The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  “I just meant—”

  “That it isn’t a real office unless the decor is bland?”

  “It just seems...atypical. More like a rich man’s pleasure palace than a workspace.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Maria asked. “Most lawyers spend far more time in their offices than they do at home. And yet they spend thousands making their homes comfortable, while their offices look like a floor display from Office Depot. Insane.”

  Mr. K cut in. “I have gone to some trouble and expense to create a pleasant environment. I want my people to look forward to coming to work.”

  “It just doesn’t look...lawyerly.”

  “Right,” Maria said, “and you’re probably traumatized that I’m not wearing one of those plug-ugly pantsuits female lawyers sport. Maybe with a silk shirt and a little bow at the neck. High heels, perhaps?” She made a snorting noise. “Forget it. Unless I’m going to court, I’ll stick to my Guccis.”

  This was a bizarre change from the law firm norm. But he had to admit it appealed to his maverick streak. “Maybe you should tell me more about your law firm, Mr. K.”

  “It’s simple enough, and the three people in the room with you can confirm everything I’m about to say. Garrett has been with me the longest, but Maria and Jimmy have been around long enough to know the score. Here’s the bottom line. You’ll work for me. I’ll assign your cases, and I expect you to get them done, with all the dedication and vigor you’ve always brought to your work.”

  “You’d be telling me what to do.”

  “I’ll give you assignments. I will never tell you what to do. I don’t need to. You clearly know your way around the courtroom. You have the best win-loss record in the county. I’ll bring the cases. You do the magic. And the best part is, you don’t have to worry about billing clients or any other annoying administrative duties. I’ll take care of all that. With an assist from Jimmy.”

  “What’s the workload like?”

  “One case at a time.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Impossible. Lawyers have to juggle fifty cases at a time to make ends meet. Otherwise, they have no one to bill when one case isn’t active.”

  “And that approach ends up diluting their energy and attention and compromises their work product. No, there may be instances when emergencies require divided attention, but in the main, you’ll be given one case at a time.”

  “I already have pending cases.”

  “I know. You’ll want to wrap them up. But you’re not limited to cases I send you. If you have time and inclination, you’re welcome to take pro bono work on the side.”

  Pro bono? Better cut to the bottom line. “You haven’t said anything about money. I’m hoping there is some?”

  Another chuckle from the television screen. “You will be handsomely compensated. Better than you got at your former law firm.”

  “Better than Friedman & Collins?”

  “Much better. You deserve it. You’re enormously talented, and I’m not gonna make you sit on your underpaid butt for ten years till you make partner. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a partner on day one and you’ll be rewarded accordingly. By me. Not your clients. Me.”

  “How does that even work? How can you afford it?”

  “You let me worry about that. You worry about winning the cases.”

  He checked the people sitting on the sofa around him. They all acted as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t know. This sounds pretty strange.”

  He could hear the challenge in Mr. K’s voice. “Are you afraid of strange?”

  Chapter 9

  In truth, Dan had always struggled with the traditional concept of the modern law firm, which paid lip service to ethics and clients, but too often focused on billable hours and extending conflicts rather than resolving them. He was usually bored stiff by the dated look of most law offices and couldn’t abide the cookie-cutter personality of many lawyers. So he was hearing a lot that he liked. But still something left him feeling uneasy. He was accustomed to going his own way, not taking assignments, and certainly not being forced to work with other people. “How can you even call people your clients if they aren’t the ones paying you?”

  “Surely you don’t subscribe to the myth that someone becomes a client when they give you a dollar bill,” Mr. K replied. “Read the Rules of Professional Conduct. Someone becomes your client as soon as they reasonably believe you agreed to represent them. It has nothing to do with money. You’ll get a monthly salary check from me, just like you got from your previous law firm.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Aren’t you the one who complains that money corrupts the justice system?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you the one who complains that justice is only available for those who can afford it? That minorities are prosecuted disproportionately because they can’t afford to purchase a decent defense?”

  “So this is a big public defender’s office?

  “No. You won’t be overburdened with a caseload that compels you to settle cases. You won’t be working for the government. You’ll have appropriate distance, so you can deal with prosecutors in the manner you think best. I’m not casting shade on public defenders. Most do a fantastic job under tough circumstances and are ridiculously undercompensated. But they can’t do everything.”

  “Okay. What do you call this outfit?”

  “I call it the Last-Chance Law Firm.”

  “Oh, that’s classy. Where do I sign?”

  “Not meaning that you last-chance lawyers are on the bottom of the talent pool. Meaning you’re the lawyers for people who have run out of options. You represent people in serious danger of being railroaded by a system driven by money and ambition. You’re hope for the hopeless.”

  “I like to think we’re what every lawyer would like to be,” Maria added. “Weren’t you full of idealism, back when you were in law school? Then you hit the real world and—pow. Everything changes. The system, the old-school paradigms, plus the need to pay the rent, end up pushing most of us in a different direction.”

  “Ok. Query for Mr. K. Why are you footing the bill for our perfect practice?”

  “Take a look at the world around you, Dan. There’s a serious need for justice. I think you already know this. That’s why you spend so much time toiling in the fields of criminal law.”

  “Nah. I’m just after the bucks.”

  “We live in a world where the rule of law is threatened. People in positions of authority trash lawyers, courts, judges, anyone who might stand in the way of their personal agenda. They create scapegoats instead of addressing problems. They play on people’s fears, insecurities, and bigotries.”

  “What’s that got to do with us?”

  “There’s a third branch of government for a reason. The judiciary serves an important function. A branch free from politics and populism. A place where the rule of law is applied as fairly and justly as humanly possible. But that only works if people defend the system and protect it. Justice is a choice. We decide it matters.” He paused. “I’ve been fortunate. I’ve acquired the means to help lawyers do what lawyers are supposed to do. Prevent injustice. Protect the weak and powerless. Replace wrath with kindness. Improve people’s lives rather than destroy them. Fight hate. Speak out when the emperor has no clothes.”

  He pursed his lips. “Where do you find these last-chance cases you’re going to be assigning?”

  “It isn’t difficult. There are some organized enemies of justice out there, and I’m doing what I can to hold them at bay. But I will promise you this. You will always be fighting the good fight. You will always be on the side of the angels. Even if it occasionally seems otherwise.”

  “He’s right about that,” Maria said. “I was with a law firm before I came here too. Never liked it much. Mostly corporate clients, big entities squabbling over money, arguments I didn’t
believe made so someone could delay paying their bills. More like prostitution then lawyering. This is much better.”

  “And we always work together,” Garrett added. “We’re a team. No matter how deep the water gets, you’ll always know there are three people who’ve got your back. Four, counting Mr. K.”

  “And there’s the weekly Gloomhaven game,” Jimmy added. “Don’t forget the weekly Gloomhaven game.”

  Maria and Garrett smiled.

  Mr. K cut in. “I bet you’re feeling the energy in this room, Dan. Friends. Family. I think you need a family. So I’m going to give you one.”

  “But why would I—”

  “We know how strong your courtroom skills are. Maria is also excellent in the courtroom, and a terrific trial strategist, though she prefers to let someone else take the lead during trials. Garrett is the best researcher you’ve ever seen. Does all that boring stuff you don’t much care for. He can find the obscure precedent you never knew existed. And Jimmy is the best networker in the state of Florida. He knows everybody at the court clerk’s office, in the DA’s office, and pretty much everywhere in the state of Florida. He can grease the wheels, find the person you need. It’s the ideal firm. No duplication. Everyone has an important role to fulfill.” Mr. K fell silent for a moment. “Dan, I think Maria mentioned that I’ve had my eye on you for a long time. More than once I thought about recruiting you, but it didn’t seem like the time was right. After what happened yesterday, that changed.”

  If Jimmy knew everybody, that might explain how they were so instantly aware that he was no longer with the Friedman firm. “Speaking of what happened yesterday, I think there might be some...aftermath. I expect my client to contact me about a possible murder charge.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” Jimmy said. “Your pal Emilio found a different firm to represent him. They’ve entered an appearance.”

  “Why would he do that? He loves me. I’ve never lost a case for him.”

  “But unfortunately, you’ve been mentioned in the newspaper articles about the ‘Tragedy at the Trademark.’ That’s what the press is calling it. In fact, you’ve been unfairly implicated in some op-ed pieces. It wouldn’t look right for Emilio to go into the courtroom with you. He was advised to find someone else.”

  By whom? he wondered.

  “So you’re free up,” Mr. K said. “And as it turns out, I’ve got a case for you, for all of you, that needs immediate attention.”

  He hesitated. This was intriguing, to be sure. But also strange as hell. “May I ask why you’re not here in person?”

  “That’s just the way I roll.”

  “Do I ever get to meet you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “And I’m supposed to be okay with taking cases from a disembodied voice? Like some weird Charlie’s Angels law firm?”

  Mr. K laughed. “If you want to put it that way. Except I am absolutely nothing like Charlie.”

  “Are you even in St. Petersburg?”

  “That’s not relevant. And don’t bother asking Garrett, because you can’t tell anything from my Skype address. So—can I count you in?”

  “Can I think about it for a little—”

  “No. I’ve got a client who needs help. I want an answer from you right now.”

  “I can’t think about it for twenty-four hours?”

  Some static, followed by a much quieter voice then Mr. K had used before. “Dan, I think you just need to ask yourself one question. What would your father want you to do?”

  His teeth clenched. Seems this son of a bitch knew everything about him. Or thought he did, anyway. “All right, I’m in. For now. But this is a probationary period. I’m trying you out. I reserve the right to withdraw if I don’t like it.”

  “Nobody can force you to stay if you don’t care to stay. Nor would I want you to. Jimmy, can you draw up the papers? Make this man a full partner in the firm.”

  Jimmy bounced off the sofa. “Coincidentally, I have already prepared them.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You were that sure I would say yes?”

  Maria leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “We were hoping.”

  Chapter 10

  Dan stared at the file in his hands. Mr. K wasn’t lying about having a client waiting in the wings. The client was a nine-year old orphan named Esperanza Coto. The file only contained the barest details, but she appeared to have some kind of immigration problem. She faced immediate deportation but didn’t want to go. Despite the law and the current climate on immigration, he was supposed to find a way for her to remain in the United States.

  They drove to a home on the Southside of St. Pete, past Lake Maggiore to a much sketchier neighborhood, so they could meet their client. Maria and Jimmy came with him, in a souped-up Jaguar F-Pace SVR they referred to as the “company car.” Maria drove. Jimmy sat in the back with enough files and gizmos to qualify the car as a mobile office. Garrett stayed at the office to begin exploratory research.

  He wondered if Maria was entirely comfortable with the drive. Given her Sundial St. Pete appearance and the Hermes bag she carried, she might be uncomfortable in this neighborhood. If she minded, though, she didn’t let it show. And Jimmy seemed too busy to notice where they were. “You got enough to do back there?”

  Jimmy didn’t even look up. “The guy who handles the paperwork is always busy. You flashy courtroom types get all the praise and act like celebrities, but you’d be lost without people like me feeding you briefs.”

  “Actually, I’ve always written my own briefs.”

  “Well, that’s about to end. Everything we do here is a team effort.”

  “I never agreed—”

  “Take a chill pill, control freak,” Maria said, not taking her eyes off the road. “Everybody gets a chance to give input on this team. But Jimmy is fantastic at what he does. The judges say he’s the best legal writer they’ve ever seen.”

  “True enough,” Jimmy agreed. “Even my spouse grudgingly acknowledges my writing skills.”

  “She’s a tough audience?”

  “He.”

  “Oh, sorry, how stupid, I—”

  “No worries. You’re more evolved than most people in this town. I’m aware that we live in a sadly heterosexual-normative world.”

  Maria filled in the blanks. “Jimmy and his husband have been married for twelve years.”

  “That’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve had a dog for twelve years.”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said, “I won’t tell Hank you compared him to a dog. He’s sensitive that way.” He shuffled more papers around. “Just so you know, Hank’s white, thirteen years younger than I am, favors Hawaiian shirts...and is a physician. You can imagine how much he loves us lawyers.”

  “And this relationship works?”

  “Strangely enough, it does.”

  He turned his attention back to Maria. “Tell me more about the mysterious Mr. K.”

  She shrugged. “Not much more to tell. Best job I’ve ever had.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that you don’t know who he is?”

  “I know who he is. I just don’t know his name. I know what he is. And I know that if there were more people like him in the justice system, there would be far more justice.”

  “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Are you doing that Sherlock Holmes thing again? Connecting the dots?”

  “I can’t help myself.”

  “I guess. True, I’m not from around here. I grew up in Chicago, but I like to tell myself I’ve lost all traces of the accent.”

  “You haven’t.”

  “I grew up on the north side, so don’t expect any ‘dese’ and ‘dose.’ I got tired of the big city. Tired of the cold winters. And tired of feeling like a cog in a moneymaking machine. Moving to St. Pete for this firm was the best thing I ever did.”

  “What do you do in your spare time? Hobbies? Sports? You’re very fit. Tennis? Doubles or singles?”

 
“Doing a little fishing?”

  “I just wondered.”

  She laughed. “You haven’t had a chance to Google me yet. So I suppose a little fishing should be expected.”

  Jimmy piped in. “Don’t even try to get her to talk about her personal life.”

  He tilted his head. “Is there something I should know...?”

  She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it. “I was just in a relationship.” The timbre of her voice dropped. “It...ended.” She checked the mirror and licked her lips. “Anyway, let’s get our heads back on business. We’ve arrived.”

  CLOSER TO A SHACK THAN a house, Dan thought, and seriously in need of work. A strong wind might blow this place over. A Florida hurricane would end it. Typical of Southside St. Pete.

  “I’ll stay in the car and finish up,” Jimmy said. “You two go meet the client.”

  “As you wish.” He hopped out of the passenger seat, walked to the front door with Maria, and knocked.

  After a few moments, a middle-aged Hispanic woman came to the door. Floral print dress. Rosary in pocket. Broken front tooth. Deep-etched forehead lines. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I’m Daniel Pike. I think you’re expecting us. I’m a lawyer.”

  “We don’t need no more lawyers.”

  He looked at Maria out the corner of his eye. “Apparently...someone thinks you do. We were told—”

  “We don’t need no lawyers. Please leave.”

  Maria chipped in. “Do you know Esperanza Coto?”

  The woman shook her head. “Please leave.”

  She started to close the door. He raised a hand to block it. “There must be some kind of mistake. May I see Esperanza? I think we’re expected.” He heard a voice from somewhere behind her, in the corridor.

  The woman holding the door pushed harder. “Go away or I will call the police.”

  He put on his serious face. “I’m a lawyer, ma’am, and my client is somewhere behind you. If you prevent me from conferring with my client, I’ll call the authorities. Who knows what they might find in this neighborhood?”