James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

Spencer was waiting for Jack outside the courtroom.

“Mr. Tobin?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Spencer Taylor. I’m the prosecutor in the Avrile case.” Spencer extended his hand and Jack shook it. As he did, he noticed the handsome face, the tailored suit, the perfect hair, and the too-firm grip.

“I recognize your name,” Jack told him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I just want you to know beforehand that I don’t have an objection to your request. I’m more or less just an observer here today.”

Yeah, right! Jack said to himself. You just want to help . He smiled at Spencer to let him know he understood.

The Avrile case had been like a dark cloud hanging over Judge Langford Middleton’s head since day one. The Judicial Qualifications Commission was watching to see how he handled it, and so was Warren Jacobs, the district attorney. Now that Jack Tobin had entered the fray, the pressure had become even more intense. For all those reasons, Judge Middleton had decided that every hearing, no matter how trivial, would be in open court. He was also determined to get this case to trial on time and to finally repair his reputation in the process. Along the way, there’d been many sleepless nights and frequent trips to the bathroom. What was it the doctor called it-irritable bowel syndrome?

He had read Jack’s motion and, once again, didn’t know what to do.

Promptly at three o’clock, the judge walked into the courtroom. He waved the lawyers to sit down.

“I’ve read your motion, Mr. Tobin. What do you want this information for?”

“Your honor, the deceased, Carl Robertson, was a very wealthy and powerful man. There is evidence in the police investigation that another person, a woman, may have been involved in this murder. I just want to find out if somebody else had a motive.”

“What do you say, Mr. Taylor?”

“It’s a fishing expedition, Judge, but I can’t argue that it won’t lead to discoverable evidence. I just don’t know.”

“Who are the other people here? Please identify yourselves.”

Sam Mendelsohn stood up. “Samuel Mendelsohn, your honor. I represent Mr. Robertson’s estate.”

Gary Hunt stood up next and introduced himself.

“What’s the estate’s position, Mr. Mendelsohn?”

“Your honor, we don’t object to the production per se. But if we have to produce this material, the earliest we could do so would be a week before trial, and the volume is so enormous it will cost us twenty thousand dollars in manpower hours to compile it. I have cost estimates here from our accountants. Most of the cost will be digging the material out, assembling it, and copying it.”

Jack recognized the tactic immediately. When he was an insurance defense attorney, he had always tried to make frivolous lawsuits too expensive for the plaintiffs’ lawyers to pursue. These clowns were trying to play the same game with him. One look at Spencer Taylor, who was smiling smugly, told him who the ringleader was. Gary Hunt’s figure was five thousand dollars to retrieve the telephone records.

“How do you respond to this, Mr. Tobin?”

“I assumed there would be some cost, your honor. But twenty thousand dollars to produce five years of financials and five thousand for some telephone records is a little ridiculous.”

“Your honor,” Sam Mendelsohn responded, “Mr. Robertson was a very rich man with extensive holdings around the world. It’s all there in that summary I gave you. Nothing is inflated.”

“Did you give this summary to Mr. Tobin?”

“Not before this hearing, Judge. We didn’t have time.”

Judge Middleton liked the argument almost as much as Spencer did. He didn’t have to deny the motion, he just had to require the defendant to pay. Best of all, the trial wouldn’t be delayed.

“I know you’ve come in here late in the game, Mr. Tobin, but this case has been pending for a year. I’m not going to deny your client access to these records, but I believe the cost for expediting their delivery should be borne by him. I’m going to grant your motion, but I’m going to make your client pay the twenty-five thousand dollars requested to expedite production if he still wants the records. And I’m going to make him pay it by the end of business today. The records must be available by a week before trial, gentlemen,” Judge Middleton told the two lawyers for the estate and the telephone company.

Spencer Taylor’s plan seemed to have worked. It had even paid off better than expected. Nobody had thought the judge would require immediate payment.

Jack made one last attempt to get the trial delayed. “Judge, I’ve got to get an expert to look at these documents and I haven’t settled on anyone yet, although I do have somebody in mind.” He was trying not to lie outright. “It’s going to be almost impossible to get someone, have them review the records before trial, notify opposing counsel, and provide counsel with an opportunity to depose that expert in the time frame we have.”

Spencer Taylor had anticipated this argument and was ready for it. “Your honor,” he responded, “the state will waive notice of the expert’s name, and we will also waive any discovery rights.” Spencer was so sure of victory he was eager to erase all Jack’s arguments.

“What about witnesses who might arise from this material?” Jack asked Spencer directly.

“We waive notice of them too, although I doubt there will be any.”

“Anything else, Mr. Tobin?” the judge asked.

“No, your honor.”

“Then my ruling stands.”

Jack gave the three lawyers a moment to cherish their triumph. Spencer was smiling from ear to ear, enjoying the fact that he had outmaneuvered and outflanked Jack at every turn.

Then Jack took it all away by pulling out his personal checkbook.

“Your honor, let the record reflect that I am providing two checks to counsel here in open court in the amount of twenty thousand dollars and five thousand dollars to satisfy the court’s ruling.”

“The record will so reflect,” the judge replied. The other lawyers were momentarily speechless-a rare event in any courtroom.

“Nice move,” Jack told Spencer as they walked out of the courtroom. “I’m looking forward to seeing what else is in that arsenal of yours.”

Spencer Taylor didn’t reply. Jack noticed, however, that a couple of hairs on his perfectly groomed head had fallen out of place.

The fact that a hearing took place made the six o’clock news. The press never understood what it was about, so they simply showed film of the lawyers walking in and out of the courthouse and played snippets of the interviews. Jack watched Spencer Taylor’s interview before leaving to meet Charlie for dinner downtown. Henry was again having dinner with his aunt.

Charlie lived on the north side of Eighty-eighth Street in the middle of the block between Lexington and Park. It was January and bitterly cold. Jack pulled the lapels of his overcoat together to shield himself from the wind as he exited the building and started across the street, stepping between two parked cars. As he did so, something-it wasn’t a voice, more like an intuition-told him to look a second time to his right. A black car with its headlights off tore out of a parking space and headed directly for him. He was almost in the middle of the street now and became acutely conscious of his mind telling his feet to move. He took three steps as fast as he possibly could and dove over the front of a parked Ford Mustang on the south side of the street just a fraction of a second ahead of the speeding black car. He landed with his hands on the ground and his legs still resting on the hood of the Mustang. His heart was banging madly in his chest. When he finally righted himself, the black car was nowhere to be seen.