by Evie Adams
I don't date women, I don't think about them.
I don't pine after them.
I move on.
That's what I do.
I cupped the cold water and splashed it over my face again, as I heard the door open.
“There you are, all done with working with what's her face?”
Corinne, the sort of girl who follows you into the bathroom, or pulls you into the ladies room.
Perfect to get my mind off the case, and Laura.
“Not tonight sweetheart, I have an early morning.”
“How about I just keep you company then?”
“Another time.”
I have rules and one is I don’t take women home. They spend the night, then they bring a toothbrush, next they have clothes and a key, and a box of tampons, and you’re done for.
I gathered up Laura’s files and notes and brought them home.
Sitting in a courtroom is my favorite thing in the world. My nerves are shot and I have no idea how I'm going to pull out a victory here, but I'm confident I'll win.
I have to win.
The counsel for the defense has just been talking for three hours straight, going over his exhibits, arguing that his client, MacArthur Machines could not possibly be responsible for my client's injuries.
The jury is bored to death.
I'm worried.
But my client, Mr. Joshua Armstrong (I shit you not, that's his actual last name). He looks over and smiles at me, knowing that I can't possibly lose. Knowing I can't possibly send him home without fulfilling my two promises of 1) making MacArthur Machines change the way they do business, and 2) get him the money he needs to get on with his life.
That smile of his, his complete faith in me, he knows there is no way that I can't do what I promised him and make sure MacArthur Machines spends $35 next time for a guard on their machine to prevent another accident like his from happening to someone else.
He is positive I'll keep my promise that our victory here today will put every other company like MacArthur on notice that they can't cut corners and save a few dollars, because a verdict like the one I promised him can put them out of business. No government regulation, no amount of fines can scare them like an 8 figure verdict, and an army of a million greedy lawyers using this case as precedent to sue all of them for 8 figures too.
He knows I can't lose, but I don't.
If he had arms, he would hug me.
He can't hug me or anyone anymore because he lost both his arms to the MacArthur Machine, but still somehow (god love him) has a sense of humor about his last name (“Not strong enough, ha, ha, ha”).
He has all the faith in the world in me.
I have notebooks full of my arguments and briefcases full of exhibits and diagrams of the machines, research about the safety guards, and I've spent every waking hour for the last three months putting it all together.
But looking at the jury, they're bored, and they're tired and they're hungry because the defense lawyer bored them to death all morning.
And they'll hold that against me if I bore them too.
F. Stuart Mitchell, the defense counsel, and total douche bag (anyone with a name like F. Stuart is a douche bag) has just rested his case and looks satisfied as he grins at me.
There is a way to wipe that grin off his face, but I have no idea what it is yet.
This damn blue tie, I needed a red on for closing, like Tiger woods wears all red on the final day of a tournament, a red tie was my victory color too.
Laura’s fault.
Or maybe it was going out to the bar last night instead of sitting in the law library. I had Laura’s files and reports in front of me, but they did no good.
The judge addresses me, “Attorney Hughes, would you like to start now, or break for lunch and start fresh?”
“Your honor,” I answered, “I think we can all use a good lunch.” And hope for a fire so I can prepare a new closing argument. I looked around the courtroom, and there she was, a few rows back, we locked eyes for a moment, I smiled and she looked away.
I felt her slap from last night against my face, and then a miracle happened, they still do sometimes.
I had an idea. Maybe the best one I've ever had. At least a close second to when I joined the cheerleader squad in high school, that idea was genius, but this one was close.
Laura had popped in my mind, and right after her, the solution. The key to the case.
Everything slowed down and clicked in that instant. These moments don't happen often, but the only way I can explain it is all the noise and distraction goes away, my vision telescopes down to where the only thing I can see is the solution, and nothing else exists in the world.
Not me, not my client, not the jury, not F. Stuart and his smug smirk.
Only the solution.
I speak up quick, before the judge can bang his gavel, “But, before we adjourn for lunch your honor, can I have 5 minutes to address the jury?”
“Of course.” The judge answered. I swear I could hear disappointment and hunger in his voice. The jury shifted in their seats, already bored with whatever I was going to say, and thinking about lunch, but they were in for a surprise, that's exactly what I wanted.
I gave F. Stuart my best grin and walked to the jury box to address them personally.
I catch Laura’s eye, and give her a wink.
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CHAPTER 6 – LAURA
I had a yellow legal pad full of notes for him. Work was the only thing I could do once I got home and the only thing I could do here, focus on work, not him, not the electric kiss from last night.
He was a woman's naughtiest fantasy that's all. The kiss was a weakness. An indiscretion, brought on by whiskey and anger and those dimples.
The dimples were gone today, he had not had much to smile about today.
The defense closing arguments were long and boring, but that was exactly what they wanted. Boring facts and figures to make the jury forget about our client, the living, breathing, injured person in front of them.
Jake did take my advice of a blue tie, matching his arrogant eyes. But nothing else had changed.
I was ready for lunch.
The jury was ready for lunch.
The judge and the bailiffs were ready for lunch. I had my notes ready to talk over with Jake at lunch. None of my notes were great, but maybe he could massage a few facts our way. They say if the facts are with you, pound on the facts, if the facts are against you, pound on the table.
I hoped we could figure out something to pound on the table with, but if not, the facts were with us too. We only needed something to make the jury think about him, his life without arms. How he couldn't hug his wife, slap her, grab her face and kiss her hard. . . Dammit.
Now I was thinking about Jake again.
Momma's boy.
Oedipus complex.
Bad Bad news.
But sexy as hell.
He asked the judge to address them briefly before lunch, and I saw the whole jury box deflate. It seemed like mistake to hold them any longer from their lunches.
Especially jurors 3, 9, 10.
He stood up, slowly, and buttoned his jacket, and glanced back at me.
The dimples flashed.
He winked.
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CHAPTER 7 –JACOB
I stand up and button the middle button of my suit, and make them wait for me. Laura's face was riddled with doubt. I couldn't resist giving her a wink. She'd like this.
“I want to thank you for sitting through this case, and I'm sure you want a break by now, to go off and enjoy your lunch and forget about all of this for a while, all of us. All of this,” I picked up the three inch file with the medical opinions, engineering opinions, the whole case file, and dropped it 18 inches onto the table with a THWACK.
It woke everyone up and I had their eyes on me.
“But I want you to remember all of the defense's arg
uments. That they had warnings posted and provided training, and all the rest of what the defense attorney just talked about for the last three hours. When we get back I'm going to go through how MacArthur was aware that their machines were unsafe, that was why they had the warnings and all the training. What other reason for it? I'm also going to show you how the accident happened despite warnings and training, and the plaintiff here, Josh, being as careful as he could.” I turned to look at him, and the jury followed my lead, he just smiled at me, angelic almost.
“Accidents happen despite warnings and training when the machines are inherently unsafe.” I could hear F. Stuart shuffling his papers, telling me he was ready to object if I went too far, but I didn't object to his closing arguments, so he had to let me go a little bit in mine, or he might look like a jerk to the jury.
He should have objected.
“And I want you to remember that these machines cost $35,000 each and a safety guard which would have prevented the accident to my client would have cost $35, and that wasn't worth it to them. So remember all of that, while you go to lunch.”
“It's a little ritual of mine to go to 'Sandberg's', a little dive of a place two blocks away from here that serves Chicago style Italian Beef sandwiches. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but if you can, I recommend getting a sandwich there, and get it 'wet'. They splash it in juice, soak the bread, but that's okay, messy sandwiches are always the best and these very messy. These are worth the mess. Grab plenty of napkins and be prepared to get it all over you,” I pantomimed licking my fingers and mopping up my suit and face, using my tie as a napkin, a few of them laughed, but not jurors # 3, 9 or 10, they had been tough all trial.
F. Stuart and the judge had no idea what I was doing. “I took my client, Josh, there the other day, but we won't be there today. I ate, and used a pile of napkins, but for Josh, the plaintiff here, the reason we're all here today, they served it in a big bowl, like a dog's dish, and he had to eat it like an animal. Enjoy your lunch.”
I had barely walked out of the courtroom when F. Stuart caught up to me, grabbed my arm, “I'll raise it to $5 million,” he begged, as quietly as he could.
I had that shit-eating grin of his on my face, “Last week it was $1 million and you seemed pretty cocky. I don't think I can do it.” I had to tell Josh about an offer, ethically, but I knew he wouldn't take it. He didn't care about the money, it wouldn't buy him new arms and it wouldn't send the message we were trying to send to all the other companies.
“Seven, I can go seven!” He yelled at me, but I was already walking away.
I picked up a sandwich from Sandberg's, take-out, and I ate it across the street in a little park where I could watch.
Four of my jurors found the place and went in together and ate. I would have been happier if it was all 12, but I ate the best sandwich of my life in that little park.
After lunch I bored the jury with my medical and engineering reports, but it didn't matter, they were paying more attention to Josh than they were to me, which is what I wanted anyways. I rested and we sent them to deliberate.
After half an hour I started to get nervous. Those creeping doubts that I usually ignore, but after an hour the forewoman came out and asked the court 'what was the limit they could award as punitive damages?'
The judge told her there was no limit, and F. Stuart's face had zero traces of that grin left.
I told F. Stuart to send his best offer to me before court began the next morning at 10am. “Your BEST offer. And you don't have to admit fault, but you do have to make a promise to start installing safety guards on all your machines.”
“So don't admit fault, but admit there's a solution?” He asked, as if I was being unreasonable.
“Or take your chances, up to you. Have a good night.” He would be up all night trying to squeeze money out of the managers because he had to tell them if they don't settle for everything they have, they could all be out of jobs tomorrow.
My night would be a lot different.
I was thinking celebration.
Wine, women, and song, but only after I stopped by the office to receive thanks and admiration from my Boss and Laura.
(Back to Table of Contents)
CHAPTER 8 - LAURA
Okay, so that was pretty impressive.
He went from flailing around trying to find a closing argument, to finding the best one I've ever seen. There was no way the jury could forget that.
They would eat lunch and think of nothing else. Then, even better, they would think of all the other things they couldn't do if they were like Josh and had no arms.
They would think about going to the bathroom, they would think about the bedroom, everything that makes us human becomes so much harder.
It was brilliant.
He should have thought of it earlier.
I should have thought of it earlier.
But all of this through me for a loop. I had notes for him, but I also had a full report for the whole jury and case and what a good figure to settle for should be. My report had been based on how the jury was up until that point, but everything changed.
Now they were unpredictable, but on his side for sure.
I had to go look up similar cases and similar judgments. And maybe add 30% for that dramatic closing, It was that good.
I didn't stick around to see the rest of his closing, I knew it would be the usual: going over the entire case, poking the holes in the defendant's case. 'If the facts are with you, pound on the facts, if the facts are against you, pound on the table.'
That spectacle before lunch was him pounding on the table, but he had the facts too, to pound on after lunch. Why am I saying pounding so much when I think of him?
Goddamn it.
I left and worked on my report, going back to the office to meet with him and Diane.
He was late of course.
I could hear them arguing through the door
“Junior, you missed the appointment I required you to go to last night.”
“I had things to do, I waited as long as I could. And anyways, we did meet up.”
“I'm here now, where's the report from this voodoo doctor?”
“The report and her are in my office. But I'm not sure if you're fired or not.”
“You can't fire me, my name is on the firm.”
“Your father's name is on the firm. You're not a partner yet.”
“Fire me and I'll take Josh and his verdict to my new firm.”
“You wouldn't dare.”
“Neither would you. I'm your best lawyer. I don't want to go anywhere else and you don't want me anywhere else. So you have to deal with my difficult nature. Creative geniuses are often temperamental and difficult, but the results are worth it.”
“Your results are what we're here for.”
The door opened and they swept in.
“Sit down Jacob and listen to her.” Diane tells him. There aren't many people he listens to, but she's one of them, sometimes.
I went through my report, each juror and their reactions, his skills and successes and where he lost them.
He's furious, simmering, ready to blow. He couldn't charm and rage at the same time.
“That's all well and good, Dr. Phil would’ve told us the same thing. I could have told you the same thing.” He announces, his jaw tightened.
“What are your bottom line recommendations?” Asked Diane.
“Attorney Hughes did a great job, especially on closing. Some of the best I've ever seen. But he has a tendency to be tenacious and over-confident. There are 3 jurors I don't think he won over. His theatricality was very good, but alienated #9 who has a heart condition and especially doesn't like loud noise surprises. I think the lost wages are worth $500 thousand, the pain and suffering about $4.5 million, in similar cases. Punitive can match the pain and suffering or be uncapped, but uncapped would be appealed for sure. Anything over 9 should be taken.”
He flashes that devil-may-care g
rin when things aren't going his way. And those dimples come out, charming, cute as hell. “Josh would never agree to that. We promised we would change the way they do business.” He breathed in deeply, his chest and shoulders straining the suit.
Jake lost his temper, already.
I told him, “The initial offer sheet came over this afternoon with the promise to change the way they do business.”
“Josh won't agree, he was in court, he saw me. He knows we'll put them out of business.”
“If you talk to him and argue him and lawyer him, sure he'll listen to you. But if you put the facts in front of him, and ask him to make a decision, he'll take the offer, he doesn't want to sit in appeals for years.”
“Mother, you can't seriously be listening to this psychologist when you have a lawyer telling you otherwise.”
“Call me Diane, we’re both adults. Listening to you has gotten me into trouble. And besides, she is a lawyer too.”
“OK, but not a trial lawyer like me.”
“Yes, a trial lawyer like you, and with an 8 figure verdict, something you don't have.”
His dimples flashed at me. My stomach flipped. His penetrating and fierce gaze focused on me, like he was looking at me for the first time. He didn't know that part of my history. “Why even have me here if you've already decided?”
“For appearances sake and - I don't know, call it morale,- it's a team decision.”
He wagged his eyebrows at me. “But once I talk to Josh, he'll do whatever I tell him.”
“Josh is here on speaker, aren't you Josh?'”
“Hi Jake.”
He stared at me, his lips curling into a smile, he wasn't deflated, could anything rattle this guy? “Josh, lets confer not on speaker.”
“OK Jake.”
He went over to the phone and picked it up, it was still loud enough for all of us to hear Josh's voice. “You're right Jake, I'll pretty much do what you say, I've been with you this far, but I kind of like what she said. And she sounds hot, is she hot?”