Bill studies Terrance’s movements, almost defeated, almost gone. Back arched forward, eyes focused downwards, sadness on his face; Terrance is not going to change his mind today. Bill’s planted the seed, the first step to getting Terrance on his side. With a few more visits, he feels he can convince him to come onside, but that day is not going to be today.
Bill stands to depart, leaving the former hit man to his daytime soap.
“Bill?”
“Yes, Terrance.”
Terrance looks down at his worn hands, studying them like he’s seeing them for the first time. “I’m dying, Bill.”
Bill nods slowly.
“My liver’s gone, and death will be here for me soon.” He looks to the distance, blinking back more tears. “And I don’t have any friends out here. All my real friends, the ones I could count on, are all locked up or dead. Those from the war, those good men that I watched die, are waiting for me in the next life, but there aren’t many other people I know. I know you and I have our run-ins over time, I know that I’ve done bad, but before I go to the other side, I need your help.”
“What is it?”
“When I pass and see my friends…” He takes a long pause, gulping before he continues. “When I die, can you go into my yard, out back here, and sprinkle my ashes. It’s where I want to end up. Can you promise me that you’ll do that?”
It seems like a strange request, and Bill knows there is more to it.
Walking across to the heavy man sitting on the couch, he places a consoling hand on his shoulder.
“Do the right thing, Terrance. Go to church and ask for forgiveness,” he says quietly. “And I will sprinkle your ashes, my friend.”
Chapter 20
Walking into the courthouse as a defendant doesn’t sit well with Bill Harvey.
Judge Derek Dean is waiting impatiently as he walks into the conference room at the end of a long corridor of the courthouse. An old, skinny man with a rugged face, Judge Dean looks like he has seen more long days than most. He easily looks twenty years older than he is, which is difficult considering he’s approaching sixty. Sunken eyes, narrow cheeks, thinning hair; obviously, nobody told him there was more to life than work.
But for all his harrowed looks, Judge Dean is good at his job, with a reputation as being firm but fair.
“Good of you to finally join us, Mr. Harvey,” Kevin Wu quips from the other side of the meeting room, staring down at his expensive Rolex. “We’re not keeping you from something, I hope.”
“You’re keeping me from my real job,” Bill fires back as he places his briefcase down.
“I take it that you received my lunch gift? I hope it tasted as delicious as it looked.”
“What’s he even doing here?”
“He requested it, and I allowed it.” Judge Dean doesn’t lift his eyes from his paperwork. “And I will request that you remain quiet for the duration of this discussion, Mr. Wu.”
“And I request that Kevin withdraws this ridiculous lawsuit, then we can all go about lives, and I would be able to defend people that actually need it.”
The dim conference room has seen many heated arguments between lawyers over the years. A well-used dark oak table sits in the middle of the stuffy room, and the chairs look like they have been taken straight from an office supplies business conference room. The small window at the rear of the room lights the back of Judge Dean, making him appear almost holy.
“We’re not withdrawing the case today, Mr. Harvey.” Seated next to Kevin Wu is Taylor Reaper, one of California’s finest, and best dressed, defense attorneys.
A persistent overachiever, Reaper started his own firm in his late twenties, and over the last decade, he has grown that firm into a juggernaut of a business. With model looks, strangely bright teeth, and wavy hair that looks like it’s made out of silk, Taylor is the perfect Hollywood lawyer. His fees are very high – enough to afford two mansions in Palos Verdes Estates, one for him and one for his ex-wife, along with three sports cars, an eighty-foot yacht, and numerous mistresses.
“I see that you’ve come to lose another case, Taylor.”
“You didn’t beat me on merit last time. You got lucky, that’s all.”
The only three losses Taylor has ever experienced as a lawyer has been against Bill Harvey. And that fact couldn’t frustrate Taylor more.
“I charge by the minute, so let’s make this quick.”
“We’re not looking to hire you as a lawyer, you pompous bastard,” Taylor growls out, leaning forward, trying to resist the temptation to jump across the table and grab his opponent. “This case is worth more than you can afford, and I’m going to see that you pay every single cent of it.”
“Just because you can’t beat me in court doesn’t mean that you can sue me for it. You’re only here for me, Taylor, not for this case.”
“You’re right. I am here for you. And I’m here for justice.”
“Justice? You don’t know what justice is!”
“Now, now, boys. Let’s not get too upset.” Judge Dean throws out his hands in defense. “Leave your personal differences outside, please. This is a professional environment, and I expect you to act like it is.”
Drawing a long breath, Bill unclenches his fist, staring at the smirking Taylor Reaper. It’s what Taylor wants – to get under the skin of the only man who has beaten him in court.
Opening his briefcase with a smug smirk planted on his face, Taylor removes a number of thick files, placing them on the table between himself and Bill. The files don’t hold much important information, but it’s a show of force – he’s prepared to take this to court and fight based on the weight of evidence.
“Now, let’s turn our focus on the facts. Your motion to strike has been rejected.” Judge Dean flicks through the file in front of him, looking over the top of his reading glasses. “And as this is an unusual case, and I don’t want to test it in court, how about we all act like adults and settle this before that happens.”
“How could you dismiss this motion?!” Bill’s arms flex.
“How could I not?” Judge Dean retorts. “The plaintiff has presented an astounding amount of evidence to back his argument.”
“The amount of evidence does not conclude its validity!”
“No, but the strength of it does!” Judge Dean slaps the file shut. “They have expert witnesses, doctors, and scientists, who are willing to testify in the change of brain pattern behavior after the sessions of hypnotherapy with you. They have brain scans that present a change in brain behavior before and after the sessions. That, at least, is worth hearing in a court. Now, Mr. Harvey, settle down, and settle this case.”
“We’d be happy to settle.” Taylor smirks again, drumming his hands on the edge of the table like an excited schoolboy.
“Have you tried to at least attempt to settle this dispute out of court?” Judge Dean opens another file on his checklist.
“We have discussed the case via telephone, and we have informed the defendant that we’re willing to settle for half the amount, namely $50,000,000. We think that’s a very rational amount considering the damage that has been done to my client’s life.”
Bill’s response is very overtly sarcastic. “How very reasonable.”
“Of course, in good faith, we’re willing to discuss, and perhaps even change, the settlement amount further than what has been proposed. We’re very reasonable people, and, of course, we would prefer to come to an outcome before this case reaches the court.”
“No, you don’t. You want to test this case in court.”
“On what condition would you consider negotiating the settlement amount?” Judge Dean ignores Bill’s statement and holds his pen at the ready, almost itching to take handwritten notes.
“As part of any settlement, Mr. Harvey would be required to sign an affidavit stating that he has accepted full responsibility for all changes in Mr. Wu’s behavior.”
“I see what you’re doing.” Bill glares at
Taylor. “And there’s not a chance that I will sign one.”
“And what are we doing, Mr. Harvey?”
“That affidavit will set me up for future responsibility for Kevin’s choice of actions, should this case be tested in the criminal court.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Taylor struggles hard to hide his grin.
“Partial responsibility?” Judge Dean asks as he begins his note-taking.
Bill’s reply is direct and firm, as is his grip on the edge of the table. “No.”
“We came here in good faith to discuss a settlement, and you’re clearly not entering the discussion in good faith, Mr. Harvey.”
“My faith is in sensible people. Not you.”
“Look at the evidence.” Taylor opens his hands, gesturing to the files on the table. “Look at it! Due to a medical condition, and his family risk of tumors, Mr. Wu had a brain scan twelve months before he started the hypnotherapy sessions with you, and then another just after the sessions, and every year since. There are clear differences in his brain patterns. There’s no denying the scientific facts of this case. It’s cold, hard evidence that you can’t deny!”
“And in the scans after the sessions, the brain pattern matches the exact brain patterns of someone who has taken barbiturates before the testing. Was he drug tested before the scans?”
“That’s not a legal requirement, Mr. Harvey, and you know that to be the case.”
“He has clearly influenced the scans by taking drugs before the subsequent rounds of testing. That’s clear to all involved.”
Kevin scoffs at the accusation “I don’t take drugs. What an absolutely ridiculous claim.”
“Mr. Wu, please refrain from butting in,” Judge Dean instructs.
“You were trying to set me up from day one! It’s clear that you unduly influenced the scan with your behavior!”
“Again, Mr. Harvey, I will ask you to settle down,” Judge Dean interrupts. “This discussion has to be in good faith. Now, if I’m not mistaken, you’re claiming that Mr. Wu deliberately changed his brain pattern before the second scan. Why would he need to do that?”
“To set me up.”
“That’s quite a long game plan, Mr. Harvey. This occurred five years ago.” Judge Dean winces. “That’s rather unbelievable.”
“He knew this day was coming. He knew there would be a day when he was going to be charged with murder, and he planned this all those years ago. He just expected that day to be a lot sooner.”
“My client has not been charged with any criminal behavior!” Taylor interjects.
“He will be.”
“If you know something, please elaborate, Mr. Harvey,” Judge Dean states.
Bill doesn’t answer the statement from the judge. Instead, he adjusts his tie and then stares at Kevin Wu, who squirms uncomfortably under the gaze.
“From what I can see…” Judge Dean opens a file in front of him. “… there’s a lot of evidence to state that Mr. Wu’s brain activity had changed during that period. And—”
“And yet, there is no evidence to state that hypnotherapy was responsible.”
“There’s plenty of evidence,” Taylor quips.
“Correlation is not causality!”
“Very true.” Judge Dean lifts his head from the page he’s staring at. “However, this case is sure to be heard unless there’s a settlement before the set date. And I, for one, would much prefer that this case didn’t make it to court.”
“There will be no settlement. I will have evidence to state that this is an act of fraudulent behavior before that date.”
Taylor leans forward, elbows resting on the desk. “Oh please, Bill, enlighten us.”
“Kevin is a very well-known note-taker. Every night, without fail, he records his thoughts in a small black book – he has written in several over the years. Finding those books will show that he used the hypnotherapy sessions as a setup for a future change in his behavior. Those books will show that he used drugs before the brain scan to unduly influence the outcome. This defense has been planned for a very long time, and I will have evidence to show that.”
Judge Dean looks at Taylor. “Your reply, Mr. Reaper?”
Taylor smiles, resting backward, swiveling slightly on his chair. “It’s very well-known that Mr. Wu is a nightly note-taker; however, it’s also very well-known that after the period of one year, he burns those books. Think of it as a clean-out on the first of January every year.”
“So no such notes exist from five years ago?” Judge Dean looks over the top of his glasses.
“That’s correct.”
“Mr. Harvey?”
“Monty Lee might have something to say about that.”
Kevin’s mouth drops open, and Taylor turns to watch his client’s shock.
“He disappeared a long time ago. He’s untraceable.” Taylor shakes his head. “And what could he possibly have to say?”
“He won’t say much, but the notes that he’s kept might.”
It’s a bluff, but by the shock on Kevin’s face, he can tell it’s a good one.
Judge Dean flips open a page of his notebook, scribbling illegible words on the paper. “Mr. Harvey, at this point, I will ask you directly: are you willing to consider a settlement?”
“There is no evidence, none, that states the hypnotherapy changed his brain patterns. All they have is a coincidence, a setup, that the pattern of behavior changed during that time. There’s no causality between the change in his behavior and the sessions of hypnotherapy.”
“So you’re saying that hypnotherapy doesn’t work at all?”
“Hypnotherapy works by leveraging what is already in a person’s mind. It helps a person enter their own subconscious. I exercised no control over his behavior. None.”
“What if we were to bring forward an expert witness that will verify the effect that hypnotherapy has on brain functioning?” Taylor questions.
The growl in Bill’s voice is loud. “You couldn’t find a credible witness that will testify to that.”
“The creditability of the testimony will be for the court to decide.”
“Not likely. It’s not going to get that far.”
“However, you’re not willing to settle.” Taylor smiles. “I don’t think I need to tell you what a case like this will do for your reputation. Even if the case isn’t won by us, your reputation will be mud after the public hears what you have done. There will be no more high-flying Bill Harvey; you’ll be back to defending scum, like you deserve.”
“The only reputation that will be destroyed is yours.” It’s a thinly veiled threat and one that doesn’t hold much weight in the current context.
When the media get hold of the story, on a slow news day, they’ll make it the lead story. It’s sure to get people interested and sell advertising space online. The connotations of the outcome are massive – it will be suggested that Bill unduly influenced his clients, the court, and the jurors. Fear is what sells media stories, and the audience will be fearful of what hypnotists have the power to do.
He’s not looking forward to that.
“So an Alternative Dispute Resolution is out of the question?” Judge Dean questions.
“There will be no ADR for this case.” Bill places his index finger firmly down on the table. “There will be no settlement. And there will be no court case.”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Mr. Harvey.” Judge Dean flicks through the pages in front of him. “But I can ascertain that we’re not going to get anywhere today. I’m satisfied that an attempt at a settlement has occurred, and I’m also satisfied that no settlement will be reached here.”
“Then let’s set a court date,” Taylor quips.
“Hold on.” Judge Dean puts one hand up as a stop sign. “I, for one, do not want this case to go to court. I don’t want this theory tested in my courtroom, so I’m going to set a mediation attempt to see that this is resolved before we have to go to court.” Ju
dge Dean is firm. “The next meeting is set for two Fridays time, and then we will have another CMC two Fridays after that. You both had better work on resolving this, and this had better be determined by then.”
“It won’t be settled,” Bill states.
“For now, the court date will be set twelve weeks from today’s date.”
“I’ll look forward to this case coming to court.” Taylor grins. “I’m sure it will be quite an adventure.”
“It won’t be making it to court.” Bill stands, tall, almost knocking his chair backward. “And I will guarantee that.”
Chapter 21
“Bill Harvey?”
“Harry Leach. My favorite person.”
“The name’s Harry Beach, and you know that.”
Bill draws a long breath as the day starts to turn into night. Walking out of a Chinese takeaway on Maple Avenue – with a fried shrimp in his mouth – was the last place he expected to be hounded by the media.
But this is L.A., and reporters here work twenty-four-seven for a break.
“I hear that you might be in trouble with the law.” Harry begins walking next to Bill.
“The law? No, Harry. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Bill doesn’t stop to chat, mostly because he doesn’t want his wonton soup to go cold.
“That’s what they all say. You sound like one of your clients.” Harry quickens his pace to keep up with Bill’s long stride. “Word is that you might have influenced one of your clients unduly.”
Bill stops, taking a step closer, looking down at the shorter man dressed in a casual shirt and shorts. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m just asking questions, man. No need to get nasty. All I’m trying to do is get the full story. I mean, it would be a lot more helpful if you just answered some questions, then I could write a more well-rounded view of the story.” Harry fixes his white bowler hat into position. He was never a fan of hats until he started to go bald prematurely at age twenty-eight, and then they became his number one fashion accessory.
“I’m not helping you with any story because there’s no story here,” Bill snarls out, leaning more into the reporter’s personal space.
A Time for Justice_A Legal Thriller Page 9