Trial by Fury

by KG MacGregor

It certainly was, considering the plaintiff had asked only for reinstatement and back wages. Sometimes it took asking for much more to get what you really wanted. “Convince your client you have to go big. Make sure she’s okay with the publicity because this elevates it to a major case. Your major case…so you should do the press conference.”

  Sabrina obviously was stunned by her newfound authority, since Theo and Kendra usually handled the firm’s dealings with the press. In fact, Constantine and Associates needed another voice and Sabrina’s was perfect. She was attractive, well-spoken.

  Philip leaned over Theo’s shoulder and said, “There’s your girlfriend. She looks almost as happy as you.”

  Indeed, Celia was wearing a broad grin as she greeted the hostess and scanned the small crowd looking for familiar faces. Though Theo had insisted the impromptu party was “come as you are,” it was clear she’d rushed home to change into something she hoped would impress—black skinny jeans with a sparkly sleeveless top. No way had she worn that to Forbes Hall.

  Theo waved her over and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I was about to send out a search and rescue team.”

  “Our train went out of service, so I had to wait for the next one,” Celia explained, taking a flute of champagne from a passing cocktail waitress. “Looks like I have some catching up to do.”

  “And some more people to meet. This is Sabrina Dawson, one of our junior associates.” She nudged Celia forward. “And this is my…uh-oh, we haven’t traded friendship rings yet, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call her. Oh, what the hell…Sabrina, this is my girlfriend, Celia Perone.”

  “Hi Sabrina. I guess I’ve graduated from star witness.”

  “I’ll say. We’ve all been dying to meet the reason Theo’s in such a good mood these days. I even heard a rumor she’s planning to take a vacation.”

  “Except now that’s iffy because we have a case to prep for,” Theo said. “I can’t wait to start discovery. A few thousand emails, text messages. Something will turn up. Finding one person who’ll sing a different tune is all it takes to make their whole story fall apart.”

  “Celia!” Gloria materialized with her husband Lewis in tow. “Welcome to our little soiree. A good excuse for Theo to bring you out and show you off. But forget the fun stuff. Those days are over for a while. Things get crazy once we finally get access to evidence.”

  “If she gets any crazier, we’re in a world of hurt.”

  Theo was pleased to find Celia relaxed and brimming with self-assurance around new faces and others she’d met only once. Again she reminded herself Celia was an actor by training.

  “Hello again, Philip.” Celia stepped forward to receive a kiss on the cheek. “Is Sofia here too?”

  “Working late. I swear she’s going to have that baby in her office.” He squeezed Theo’s shoulder and offered a toast. “Congrats, Theo. I know you were worried about this one being a loser.”

  She glanced at Celia, clearly wishing he hadn’t been quite so blunt. Yes, she’d worried they wouldn’t make it this far. But while she’d warned Celia this was a tough case, she’d been careful to mask the depth of her pessimism.

  “Let’s just say I’m relieved.”

  Celia touched her glass to Theo’s. “That makes two of us. You said you were worried about it, but you always tried to be optimistic. I had a feeling it was even tougher than you were letting on.”

  Philip, who clearly had no idea he was talking out of school, went on, “This case has always been tricky, at least from a legal standpoint. A long shot if you want to know the truth. We needed all the stars to align—the right judge on the right day after a great lunch. Those go against us sometimes, so it’s nice when they break our way.”

  Desperate for a change of subject, Theo spun Celia around to the couple in the corner. “And look at that. Hank’s son Mark showed up to celebrate with Jalinda. I think love is in the air.”

  “I could have told you that. Those sparks were flying on draft night.”

  Theo whispered so the others couldn’t hear, “I seem to recall some other sparks flying that night too.”

  “You think that was something, wait till we celebrate this.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  The hostess slithered through the group at the bar and presented an envelope to Theo. “This came for you just now. A courier. I asked him to wait but he said it wasn’t necessary, just to make sure you got it.”

  Theo frowned as she looked at the return address. “Hubbard-McCaffrey. They’re local, aren’t they?”

  “Mostly estate law, if I’m not mistaken,” Philip said. “Barry Hubbard’s a runner. I met him a couple of years ago when we did the Hotlanta half-marathon.”

  She tore into the envelope and unfolded its contents, a brief letter. “Son of a bitch.”

  Gloria snatched it from her hands and began to read. “…is to inform you that Donald Lipscomb has retained our legal services to represent him in his case before the District Court of the State of Georgia, Lipscomb v. Harwood University, et al., effective immediately.”

  Struck by a sudden wave of fatigue, Theo slowly lowered herself to a padded bench in the center of the cocktail lounge. Knees shaking, stomach roiling. “We’ve been fired.”

  * * *

  Within seconds, word rippled through the bar and the chatter stopped. All eyes were on Theo, her red face, her cracking voice. And the angry slap-slap-slap of the folded letter against her palm.

  “What does this mean?” Celia asked.

  “That we no longer have a case,” Philip said. “It’s over before it ever started.”

  “For us, anyway,” Theo added. “My guess is Hubbard-McCaffrey has already negotiated the settlement. Lipscomb will walk away with a few hundred thousand dollars and sign a confidentiality agreement.”

  Gloria leaned against a bar table with her arms folded, staring disgustedly at the floor. “Then Harwood will put out a statement announcing a settlement with Lipscomb out of sympathy for his loss. An undisclosed sum, of course. But not admitting any liability.”

  For Celia, it was a devastating outcome. “Why would he do that? Your case is for millions of dollars.”

  “Because they convinced him we would probably lose.” Theo rubbed her face briskly and groaned. “It’s my own fault. Lipscomb as plaintiff was never that strong to begin with. Hubbard-McCaffrey noticed and jumped on it.”

  “But isn’t that unethical?” Celia asked.

  She shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it. They offered to put money in Lipscomb’s pocket right now. He has the right to take it if he’s worried about rolling the dice.”

  Gloria sat on the cushion beside Theo and patted her knee. “And let’s face it. They probably told him Harwood would never settle with you in a million years because of all the damage you’ve inflicted on their reputation.”

  Celia could well imagine such a backroom conversation among the board and administration. Even those who were offended by Harwood’s handling of Hayley’s rape had a fiduciary responsibility to protect the university. It was nothing short of shameful that didn’t include protecting the rights of female students to be safe.

  “At least we won a couple of rounds,” Philip said. “Frazier and Caldwell missed out on their big payday. I’d say we struck a forty-million-dollar blow right there. Plus they might be going to jail. That’s a bonus.”

  It was fine to find consolation in that, but Celia found it ultimately meaningless if it meant this could happen to another woman at Harwood. And there was the matter of blowback—if the case ended with the university escaping liability, what did that mean for her status as a whistleblower? Was she still protected or not?

  “I’m sorry, Celia. I was always worried about getting your hopes up too high.”

  “No, Philip’s right. We got a win. And I won’t be surprised now if Harwood throws these players under the bus. I’m not saying they’ll order the campus police to investigate, but maybe at least now they
’ll cooperate with the DA.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Theo said, utterly dejected. “They can’t afford to do anything to implicate themselves if the feds decide to launch a Title IX investigation related to sexual assault. No, this is exactly what they needed—a way to put it to bed without having to admit anything.”

  After a long silence, Philip glumly added, “Bastards.”

  “And on that dreary note…” Gloria slapped her knees and stood. “It looks like the party’s over.”

  It wasn’t over for Theo, who set aside her champagne and ordered a Crown Royal on the rocks.

  Philip leaned into Celia and murmured, “Look out. Theo’s not much of a drinker.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll see that she gets home.”

  With the party atmosphere shattered, staff began trickling away, most stopping by with condolences to Theo. She was well into her second whiskey when Gloria and Lewis, the last of the revelers, left.

  “You’ve probably…noticed this already.” Theo’s words were faltering and deliberate. “I’m on my way to getting sort of…uncharacteristically…drunk.”

  Celia put an arm around her waist and nestled under her chin. “Under the circumstances, I’d say you’re allowed.”

  “I don’t usually drink this much. You know why?”

  “I assumed it was because there were so many people out there who’d get too much pleasure out of seeing you picked up for DUI.”

  “S’part of it. But the main reason”—she paused to polish off her whiskey and wave for another—“is ’cause the last time I did…I was with Gloria and Lewis. Drinks, dinner…more drinks. Then we went on this gallery walk in Buckhead…and I met thissss fascinating artist.”

  The puddles had dried on the terrace bar, enough to entice the hotel’s business guests out for a drink. Their waitress however remained loyal to Theo, who’d just run up a thousand-dollar bar bill, ignoring them in favor of fetching her refill.

  “Charla Peok…she did that purple and gray portrait that’s over the bed in the guest room. I found her riveting. Until we got to her place…and I met her husband. He was so excited…like she’d brought home a puppy for both of them to play with.” She said it almost forlornly, staring off into space while shaking her head.

  It was all Celia could do not to laugh.

  “I really liked her…but no. Just no. How did I not see that coming?”

  “How could you have known, Theo?”

  “But I…she thought I was into it. I wasn’t mad or anything. I just felt stupid.” Theo, her face flushed from the alcohol, was clearly making a concerted effort at proper enunciation. “But I was too drunk to even ask if there was somebody else. So I don’t get drunk much anymore. Except now.”

  “It’s okay. I’m here to make sure you don’t go home to someone else’s husband.” Celia nursed her club soda, which she’d ordered after Lipscomb’s news. “Consider this a public service. You’re keeping me sober tonight, because I’d be the one getting drunk if you weren’t.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I let you down.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. This wasn’t your fault.” She brushed Theo’s hair from her eyes and placed a light kiss on her temple. “It occurred to me though…with this case over, Harwood doesn’t have to be nice to me anymore. I could walk in on Monday morning and find my theater budget slashed to nothing. Or all my travel funds canceled for next year. And my teaching schedule changed. They probably can’t fire me but they can make my life a living hell.”

  “I dare them. If they so much as look at you sideways, I’ll have them back in court so fast they’ll pee their pants. They better leave you alone…if they know what’s good for them.”

  Celia would never admit it, but she found Theo’s inebriated fury frankly adorable. “The thing is though, if Harwood gets out of this without having to admit they did anything wrong, there goes my whistleblower status.”

  “If they do anything—anything,” she practically yelled, “I wanna know about it. They’ll be sorry they poked this bear.”

  The drunken threats were reassuring if only as proof Theo loved her. Celia was sick to realize Frazier and Caldwell, with their lost multimillion-dollar contracts, were the only ones facing the music over what happened to Hayley. Some of the sportscasters had speculated that if the pair managed to escape conviction, they could play the upcoming season in Europe or China—then declare for next year’s draft as though nothing had happened. A mere footnote for everyone involved.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With her wireless headset and microphone in place, Theo paced her office to stretch her legs. The conference call was well into its second hour. Nine participants representing the nurses’ association at Mercy Hospital Group, a national corporation that controlled over two hundred community hospitals. They’d been impressed by her commentary on TNS, which had been widely cited in newspapers and on websites, and wanted to sue their employer for equal wages.

  “Our next step is to assemble whatever data is in the public domain and determine which findings might be legally actionable. I can start my team on that as early as this afternoon,” Theo said, knowing Gloria was already salivating to get the case underway. “Ultimately—once we file the suit and reach the discovery phase—we’ll ask the court to grant us access to MHG’s employee data, but there are a number of legal hurdles between now and then.”

  Like Gloria, Theo was thrilled at the prospect of landing a case of such magnitude, especially now that Hayley Burkhart’s wrongful death suit was over and Kendra’s wage theft case seemed to be moving toward settlement.

  “What will you need from us?” The question came from the executive director of the MHG association.

  “For now, detailed information from the complainants. My paralegal will conduct in-depth interviews with each of them. Work history, salary, duties…whatever our research advisor tells us she needs in order to start building a framework.” Jalinda and Gloria were listening in on the call, trading private notes with Theo through intra-office chat.

  Like many employers, Mercy Hospital Group tried to manage controversy over differential pay by prohibiting workers from discussing their salaries with co-workers. The policy, though illegal and unenforceable, had an intimidating effect on most employees. But not on four of the nurses on today’s call—each was married to a male nurse with less experience who made more money.

  “We can do a lot of the preliminary work by phone, but at some point, we’ll schedule a strategy meeting here in Atlanta for the principal parties.” She gave them a canned speech on the importance of confidentiality and signed off.

  The instant she pulled off her headset, Penny knocked and entered. “I’ve been watching the light on your phone, waiting for you to get finished. There’s someone here to see you about the Hayley Burkhart case.”

  The Burkhart case had been over for two weeks, at least for Theo. “Who is it?”

  “An attorney with Hubbard-McCaffrey. Says his name’s Austin Thompson.”

  There was something curious about that but she couldn’t place it. “Have him wait a couple more minutes. I’ll buzz you when I’m ready.” She dialed Jalinda and asked her to do an electronic search through her files for the name.

  “Nothing for Austin Thompson, but here’s something from your interview with Kelsey Cameron, the young woman who said she was assaulted by the football player. She claims she was approached by an attorney. ‘Austin something. About thirty, drove a Porsche.’ He’d warned her about making allegations, told her she could find herself facing an expensive lawsuit.”

  In a search for attorneys associated with Harwood’s athletic department, Theo had turned up an article about such a guy at one of the big football universities in Texas. A “jock sniffer,” which apparently was a thing. He hung out on the field or in stadium suites with big-moneyed boosters, and swooped in whenever one of the athletes got in trouble with law enforcement.

  That didn’t mean Austin Thompson was the s
ame attorney Kelsey had encountered. But it occurred to Theo for the first time that Hayley’s warning to back off from her allegations might not have come from someone in Harwood’s administration, as she’d originally thought. It could have come from the same guy who’d intimidated Kelsey.

  “Send him in, Penny.”

  He certainly fit the description age-wise. Undeniably a good-looking young man, he was clean-shaven with a boyish dimple, his short hair styled with gel. Unlike most trial lawyers, who wore low-key suits in case they were called to court, he was dressed in dark chinos with a pink shirt, striped tie and gray tweed sport coat.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” he said, smiling as he offered his hand.

  “Sorry you had to wait. Conference call. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s what I can do for you.” He drew a piece of paper from inside a black portfolio embossed with his firm’s name. “I have a check made out to your firm for two hundred fifty thousand from my employer, the law firm of Hubbard-McCaffrey. That represents the amount of your contracted fee with Donald Lipscomb. As you probably know, he settled with the defendants in the wrongful death suit involving Hayley Burkhart.”

  So this was the weasel who’d cut in and wooed Lipscomb away with the promise of a quick payday. The fact that he’d chosen to deliver the check in person rather than by courier meant he’d come to gloat.

  Controlling her indignation, she snatched the check from his hand and placed it on her desk. “Congratulations on your quick resolution, Mr. Thompson. I’m betting that was the easiest money Hubbard-McCaffrey ever made.”

  “Mr. Lipscomb was satisfied with our counsel. In the end, that’s what matters, isn’t it?” If his phony smile meant anything, it was that he clearly relished the meeting, so much that she almost pressed him on how he’d become involved in the case. If he was, in fact, the same person Kelsey Cameron had encountered, his ethical lapses weren’t limited to poaching—his association with university athletes posed a serious conflict of interest as a representative of Donald Lipscomb.

  “Thank you for taking the time to deliver this payment in person. Please give Mr. Hubbard and Mr. McCaffrey my sincere appreciation for their professional consideration. Be sure to have Penny validate your parking.” She needed to stall him long enough to find someone in the office who could follow him to the parking garage to see if he drove a Porsche.