John Stone Law

by Dave Derin

  “Maybe we’ll drive out to Oregon or Washington,” he said with a sly grin, then removed his silver-rimmed glasses and slowly cleaned them with the corner of his white cotton shirt before he placed them back on his nose. “I’ve always wanted to get high on marijuana, legally that is, and now I have both a legitimate excuse and zero cares left to give.”

  “Well then, Smokey, you do you,” I laughed until tears streamed down my face, and my sides ached. I’d never heard Sully make a pot joke, much less admit to getting high in the past, so his out-of-character drug reference hit my funny bone during an otherwise depressing conversation.

  “I’m not kidding either,” he said and joined me with his deep, baritone chuckle.

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you’re serious,” I said as I tried to get my laughter under control. “I’m just glad you’re going out with a bang, or would that be a puff?”

  “Ah, I see what you did there,” my mentor replied. “So, anyway, now that I’ve revealed my big secret, it’s your turn. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “So, I guess you’ve heard about me leaving Swinger and branching out on my own,” I said as I took the last sip of my coffee, stood up from the table, poured some hot coffee from the silver pot on the bar top, then sat back down in the cushioned patio chair.

  “I have,” Sully said with a nod of his hat-covered head.

  “Well, have you also heard that Susanna Jenkins, one of the defendants in the CUSA bombings, has hired me to represent her?” I asked apprehensively. I didn’t know why I was nervous to tell him about the case. It was a huge risk to start off on my own with a big, public case like that one, so I was concerned he’d be worried about how I’d handle it alone.

  “A little birdy did sing that in my ear, yes,” he answered nonchalantly, then folded his hands across his belly, leaned back in his chair, and studied my face carefully.

  “So, what do you think?” I inquired and ran my hand through my dark hair anxiously.

  “What do I think about what?” He asked and tilted his head to the side inquisitively.

  “What do you think about me taking on that doozy of a case as the first one of my solo career?” I questioned, then leaned my elbow on the table and placed my chin on my hand. “Do you think I made a wise decision?”

  “John,” Sully chuckled and shook his head at me. “I think if you believe it was the right decision, then it was a good call. You’ve proven yourself time and time again to be an excellent litigator with a good head on your shoulders. Don’t doubt yourself.”

  “It’s not that I’m doubting myself,” I leaned back into the patio chair. “I’m actually quite confident with the physical evidence and witness testimony we’ve secured.”

  “I know you’re self-reliant and I have no doubt that you’d do an incredible job on your own, but this is your first solo case, and it’s a big one,” my dear friend said, then took a sip of his coffee, looked down into the mug, and glanced over at the silver coffee pot.

  “Here, let me,” I jumped up and grabbed the coffee pot from the stone wet bar, then turned back to the table and filled his mug. “Maybe I should think about hiring a consultant?”

  “Thank you,” he said, then took another sip of the steaming dark liquid and smiled up at me. “Well, what if I told you I know someone who could assist you and has been looking for a pet project? Someone who is very experienced with federal criminal defense litigation. He’s one of the best I’ve ever seen in action, next to present company, of course, and your late father.”

  “Really?” I asked hesitantly as I sat back down. “And you think they would be willing to come on board with a newbie like me with only one case on the docket?”

  “I think it’s definitely worth you having a conversation with him,” Sully responded and took another sip of coffee from his painted ceramic mug. His uneaten plate of food had grown cold on the table before him.

  “So who is this mystery litigator?” I inquired as I picked up my fork, stabbed a piece of ripe papaya, and savored its juicy, tropical sweetness.

  “You may have heard his name before, actually,” Sully explained. “He was a friend of your father’s back in the day.”

  “Huh,” I said, then wiped my mouth with a white paper napkin. “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Now, remember, he’s a brilliant litigator,” Sully said once more.

  “Okay,” I responded and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s a little concerning that you felt the need to tell me that twice, Sully.”

  “The thing is,” the white-haired attorney said with a small huff. “He’s gotten a bit of a bad reputation in past years due to his, well, let’s just call it his lack of discipline, but I guarantee you that if he gets a whiff of this case, he’ll be all over it.”

  “I don’t know, Sully,” I said and shook my head. “I don’t know if I can babysit someone right now, regardless of how brilliant of a litigator they are.”

  “You won’t have to babysit him, John,” Sully said, then picked up his fork and pushed a slice of banana around his plate. “Just give him a chance, alright? Consider it a personal favor to me.”

  “Why is this so important to you?” I asked and watched him finally put the mushy piece of banana in his mouth.

  “Skip was revered as one of the greatest litigators of his time, plus he’s one of the oldest, most faithful friends I have left,” he said after he’d swallowed the fruit. “I won’t be around much longer, and I want to make sure he has something meaningful to focus on when I’m away on my road trip.”

  His road trip. Such a pleasant euphemism for what Sully Ames really meant.

  “Skip?” I asked and racked my brain for why the name sounded familiar, then my eyes grew wide as I realized who Sully was referring to. “Are you talking about Skip Gallant?”

  Seymour “Skip” Gallant was as notorious for being a genius litigator as he was a shameless gambler and belligerent drunkard. I remembered my father had gotten him out of a few tight legal situations, including a public intoxication incident where Skip had yelled at a police officer on horseback because the officer wouldn’t allow him to pet his horse’s nose.

  “Yes, I’m talking about Skip Gallant,” Sully replied firmly and locked eyes with me. “I know he has a bit of a nasty reputation these days, but I assure you that if you give him a real chance, he won’t let you down, John.”

  “I trust you, I really do, but is that a risk I should take right now, especially given the very public nature of this case?” I inquired as I considered Sully’s suggestion carefully and studied his stoic brown eyes behind their silver-rimmed glasses. My father had never really talked to me about Skip when he was still living, but the fact that I was in middle school when he passed away probably had a lot to do with why he didn’t explain the complexities of his relationship with an infamous legal rebel to me.

  “I don’t view it as a risk, son,” my mentor replied and shook his head at me slowly. “Once Skip has something to focus on that he’s passionate about, he’s a litigating freight train. You’ll see for yourself if you decide to bring him onboard.”

  “Sully, I can’t even afford to pay myself a decent salary right now,” I groaned and rubbed my face with my palms. “There’s no way I could offer Skip anything that would entice him.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about the money,” the attorney chuckled and wrinkles cracked around his deep-set brown eyes. “Skip has more than enough wealth and loves to blow it all at the racetrack and casinos anyway. That man would work for free if he thought the cause was worthy enough, and I’ve seen him do it.”

  “I still don’t know,” I replied hesitantly, then took a sip of my black coffee. “But if you believe in him, I’ll at least go speak with him, and we’ll see what happens. Where is he now, anyway?”

  “Do you mean which firm is he with now, or where he currently lives?” Sully asked flippantly.

  “Well, both I suppose?” I tilted my head and looked at him quizzicall
y.

  “He’s been working independently on a case-by-case basis for a few years now,” Sully replied, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his white cotton shirt. “He was formerly with Abner, Helton, and Reynolds, but left them a few years ago for reasons quite similar to why you ventured out on your solo career. The last I heard, he was still living over in Grand Prairie.”

  “Ah, okay,” I nodded, then picked up a crispy piece of cinnamon sugar tortilla from my plate and crunched down on the sweet treat. “At least he’s still pretty close to the courthouse downtown and to my new office.” Grand Prairie, Texas, a suburban city about 15 minutes west of downtown Dallas down Highway 30, was home to Lone Star Park, one of the most popular horse racing facilities in the state.

  “Listen, John,” Sully grew serious and leaned forward in his seat. “I know you’re very hesitant about this, and believe me, I fully understand your wariness. I do. Skip may seem like a challenge, but he’s really an asset you will want on your team now and moving forward.”

  I placed my left elbow on the mosaic tile table and rested my chin in my hand as I carefully considered Sully’s suggestion. Bringing another experienced litigator on this case could be just what I needed to bring everything together, especially since I knew Destinee wouldn’t feel comfortable coming to assist me in court. “Alright. I’ll reach out to him tomorrow,” I said confidently after weighing the pros and cons, then gave Sully a crooked smile. “I’ll blame you if he drags me under.”

  “Oh, goodness,” Sully leaned his head back against the chair and released a hearty laugh. “Good luck blaming a dead guy.”

  “Sully,” I exclaimed with shocked, wide eyes. “Too soon, sir. Too soon.”

  Sully laughed so hard at my surprised expression that his belly shook and tears rolled down his cheeks. He took his glasses off, wiped them with the corner of his shirt, then put them back on, sighed deeply, and smiled at me.

  “I’m never going to get used to you making dark jokes like that,” I told him and rolled my dark green eyes.

  “You don’t have to get used to it,” he replied with a cunning grin. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop making them.”

  “You really have gotten defiant in your old age,” I joked, and laughed again when he gave me a playful stern look and threw his paper napkin at my face.

  “And you have grown bold in yours, young man,” he replied with raised eyebrows and pointed his finger at me before he crossed his arms across his chest. “So, you’ll speak with Skip?”

  “Yes, I will,” I confirmed with a nod. “Do you have his phone number, or know where I can find him?”

  “Oh, I know where to find him,” Sully responded with a knowing look. “He’s usually at that Lone Star horse racing track if he’s not at home fishing out on Joe Pool Lake. Maria has his new phone number somewhere. We call and check in on him every so often and invite him over for dinner, but he hasn’t accepted in a few months now. I’ll get it to you before you leave.”

  We finished eating our delectable breakfast, then walked our dishes into the house. Maria stood barefoot in front of the kitchen sink and washed out the clear glass bowl that had contained chopped fruit.

  “Hey guys, how was breakfast?” the petite woman asked.

  “Fantastic, as always,” I replied with a big grin.

  “It was wonderful, honey. Thank you for cooking,” Sully walked up behind his wife, wrapped her in a hug, and kissed her smooth cheek which made her smile.

  “Well, good. I’m glad y’all liked it,” she responded, then turned and continued to wash dishes.

  “Oh, Maria, do you know where we put Skip Gallant’s new phone number?” Sully asked his wife.

  “Hmm,” she closed her eyes and thought for a second, then looked across the kitchen and pointed a soapy finger at a drawer. “Check in that drawer. I’m pretty sure I wrote it down in my little day planner in there.”

  “Sure enough,” Sully said after he’d opened the drawer to find the small leather-bound book on top, then opened it, flipped a few pages, and read Skip’s phone number aloud.

  “Got it, thank you,” I replied as I typed the number into my phone.

  “Why do you need Skip’s phone number, dear?” Maria looked at her husband with her lips pursed as she waited for his answer.

  “Oh, well John is going to speak to him about a case, that’s all,” Sully replied, then leaned against the kitchen counter next to the sink and smiled lovingly at her.

  “Okay,” she said after a long pause where she turned to look at me. “Tell him I send my love when you see him, okay sweetheart?”

  “Of course,” I responded, then set my coffee mug on the counter and checked my phone. “I hate to run, but it’s already 9:30, and my paralegal is going to start to worry about me, plus I need to call Skip and get to work on this case.”

  “Oh, we understand,” Maria said, then wiped her soapy hands on a dish towel and walked across the kitchen, wrapped her small arms around my neck, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Come visit soon, and I’ll make you some empanadas.”

  “Oooo, yes ma’am,” I exclaimed. “I’ll definitely be back soon, Ms. Maria, don’t you worry.”

  Sully walked me to the front door, then we stood on the stoop awkwardly for a moment before he held out his right hand, “Alright, son. It was great to see you. Please get in touch with Skip and let me know how it all goes, okay?”

  I ignored his open hand and gave him a big hug, then answered, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I bounded down the front stairs, and when I reached my car, I turned and gave Sully a wave goodbye. He smiled and wiggled his fingers at me, then turned and walked back inside. I slouched down into my driver’s seat as I thought about the conversation we’d just had.

  Pancreatic cancer. Three months to live. That can’t be real.

  I shook my head at the thought, then started my car and headed toward my office in north Dallas. My thoughts raced as I cruised down the highway and went on autopilot to Mockingbird. I didn’t realize I’d zoned out until I pulled into the gravel parking lot behind the office building and stopped my car. I’d meant to call Skip on the way in, but had gotten sucked into a daydream where I spoke with my father and Sully about my new life and lost track of time. The display on my dashboard read 9:50 a.m., so I jumped out, locked the car door behind me, and strode quickly through the back door.

  “Good morning,” I announced loudly as I bounded into the office.

  “Oh, g-good morning, Mr. Stone,” Destinee stammered and jolted upright in her desk chair as she put her slender hand over her heart. “You scared the crap outta me.” She wore a mint-green, 60s style dress that was fitted and fell to her knees with short, black kitten heels and her black rhinestone cat-eye glasses.

  “I’m so sorry, Destinee,” I apologized with a grin. “I really didn’t mean to startle you, I’m just excited about some rather interesting news I have to share today.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?” She asked as she leaned back in her office chair and looked at me through her rhinestone glasses. “Also, are you okay? You ran out of here last night like your house was on fire or something.”

  “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” I said nonchalantly. I’d tell her about that situation when the time was right.

  “Okay, good,” she responded and replaced the frown on her face with a cheerful smile. “So what’s your news?”

  “Well, I met with my mentor and former boss, Sullivan Ames, this morning,” I responded as I sat down in my desk chair opposite of Destinee’s and leaned against the soft black cushion. “And he suggested I contact a litigator by the name of Skip Gallant and see if I can get him onboard.”

  “Skip Gallant?” My paralegal responded and furrowed her eyebrows. “That name sounds super familiar.”

  “Yeah,” I stretched the word out. “He’s been known to be a bit of a rebel, I guess you’d call it, but Sully assured me I could trust him.”

  “Is his re
al name Seymour?” Destinee asked, then turned and started typing rapidly at her keyboard.

  “It is,” I said slowly, then stood and crossed the room to stand next to her so I could see her computer screen. “Oh lord, what are you about to show me?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing bad,” she responded and shook her dark brown curls before she pointed at her screen. “Look. I knew I recognized the name Gallant.”

  “Seymour ‘Skip’ Gallant led the defense team to secure a landmark win for a teenage boy charged with driving while intoxicated by proving that the teen had undiagnosed type 1 diabetes and had been suffering a hyperglycemic episode during the stop and eventual arrest,” I read aloud as I bent over to read the small type.

  “Yep,” she replied with a nod. “I remember reading about this case and thought it was interesting because I didn’t know much about the symptoms of high blood glucose, but according to this article and every other piece of literature I read on the case, he is a legal powerhouse and an incredible researcher who thinks outside of the box.”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” I replied as I stood up, grabbed my cell phone, and pulled up the number Maria had given me for Skip. “Okay, I’m going to go ahead and give Mr. Gallant a call about the case.”

  The phone rang twice, then went to his voicemail.

  “You’ve reached Skip Gallant,” a husky voice spoke in the prerecorded message. “Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

  The phone emitted a shrill beep, and I took a deep breath before I left him a message. “Good morning, Mr. Gallant,” I enunciated clearly. “My name is John Stone, and I’m an attorney in Dallas. Sully Ames suggested I connect with you about consulting for a new case I’ve taken on, so if you’d please give me a call at your earliest convenience, I’d love to have a conversation with you.” I ended the call by reciting my phone number twice then thanked him for his time.

  Destinee clicked a few keys on her keyboard, then turned around and looked up at me, “So, I found him on Facebook, and according to a recent status update, he’ll be at the race track on Saturday. Do you know where that might be?”