by Jay Begler
“Now, Ms. D’Amour, you understand that to bring this motion you have to concede that everything Mr. Justice has said is true. Do you make those concessions?”
“Well, your honor, a lot of the things he said were not true, but for purposes of this motion, I do so concede.”
“Do you have a legal theory?”
“Well, it’s sort of a spin on “Res Ipsa Loquitur.”
Justice jumped to his feet again. “Your Honor,” Justice said, “that principal, as any first year law student knows, applies only to negligence cases where negligence is implied when no other explanation is available. Translated, the Latin term means, the thing speaks for itself.”
Ignoring Justice and turning back to the court, Sophie replied, “May, I continue, Your Honor? I believe it is inappropriate for Mr. Justice to interrupt my argument.”
“She’s correct. Please don’t interrupt, Mr. Justice.”
“A victory for our side,” Goodwin thought. “Okay, my love. Kill, kill, and kill.”
“Please continue, Ms. D’Amour. Make your argument as to why Mr. Goodwin should win this case. But be aware, I’ll probably rule against you on this immediately from the bench and you’ll have to make an opening statement.”
“Well, Your Honor, if you don’t rule in my client’s favor, we will concede the case. I don’t want to subject Mr. Goodwin to any more embarrassment or pain.”
“Please proceed.”
“Thank you. Your Honor, most of what I know about the Two Sheilas, or The Sheila, as they liked to be called is what I have gleaned from the many news stories about them. You know, Your Honor, something that I never understood about the Two Sheilas’ behavior was why, after consulting with a lawyer, they insisted on being called Sheila or The Sheila and not the Two Sheilas. I never really thought about it much until now. My guess is that their lawyer realized that they had a real problem and tried to overcome it by posturing them as the single entity.”
“Your Honor so kindly gave Mr. Goodwin your hard-boiled egg and asked a rather interesting question, about what the Two Sheilas had in common with the egg or actually the two halves of the egg. Just before you returned to the court room, I figured it out and the first words that struck me were ‘Res Ipsa Loquitur.” Mr. Justice is correct; the term means the thing speaks for itself.”
“Mr. Justice is quite right that Res Ipsa is a negligence concept, but I was merely using it because in a way, in this case, the egg speaks for itself. It actually describes what this case is all about and why the Two Sheilas must lose this case.”
At this point there was total silence in the courtroom, outside the courtroom and in all of television land. At the Persona Non Grata bar and throughout SoLo everyone had their hands clasped in prayer position, even the atheists.
“I thought, suppose this egg was the Original Sheila, before the lightning strike. Everyone agrees that Philip Goodwin was at one time married to one woman, a single or unitary person, like the egg. Now, suppose I cut the egg in half. Well, the egg, like Sheila, split in two. What happened is that the Original Sheila, the woman Mr. Goodwin married, like the original egg before it was cut in two, no longer existed. True, two people replaced her, but the unitary single woman he was married to, the Original Sheila, disappeared. I think the attorneys for the Two Sheilas knew this from the beginning and tried to create an image of the two of them being a unitary Sheila. But, that isn’t the case, the Original Sheila, the only woman he married, no longer exists.”
At this point everyone at Justices table started objecting, but the Judge appeared to get the argument immediately. He rapped his gavel to quiet them. “If this is true, Ms. D’Amour, neither of these women is actually his wife, because the woman he was married to no longer exists. She disappeared when she split in two. That means that the Two Sheilas, who aren’t his wives, don’t have any legal standing or rights against Mr. Goodwin, whatsoever, any more than strangers would have a case against him. They can’t bring a divorce suit, and they didn’t have the right to vote stock of Threads, Inc., which he inherits from the Original Sheila. And they had no right whatsoever to transfer money out of their joint accounts.”
“That is correct, Your Honor.”
The Judge thought for a moment, and then shook his head back and forth, chuckled. Ruling from the bench, he said, “Well, as those Latin folks say, Res Ipsa Loquitur. I think you’re absolutely right. Motion granted. Ruling in favor of Philip Goodwin.”
Goodwin had won his case.
There was about 10 times as much pandemonium as there was after the OJ Verdict. At the Persona Non Grata bar and throughout SoLo people were cheering, hugging, and crying. Many began to chant, “The evil twins are dead. The evil twins are dead.” Both Sheilas fainted. Justice, being the gentleman that he was, shook Sophie’s hand and gave her his Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval medal. Interviewed immediately after the victory, Goodwin did not speak about himself but gave an impassioned speech about the misuse of the PPRs and the horrible consequences of the discrimination levied against Low Lifes.
After about an hour of interviews, Goodwin and Sheila excused themselves. They wanted to thank the Judge not only for the ruling, but for the patient and helpful manner in which he ran his courtroom. They were about to look for the Judge’s chambers when he re-entered the courtroom. All of the reporters had left the courtroom. Goodwin, Sophie, and the Judge were alone.
“I left my glasses here,” he said. “That was a really exciting trial. You are an excellent lawyer, Ms. D’Amour.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. You know, if you hadn’t given Mr. Goodwin that egg, I don’t think I would have figured it out.”
“I know that,” he responded.
“Really?”
“That’s why I wanted him to have it. I thought maybe he’d figure it out. He didn’t, but you did. And, I loved your reference to Res Ipsa Loquitur. Very clever and quite amusing.”
“Thank you. By the way, with all of the excitement, I don’t think the bailiff or anyone ever mentioned your name.”
“Pablo Dewars Senior, your former lawyer’s uncle. I used to litigate but left private practice for higher pursuits. Now, anything else I can do for you folks?”
“May I consult with my client, Your Honor?”
“Certainly.”
Sophie pushed Goodwin down into his chair and began to huddle with him. “Your Honor, after consulting with my client, we have a request.”
“Yes?”
“Marry us!”
Epilogue
As the winner of the trial, Goodwin immediately became the darling of the media, tagged by the press as the “courageous underdog.” Everyone who was against him immediately was for him. Pragat emailed him that afternoon and advised that, “after considerable consideration, his original rating had been restored to a 28.5” The .5 was a “tip” to make amends. Goodwin replied with a request that he be removed from the publication permanently. Pragat never responded to his request.
That evening, the senior reporter who called Goodwin a putz explained in a follow- up interview with him that when she used the word putz on the earlier show, she meant it in a complimentary, affectionate sense and that “As everyone knows, putz is an acronym for personable, understanding, tactful, and zany.” No one in the television audience really understood what she meant, but it sounded profound.”
Although the Judge’s decision ended the trial immediately, the appeal process was in the news for several months. The ratings for the whole series became the highest in television history. The shocking decision of the Judge and the idea that an underdog, a layman, could face up to high priced legal talent and, with a little help, could beat them, spawned a spin-off called: Laymen vs. Lawyers in which laymen with no experience tried cases against trial lawyers. Goodwin was retained as a consultant for the first few shows. The show closed after several episodes because the television audiences thought that made for television court dramas were much more entertaining than real trials.
With the help of Lazar, they were booked to do a big show in Las Vegas, and a gig on Dancing with The Stars. Their show business plans, however, never materialized, undercut by an extraordinary event. The elegant, wise and lovely Ivana Trump, who was having breakfast at Tiffany’s, literally, when you’re very rich this is possible, was struck by a great bolt of lightning. JOLT reported it as being substantially more powerful than the Sheila Bolt. The same cocoon of light that surrounded Sheila surrounded Ivana. Several months later Ivana split into three’s and ultimately formed a singing group called the “The Trumpettes.”
When this occurred, no one could have guessed that Ivana One would be a fabulous lyricist, Ivana Two, a sensational composer, and Ivana Three one of the best arrangers that ever lived. Within months of their formation the Trumpettes became the most successful rock group of all times. Their first album, “The Apprentice of Love,” went triple quadruple platinum in two months.
Since it is a fundamental rule of marketing that three is twice as good as two, all interest in the Two Sheilas was lost and their show and appearances were cancelled. Sadly, the Two Sheilas became has been celebrities and drifted down to the secondary celebrity market (infomercials for exercise machines) and then to the tertiary celebrity market (special makeup to conceal wrinkles). Their 15 minutes of fame were up. They were last seen on Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco selling autographed postcards of themselves.
Oprah successfully appealed the adverse decision in her trademark suit against Obrah and Vinfrey forcing them to use their middle names, “Elan D” and “Generous.” They were sued once again when the Elan D /Generous show aired.
Aunt Hilly steadfastly claimed to be Goodwin’s great aunt and attempted to prove the relationship by using www.ancestors.com. The results of her effort provided a good news-bad news scenario. While the website confirmed that she was indeed the great aunt of Philip Goodwin, it was a Philip Goodwin who lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Reunited with her real nephew, she is now helping him run Breaking Bad tours, which he advertises as “narrated by a television personality.”
For quite some time after the trial Goodwin seemed afflicted with a bout of Hypo-Humoresque. Sophie attempted to comfort a despondent Goodwin, but nothing she did or said seemed to work. Three weeks after the trial, Sophie gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. As Goodwin and Sophie were holding her for the first time, Sophie said, “What should we name her?”
“I’m not sure, but I think an appropriate middle name would be “Bloomie.”
It was actually probably a tiny bubble of gas, but their daughter sounded like she was giggling. “I guess she gets it,” Goodwin said laughing.
“You’re laughing!” Sophie shouted.
Through a mix of laughter and tears, Goodwin said: “I guess I am.”
With the financial assistance of Goodwin, who hired the Justice law firm to represent his friends, each landed on their feet and received the money they deserved. Goodwin’s primary focus after the trial was the plight of the Low Lifes. Letters by Goodwin and his lawyers to Pragat Corporation yielded no responses. With the help of Schnell and a high powered PR firm he mapped out a public relations campaign, not to eliminate PPRs, because many people liked the concept, but of forcing Pragat to permit anyone it rated to opt out and those who never received a rating to be listed with then notation Opted Out. Ultimately, Pragat agreed to permit people to opt out.
With the exception of the Low Lifes, all of whom opted out immediately and people who hated their own ratings, the trend to opt out began slowly. As the opt out story gained traction, however, more people began to opt out. Simultaneously, pins saying “I Opted Out” began appearing on lapels, sweaters and jackets throughout of the country. It wasn’t long before the pins adorned the garb of celebrities. (Heard on the Red Carpet: “I love your beautiful “I Opted Out pin” “It’s by David Yurman.”) When this occurred, the trickle, turned into a wave and the wave into a tsunami. Ultimately, so few people were left in www.PPR.com that Pragat closed it down.
Goodwin reflected on these events when interviewed for the Wired article. “It wasn’t that Alex Pragat or his company was evil or had some malevolent plot in mind when the PPR system was created. From a business standpoint, it was actually a good and interesting idea. And Pragat attempted as best as it could to develop accurate ratings. I don’t think anyone realized how transformative the PPRs would be. In the end, the PPR system failed, not because there was a collective moral outrage against it. It died because people thought it was unfashionable to be in it, though frankly, I’m glad it’s gone.”
The final paragraph of the Wired article reads as follows. “Philip Goodwin’s assumption, that the Pragat System was gone proved to be wrong, however. It was not gone. It simply moved to a new location, the NSA. The Agency, rumored to have tapped into Pragat’s highly proprietary software and stolen it, continues to use the Pragat system for its own purposes, but inputs vastly more personal data than used by Pragat. It has also been rumored that the Agency has expanded the system to include categories relating whether a particular individual is good for America, has no adverse impact on America or is bad for America. Just what the NSA and the administration it works for now and will work for in the future intend to do with these ratings and particularly with those individuals having the misfortune of being categorized both as Low Lifes and bad for America remains to be seen.”
THE END
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Love In The Time of Apps. I’d be pleased to respond to any comments or questions you may have. My email address is [email protected]