’m going to ask the court reporter to mark this next document as Plaintiff’s Exhibit 27,” she said calmly. “Then I’ll ask if you’ve ever seen this document before.”

Jason glanced through the document quickly. Just as he feared, Kelly had somehow obtained a copy of the memo from Case McAllister.

“I object,” Jason interjected, even before the court reporter handed the document to Davids. “This document is protected by the attorney-client privilege. I’m instructing the witness not to answer any questions about it.”

Without saying a word, Kelly Starling pulled out another set of documents, removed a paper clip, and separated three single sheets of paper. When Jason got his copy, his throat constricted.

It was a copy of Davids’s e-mail to Gerald Franks, CEO of Walker Gun Co., urging him not to blacklist renegade dealers from the Walker distribution chain. The e-mail was cryptic and to the point-vintage Melissa Davids. Gerry: If just one manufacturer caves in on this, it will require that all the rest of us also monitor every dealer and shut off dealers with troubled legal histories. For a lot of reasons, this is a bad idea. Attached is a memo Case put together on the subject. For your eyes only. Don’t open the floodgate for lawsuits. Melissa

While Jason stared at the memo, Kelly had it marked as Plaintiff’s Exhibit 28. “Do you recognize this?” she asked Davids.

“Hold on,” Jason said. He turned to Kelly. “Where did you get this?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“This e-mail and the attached memo are protected by the attorney-client privilege. I’m instructing the witness not to answer.”

“You’re kidding,” Kelly said.

Jason felt his face flush, but he was committed now. “I’m basing my objection on the joint defense privilege. Both companies faced the prospect of being named as defendants in a lawsuit. Under those circumstances, it’s not a waiver of the attorney-client privilege to share a privileged document with an executive from another company.”