T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“Yes, certainly. Now let’s move on.” Judge Willoughby might have the look of a genteel Southern spirit, but he possessed more than thirty years’ experience on the bench. Feuds between lawyers were not unknown, but they were certainly unwelcome. “We had a request from Justice Nicols for her chief clerk to sit in on these proceedings. As they are new to this level of the courts, we thought it was a fair request. But only if both parties agree.”

“No objections, Your Honor,” Marcus responded.

Logan actually smirked. “Fine with us, Your Honor.” Clearly the more witnesses to the upcoming roast, the better.

“All right.” He turned to his court recorder. “See if Miss Hail is ready to join us.”

Jenny Hail entered and gave the room an oblique smile before seating herself to the back and left of Judge Willoughby’s desk. The magistrate went on. “Mr. Kendall, you requested this meeting. As I told you on the phone, such a rapid pretrial hearing is not the norm. Mr. Glenwood, you have every right to request a postponement.”

“Thank you, Your Honor, but I have no objections.”

“Very well.” To Logan, “I assume we are here to discuss the defense’s pretrial motions.”

“We wish to lodge only one, Your Honor.” Logan handed the judge a slender file, paused as Suzie handed a copy to Marcus, then said, “We move that the complaint be dismissed forthwith, and Mr. Glenwood’s license to practice law be revoked.”

The judge’s demeanor turned severe. “Licensing is an issue for the state bar, not a federal hearing. As you well know.”

Logan held his ground. “With respect, Your Honor, we feel this matter is absurdly frivolous. A recommendation from you would carry substantial weight when we bring this matter up before the bar.” Logan turned toward Marcus for the first time. “Which we intend to do as soon as this case is thrown out.”

“I see.” The judge looked from one attorney to the other, then opened the folder and adjusted his glasses. “All right. I’m listening.”

“A young woman by the name of Gloria Hall has gone missing. Marcus Glenwood has taken advantage of two extremely distraught parents. His intentions are blatantly obvious. He seeks to focus public attention his way by besmirching the good name of one of our state’s most respected corporate citizens.”

The judge read swiftly, flicking the pages. “What are the facts here?”

“That’s the problem, Your Honor. There aren’t any facts to back up the plaintiff’s claim. Glenwood has accused my client of orchestrating a kidnapping. The whole thing is absurd.”

A quick glance at Marcus. “The plaintiff accuses New Horizons Incorporated of being behind an abduction?”

“Not the plaintiff, Your Honor,” Logan responded. “I don’t think Gloria Hall’s parents have anything to do with this claim. This is something Glenwood dreamed up on his own.”

Judge Willoughby glanced at Logan over the top of his reading glasses. “So what precisely is the complaint?”

“Glenwood has accused New Horizons Incorporated of kidnapping an American citizen. In China of all places. China, Your Honor. Nine thousand miles from here.”

When the judge’s gaze turned his way, Marcus offered, “Gloria Hall was investigating labor practices at a notorious facility in China known simply as Factory 101. This group operates in conjunction with New Horizons.”

Logan snapped, “That is a ridiculous and unsubstantiated claim!”

“One moment.” Willoughby motioned with his head. “Continue.”

Marcus went on. “Gloria Hall has been researching New Horizons labor abuses for almost two years, in conjunction with a master’s thesis she is writing at Georgetown University. Unfortunately, she drew too close to the truth at this point, and was abducted.”

Logan retorted, “Your Honor, this is an outlandish concoction of bald-faced lies!”

Willoughby flipped a page. “You’re saying New Horizons has no connection to this”-he back-paged, searched-“Factory 101?”

Logan’s response was instantaneous. “None whatsoever, Your Honor. We categorically deny any involvement in the factory, and state that there is no basis whatsoever for bringing a case against us.”

“I see.” He examined the last page, flipped it over to ensure he had missed nothing. “So you are offering nothing further in the way of pretrial motions-depositions, motions on evidence, disclosures?”

“We offer none because none is required. There is no case here. Nothing on which a case can be based.” Another swift glance at Marcus. “We therefore request an immediate decision on our motion to dismiss. And we are charging Glenwood with frivolous miscarriage under Rule Eleven.”

Even though he knew it was coming, the statement jolted Marcus hard. Rule Eleven was one of the bugaboos of every trial lawyer’s world, a statute whereby Marcus could be fined for all New Horizons’ legal fees resulting from the action, plus substantial penalties. A finding against him under Rule Eleven would also be grounds for action by the state bar association. He could lose his license to practice law.

“Very serious allegations,” Judge Willoughby agreed. “All right, Mr. Glenwood. I’m listening.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Marcus rose and fumbled with the top of his first box. “I submit as pretrial evidence the following items.”

Using his own chair and two empty ones by the side wall, Marcus laid out three pairs of shoes and three very bright outfits. “These items belong to the line of sports clothing New Horizons markets under the name Teen Gear.”

“Your Honor,” Logan protested, “this is merely a game of smoke and mirrors-”

“Mr. Glenwood granted you the courtesy of listening in silence,” Judge Willoughby retorted. “I suggest you do the same.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Marcus flipped the top off the second box, came up with two bulky files. He passed one to the judge and the second to Logan. He stood at the side of the judge’s desk and watched his old adversary open the file. And saw Logan’s jaw drop. He turned back to the judge, noted the man had observed Logan’s reaction. “These internal company documents show that New Horizons has placed orders for over two million units of each of these shoes and outfits, contracting directly with Factory 101 in Guangzhou, China.”

Logan collected himself as best he could. “This is inadmissible evidence, Your Honor. It cannot be considered.”

Judge Willoughby glared across his desk. “It seems to me that you had every opportunity to make motions on evidence earlier.”

“But Your Honor, these are confidential-”

“Be quiet.” To Marcus, “Proceed, Counsel.”

“If you will turn to the next section, you will see that these very same Teen Gear items were the centerpiece of the company’s ad campaigns for the past three years; they are dated there in the top-left-hand corner. You will note that these ads used as models several top sports stars, including this year’s NBA most-valuable-player award winner. In all these pictures, they are promoting the Teen Gear products originating from Factory 101.”

Marcus granted a moment for all this to sink in, then concluded. “This constitutes incontrovertible evidence that there is, and has been for a minimum of three years, a direct connection between New Horizons and the Chinese factory in question.”

Logan’s voice sounded choked. “I demand to know where you got your hands on confidential corporate information.”

Marcus remained silent. He fervently wished to ask Kirsten Stanstead that very same question.

The judge slapped the folder closed, his features a choleric red. “Is it your practice to lie to federal magistrates, Mr. Kendall?”