by Joseph Hayes
“Rick didn't pay me. Mickey did.”
“What? I don't get it.”
“Rick set it all up. After the verdict came in, Mickey appealed. Shortly before that, Rick had sent Mickey a draft of a lawsuit he said he was going to file, as my lawyer. The lawsuit said that even though I quit, it was the same as being fired—constructive discharge, Rick called it. In other words, I had no choice but to quit because of the bad things going on at the store. Anyway, Rick didn't actually file the lawsuit because then it would be a public record and he wanted to keep this quiet. He got Mickey to settle both Larry's lawsuit and my claim for a total that was less than the jury verdict. So Mickey saved a little money and Larry and I got paid separately—by Mickey. Rick said everything would be squeaky clean that way.”
The outrage Jake had felt over the Quinn trial had lain dormant within him for a long time. It boiled up anew. This was personal now. One way or another, Rick Black would be held accountable. He would see to that.
CHAPTER 51
Two days later, Jake entered Judge Trainor’s courtroom. He still had not decided whether to take an active role in trying the case. He was strongly inclined not to, but today's business was a simple evidentiary motion, and he was in the best position to handle it. The discovery deadline had long since passed, and witness lists had been finalized, but Jake was requesting permission to add one new witness.
Rick bustled into the courtroom two minutes before the hearing was to commence. He was startled to find Jake there.
“Jake, it's great to see you,” he said warmly, extending his hand. “I'm so sorry about Amanda.” He sounded as if he meant it.
Jake took Rick's hand and shook it. “Thanks, Rick.” He took a step toward Rick, still gripping his hand firmly. They were eyeball to eyeball, and Jake stared hard at Rick for several seconds without speaking. He tightened his grip on Rick's hand and said in a low voice, “I have to ask you something, Rick. Did you have anything to do with the accident or the other threats I’ve received?”
Jake felt Rick recoil, but maintained a tight grip on Rick's hand. For the briefest instant, Jake sensed a flash of fear in Rick's eyes. Rick glanced down for a split second, then returned Jake's gaze.
“I can understand why you’d feel compelled to ask that, Jake, given the media coverage, and all the innuendoes from the reporters. I assure you, I would never have any part in something like that. I was as shocked as anybody—stunned. Again, you have my deepest sympathies.”
Jake released Rick's hand. “I had to ask,” he said as he turned and walked over to the counsel table.
Judge Trainor entered the courtroom. He, too, seemed surprised to see Jake. “Welcome back, Mr. McShane. Please accept my deepest sympathies on your loss,” he said in a kindly tone.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Judge Trainor continued, “I understand you're here to request permission to supplement your witness list. Obviously, it's very late in the game. Is there some compelling reason why I’m just now hearing of this?”
“Yes, Your Honor. This witness came forward just two days ago. He has information that I believe may be highly relevant.”
The judge peered at Jake over the rims of his spectacles. “Who is he, and what is the nature of this information?”
“His name is Kenny Oliver, Your Honor.” Rick was clearly surprised and seemed about to blurt out something, but thought better of it. Jake continued. “The nature of his testimony is as follows: Mr. Oliver was a witness in a previous trial handled by Mr. Black. Mr. Black represented the plaintiff in that case. This witness will testify that Mr. Black encouraged both him and the plaintiff to provide false testimony and fabricate evidence. He will—”
“This is outrageous, Your Honor, and entirely inappropriate.” Rick shot Jake a hostile glance and continued, in a voice filled with contempt. “This is an obvious attempt by Mr. McShane to divert attention from the real issues in this case. USH has no defense, so they are trying to turn the jury against the plaintiffs by making scurrilous allegations against me personally, which are both unfounded and defamatory. There is no truth whatsoever to such allegations, and in any event, that trial hasn't the remotest degree of relevance to this case. This is nothing more than an underhanded ploy. The defense should be sanctioned for employing such unprofessional and mean-spirited tactics.”
“Those are serious allegations, Mr. McShane,” said the judge. “However, I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Black. He’s not on trial here. The State Bar would be the appropriate forum for dealing with such matters. What relevance does that testimony have to the USH case?”
“It is very relevant, Your Honor. This case will turn largely on the credibility of Mr. Black's witnesses. If there is evidence that he has persuaded witnesses in other cases to be untruthful, the jury is entitled to hear that evidence as they weigh the credibility of his witnesses in this case.”
“Do you have any evidence that witnesses in this case are being encouraged to provide false testimony?” the judge asked.
“No, Your Honor, but if there is a past history of such behavior, we can’t rule it out here. The jury can decide how much weight to give this testimony.”
Rick was seething. “Your Honor, any relevance at all is sheer conjecture. Allowing the jury to hear that testimony would be highly prejudicial.”
“I agree,” said Judge Trainor. “Any relevance is remote at best, given that there is no evidence of similar conduct in this case. And it would be highly prejudicial. Your motion to call Mr. Oliver as a witness is denied, Mr. McShane.” The judge left the courtroom, a troubled look on his face.
Rick turned his back on Jake and stormed out of the courtroom. “That was a cheap shot, counselor!” he called out over his shoulder.
CHAPTER 52
Jake shivered as the bitter November wind lashed into him. At some other point in his life, he might have felt different about this place. It was a setting unlike any other, where nature, history and spirituality were prominently on display, woven into one seamless and harmonious fabric. It was a place revealing the strongest connection between humanity and nature, where man truly became one with the earth. It was a place where restless souls found themselves, drawn by its promise of solace and serenity. However, to Jake McShane, at this moment, it was none of those things. It was just a cemetery.
It was Sunday, late afternoon, but darker than it should have been, as ominous storm clouds hung low in the sky. Large raindrops began to fall, announcing their presence with loud splats. Jake had neither overcoat nor umbrella. He stood there motionless, staring down at the grave, as if in a trance. The intermittent jabbing of the icy raindrops quickly became a downpour, yet he remained transfixed, quietly absorbing nature’s blows. Perhaps his physical discomfort would numb the agony he felt inside. Perhaps it would sharpen his senses and draw him out of the daze that had possessed him for weeks, and bring him some clarity of thought and understanding.
He needed that clarity. The trial was just one week away. He had twenty-eight months of his life invested in this case and he knew it cold, yet he was plagued by a crippling combination of indecision and self-doubt. Could he possibly summon up the passion, intensity and fortitude that a trial like this would require?
If he didn’t try the case, his client would almost certainly lose, and lose badly. The verdict could be hundreds of millions of dollars, and the company could be driven into bankruptcy. But it wasn’t his company or his money, so why should he care? This was not what he had bargained for when he enrolled in law school. He had learned the hard way that high-stakes litigation was not a gentlemen’s game, where honor and integrity mattered and all players respected the rules. It was all-out war, which resulted in serious casualties, and his exposure to it had cost him dearly. It had rocked his faith in the legal system to its very core, along with his faith in human nature and in himself. And it had brought him here, to this cemetery and this grave.
He needed to think and to make a decision, and had come
to this spot hoping to find resolution, yet as he stood there gazing upon the grave marker, all of the anguish he had been trying so hard to tuck away came rushing back. Tears streamed down his face, and he wept quietly for a long time. How long, he had no idea. He had no sense of time and no sense of the world around him. He felt completely alone, separated from the rest of the universe by an invisible wall of grief.
As the rain slowed to gentle drizzle, a burst of thunder jolted him and caused him to look around. Jake felt his awareness returning, and with it, a growing sensation that something was amiss. It began as a vague feeling of uneasiness and slowly evolved into a conscious thought—clear, lucid and unmistakable: Something was out of place here. He looked around nervously, and saw nothing unusual. No one was in sight, which was not surprising, given the rain. He moved toward his car, carefully surveying the surrounding area, absolutely convinced that trouble was lurking nearby. Still, he saw nothing.
He reached his car, which was parked on the narrow blacktop road that wound through the cemetery. Then he saw it. Although not visible from the grave, from the roadway he could see the gaudy white Cadillac with the gold trim and maroon roof, parked just across the street from the cemetery’s entrance. He’d seen that car before, outside the courthouse after jury selection. He recalled being unnerved at the time because the driver—a huge, muscular black man dressed like a gangbanger—seemed to be watching him. The pimped-out vehicle was clearly out of place in this well-to-do white-bread suburb.
Jake hobbled purposefully toward the Cadillac on his crutches, anger and curiosity crowding out all fear. The rain had stopped and the driver’s window was down. Despite the doo rag and the mirror sunglasses, Jake recognized the face. It was definitely the man he’d seen outside the courthouse. He reached the cemetery gate and stopped. They stared at each other from across the street as cars cruised by between them. There was something familiar about the face. He had thought so at the courthouse and was even more convinced now, but he couldn’t place it. Jake waited impatiently for a break in traffic. The dark glass of the driver’s window began rising silently.
“Wait! Who are you? Why are you following me?” Jake yelled as traffic cleared and he began limping rapidly across the street. Tires screeched, and the Cadillac sped away, leaving Jake standing in the middle of the road, bewildered and exasperated.
His impulse was to race back to his own car and give chase, but he realized that would be futile. The guy would be long gone. Besides, he had come to the cemetery for a reason, and his business was still unfinished.
Horns blared at him as cars whizzed by in both directions. When traffic cleared, he hustled off the median strip and back toward the cemetery as fast as he could manage on his crutches. Once inside the cemetery gate, he stopped to catch his breath. His gaze fell upon a nearby granite bench and he sat down to collect his thoughts and wait for his heart to stop pounding.
After a few minutes, he rose and moved slowly back toward Amanda’s grave. When he had been standing there just minutes before, he had felt paralyzed by his unabated grief. That grief had not left him, but the paralysis seemed to be giving way to a sense of urgency and resolve, propelling him onward. He vowed that he would not let himself be intimidated or distracted by the thug in the white Cadillac, whoever he was. He forced himself to focus on what had brought him to this place: an overwhelming desire to be near Amanda, and a desperate hope that being there would help him find the answer that thus far had been beyond his grasp.
“I miss you, sweetheart,” he said softly, looking down at the grave, not knowing or caring whether anyone saw him talking to himself. “I miss you so much.” His voice was shaky, but he was dry-eyed now, trying to speak clearly and with a sense of purpose. “I wish I had done more to show you and tell you how much you meant to me—how much you still mean to me. I’ve loved you with my whole heart from the moment we met and I will never stop loving you—never! I will try my best to do what you would want me to do, and be what you’d want me to be. I’m really trying, but it’s so hard. I hope you can hear me … I wish you could guide me … help me find my way.”
Jake looked up and took several deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. He tried to visualize Amanda standing there beside him, and imagine what she would say if he spoke with her about his present situation. They had known each other so well that he was good at anticipating her thinking on most issues. Amanda would encourage him to go back to work and get on with his life, he was certain of that. She wouldn’t even have to ask him to be a good father to Anna, because she would know that he would. But what about the trial? What would her guidance be? It was only one week away, and he was torn by indecision. Part of him desperately wanted to try this case, but he wasn't sure he had the necessary fortitude. He had been unable to feel passion or intensity for anything since the accident. In fact, he had barely been able to function at all. But then Kenny Oliver had shown up on his doorstep, and kindled a burning desire to stop Rick Black—a desire to beat him, embarrass him and expose him for what he was: a dishonest, conniving, unscrupulous pirate. But the analysis didn’t stop there. He had to think of Anna. He couldn’t put himself or her in danger. As a result, conflict raged within him, and it steadily had intensified as the trial drew nearer. If he only knew what Amanda’s advice would be, his decision would be clear.
As he struggled with that question, he vividly remembered their discussions about the flaws and vulnerabilities of the American legal system. Amanda was passionate in her belief that the system could work if the good guys made the integrity of the system their personal responsibility and challenged the abuses and the abusers whenever and wherever they manifested themselves. It would take courage and conviction, she had said, but those who had the opportunity to stand up for what is right had a responsibility to do so when confronted with unethical behavior. Attorneys who lacked the courage and conviction to do that were part of the problem.
As Jake thought about those conversations with Amanda, he could almost hear her speaking to him. A sudden and unmistakable sense of clarity settled over him. He knew what she would say about the trial, beyond any doubt. She would not only say that he had her permission to try the case, she would say that he had a duty to do so – a duty to his client, to his profession and to himself. And she would be right. He needed to try this case.
The complicating factor was that he also needed to think about his daughter. Her safety was paramount, and as a single parent, he had a responsibility to be mindful of his own safety to a much greater degree than he had before. The Chief of Police himself promised around-the-clock protection for both Jake and Anna. That would be a nuisance, but the trial would not last more than two weeks. Jake decided to have another conversation with Chief Tomczak to discuss security measures in greater detail. If he felt confident in the Police Department’s ability to protect him and his daughter, he would try the case. He thought about Rick Black, and the revelations provided by Kenny Oliver. He thought about Amanda, and the advice she would have given. His fears about lacking the intensity and fortitude for the trial were melting away.
He bent over and put his hand on the wet grave marker. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said. “Thank you for sharing your life with me and for always being there for me. I’ll do my best to make you proud.” He stood up and blinked away the tears, then headed back toward his car. He drove through the cemetery’s front gate and stared at the spot where the Cadillac had been parked. His newly found feeling of resolve was tempered by his vision of the sinister looking character behind the wheel of that Cadillac. He knew that face from somewhere, and his inability to place it gnawed at him. “Who are you, you son of a bitch?” he muttered to himself. “Who the hell are you?”
CHAPTER 53
The case of Barnes, et al. versus United States Health Corporation commenced promptly at 9 a.m. on Monday, November 10th, in the Federal District Court for the Northern District of Illinois, before the Honorable Justice Peter Trainor. Opening arguments were
presented by Richard T. Black for the plaintiffs, and Jacob J. McShane for the defendant.
Rick went first. He informed the jury that they were about to hear a tale of unbridled corporate greed, on a grand scale. According to Rick, there was nothing innocent about USH’s conduct in this case. For years, it had been aware of significant billing problems, and took no remedial action. It knowingly allowed inflated invoices to be generated and transmitted to its customers, counting on the fact that few customers would raise issues due to the fact that the invoices were hopelessly confusing. Even worse, its senior management team made a conscious and deliberate decision to avoid addressing these issues, so that the company could continue to enjoy the ill-gotten gains generated by its fraudulent and deceitful billing practices. According to Mr. Black, there was a carefully orchestrated plan to continue generating excessive invoices for as long as the company could get away with it. This was conduct worthy of the jury's contempt and deserving of the most severe punishment.
When it was his turn, Jake felt ready. He was approaching this case with a confidence borne out of complete mastery of the facts and issues. His opening argument was simple. He candidly acknowledged to the jury within the first sixty seconds that USH had made mistakes that resulted in overcharges to many of its patients. Establishing credibility with the jury was critical, so he did not try to sugarcoat the problems. The thrust of Jake's message was that, although serious billing problems existed, there was no intentional wrongdoing. To the contrary, when these problems were brought to management's attention, management devised a plan for addressing them. That plan included making voluntary restitution to any clients who had been inadvertently overcharged. Jake also emphasized that the company had implemented a widely publicized program pursuant to which any customer having doubts or questions about an invoice could submit the invoice to an independent auditing firm, and if an overcharge was confirmed, the patient would receive a full refund, plus accrued interest. Therefore, Jake pointed out, a fair and effective mechanism was already in place to make all affected customers whole. Under those circumstances, Jake argued, there was no basis for awarding any punitive damages.