False Justice

by Larry A Winters

  “Why are you asking me these questions, Detective?”

  “I want to know.”

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing to know, okay? Lee died in an accident. Case closed.”

  “I understand, but did you look into possible causes for such a big explosion? You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions.” He looked at the dumbbell at his feet, then lifted it, stood up, and returned it to the rack. Apparently he’d decided that his workout was over. He turned back to her. “You said this conversation is off the record.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. Trust me, we’ll both be better off.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He was already heading away from her, toward the door to the locker rooms. Either he didn’t hear the question, or he chose not to respond.

  11

  Finding a new lawyer for the Rowlands, when she didn’t even have the case file or access to all of the facts, was not going to be easy. She decided her first stop should be the Court of Common Pleas, located inside City Hall, where the judge assigned to the Rowlands’ case could tell her the status. Looking online, she found out that the judge was a woman named Cynthia Dax.

  As a prosecutor, Jessie spent plenty of time in the hallways and courtrooms of Philadelphia’s Juanita Kidd Stout Center for Criminal Justice—commonly referred to as the CJC—but she’d never practiced a day of civil litigation, so the Court of Common Pleas was foreign territory to her. She didn’t know her way around, knew none of the staff, and had never met Judge Dax. She tried not to let any of this intimidate her as she made her way through the building’s hallways.

  Jessie knocked on the door of Judge Cynthia Dax’s chambers. No one responded. She tried to look casual as she pressed her ear to the dark wood. She couldn’t hear anything through the door. A few men in suits walked past her with suspicious glances. She straightened up, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

  She knocked again. Maybe she should have tried to do this by phone, but it had seemed more appropriate to talk about Kelly’s death face-to-face. She was considering what to do next when the judge’s door swung open.

  A woman emerged and almost bumped into Jessie. “Watch it. You’re in my way.” The woman strode past her.

  “Wait. My name is Jessie Black.” Jessie followed the billowing black robe, hurrying to catch up. “Judge Dax, please.”

  The judge stopped and turned. She had long, blonde hair that looked incongruously youthful framing her weathered, creased face. Her pale gray eyes seemed to regard Jessie with annoyance.

  “I need to talk to you about the Rowland case.”

  The judge’s expression seemed to harden. “I don’t have time right now.”

  “I only need a few minutes. I was a friend of Kelly Lee. I’m not sure if you’ve heard about her accident.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but I really need to—”

  “I’ve spoken with the Rowlands. I’m hoping you can bring me up to speed on the status of their lawsuit. We should discuss assigning them new counsel—”

  “Lurking outside my chambers so you can ambush me in the hallway is hardly the right way to get assigned as their lawyer.”

  Jessie felt her frustration begin to build. “I’m an assistant DA. I’m not here looking to get assigned as counsel myself. I’m just here to find out the status and—”

  “There is no status. I haven’t ruled on either motion yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”

  “Either motion?”

  The judge let out a frustrated sigh. “Ms. Lee moved the Court to certify a class so that she could proceed with a class action lawsuit against the defendants. The defense opposed the motion and moved for summary judgment.”

  Jessie tried to absorb the information before Judge Dax could leave. She had almost no knowledge of the laws or procedures involved in a class action suit, but she knew generally how motion practice worked. “Did the parties submit briefs in support of these motions?”

  Jessie figured that certifying a class must be one of the first steps in a class action suit, so the trial must still be at a very early stage. Kelly was seeking the court’s approval to represent not just the Rowlands, but everyone harmed by Boffo’s dangerous products, and Boffo was opposing the request. Boffo’s motion for summary judgment was an attempt to get the whole case tossed out without a trial, on the basis that the Rowlands had no legitimate legal case. Reading the briefs would give Jessie a much better understanding of the case and help her pitch it to potential lawyers.

  “You ask a lot of questions, Ms. Black.” The judge resumed her march down the hallway. Jessie had to jog to keep up with her.

  “When were the motions filed?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “Did the parties present arguments at a hearing?”

  “A hearing hasn’t been scheduled yet.”

  “May I see the briefs in support of the motions?”

  “No, you may not,” Judge Dax said, rounding on her suddenly with an angry glare. “The pleadings have been sealed as confidential by motion of the defense. Now, like I said, I have somewhere important to be. I assume you do, too.”

  Jessie didn’t understand the woman’s hostility. She searched for the right words. “What about finding new legal counsel for the Rowlands?”

  “That’s their problem, isn’t it? Maybe criminal defendants are entitled to free legal counsel, but personal injury plaintiffs are not.”

  “I didn’t say free. I’m sure a lot of local lawyers would be interested in stepping in.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “The case sounded pretty strong when Kelly described it to me.”

  “I guess that’s why I’m a judge and you’re not.”

  The judge strode away, leaving Jessie even more stunned than before. What the judge had implied—that other lawyers wouldn’t want to take on the Rowlands’ case—seemed at odds with what Kelly had told her about the strength of the case against Boffo, but Jessie wasn’t up to speed on the laws at issue. She was out of her depth.

  At least she’d learned the basic status of the case. Walking out of City Hall, she mentally reviewed the lawyers she knew you might have the qualifications to take on the case.

  12

  The temperature outside City Hall had dropped, and Jessie felt a chill as she walked away from the entrance. She turned away from the traffic, pressed her phone to her ear, and called a personal injury lawyer named Bud Derren, whom she’d heard speak at a legal conference a few months before.

  “I’m the one who complained about the lack of coffee,” she reminded him.

  “I remember you.” His voice sounded chipper. “How can I help?”

  “I don’t know if you heard, but Kelly Lee was recently in a fatal car accident.”

  “I did hear that.” The sounds of the city around her made hearing difficult, but she thought a note of sadness in his voice.

  “I’m trying to help some of her clients find new counsel.” She gave him a brief summary of the Rowlands’ claims.

  “I’m going to pass,” Derren said.

  “Pass? Why?”

  “My docket is really full at the moment.”

  “Too full for a case where you bring down a powerful company harming children? Think of the free advertising, if nothing else.”

  A car horn blocked out his response. Jessie took a few steps away from the busy street and pressed her phone harder against her ear. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m outside. Can you say that again?”

  “Why are you outside?”

  She thought about Warren’s admonition not to interfere in the Kelly Lee matter and felt a twinge of misgiving, as if she were sneaking around—which she supposed she was. “Just multitasking,” she said vaguely.

  “I said, it’s not about publicity. Believe me, I love kids and if it was in my power, I would punish every company and person who dared to put mone
y ahead of a child’s well-being. But what you need to understand is that I practice personal injury law on a contingent fee basis. My firm invests thousands—often tens of thousands—of its own money in a case, but we only get paid if we win, because our fees ultimately come out of a damages verdict or a settlement. Taking a case is like making a bet, and to survive in my world you need to be a savvy gambler. If I had the confidence that this case was a good bet—or just an even bet for that matter—I’d jump on it. But going up against a company with a huge war chest, before a judge like Judge Dax? I’m not going to take a bet like that.”

  Jessie’s chest tightened. Hearing a respected lawyer describe the adjudication of the legal rights of grieving parents as gambling and betting disturbed her, but she pushed aside her distaste. What mattered was helping the Rowlands. “Is there anyone you can think of who would be a good match for this case?”

  “I can give you a few names, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  His warning was apt, and her other calls were similarly unsuccessful. No one seemed interested in picking up the Rowlands’ case. The local personal injury lawyers were familiar with Judge Cynthia Dax, who was apparently known to be sympathetic to corporate defendants. The deep pockets of Boffo Products Corporation didn’t make the scenario any more appealing. No one she spoke with seemed to think taking the case would be a smart business move.

  The conversations left Jessie feeling confused. When she and Kelly had spoken, Kelly had made it sound like the Rowlands’ case was a sure thing, but now it seemed Kelly had been taking a big chance on the Rowlands. She remembered something Kelly had said. The Rowlands’ case is different. Do you understand? The Rowland case is a chance for me to actually do something good.

  Out of other options, Jessie took a deep breath and called the only other personal injury lawyer she could think of. Noah Snyder.

  The aging, silver-haired lawyer had been a thorn in Jessie’s side more often than he’d been an ally, but she knew him to be smart, resourceful, and, most importantly, non-discriminating. He handled criminal matters, personal injury claims, workers compensation cases, trusts and estates, and anything else that walked through the door of his low-rent legal practice carrying a checkbook or a credit card. He rented space in a shoddy building a few blocks from the criminal courthouse, where he employed a slew of young associates whose only common trait was an inability to find a better job. He worked these people to the bone while paying them the bare minimum and doing as little work as possible himself.

  But Jessie had seen him negotiate excellent plea agreements for criminal clients. She’d been on the other side of several of those negotiations and had been surprised as he outmaneuvered her. She knew he preferred settling to trying cases, but he had no qualms sending his underlings into court. If she could interest anyone in picking up the Rowlands’ case, it might be Snyder. She had no choice now but to try.

  “Jessie Black.” The sound of his voice made her instantly question her decision to call him, but there was no turning back now. “Do I have a case pending against you? I don’t remember—”

  “No, actually. I need to talk to you about something else.”

  “Sure, what is it? I hope you’re not fundraising because I don’t…. Hold on a sec.” She heard voices on the other end of the line and realized she didn’t have his full attention.

  “Are you in your office, Noah? Let me come visit you. We can discuss this in person.”

  “Discuss what?”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Ten minutes later, Snyder’s receptionist, a pleasant woman named Danielle, greeted her in the lobby. She buzzed Snyder. He arrived a moment later with a smirk she was all too familiar with. “Never thought I’d see you inside my humble headquarters, Black. Want a tour?”

  She had not come to sightsee, but figured, what the hell? She’d always been curious about this place. “Sure, Noah.”

  He led her from the lobby into an open-floor environment where his worker bees crouched in tiny cubicles cranking away at their cases. The windows were closed to the autumn chill, and the stuffy air reeked of printer toner, fast food, and sweat. Jessie felt bad for the lawyers here, who’d fought their way through law school only to wind up slaving away in this dungeon. Snyder ushered her into his own office, and it was like stepping into a completely different building.

  While Snyder had furnished the majority of his “humble headquarters” with cheap, industrial office furniture, he’d lavished money and attention on his own office, which was luxurious and beautiful. He walked behind a huge mahogany desk and dropped into a leather swivel chair. He gestured at the two visitor chairs and Jessie sat in one. These were leather as well, and very comfortable. As her body sank into the leather, she imagined that Snyder had wooed many a potential client in this chair, impressing and pampering them before handing their cases off to one of the minions in the cubicle farm to arrange a quick settlement. A feeling of doubt began to creep into her mind. Had coming here been a bad idea?

  “Scotch?” Snyder said.

  “Excuse me?” It was barely after noon.

  “Cigar?” Snyder tapped a humidor on the corner of his desk. “Cuban. The good stuff.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Do you mind if I have one?”

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  Snyder seemed to find this amusing. “Fine. But the Scotch is twenty-five-year single malt. I’m not letting you turn me down on that. It’s too great an insult.”

  He set two glasses on his desk and leaned sideways to open one of the desk drawers. He withdrew a bottle and filled both glasses with brown liquid. A powerful smell filled the air. Snyder pushed one of the glasses across the desk to her and raised his own in a toast. Jessie hesitated, then picked up her glass and clinked it with his.

  She sipped. Scotch was not her thing—she wasn’t much of a drinker, other than an occasional glass of wine—but she had to admit it went down pretty smoothly. “It’s good.”

  “Good? That’s a five-hundred dollar bottle of Balvenie.”

  “I’m flattered you would share it with me.”

  Snyder drained his glass in one long swallow, then refilled it. He sighed contentedly and leaned back in his chair with the fresh drink in his hand. “So why are you here?”

  “I have a potential referral for you.”

  He laughed, coughing up some of his drink. “No, seriously.”

  “I am serious.” She told him about Kelly’s death, then laid out the Rowlands’ case in as much detail as possible—which wasn’t much, since Judge Dax had not given her access to the pleadings. She also told him what the Rowlands had told her—Boffo’s attempt to settle the case, their anger when the Rowlands refused. She finished by recapping her meeting with Judge Dax.

  “Dax is a real bitch,” he said.

  Jessie waited for him to continue. Snyder slowly finished his drink. “And?” she said.

  “I appreciate you thinking of me for this case. Although I’m pretty sure I wasn’t your first choice.” He offered her a knowing smile. “I’m not interested.”

  “Why not?”

  “Tell me why everyone else turned you down.”

  Jessie sighed. “They all thought the chances of winning were too low.”

  Snyder let out a snort. “What a bunch of pussies.”

  His crude tone made her stiffen. “What’s your reason?”

  “You lost me when you told me the Rowlands refused to even consider a settlement offer. I like clients who settle. Quick and easy, money for everybody. The last thing I want to do is go to some musty old courtroom and drone on in front of a judge and a jury, and talk to a bunch of boring expert witnesses. How would my girlfriend put it? Ain’t nobody got time for dat shit.”

  “I don’t think I’ve met your girlfriend. She sounds interesting.”

  “She’s a peach. The bottom line is, from what I’m hearing, the Rowlands want a courtroom showdown. I don’t go in for that Perry Mason shit.”


  “So it’s not the thought of losing that bothers you. It’s the thought of working.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds….” He considered. “True.”

  “Sometimes if you go to trial, the award can be larger than a settlement. Isn’t that true? Think about it. You could take a settlement offer from a company like Boffo, or you could beat them on the merits and let a jury decide how much they should have to pay. The Rowlands retained Kelly on a contingency basis. I’m sure they would do the same with you. You would take a percentage of the damages verdict, which could be substantial, and make a difference in the world by putting companies like Boffo on notice that endangering children won’t be tolerated.”

  Snyder clapped. “This is why I share my good Scotch with you, Black. You’re endlessly entertaining. ”

  She ignored the backhanded compliment. “I’m sure all the hard work has already been done by Kelly. The legal research, the expert reports, the initial filings. All you need to do is pick up her work, stroll into the courtroom, and wow them with your good looks and charm.”

  Snyder’s smile widened. “I do have those in abundance.”

  “Beat a company like Boffo, and you’ll be buying plenty more bottles of overpriced Scotch.”

  “It’s not overpriced.”

  “Will you at least think about it?”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because this is an important case.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a child—”

  “Why is it important to you?”

  “That is why.”

  Snyder rocked back in his chair and watched her with a knowing smirk. “I’ll need to see the file before I agree. Make sure all the annoying legal work is already done, like you say.”

  Jessie hesitated. She needed to call the Rowlands. “Do you have a spare conference room where I can make a call?”

  He put on a hurt expression. “Why not call from here? Are you trying to hide something from me?”

  Jessie took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Of course not, Noah. Here is fine.”