[2013] Consequential Damages

by Joseph Hayes

  Jake walked Anna to school, then drove to work, arriving late, around 9:30. “Your phone has been ringing off the hook,” said Alice, handing him a thick stack of messages. “People have been stopping by since I got here. Mr. Giannakis wants to meet with you in his office at ten o'clock. The people from USH will be there.” Then, pointing at the messages she had just handed him, she said, “That message on the top is from a Mr. Leach. He said it's extremely urgent, and asked that you call him as soon as you arrive. I told him you were very busy this morning, but that I would pass along the message.”

  “Thanks, Alice,” Jake replied, quickly shuffling through the messages. A number of them were from reporters, some were from colleagues, two were from Demetrius and the one on top read, “Jack Leach, of Sullivan & Leach. Please call ASAP.” Jack Leach was one of the founding partners of Sullivan & Leach, and one of the nation's premier trial attorneys.

  Although it was widely considered to be unwise for the firm's associate attorneys to keep Demetrius Giannakis waiting, Jake decided to call Leach first. It would be helpful to know what was on his mind before meeting with Demetrius and the USH executives.

  After a lengthy conversation with Mr. Leach, Jake reported to Demetrius's office twenty minutes late. He expected the managing partner to be irritated with him for his tardiness, but Demetrius smiled broadly as he walked in. USH’s general counsel, Paul LaDuke and its president, Bernard Parkerson, were seated on the leather sofa near the windows of his spacious office. “Here's the miracle worker! Hail, the conquering hero!” said Demetrius pumping Jake’s hand.

  LaDuke and Parkerson rose to their feet. “Masterful job, Jake,” said LaDuke. Absolutely masterful!”

  The normally reserved Dr. Parkerson was all smiles as well. “Congratulations, counselor! Well done!”

  The four men spent some time rehashing the courtroom events of the previous two days, like sports fans basking in the glow of victory in a big game. Presently, Demetrius changed the course of the conversation. “Gentlemen, there’s no question that we won a significant battle, but as I was explaining before you arrived, Jake, the war isn’t over.” Turning to Jake, he continued. “Paul and I have been explaining to Bernie that the plaintiffs are free to seek a new trial, and almost certainly will do so. It's also possible that plaintiffs’ counsel might be more receptive to reasonable settlement terms in light of these developments. We thought it would be wise for the four of us to discuss our options now rather than waiting for the plaintiffs’ next move.”

  “As a matter of fact, they've already made it,” said Jake. “I just finished a long conversation with Jack Leach. That's why I was late getting here,” he added, looking at Demetrius.

  “You mean the Jack Leach?” LaDuke asked.

  “Yes, that Jack Leach,” Jake replied.

  Parkerson gave Demetrius a dark look. The jubilant mood evaporated in an instant.

  “What the hell did he want?” Demetrius demanded.

  Jake looked at the three suddenly somber faces staring at him. A sly smile crossed his face. “Lighten up, guys,” he said. “It was a good conversation.”

  “Out with it, goddammit!” said Dr. Parkerson, still looking troubled.

  Jake enjoyed the fact that these three powerful men were squirming with nervousness. “First, Leach wanted me to know that he has taken over the USH case. Rick Black will no longer be involved. In fact, Rick Black has been asked to leave the firm.” Jake paused for effect.

  “That was smart of them,” Demetrius muttered. “Go on!”

  Jake continued. “Mr. Leach said that he was interested in discussing settlement, so I told him I would be happy to hear him out.”

  “What do they want?” demanded Parkerson.

  “Well, he huffed and puffed for a while, and made some ridiculous demands. I turned him down cold, and it quickly became apparent that they just want out. This case has given his firm a huge black eye. If they try it again, it’ll keep their name in the press, with a big bright spotlight shining on that black eye. And, their star witness—their ticket to punitive damages—just self-destructed and came over to our side. So here's the deal: We pay no punitive damages; we pay no attorneys’ fees to their side; we simply agree that the auditing and refund program we implemented will remain in place for two years.”

  “That's it?” LaDuke asked.

  “That's it,” Jake replied. “It's something we're already doing anyway, voluntarily, but we would agree to a stipulated judgment that requires us to keep this program in place for the next two years. Of course, they'll try to spin this as a victory for their side. They’ll make a big splash in the press about how every aggrieved patient will be made whole, and they'll try to take credit, but they're really just trying to save face for themselves.”

  Demetrius stood up. “That's not a settlement. That's a surrender! They're waving the white flag!”

  Jake nodded. “It's over.” Dr. Parkerson collapsed back into his chair and heaved a huge sigh. “Thank God!”

  Paul LaDuke and Bernard Parkerson stared at their lawyers in stunned silence for a few moments as the news sank in, then launched into a new round of high-fives and fist pumps. A flurry of hasty phone calls followed, to the chairman of the board, the public relations department and a variety of other senior corporate officials. After a few moments, LaDuke put down his cell phone, wandered over to the window and then looked out, pensively. “So, after all this, the plaintiffs’ lawyers don't get a dime. And not one of their clients will get rich either.”

  “Oh, I don't know about that,” Jake replied. “Someone is bound to figure out that they may be able to recover big bucks by suing Rick Black and his firm for malpractice.”

  Demetrius shook his head and chuckled. “Wouldn't that be sweet?”

  Jake lingered in Demetrius’s office after LaDuke and Parkerson had left. Despite his elation over the outcome of the case, he felt a twinge of sadness as he thought about his former classmate. “What a waste,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Rick Black is one of the most talented people I’ve ever met. He’s got a brilliant mind, tremendous communication skills and boatloads of charm and charisma. He is without a doubt the most naturally gifted lawyer I know. He had everything.”

  “Not everything,” Demetrius corrected him. “He had no moral compass. That’s what got him lost.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Word of the USH outcome spread quickly through the firm. For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, a steady stream of well-wishers stopped by Jake's office, offering their congratulations. His colleagues were effusive in their praise, convinced that Jake's brilliant lawyering had produced a victory no one had expected. Jake didn't feel brilliant. He believed he’d done a good job of playing the cards that were dealt to him, but just like in poker, a great deal of luck had been involved.

  By late afternoon, he craved solitude. He closed the door to his office and unplugged his telephone. He sat there for a long time, relishing the silence.

  Sometime later, Alice opened his door hesitantly and peeked in. She found Jake, sitting alone in the quiet office, weeping. He looked at her, unashamed, as tears cascaded down his cheeks. Alice stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “A trial can be draining, can't it?” she said softly.

  “It's not that, Alice,” Jake replied in a voice that was barely audible. “I just miss her. I should be able to share this with her.” As he spoke, Jake looked at the picture of Amanda on his desk.

  Tears of sympathy welled up in Alice's eyes. “I know you do.” She patted his shoulder and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Jake wept harder, as he picked up Amanda’s picture. If she were still with him, he would think about packing it in and doing something different with his life. Perhaps they would move back to California. Perhaps he would choose an entirely different career path—something more meaningful. In the overall scheme of things, was he doing anything to make the world a better place? What had he just accomplished anyway?
He had won a fight for a client, but what difference did it really make? The client wasn’t exactly innocent here. Was society any better off? Well, maybe a little. After all, there might be one less pirate loose on the high seas by the time the State Bar had finished with Rick Black. Maybe he deserved some credit for that, and maybe that would prevent future miscarriages of justice. Amanda would say that the good guys needed to stand up to the bad guys if there was to be any hope for justice in our fragile legal system. On that front, he had done his part.

  Jake composed himself and informed Alice that he was leaving early. She advised him that Demetrius had called to invite him to dinner. Jake reluctantly dialed Demetrius's extension.

  “Jake, I think a celebration is in order. And, I’d like to spend some time with one of our finest litigators to discuss the bright future he has with this firm. Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

  “I'm sorry, Demetrius, can I take a rain check? I really appreciate the offer, but I’ve got some pressing personal business I need to attend to.” Jake knew it was not politically correct to decline a dinner invitation from the managing partner; however, he simply was not ready to have a serious discussion about his career path.

  “No problem. I understand,” Demetrius replied. “I know you’ve had to put your personal life on hold for awhile, so do what you need to do. We'll get together and celebrate sometime soon, maybe next week.”

  “Thanks, Demetrius. That would be great.”

  An hour later, Jake pulled up in front of a large, newly built gymnasium, next to an old but well-maintained church. The gym’s newness stood in stark contrast to the dingy, boarded-up buildings and dirty streets in the surrounding neighborhood. The parking lot outside the gym was devoid of vehicles, but bustling with activity. Two side-by-side basketball courts adjacent to the parking lot were in full use, and dozens of young boys and girls were scattered around the lot, throwing footballs, jumping rope or just hanging out. Many of them stared at the white man in a suit getting out of his vehicle, and the other car that had driven up directly behind him, which was obviously an unmarked police car.

  Jake moved toward the basketball courts. He was in a walking cast now, navigating without the aid of crutches, and walked with a pronounced limp. The crowd appeared to be mostly high school age, with a smattering of younger kids mingled in with them. Many of them eyed Jake suspiciously.

  As he neared the basketball courts, Jake saw a big man with his back to him, reprimanding a teenaged basketball player in a loud voice. “Hey man, it's okay to play rough, but don't play dirty! Understand? Watch those elbows!” The big man noticed the eyes of the players looking past him, and he turned around.

  “Hi, Jerome,” said Jake.

  The big man smiled. He seemed different—the scowl and the attitude were gone. “Well, look who's here. Boys, this is Mr. McShane. He tries to pretend he’s a hot-shot lawyer, but he's really a basketball stud.” He gestured at Jake's cast. “When are you going to get that thing off so you can come up here and show these boys how the game is played?”

  A skinny teenager in a Chicago Bulls jersey eyed Jake skeptically. “Shit, I bet I could take that dude left-handed.”

  Jerome laughed. “Like hell you could, Mouse. He'd put a whupping on you, just like he did on Shooter.”

  The kid looked incredulous. “That dude whupped Shooter? No way, man. I ain't never seen anyone could whup Shooter. Not this dude, that's for damn sure.”

  Jake smiled. “Well, I'm out of practice and out of shape, but once I get this cast off, I plan to get my game back. I'll be around.” Then, turning to Jerome, he said, “I came by to see Shooter. Is he here?”

  “Yeah, he's inside resting. Come on, I'll take you.”

  They entered the gym and walked across the shiny hardwood floor, then entered a small office. A doorway from the office led to a small but comfortable looking apartment. Jerome walked in without knocking and yelled loudly, “Hey Shooter, you got company.”

  “Send 'em in,” Jake heard a voice shout back from another room. Shooter was sitting up in bed, reading. He looked the same, except that he was wearing glasses.

  “Stanford!”

  “Hey Shooter,” Jake replied. “You look good. How are you feeling?”

  “Better every day. It was rough for a while—I lost a kidney and my spleen. But I’ve still got one good kidney, and who really needs a spleen? Anyway, I'm just starting to feel normal again. I’m still kind of weak, and need lots of rest, but I'm getting stronger. I plan to start shooting the roundball again soon. Hey, I heard about your case. Mistrial, huh? That's a good thing, isn't it?”

  “Yeah, it's a good thing. It's finally over. It's been an ordeal.”

  Shooter’s face turned somber. “I'm sure it has. I read about your accident. I’m really sorry about your wife.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. I also appreciate the heads-up about that white-haired creep, and the fact that you had Jerome looking after me. I don't know what would've happened if Jerome hadn't been there to save my neck last weekend. I wanted to come by and thank you in person—both of you.”

  Jerome had been lingering in the doorway. “Aw, don't worry about that. We owed you. I'll let you two catch up. Later!” he called out as he left the room.

  “That's the second time he's said that,” said Jake. “I don't get it. Why does he think you guys owe me something?”

  Shooter stared at Jake, looking surprised that Jake didn’t seem to comprehend. “Man, you changed my life, and that helped me change Jerome's. We’re both on a righteous path now. We're doing something positive. And it was you that got me started on that path.”

  “I did?”

  “Remember the speech you gave me in that jail cell?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Well, I remember every word of it, and it changed my life. You told me you’d help me out, but only if I promised to get my act together and do something positive with my life. I promised you that I would. I spent four days in that jail cell, promising God the same thing—if only I could have another chance. Then you came through. I got that chance, and when that happened, there was one thing I knew for sure—I needed to keep my word. It took me awhile to find my path, but I eventually found it here with Reverend Lonnie. He's making a difference in the lives of a lot of people around here, and he gave me a chance to do the same thing, working with these kids. I can relate to them. I've been where they are, so they'll listen to me. I get them off the streets, with sports. That gives me a chance to get to know them and try to steer them in the right direction. Not everyone listens, but some do, and that makes a difference.”

  “I'm really happy for you, Shooter. And pretty damned impressed, too. But you deserve all the credit, not me. I certainly don't feel like you owe me anything.”

  “Like I said, it was you that started me in the right direction, and that brought me here to Reverend Lonnie. He's a special person, Stanford, and he's taught me some things. I still don’t know about the whole God thing, but whether I ever get my head around that or not, I can see that Lonnie’s really figured some things out. When I first met him, I couldn’t believe how he had his act together. He had everything—women, fame, money—and he gave it all up. He wouldn't go back for a second. He says that if you want to change your life and become a righteous man, you need to do two things. First, you make atonement. If there are people in your life you've hurt, you try to make it up to them. If you can't make it up to the person you've hurt, then do something helpful for somebody else. Second, you’ve got to realize that it’s not about you. You need to put aside your pride and your ego and your selfish ambitions, and focus on making life better for others. That's Lonnie’s secret to leading a good life, and finding a sense of purpose and peace. I've seen how it's worked for him, and now it's working for me.”

  “How does Jerome factor into this?” Jake asked. “And why was he following me around?”

  “Jerome's had a tough life—lots of bad breaks. Our father left us w
hen he was eight, and that was hard on him. He was devastated—mad at the whole world. As he got older, he got wilder. He got into a lot of fights, and started hanging around with the wrong crowd. I did my best to look after him, but he was always out of control. And on top of all that, he just had bad luck. When he got busted with that big stash, I thought he had some part in killing that drug dealer—the Priest. As it turned out, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of his pals, this guy named Freddie, was a small-time dealer who wanted to go big-time. Jerome was with him one day when Freddie went to make a buy from the Priest. Jerome didn't know it, but Freddie had other plans. He shot the Priest, and planned to steal his entire stash, but the Priest shot back. Damn fools wound up killing each other. Jerome's waiting outside, so he goes in after a few minutes and sees those two dudes dying on the floor and a big suitcase full of drugs, so he takes the stash and runs. You know the rest. He did almost five years. Talk about bad luck! Anyway, I visited him in prison almost every weekend, and tried to show him the way. I told him about my life and how it had changed. He’d always looked up to me, so I thought maybe he’d listen. I’m not sure it really sank in until he got out and saw my work here. Then it started opening his eyes, but I could tell he still had doubts. I was afraid he’d go back to his old ways. Then I got shot, and that changed everything.”

  “How?”

  “This may sound crazy, but I think it was the best thing that could have happened. It was a turning point. I think it was a little push in the right direction from God or fate or whatever – something or someone.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “When I got shot, Jerome’s immediate reaction was to get revenge. Most of the kids that hang out here had the exact same reaction. That’s just how people think around here. I told Jerome no way. If we took that path, it would send the wrong message – that violence and revenge are acceptable. I had a perfect opportunity to send a very different message: forgiveness, and turning the other cheek.”