by L. J. Taylor
“That’s right - sometimes right here in the U.S. Wilkes was involved in an operation here in Miami that involved national security. You don’t have the clearance for me to read you in. Let’s just say that the operation involved stopping an act of domestic terrorism,” Peachtree said.
Weisman nodded. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do,” Peachtree said. “The matter Wilkes was assigned to didn’t come from the F.B.I., the N.S.A. or any other government agency authorized to operate domestically.”
Weisman raised his eyebrows. “Oh. That could pose a slight problem. I don’t know if you noticed, but the package you sent me didn’t just contain a complaint. It also contained written discovery in which the plaintiff seeks documents and written answers under oath regarding what Wilkes was doing at the time of the accident.”
“Of course I noticed the discovery. That’s the main reason I needed to see you today. We can’t possibly provide them with the information or the documents they’re asking for. It’s classified. That’s not to mention the hell that would break loose if we have to publicly disclose that we and the client were engaged in unauthorized domestic operations. The F.B.I. and the N.S.A. have been gunning for the government to get rid of defense contractors like us for ages. They don’t acknowledge that it’s the all the inter-agency infighting and bullshit that creates the need for companies like mine to begin with. Can’t we raise national security as grounds for objecting to the discovery or whatever it is you lawyers do?”
Weisman nodded. “We certainly will object to the discovery on several grounds, including national security, but that may not be enough to keep the plaintiff from getting it. We have to look at other methods for dealing with this issue, like getting the Court to enter a confidentiality order.”
Peachtree stared at Weisman as if he had two heads. “A confidentiality order? You want me to risk losing my government contracts - my company’s lifeblood - on a piece of paper? What happens if this Morgan fellow decides to ignore the confidentiality order?”
“He would be sanctioned by the Court for violating the order and receive anything from a fine to imprisonment to dismissal of his case,” Weisman said.
Peachtree threw back his head and laughed. “You call that a sanction? In my world, if you get sanctioned, you don’t come back. Now that’s an incentive I’d trust a little more.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not resting the fate of a billion dollar company I worked my ass off to build on a piece of paper or a possible fine. What are our other options?” he asked.
“Well, we can try to get the case dismissed, but the Court’s not likely to grant such a motion. Another option would be to settle the case in the early stages to avoid discovery. If we can’t get them to settle then we’ll have to explore other options.” Weisman looked at Peachtree over the rims of his eyeglasses. Since Peachtree had worked with him before, he didn’t need to elaborate.
Peachtree nodded. “You just make this case disappear. I don’t care how. Am I making myself clear?”
“Clear as crystal,” Weisman said.
CHAPTER II
Kathy’s heart pounded as she surveyed the mob scene in front of the Wilkie D. Ferguson, Jr. Federal Courthouse. It was a modern, artistic structure designed by one of the top architectural firms in the country comprised of two massive towers that were lifted three stories off the ground by large limestone columns and linked together by a blue-green glass curtain wall.
She stood in front of the door to the courthouse and played with the pearl necklace she wore on top of her grey pinstriped skirt suit and white silk blouse. Charles stood by her looking dapper in a brown suit, a gold-toned shirt and a tie that brought all the colors together. They made a nice looking couple. Reporters surrounded them, shouting questions and thrusting news cameras and microphones into their faces.
“Mr. Morgan, how does it feel to bring your wife’s killers to justice?” one reporter asked.
Charles looked toward the reporter as if he were going to answer the question. Kathy put a hand on his arm and shook her head ever so slightly. “No,” she said, her voice quiet. “Let me do the talking, remember?”
Charles nodded.
Kathy held up her hands in a gesture she had seen Bill use to get the reporters’ attention. When they turned to her and stopped shouting questions, she began to speak.
“We have prepared a statement,” she said. “My client, Charles Morgan, Jr., has filed a lawsuit against the defense contractor, Peachtree Consulting, and its employee, Thomas Wilkes, for negligence. Upon information and belief, Thomas Wilkes, an employee of Peachtree Consulting, was driving a company car at extremely high rates of speed on I-95, in reckless disregard of the safety of other vehicles, while engaged in company business. His gross negligence resulted in the death of my client’s wife, Patricia Morgan, and their unborn child. We’re seeking damages in excess of twenty million dollars. Thank you.”
“Twenty million dollars? Mr. Morgan, are you, like so many other personal injury plaintiffs, in this for the money?” one reporter asked.
Charles’ whipped his head toward the reporter, his eyes blazing with fury. Cameras flashed and made buzzing noises as their operators zoomed in for close-ups. “How can you put a value on a human life? Twenty million dollars is nothing. No amount of money could make up for what those bastards took from me,” he said.
Kathy stared at him. What the hell was he doing? She had prepared him for this press conference and specifically instructed him not to answer any of the reporters’ questions. And now, here he was, raving at them with the cameras rolling. Reporters started firing questions directly at him hoping to provoke a response and Charles looked as though he was about to give them more of a show. She needed to do some damage control and fast. She stepped in front of him, blocking him from the cameras. “This press conference is now over.”
The reporters continued to shout questions as she turned to Charles, took him by the arm, and led him into the courthouse. They went through security, rode up to the 7th floor and headed into a small conference room just outside of the courtroom where the hearing would be held.
Kathy lit into Charles as soon as the door closed behind them. “What the hell was that?”
Charles turned to look at her. “What?”
“You know what,” she said. “When we prepped for this press conference, I specifically instructed you not to make any statements to the reporters and to let me do the talking. And what do you do? You start ranting and raving in front of the news cameras.”
“I’m sorry if I failed to follow your instructions or stole some of your limelight, Counselor, but that was something I needed to say.”
“It’s not about being in the limelight or being in control. It’s about portraying you in the best possible light in the media. I don’t give you instructions to be bossy. I’m doing my job which is to look out for your best interests. If you don’t listen to my advice, then I can’t be responsible for the results. It’s easy to be sympathetic toward a grieving father and widower. It’s just as easy to alienate people. When you see that footage later, with a cooler head, you’ll see what I mean,” she said.
Charles grinned. “Are you calling me a hothead?”
Kathy crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him over the top of her glasses. They had slipped down her nose again as they were prone to do. “If the shoe fits.”
Charles reached out and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She reared back and blinked at him.
“Hey!” she said.
He held up his hands. “Just fixing your glasses, Counselor.”
“Don’t do that,” she said. “They’re prescription glasses and very pricey. I’d hate to have to add a new pair to your bill.”
He put his hands behind his back. “Ouch, your bills are high enough.”
She chuckled. “And they’re going to get even higher if you don’t take my advice.”
He grimaced. �
�Alright, point taken.”
Kathy’s paralegal, Jim, opened the door and poked his head into the room. “The bailiff says Judge McCarthy’s about to take the bench,” he said.
“Thanks Jim,” Kathy said. She turned to Charles. “It’s show time.”
They left the conference room and entered the courtroom. The place was packed. Reporters, attorneys and bystanders filled the gallery and even the jury box. Kathy recognized several lawyers from her firm, including her mentor, Steve Perdue. He was seated in the front row of the gallery. She headed over to him.
“Hey Kiddo,” he said.
“Hi there,” she said. “Steve, this is Charles Morgan, Jr. Charles, this is my partner, Steve Perdue.”
Steve held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sorry that it had to be under these circumstances.”
“Thank you. Nice to meet you too.” Charles shook his hand and then turned to Kathy. “Where do you want me to sit?”
“Why don’t you sit right over there with Jim? When the judge comes in, I’ll join you. Our hearing is right after the first one, so we should be called fairly soon,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. He left to take his seat.
Steve leaned over to talk to Kathy. “I saw the press conference. You need to put that guy on a leash before he says or does something to turn the public off. Did you prep him beforehand?”
Kathy felt her cheeks warm. “Of course I did. Do I look like a first year associate?”
Steve just waited.
Kathy took a deep breath and blew it out. “Sorry. I specifically told him to let me do the talking to the press and look what he did.”
Steve chuckled. “We’ve all been there, Kiddo. Sometimes they just blow their tops no matter how much we prep them.” He shrugged. “Hopefully, he’ll see the error of his ways when he sees how they portray him in the news.”
“I’ll be sure to play that clip over and over for him until he does,” Kathy said.
“Now, now, don’t go alienating the client so early in the representation. At least get to know him first,” Steve said.
Kathy sighed. “I’m going to need pearls of wisdom like that throughout this case. Keep them coming.”
“I’ve got a million of them,” he said.
Kathy smiled. “I bet you do.”
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind Kathy, “are you here on the Morgan case?”
Kathy looked over her shoulder and recognized Stewart Weisman from the photo on his law firm’s website.
“Yes,” she said. “You must be Stewart Weisman.”
“That’s right,” he said. He shook her hand and then looked over at Steve. “Hello Steve. Are you here to watch over your protégé?”
Steve smiled. “Hello Stewart. You’ll learn soon enough that Kathy doesn’t need my protection. It’s usually her coming to my rescue.”
Weisman chuckled. “Fair enough.” He turned to Kathy. “We haven’t had a chance to confer on the motions to be heard by the court today.”
Kathy frowned. “Motions? The only motion noticed for hearing today is the motion to dismiss.”
“Didn’t you receive our re-notice? We added on a motion for protective order concerning the discovery,” he said.
“Added on? When did you do that? My office never received any motion for protective order or a re-notice. Since you failed to provide my client with adequate notice on the motion for protective order, we do not agree to have that motion heard today. What did you have in mind with respect to the motion to dismiss?”
“We don’t believe your client has stated a viable cause of action for gross negligence. Why don’t we just submit an agreed order dismissing the complaint and giving you twenty days to amend it?” he asked.
Kathy smiled. Yeah right. He wished she was green enough to fall for that one. “Stewart, I’m afraid we’ll have to reject that offer, such as it is. The complaint clearly states a claim and, if, for some reason, the judge believes otherwise, we won’t need twenty days to amend it.”
Stewart shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to take that up with the court.”
“I guess so,” she said. She turned to look at Steve. He winked at her.
“All rise!” The bailiff called the court to order. The noise level in the courtroom decreased from a low roar to near silence save for the sound of attorneys, reporters and bystanders snapping to their feet.
Judge Evelyn McCarthy, a statuesque redhead with her hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck walked briskly into the courtroom and took her place on the bench. Cameras flashed and popped as she took a moment to survey the scene. She raised her eyebrows. “I see that we have a full house this morning. We also have a full hearing schedule so there will be no time for theatrics or shenanigans in front of the cameras. If I detect even a hint of that, I will clear this courtroom of everyone except counsel and their clients.” She rapped her gavel. “Call the first case.”
While the first hearing took place, Kathy ran through her arguments in her mind. She felt a slight sense of panic as she replayed her conversation with Weisman in her head. She didn’t doubt he’d try to get his client’s motion for protective order heard this morning. She just hoped Judge McCarthy didn’t let him.
“Charles Morgan, Jr. versus Peachtree Consulting and Thomas Wilkes,” the bailiff called.
Kathy looked over at Charles and smiled reassuringly at him. He smiled back and nodded at her. She gathered her papers and her wits and left the gallery to stand behind one of the counsel tables.
“Please make your appearances,” the judge said.
“Kathy Brooks from Gold, Rome & Harris for the plaintiff, Charles Morgan, Jr., your Honor.”
“Good morning, your Honor. Stewart Weisman for the defendants.”
“Thank you,” Judge McCarthy said. “I see that we’re here on a motion to dismiss. I don’t usually hold oral argument on such motions, but I noticed there was no certification that counsel made a good faith effort to confer on the motion. I want to make it clear, to both parties, that this court expects counsel to confer on all motions prior to filing them with the court. Is that understood?”
“Yes, your Honor,” Kathy said.
“Of course, your Honor. Let the record reflect that Ms. Brooks and I conferred this morning on both the motion to dismiss and Defendant’s motion for protective order,” Weisman said.
Kathy shot a brief look at him. He was a smooth bastard. She’d have to watch out for him. She turned back to the judge.
“Actually, your Honor, that’s not entirely true. We did confer this morning, in this courtroom, over the motion to dismiss. At that time, Mr. Weisman informed me that he had filed a motion for protective order and noticed it for hearing as an add-on; however, my office never received the motion or any notice of hearing,” Kathy said.
A frown appeared on Judge McCarthy’s brow. She turned to her computer monitor and punched a few buttons. “According to the certificate of service on the motion, it was filed late last night.” She gave Weisman a stern look. “This is clearly inadequate notice. There will be no hearing on the motion for protective order this morning. I am referring the motion to be heard by Magistrate Judge Jacobs at a later date. As for the motion to dismiss, it is denied. You need to know now that I will not tolerate sharp practices in my courtroom. I expect for attorneys practicing in this court to have conferred on motions prior to filing them or, at the very least, well in advance of any hearing. I also expect parties to provide each other with adequate notice. Otherwise there will be sanctions. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, your Honor,” Kathy said.
“Completely, your Honor. My apologies to the Court and to counsel for any misunderstandings,” Weisman said.
“This hearing is adjourned. Have a nice day, counsel.” Judge McCarthy slammed down her gavel.
Kathy headed back to the gallery flushed with success. The feeling didn’t last long. She could see, from the grim expression on
Charles’ face that she had a lot of explaining to do about the motion for protective order. She stopped walking when she felt a hand touch her elbow. It was Weisman.
“Counselor,” he said. “May I have a word?”
“Yes.” She turned back to Charles and held up a hand to tell him to wait for her. She then caught Steve’s eye and inclined her head toward Charles. He nodded. She followed Weisman out of the courtroom and into one of the small conference rooms just outside.
“You did a nice job in there,” he said.
Kathy smiled. Actually, he’d done a nice job on himself. They both knew the easiest way to piss off a judge was to be less than civil or to break protocol. He had done both. “Thank you. You too.”
It was his turn to smile. “I wanted to take this opportunity to see if we can explore the possibility of settling this case. Peachtree Consulting is a large government defense contractor. They don’t have time to deal with nuisances like this, so I’ve been asked to ascertain where your client’s head is at in terms of resolving this matter.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss my client’s thoughts on any subject matter due to that pesky little thing called the attorney-client privilege; however, I have been authorized to tell you that my client is not interested in engaging in settlement discussions at this time,” she said.
“What do you mean he’s not interested in settlement discussions? Everybody has a number. Look, you don’t need to play games here to get a higher settlement offer. Just let me know the ballpark we’re playing in and I’ll see if we can make it happen,” Stewart said.
Kathy felt her jaw drop. The nerve of this man to accuse her of playing games when he and his law firm were known to be the biggest game players around. “Contrary to popular belief, there are some people in this world who cannot be bought.” She knew she had said too much when she saw the realization dawn on his face.
“Oh, so we’ve got ourselves a crusader here. Well, you be sure to advise your client that revenge can be costly – in more ways than one.”
“What I advise my client of is none of your business. Look, if you’ve got a settlement offer to make, put it in writing and I’ll pass it along. If there’s nothing else, I have to go. I have a full plate today,” Kathy said. She turned toward the door, then stopped and turned back when she felt a hand on her arm.