John Grisham - The Litigators

Rochelle, looking at the same handout as Oscar and Wally, said, “That poor child. Is he gonna make it?”

“The doctors think not. There’s substantial damage to his brain, nervous system, and many of his organs. If he lives, he’ll be a very sad sight.”

“Who’s the manufacturer?” Wally asked.

“That’s the big question. I’ve been unable to find another set of Nasty Teeth in Chicago, and Helen and I have been poking around for a month. Nothing online. Nothing in suppliers’ catalogs. So far, no clue. It’s possible that the product shows up at Halloween only. The family did not keep the package.”

“There must be similar products,” Wally said. “I mean, if the company makes crap like this, then surely it makes crap like fake mustaches and such.”

“That’s my theory. I’m accumulating a nice collection of similar items, and I’m researching the importers and manufacturers.”

“Who paid for this report?” Oscar asked, suspiciously.

“I did. Twenty-five hundred bucks.”

This caused a gap in the conversation as all four looked at the report. Finally, Oscar asked, “Have the parents signed a contract with our firm?”

“No. They’ve signed a contract with me so I could get the medical records and begin the investigation. They’ll sign one with the firm if I ask them to. The question is simply this: Does Finley & Figg take this case? If the answer is yes, then we need to spend some money.”

“How much?” Oscar asked.

“The next step is to hire Sandroni’s outfit to go into the apartment where the boy and his family live and look for lead. It could be in other toys, paint on the walls that’s chipping, even in the drinking water. I’ve been to the apartment, and it’s at least fifty years old. Sandroni needs to isolate the source of the lead. He’s fairly confident we have the source, but he wants to exclude everything else.”

“And how much does that cost?” Oscar asked.

“Twenty thousand.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. Wally whistled and scattered the sheets of paper. Only Rochelle was hanging on, and she really didn’t have a vote when the issue was spending money.

“With no defendant, there’s no lawsuit,” Oscar said. “Why burn cash investigating this when you don’t know who to sue?”

“I’ll find the manufacturer,” David said.

“Great, and when you do, then we have ourselves a lawsuit, maybe.”

The door to Wally’s office rattled, then opened. DeeAnna took a step out and said, “Wally, how much longer, baby?”

“Just a few minutes,” Wally said. “We’re almost finished here.”

“But I’m tired of waiting.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” She slammed the door and the walls shook.

“I guess she’s now running the firm meeting,” Rochelle observed.

“Knock it off,” Wally said to Rochelle, then to David he continued: “I like this case, David, I really do. But with the Krayoxx litigation in full swing, we can’t commit to spending big money on another case. I say you put this on hold, maybe keep looking for the importer, and after we settle Krayoxx, we’ll be in a great position to pick and choose. You’ve got this family signed up. This kid ain’t going anywhere. Let’s keep it on a leash and crank it up next year.”

David was in no position to argue. Both partners had said no. Rochelle would say yes if she had a vote, but she was losing interest. “Fair enough,” David said. “Then I would like to pursue it myself, in my spare time, with my own money, and under the protection of my own malpractice policy.”

“You have your own policy?” Oscar asked.

“No, but I’ll get one easy enough.”

“What about the twenty grand?” Wally asked. “According to the financials here, you’ve grossed less than $5,000 in the last four months.”

“True, but each month has exceeded the prior one. Plus, I have a little cash in the bank. I’m willing to roll the dice and try to help this little boy.”

“It’s not about helping a little boy,” Oscar shot back. “It’s about financing the lawsuit. I agree with Wally. Why not put it off for a year?”

“Because I don’t want to,” David replied. “This family needs help now.”

Wally shrugged and said, “Then go for it. I have no objections.”

“Fine with me,” Oscar said. “But I want to see an increase in your monthly gross.”

“You’ll see one.”

Wally’s door opened again, and DeeAnna stormed out. She stomped across the room, hissed the word “Bastard!” under her breath, then yanked open the front door, snarled “Don’t call me!” in the general direction of the table, and shook the walls again when she slammed the door behind her.

“She has a temper,” Wally observed.

“What a class act,” Rochelle said softly.

“You can’t be getting serious with her, Wally,” Oscar said, almost pleading.

“She falls under the category of my business and not yours,” Wally said. “Anything left on the agenda? I’m tired of this meeting.”

“Nothing else from me,” David said.

“Meeting adjourned,” the senior partner announced.

The great Jerry Alisandros finally made his appearance on the Chicago stage of his grand war against Varrick, and his arrival was impressive. First, he landed in the Gulfstream G650 that Wally was still dreaming of. Second, he brought with him an entourage that rivaled the one that surrounded Nadine Karros when she went to court. With Zell & Potter front and center, the playing field seemed level. Third, he had the skill, experience, and national reputation one would never find at Finley & Figg.

Oscar skipped the hearing because he wasn’t needed. Wally couldn’t wait to get there so he could strut in with his stud co-counsel. David tagged along out of curiosity.

Nadine Karros, her team, and her client had selected Iris Klopeck as their guinea pig, though neither her attorneys nor Iris herself had the slightest whiff of the master scheme. Varrick had filed a motion to separate the plaintiffs’ cases, to make eight different lawsuits out of one, and to keep the litigation in Chicago instead of having it lumped with thousands of other cases in the brand-new multi-district litigation in southern Florida. The plaintiffs’ lawyers opposed these motions strenuously. Thick briefs had been swapped. The mood was tense when the squads of lawyers gathered in Judge Seawright’s courtroom.

As they waited, a clerk came forth and announced that the judge was delayed by some urgent matter but should be out in half an hour. David was loitering near the plaintiffs’ table, chatting with a Zell & Potter associate, when a defense lawyer slid over for a contrived hello. David vaguely recognized him from somewhere in the halls of Rogan Rothberg, but he had tried hard to forget those people. “I’m Taylor Barkley,” the guy said on top of a quick handshake. “Harvard, two years ahead of you.”

“A pleasure,” David said, then introduced Barkley to the Zell & Potter lawyer he had just met. For a few minutes they chatted about the Cubs and the weather and finally got around to the issue at hand. Barkley claimed to be working around the clock as Rogan was getting slammed with Krayoxx work. David had lived that life, and survived it, and he had no desire to hear it again.

“Should be a hell of a trial,” David said to fill in a gap.

Barkley snorted as if he had the inside scoop. “What trial?” he said. “These cases will never get near a jury. You know that, don’t you?” he asked, looking at the Zell & Potter associate.

Barkley continued, half under his breath because the place was crawling with wired lawyers. “We’ll defend like hell for a while, pad the file, rack up some obscene fees, then advise our dear client to settle. You’ll figure out this game, Zinc. If you stay in it long enough.”