John Grisham - The Litigators

From November 20 until May 19 of this year, Thuya was a patient in the Lakeshore Children’s Hospital here in Chicago. He had ingested a near-lethal amount of lead, and on several occasions was kept alive by a respirator. According to his doctors, and I have included with this letter a summary of their statements, Thuya now suffers brain damage that is permanent and severe. He is not expected to live but a few more years; however, there is a chance he could survive up to twenty years .

The source of the lead swallowed by Thuya is a toy made in China and imported by your division Gunderson Toys. It is a Halloween novelty called Nasty Teeth. According to Dr. Biff Sandroni, a toxicologist you’ve probably heard of, the fake teeth and fangs are coated with various colors of bright paint and loaded with lead. I have attached a copy of Dr. Sandroni’s report for your reading pleasure .

I have also enclosed a copy of a lawsuit I will soon file against Sonesta Games, in federal court here in Chicago, in the very near future .

If you would like to discuss

“Cross-examination, Mr. Zinc?” Judge Seawright interrupted.

Again, David stood quickly and said, “No, Your Honor.”

“Very well, it is now 5:15. We will adjourn until nine in the morning with the same instructions to the jury.”

——

Wally was in a wheelchair, dressed in a white cotton bathrobe with cheap canvas slippers barely covering his chubby feet. An orderly rolled him into the visiting room, where David was waiting, standing at a large window, staring into the darkness of Lake Michigan. The orderly left and they were alone.

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” David asked as he dropped onto a leather sofa.

“I’m sedated,” Wally replied slowly and softly. “They’ll give me some pills for a couple of days to, uh, sorta soothe things along. If I try to walk, I might fall, crack my skull, or something.”

Twenty-four hours off a three-day binge, and he still looked rough. His eyes were red and puffy, his face sad and defeated. He needed a haircut. “Are you curious about the trial, Wally?”

Hesitation as this was processed, then, “I’ve thought about it, yes.”

“You’ve thought about it? That’s awfully nice of you. We should finish tomorrow, we being me on our side of the room with no one but my lovely wife, who’s pretending to be a paralegal and is already tired of watching her husband get his ass kicked, and what seems like an ever-growing mob of dark suits on the other side, all hovering around the lovely Nadine Karros, who, believe me, Wally, is even better than advertised.”

“The judge wouldn’t continue the case?”

“Why should he, Wally? Continue to when, and why? What, exactly, would we have done with another, say, thirty or sixty days? Go out and hire a real trial lawyer to try the case? Let’s hear that conversation: ‘That’s it, sir, we’ll promise you $100,000 and half of our cut to walk into that courtroom with a lousy set of facts, an unsympathetic client, a judge who’s even more unsympathetic, against an extremely talented defense team with unlimited cash and talent, representing a large and powerful corporate defendant.’ Who would you pitch that to, Wally?”

“You seem angry, David.”

“No, Wally, it’s not anger; it’s just the need to rant, to bitch, to blow off some steam.”

“Then go right ahead.”

“I asked for a continuance, and I think Seawright would have considered it, but why? No one could say when you might be able to come back. Oscar, probably never. We agreed to go forward and get it over with.”

“I’m sorry, David.”

“So am I. I feel like such a fool sitting there with no case, no clue, no weapons, nothing to fight with. It’s so frustrating.”

Wally lowered his chin to his chest as if he might start sobbing. Instead, he began mumbling, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

“Okay, look, Wally, I’m sorry too. I didn’t come here to beat you up, okay? I came to check on you. I’m worried about you, so are Rochelle and Oscar. You’re sick and we want to help.”

When Wally looked up, his eyes were wet, and as he spoke, his lip quivered. “I can’t keep doing this, David. I thought I had it whipped, I swear I did. One year, two weeks, two days, then something happened. We were in court Monday morning, I was nervous as hell, terrified really, and I was overcome with this vicious desire for a drink. I remember thinking, you know, a couple of drinks will do the trick. Two quick beers and I’ll settle down. Alcohol is such a liar, such a monster. As soon as we broke for lunch, I scooted out of the building and found a little café with a beer sign in the window. I got a table, ordered a sandwich, drank three beers, and, wow, it tasted so good. And felt even better. Back in the courtroom, I remember thinking, you know, I can do this. I can drink and it’s no problem. I got it whipped, you know? No problem. Now look at me. Back in rehab and scared shitless.”

“Where’s your car, Wally?”

He thought about it for a long time and finally gave up. “I have no idea. I blacked out so many times.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find the car.”

Wally wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, then wiped his nose with a sleeve. “I’m sorry, David. I thought we had a chance.”

“We never had a chance, Wally. There’s nothing wrong with the drug. We joined a stampede that was going nowhere, and we didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“But the trial’s not over, is it?”

“The trial’s over but the lawyers are still at it. The jury gets the final word tomorrow.”

Nothing was said for several minutes. Wally’s eyes cleared, but he had trouble looking at David. Finally, he said softly, “Thanks for coming, David. Thanks for taking care of me, and Oscar and Rochelle. I hope you won’t be leaving us.”

“Let’s not talk about that now. You get good and detoxed. I’ll check you out next week, then we’ll have another firm meeting and make some decisions.”

“I’d like that. Another firm meeting.”

Emma had a rough night, and both parents walked the floor in alternating one-hour shifts. When Helen handed her off at 5:30 and headed back to bed, she announced her career as a paralegal was mercifully over. She had enjoyed the lunches, but little else, and besides, she had a sick baby to deal with. David managed to quiet Emma with a bottle and, as he fed her, went online. Varrick’s stock had closed at $40 a share Thursday afternoon. Its steady rise throughout the week was even more evidence that the Klopeck trial was going badly for the plaintiff, though no additional evidence was really needed. Out of his usual morbid curiosity, David checked in with the Hung Juror, who wrote:

In what has to be the most lopsided trial in the history of U.S. jurisprudence, things continue to go from bad to worse for the estate of the late and now much maligned Percy Klopeck. As Varrick Labs’ defense team continues to steamroll over the hapless and grossly incompetent lawyer for Klopeck, one almost feels sorry for the underdog. Almost, but not quite. The question that screams to be answered is, how did this dog of a case manage to get into court, stay in court, and stumble its way to the jury? Talk about an obscene waste of time, money, and talent! Talent, that is, for the defense. Talent is sorely lacking on the other side of the courtroom, where the clueless David Zinc has adopted the unique strategy of simply trying to become invisible. He has yet to cross-examine a witness. He has yet to make an objection. He has yet to make a single move to help his case. He just sits there for hours, pretending to take notes, swapping little messages with his new paralegal, a hot thing in a short skirt brought in to show some leg and try to divert attention from the fact that the plaintiff has no case and the lawyer is incompetent. Unknown to the jury, the new paralegal is actually Helen Zinc, wife of the idiot sitting in front of her. This bimbo is not a paralegal and has no training or experience in the courtroom, so she fits in nicely with the clowns from Finley & Figg. Her presence is obviously a clever ploy to catch the eye of the male jurors and counterbalance the overwhelming presence of Nadine Karros, who is perhaps the most effective courtroom advocate this Hung Juror has ever watched.