by Ron Liebman
About six months after Polly’s untimely death, the cops finally got around to questioning William Cunningham. (The wheels of justice do grind slowly.)
Our young bodybuilder was forced to acknowledge that he had indeed been in Polly’s apartment on the fateful day of her death and that his hands had for a time been wrapped around her neck. (He had denied all until the cops showed him the fingerprint, DNA, and security-photo evidence.) But kill her? Actually cause her death? Absolutely not, he’d told them in teary, gasping sentences. He had also admitted that Carl Smith and he had been lovers at the time and that it was at Carl’s direction that he’d paid his threatening visit to Polly at her place.
Then, as so often happens, nothing happened.
Before the statute of limitations could run, however, William was finally charged with attempted murder. Long before then he and Carl had called it quits.
Well, Carl had called it quits, thinking that if it came to it, he would claim he was so aghast at what William had done up there in that East Side apartment that he’d ended his amorous relationship with this young, misguided fellow. In fact, he had prepared a contemporary memo to his eyes-only personal file at the time of Polly’s tragic death, just to be sure that his real feelings and convictions would be preserved for the police, should they ever need them. In sum, Carl finally admitted his little homosexual dalliance, figuring it wasn’t the big deal these days that he had considered it earlier to be.
It wasn’t, but the article written by a certain perennially disheveled young female correspondent, formerly with the New York Law Journal but of late on the reportorial staff of—yes, you guessed it—the New York Times, really did Carl in.
Julia Grossman’s gratitude to Peter Moss for having gotten her the interview that got her the job was robust. (He told her how bad he’d felt standing her up, as he had, despite the urgency of the situation.) She didn’t let Peter actually draft her story about Carl’s sneaky and amoral behavior (married as Carl was at the time) but willingly included Peter’s narrative, if not word for word then close enough to make the story really sting.
Carl looked bad, not necessarily because of what William had done but for the manner in which Carl had conducted himself both before and at the time of Polly’s death. And (surprise, surprise) Iván the Impaler had secretly kept a second set of images of Carl and William’s Florida poolside performance. The Times, of course, would never actually publish such photos, but Julia gave them prominent mention in that part of her story describing Carl’s messy divorce proceedings before they were terminated by Polly’s death.
Under those circumstances how could Moss and Sullivan possibly keep this senior partner on?
Carl has retained excellent criminal-defense counsel and, at the time of this writing, has not as yet been indicted as an accessory to attempted murder.
So . . . back to the GRE case.
Several days ago, on the eve of trial, Moss called me.
Me: What’s up?
Him: You’re gonna lose your case. You know that, don’t you?
Me: You called to tell me that?
Him: I read your book.
Me: (waiting)
Him: (continuing) Reads like a novel.
Me: Ah, you’re calling as a literary critic.
Him: Well, no. As it so happens, I have a settlement offer for you.
Me: You do?
Him: It’s good only until the trial starts. Then it’s withdrawn. Understood?
Me: Understood.
Him: Ten million.
Me: Declined. Thanks for calling.
Him: You’re making a big—
I hung up.
Then, after the jury was empaneled and just before court began this morning Moss upped his offer to $25 million. I huddled out in the hallway with my team.
My team?
Jeremy and Gloria, of course. But Diane and Sean also.
Diane had left the DA’s office and was now practicing law with us. I think that will work out just fine, even though we’re engaged to be married. And Sean? He’s off drugs, though he’s still drinking too much, but he’s working for Blake and Lichtman. As what? Good question. I’m really not sure, but it seems to be grounding him, and the others are okay with the arrangement.
And while he’s still back at the office and not out here in the hall with us, remember that big African guy from the lockup? He’s clean now, too. I think. Anyway, at Sean’s urging he was hired as our receptionist. We needed to buy a bigger desk to fit him behind. But no matter.
Huddled in a circle, I asked my team should we take the offer.
Thumbs-down all around.
So here I am at the podium, about to begin. I look back over to the judge. Now? I signal.
Now, he signals.
But first I take a quick peek over to the spectators’ gallery. I see my dad sitting in the last row. He looks bad. Probably going to die soon. We lock eyes. Go get ’em, boy, he’s silently telling me.
And then I turn my attention to Peter Moss, who is sitting at the defendant’s table with two of his young partners. I’m facing away from the jury.
Remember my first in-court session with Moss? His infuriating wink out of the jury’s view?
Since my back is to the jury, they can’t see my face. I wait until I get Moss’s full attention. Our eyes lock. I give him the sweetest smile, like, Isn’t this fun? Just a couple of colleagues at the bar having a good old time. And then I wink. Moss glares at me. Perfect. The jury couldn’t have missed that. I turn to the waiting jurors.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” I begin, my face set in the most solemn of expressions.
“You are about to hear a story of depravity. A story about the depths that the defendant GRE, a big, fat worldwide conglomerate, will sink to when it comes to protecting its riches at the expense of the lives and safety of its day-to-day workers. And when this story is over and all the evidence is in, I will come back up here and make final argument. And when I get back up here, I will ask you to return a verdict for the plaintiffs in this case in the amount of one billion dollars.”
And know what?
When the case ended, the jury did just that.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Gratefully, I find myself once again in the capable hands of my publisher, David Rosenthal. And once again I am amazed by his insight and skill. We’ve worked on several books together over the years and he has remained not only a valued colleague, but a good friend as well. I can’t thank him enough.
Thanks also to my copyeditor, Maureen Sugden, who did a thorough job of understanding my story and characters and ensuring that nothing got lost along the way as she performed the nitty-gritty art of reviewing and considering the efficacy of each word, every punctuation mark, and so on.
David’s expert assistant editor, Katie Zaborsky, was enormously helpful each and every time I called on her, even when, by any standard, my question(s) could be considered less than brilliant. Thank you.
Marilyn Abraham, who had a successful career in publishing, edited my first novel, Grand Jury. Throughout the years we have remained friends. She and her husband, former publishing executive Sandy MacGregor, have provided a steady source of critical reading of my work. Their feedback has been invaluable.
Throughout my years as a practicing lawyer I was fortunate to be surrounded by, and on occasion facing off against, some of the country’s best lawyers. I also spent many years as a player in the docudrama called “the practice of law.” From my federal judicial clerkship, to the U.S. Attorney’s office, to a boutique law firm, to my twenty-seven years in Big Law, I had an interesting and fascinating journey, involving some great inspirational material. Thanks to you all for giving me so much to write about.
And finally, my love and thanks to my best friend, loyal reader, and wife, Simma; to our daughters, Shana and Margot; and their husbands, Mic
hael and Aaron, for their love and support. And the mere thought of our four grandchildren is so joyous that it provides all the fuel needed to fill my creative tank.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ron Liebman has been a law clerk to a federal judge, an assistant United States Attorney, partner in a boutique litigation law firm, and a senior partner in one of America’s top law firms. He is the author of three novels, Grand Jury, Death by Rodrigo, and Jersey Law, and editor of and contributor to the nonfiction Shark Tales: True (and Amazing) Stories from America’s Lawyers. Ron lives in Washington, D.C., and Easton, Maryland, with his wife, Simma Liebman. Their two daughters and their families live in New York.
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.