An Invisible Client

by Victor Methos

  “I think it’s time to go,” Rebecca told me quietly.

  We’d only been there for a couple of hours, but when we left, Joel looked exhausted.

  “Can we come back tomorrow?” he asked me as I wheeled him out.

  “I think I’m going to still be vomiting from that mouse ride tomorrow.”

  We loaded up in the van and headed back to the hospital. Joel fell asleep on the way over.

  I hurried to the office after the hospital and had Jessica send out subpoenas and schedule depositions for me. I didn’t know where the Pharma-K employees were going to be in a month, and I wanted to get them on record. And if I was going to overcome Bob’s motion, I needed as much evidence attached to my response as possible.

  Jessica and I scheduled the first depositions quickly, which was surprising. I’d assumed Bob would fight me on it, schedule them at odd times, then reschedule at the last minute several more times—a common defense-firm tactic.

  Instead, we had five depositions scheduled for the next day. Two of them were executives at Pharma-K—one was the head of quality control, and two were employees in the warehouse. It was unheard-of to schedule that many depositions in one day. The most I’d ever done in one day was two. That made me nervous. Had Bob already put the fear of the Almighty into them, and were they just going to clam up and not tell me anything? Or maybe they had been coached from the beginning to outright lie. Whatever was going on, I didn’t trust what they were going to say tomorrow or the few days afterward that I would have them if I needed more time. I texted KGB and asked if he could be there, and he said he could. If they lied to me, he could follow up, and we could have them called out on perjury in front of the judge. Witnesses weren’t allowed to lie during a deposition any more than they were during a court hearing.

  I prepared an outline of my questions. The great thing about depositions was that there was no judge there to tell anyone to hurry. I could ask about anything and take all the time I wanted. I had to pay a court reporter or stenographer to take notes and a videographer to film it, and sometimes, I had to fly out to wherever in the country the witness was, but that didn’t apply to this case. Everyone I needed was right here.

  I looked up in the evening and saw Marty standing by the door.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “It’s this Pharma-K case. I’m not comfortable with it.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s something about it. I know, I was the one who pushed you to look into it. But I think you’re getting too attached.”

  “Too attached?”

  “You told me once that the worst thing for a lawyer was to be attached to a case or a client. That it clouds your thinking and you can’t think of the bottom line. I see it happening with this.”

  “See it happening how?”

  He came into my office but didn’t sit. “Noah, I’ve seen you talk clients into taking deals they swore up and down they would never take. You didn’t take the million dollars, because you’re internalizing this case.”

  I sighed and leaned back in the seat. “I think they know a helluva lot more than they’re telling us.”

  “Every case has a victim. And sometimes, we don’t get to win. We compromise so that both sides can move on. This company’s not going anywhere, and even if they did, Joel would still die. It doesn’t help anything by fighting this out over the next few years and blowing our money on it. He’s still gonna die. I’m sorry, but you need to accept that and detach yourself from it.”

  “That’s what I’ve done my whole life, man. Detach. Detach from my parents, from my friends, from my wife . . . detach so I can focus on money. That was the only thing that mattered.”

  “It’s still the only thing that matters. There are almost seventy employees at this firm relying on you, Noah. They put food on the table with the money you bring in for them. They dress their children and pay their insurance because of you. That’s not valueless. Focusing on the money is important. Don’t forget that.”

  I watched as Marty left. Then I swiveled my chair around and stared out at the sky. The sun had nearly set, with darkness coming quickly behind it. I wanted to leave, to go somewhere outside. A park maybe. Or the canyons. And even as I thought it, I knew I wouldn’t go. I turned back around and continued writing questions for the depositions. I worked faster than I had before Marty came in, and I didn’t know why.

  21

  That night, I stopped at the stop sign again. I let the driver behind me honk several times before he swerved around me and flipped me off. Finally, I headed toward the hospital.

  Rebecca was asleep in Joel’s room. She was on the recliner, a blanket covering her. Joel was asleep, too. I stood at the door, which was open, and I was about to leave when Joel whispered, “Noah?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered back.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “I, ah . . . I don’t actually know.” I leaned against the door frame. “Just thought I would pop in. Get back to sleep, though. Sorry I woke you.”

  “Thank you,” he said quickly as I turned to leave. “Thank you for today.”

  I nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  As I was heading out, I stopped at the nurses’ station. A nurse with short blonde hair was sitting at a computer, typing away. She didn’t look up when she said, “How can I help you?”

  “Do you know much about transplants?”

  She looked at me. “Why?”

  “I was just curious about how they decide someone can get an organ transplant. I mean, who’s the guy on that? The final say?”

  “Well, it’s actually a program we have. The algorithm takes into account something like a hundred different variables and tells us if the potential recipient should be transplanted.”

  “A computer decides whether people are going to live or die?”

  “Well, we don’t think of it that way. The doctors and counselors have the final say.”

  “And the insurance companies.”

  “Yes, whether someone can afford it is a huge factor.”

  “What are the variables the algorithm uses?”

  “Oh, a lot of different things. Age, occupation, other diseases, are they drinkers or smokers, income—”

  “Income?”

  “Yes. People with higher incomes tend to be able to take better care of transplanted organs.”

  I grinned and shook my head.

  “Something funny about that?” she asked.

  “No, it’s just that the law has a similar formula to determine what someone’s worth. It screws the poor, too.” I looked back to Joel’s room. “He’s a good kid.”

  “Joel? Yeah. He reminds me of my son. It’s so sad seeing him go through that every day.”

  I exhaled. “Thanks for your time.”

  When I left the hospital, I wasn’t sure where to go. I didn’t feel like going home. I texted Olivia.

  Have you eaten yet?

  No.

  Within a few minutes, I was at her house, and she was walking out. She got into my car, and the smell of her perfume hit me. It wasn’t overpowering; it was subtle, almost as if she were embarrassed to be wearing any.

  “That was really sweet of you to take Joel out today,” she said as we pulled away from her house.

  “I’ve never actually been to Lagoon.”

  “Really? But you’ve been on roller coasters and stuff, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “Wait a second. You’ve never been on a roller coaster?”

  “No. My dad would never take me anywhere, and by the time I could go on my own, I was too old.”

  “Our stamps on our hands are still good. Go there now.”

  “For what?”

  “That is like the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re going there right now to get you on a ro
ller coaster.”

  “Olivia, it’s fine. I just want—”

  “No, we’re going. Right now. I never got to go either. I was always at home taking care of my mother. We’re two people who have never been on a roller coaster, Noah. We can’t let that stand.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned the car around. It seemed pointless, but if that’s what she insisted on doing—well, it was better than sitting home alone.

  Lagoon looked a lot different at night. All the rides were lit up with multicolored lighting, and the people, mostly adults, were squealing and screaming on the rides. We went inside, and Olivia put her arm around mine. She led me to the first roller coaster we saw—the Skycoaster. As we waited in line, she didn’t let go of my arm, and I was glad.

  We got on the roller coaster, and I felt butterflies in my stomach.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I think you actually look nervous. You don’t even look nervous in court.”

  “I’m fine.”

  The roller coaster jolted forward and began a slow climb. We seemed to climb right into the night sky. The higher we got, the more silent it became. We were at least two hundred feet in the air, and I could look down and see everyone walking along in the amusement park. I could see the freeway beyond the parking lot, but I didn’t hear the traffic.

  And then, in an instant, it was done. The roller coaster reached its apex, then rocketed downward. My stomach jumped into my throat, and Olivia screamed. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn’t help it—I hollered, too.

  The roller coaster twisted upside down, then did a hard right before doing a hard left and spiraling upside down again. It sped up, then stopped suddenly, throwing everybody forward. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

  “See, everybody likes roller coasters,” Olivia said as the car pulled back in to the platform.

  “Let’s go again.”

  We rode rides until the park closed at midnight. Then we got giant fruity drinks in glasses the shape of trumpets and sat on the curb as people left the park. I watched her, the way she looked at people. She didn’t look at them the same way I did. Something was different in the way we approached the world, and it came out in the way we viewed people. She saw them with this bright look in her eyes, like each person had the potential to be a friend. I didn’t see them that way. Perhaps the opposite: each one was a potential new enemy.

  “I used to get so jealous of the other kids in high school,” she said. “How they got to do stuff like this and I couldn’t.” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you for taking me.”

  We sat on the curb a while longer, until almost everyone had left, then we strolled to my car and leaned against it, talking about nothing that seemed important. Time slipped away and when I realized how late it was, I kept it to myself because I didn’t want this day to end.

  When I dropped her off at her house, all we said was good night. I watched her walk to the door. If she turned around, just one glance, I’d know she felt the way I did. All it would take was one glance.

  Just one glance. That’s it. Just one. Come on . . . come on . . .

  She got to her door and unlocked it. Before the door shut, she turned around and smiled at me.

  “Yes!” I nearly shouted.

  I waved to her, and then drove home smiling the entire way.

  22

  The next morning, I wore a black pinstripe suit with a gold Bulova watch. I slicked my hair back Gordon Gekko style—I didn’t have any real heroes as a kid, and I’d had to find them in the movies I watched. Gekko had style, ruthlessness, and above all, money. I wanted all of that.

  We usually held depositions in our own conference room, but Bob requested we do them at the Walcott offices. Home-field advantage and all.

  Walcott’s office was in the most expensive building in the city. It took up an entire floor, and it was a throwback to the old Wall Street law firms from the sixties, who only wanted Ivy League grads that were white, Protestant, and came from money. Though the Walcott partners claimed they didn’t discriminate, the firm had exactly one black attorney and one female attorney. And they had managed to find both traits in the same person—Gale Nest, who was actually far too nice to be working in a firm like Walcott. As I waited in the lobby for Bob, I saw her walk by. She waved and came over.

  “When you gonna leave these pricks and come work for me?” I asked.

  “I’m not ready to chase ambulances yet.”

  “Oh, please. Insurance companies came up with that so people wouldn’t come to us.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not bad here. I think everybody’s scared I’m going to sue if they treat me poorly.”

  “They’re soulless, Gale.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Olivia and KGB stepped off the elevator together. I told the receptionist we were all here, and she called back, then said they were ready for us.

  “Think about it,” I said to Gale.

  We headed back to one of Walcott’s massive conference rooms. Five attorneys, a stenographer, and a videographer took up a corner of the table—no witnesses. They must be in a separate room so they didn’t hear anything the attorneys were saying.

  I sat down across from Bob, and KGB grabbed a chair in the corner. Olivia sat next to me. I pulled out a digital recorder and hit Record.

  “Morning, Bob.”

  He smirked. “Let’s just get started, shall we? I expect a long day with all these witnesses.”

  I put my hands on the table. “I’d like to start with Caroline Rhees.”

  “Mrs. Rhees, unfortunately, has transferred branches. She is now in our Hong Kong plant.”

  “Since when?”

  “A couple of weeks. It was her decision. I’m afraid she’s not available for deposition.”

  I held his gaze a second. “Fine. I want Michael Sulli.”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Sulli has turned in his letter of resignation and moved back to his home state of Iowa. He is unavailable for deposition.”

  I looked over at the lawyers sitting by Bob. They wore smug expressions on their faces, as though they were dealing with trash and giving it what it deserved. They didn’t see injured people behind this suit. They didn’t see people at all.

  “Robert Rakes.”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Rakes has resigned from the company.” Bob looked at one of the other lawyers. “I believe Mr. Rakes took his last bonus check and moved to California, did he not?”

  “He did, sir.”

  I looked at the last two names on my list. “Heather Chang or David Pettit.”

  “I’m afraid Ms. Chang and Mr. Pettit are no longer with the company. I believe they, too, have moved out of state.”

  I leaned back in my chair and turned off the digital recorder. I ran my finger across an itch on my forehead. “You’re wasting time, Bob. If that kid dies, this becomes a wrongful death suit rather than a negligent injury suit.”

  “We can handle anything you throw at us. Now, are we done here? Would you care to schedule some more depositions?”

  I glanced at Olivia. I could see KGB in the background, and he shrugged.

  “I want everybody,” I said.

  “Excuse me?” Bob replied.

  “Everyone. I want to depose every single employee of Pharma-K.”

  The lawyers laughed, and Bob looked at them like a parent about to discipline a child in front of his friends. They quickly stopped laughing.

  “Do you have any idea how long it would take to depose—”

  “I don’t care. I want every single one. Expect subpoenas on all of them.” I rose. “Fire all of them if you can.”

  We left the firm. On the elevator ride down, I turned to KGB and said, “Find Debbie Ochoa. Whatever it takes.”


  I spent hours at the gym. I did sprints, played basketball, lifted weights, took a cycling class . . . anything to exhaust my body and take my mind off the case. Bob had declared absolute war. He had let me know today that there would be nothing cordial about this case. I hadn’t expected him to be friendly, but firing employees so they couldn’t be witnesses was something I’d never seen before. I had no doubt the employees had all received large severance packages in exchange for going quietly and moving out of state. I would have to find them all and grill them about the deals they received. They’d probably signed nondisclosure agreements, but it was illegal to dodge a lawful subpoena. Which meant the NDAs wouldn’t be valid.

  I didn’t blame Bob. I knew he was doing what he had to so he could win. But he didn’t understand me, and he didn’t understand that I would do whatever I had to.

  After the gym, I sat in my office. I had pulled two more paralegals from other divisions and tasked them with doing nothing but drafting and sending out subpoenas to Pharma-K employees and setting up times for the depositions. I wanted everybody: janitors, secretaries, website developers . . . I didn’t care if they’d ever stepped foot in the company offices or not. I didn’t care if they lived out of state or not. We would serve the subpoena, and if they couldn’t come to Utah, we would fly out and depose them or pay for their ticket back.

  Marty came into my office and shut the door. He paced in front of my desk for a few seconds before saying anything.

  “This isn’t good, Noah.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Do you know how much this is going to cost us? Raimi thinks if everyone is here in the state, it will still cost us almost two hundred thousand dollars in witness fees, stenographers, and videographers, not to mention the transcripts we’ll have to make afterward. Each transcript is three hundred bucks a pop. For over four hundred employees! And that’s not counting the ones who live out of state.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Yeah, you don’t care, but maybe the rest of us do. We’ve never spent that much on any one case, and we’re not even to the first motion yet.”