Ever After: A Father's True Story

by William Wharton

  Judge Murphy strides into the room, still not wearing robes. Behind him is a court reporter.

  Judge Murphy seems very nervous. He crosses and uncrosses his legs, sometimes tucking his hands between them at the knees. It’s obvious he’s been through some hard times, although I can’t feel sorry for him. I hope he doesn’t spot me.

  He briefly summarizes what has happened over the past few days. He’s tired and he doesn’t elaborate much.

  He congratulates all who have participated in the settlement conference and is pleased to announce that as he had hoped, every suit has been settled to everyone’s satisfaction.

  I look over at Mona and Mitchell. Mitchell has reluctantly put up his hand.

  “Your Honor, Judge Murphy, there is one exception. The suit involving my clients, Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, and Sampson National Carriers, Inc. has not been settled.”

  There’s a long silence. Judge Murphy puts his hands over his mouth, joined together like a sign of prayer.

  “Thank you for correcting me, Mr. Mitchell. But I think we can go through the rest of the roll to put this conference on the court record.” He signals to the court reporter and announces that from this point on, all will be on record.

  He then starts with another count-off. He’s asked for representatives of each of the clients to stand and tell what the situation is in relation to their suits. Each stands and says basically the same thing, their names, the organization for which they work, the names of their clients, and a brief statement that a settlement for their suit has been agreed upon, no numbers. I’m waiting to see what Mitchell is going to say. If he says that all suits have been settled in our case, I’m going to break cover and deny it. Only the Sampson suit has been settled for Danny; it hasn’t been settled for me and Rosemary. And there are also the two other suits, against the state of Oregon and against Thompkins. I do not consider those settled; in fact those weren’t even discussed.

  Finally, the Judge reaches our group. It isn’t Mitchell who stands, but Mona. I lean forward, listening carefully. She says that all the suits, with the exception of the cases of Mr. and Mrs. Wharton, have been satisfactorily resolved. It was that word “cases” I was listening for. It’s in the court record now. It’s more than one case, it’s not just Sampson.

  After this count-off is finished, Judge Murphy scrunches down in his chair, hands still in front of his face. He checks to confirm that the court reporter is still taking down what he says.

  “I’m putting all of you under an injunction to say nothing about this settlement conference to anyone.”

  There’s another silence. Then one of the senior lawyers speaks up from the back.

  “Judge Murphy, that’s going to be difficult. I already have a battery of reporters at my office and on the phone. There’s no way to pretend this didn’t happen.”

  Murphy scrunches lower.

  “All right, you can say it happened, but no one is to give any details or disclose the amount of money in the general settlement fund or the amounts of money involved in any of the settlements.”

  Another lawyer speaks up. It’s Mr. Crosley, lawyer for Mr. Thompkins.

  “Judge Murphy, I don’t see how we can keep the amounts of the settlements from the public. You dismissed virtually all of the plaintiffs and defendants, who know those figures, and I don’t think you can put such an injunction on them. There’s no way to stop this information from being known to the general public.”

  Judge Murphy sinks lower, if that’s possible; he has almost slid off the front of the chair and onto the floor. He’s keeping his hands in front of his mouth in this praying position.

  “OK. There’s nothing we can do about that. But here is the official announcement which we will make.”

  He slides back and sits up.

  “A settlement conference for the suits brought forward relating to the massive I-5 automobile and truck crash on August third, involving twenty-four vehicles, many injuries and seven deaths, was held in the federal courtroom in Eugene, Oregon. The conference continued day and night for three days. Federal Judge Thomas Murphy presided.

  “All suits were settled to the satisfaction of all concerned. This was one of the largest settlement conferences ever held in the state of Oregon.”

  I look over at Mitchell and Mona. Mitchell already has his arm up to get Murphy’s attention.

  “Judge Murphy, my clients Mr. and Mrs. Wharton have not settled.”

  There’s another long silence as Murphy gradually starts sliding down in his chair again. He looks to the ceiling, maybe to God. Who knows?

  “All right. We change it to: virtually all suits brought before this conference were satisfactorily settled.”

  Mitchell seems more satisfied with this. It’s close enough to the truth, so I sit on my hands. Murphy sits up straight again and points his finger.

  “Remember, all of you are under an injunction not to talk about any details of this conference.”

  There’s not a murmur. Judge Murphy stands and returns to his little room. It’s all so anticlimactic. We walk out to the hall. Mona lights a cigarette. She tells Mitchell that she and I are driving to Portland in her car. He nods. In his mind, he has already left.

  CHAPTER 16

  MONA AND I go out to the car. She says there’s still time to avoid some of the Eugene “coming home traffic.”

  “You see, Will, I grew up in Tacoma, but I worked for the appellate court here. I know this town well. I also went to the university in Corvalis. Now, that’s a nice town, fewer than 40,000 people and beautiful country all around. I think you’ll like Oregon better after you see the way we’re going to go, not up the I-5.”

  And she’s right. The country is different from what I’ve seen, more green, orchards of fruit-trees, some in bloom. The road isn’t a big highway, just twisting, easy curves, rolling hills.

  But I’m still carrying the load of the conference on my shoulders. I have so many questions. A magician has done all his tricks and I haven’t figured out one of them. I feel miserably frustrated. Mona catches my mood and doesn’t say much except to point out some of the more beautiful sights.

  We stop at a bar in Corvalis, one of her favorites from the days when she was a student. It’s more a coffee-house than a bar, filled with young people, loud chatter and loud music. We manage to find a table against a back wall, as far from the music as possible, and she goes up to the bar for some beer.

  She returns with two steins as big as those the Germans drink in Munich, only made of faceted glass.

  “Here, this might be good for what ails you.”

  She laughs.

  “Mona, can you tell me now what was happening down there? I’m not stupid but I still don’t understand. There seemed to be so much maneuvering behind the scenes.”

  “That’s the way Judge Murphy set it up. Probably there was no other way it would work, a gigantic settlement like this. I didn’t like it, but it worked for just about everybody. Danny seemed to get what he wanted, so did Claire Woodman.”

  “But did Wills? I feel awful that I couldn’t protect him from something like this happening. I’ve known Danny since he was a sophomore in high school, dating Kate. He has trouble with this kind of thing. So I was worried, and it turned out I had every reason. But for the life of me, I can’t think of what I could have done without some on-the-spot legal advice, and neither you nor Mitchell jumped in to help.”

  “You’ve got to understand. I do what Ted Mitchell tells me to do. I am only in charge of the little things that have to be done to advance the case. The big decisions were Mitchell’s. Let’s not talk about it, huh?”

  She starts looking in her purse. I think it’s for a cigarette, but it’s for her wallet. I pull mine out.

  “I’ll get it. This doesn’t have to go on the expense account, even though I’ve been pumping you as a lawyer.”

  “Oh, shit! Lawyers always talk about problem clients, and now I understand what they mean.”

&
nbsp; I pull out my money, check the bill, and leave enough. I stand up.

  “As far as I can see, lawyers think they’re gods and clients are supposed to behave like clouds, just going where they’re blown.”

  I follow her out to the car. The sun is going down fast. It should be a beautiful sunset. I wish I could get the hostility out of my mind and enjoy myself, remember how lucky I am to be alive, not burned to a crisp like Kate and the rest of them, to be riding with a bright, good-looking woman through this lovely countryside. I should appreciate all that Mona has been doing to make the entire thing less painful. As we slide into the car and she puts the key into the ignition, I turn so she has to look at me. Her face is in that frozen lawyer mode.

  “Listen, Mona. I’m sorry for being such a creep, but I am deeply upset. I feel I’ve failed my dead daughter and I’ve failed Wills. Everything I’ve done seems to have backfired.

  “I know you’re doing your best to get me through this mess and I appreciate it. Just have a little more patience. You live with it. I don’t. It’s hard to change. I hate feeling I’m being pushed around, even when it’s supposed to be for my own good; maybe especially. Do you understand?”

  “Wow, you don’t sound like a client after all. Maybe I’ll be able to drive us up to Portland without running into a pole, if you can keep talking like that.”

  And we do. The drive is pleasant. I tell her about my books and my painting. She knows more about me as a person, not just as a client, than I thought. She has recently read Birdy and Dad, likes them both. She tries to explain why she has had so many husbands—she’s in her third marriage—and how much she loves her little boy, Jonah, and how she is worried that her current husband feels guilty because she’s the prime earner in the house. She admits to being the kind of person who doesn’t save, just keeps ahead of her credit cards.

  I tell her what a skinflint I am. How I hate to spend money for things that don’t last. I try explaining why I live in France, didn’t want our children to grow up in America. Some of this she knows, most of the real reasons she doesn’t.

  We eventually reach Portland, where Mona drops me off at my friends the Wilsons’. We shake hands goodbye. Because I refused to settle, my claims against Sampson, the truck firm, will go to trial. Maybe later we’ll be able to take on Thompkins and the state of Oregon. It’s my one consolation. Mona says that the trial will be in late September and that I should be there a week or two before then.

  Karen and Robert are on the porch. Robert turns on the light. He walks down the steps. I introduce them all around.

  Karen comes up to give me a kiss and I shake hands with Rob. It’s great to be with friendly people and not to be on my guard all the time.

  I stagger into the bedroom and find the bed all made and ready for me. I drop my bag, hang my clothes over it, and fall into the bed. I’m getting to be a regular vagabond—or is that tramp? On that thought I drop off.

  In the morning, I take a shower before going into the kitchen. I’m still feeling bleary-eyed. Rob is reading the newspaper at the breakfast table. He looks up at me. Karen is out, I guess.

  “I see you settled after all.”

  He passes over the front page of the newspaper. There it is in big print. LEGAL FEUD IN FATAL I-5 PILE-UP ENDS. I start reading. I can’t believe it.

  The settlement of numerous lawsuits stemming from a fatal twenty-eight vehicle collision on I-5 in 1988 brought expressions of relief Saturday from persons involved in the mammoth legal battle.

  “It’s just a relief,” said Claire Woodman of Falls City. “It’s been a long time.” Woodman’s son, Bert, died in the crash along with his wife Kate and two young daughters.

  “I’m certainly pleased that it’s been disposed of to everyone’s satisfaction,” said Arthur Johnson, an assistant District Attorney General for the state of Oregon … [Lord, I can’t believe it! They’re denying it to the very end.] US magistrate Joseph Murphy and a battalion of lawyers negotiated the settlements in a series of meetings between Tuesday and Friday. All parties in the claims agreed not to make public the amounts of the monetary awards to eighteen plaintiffs involved. [“Agreed” isn’t quite the word.]

  The fiery, chain-reaction accident occurred August eighth, 1988, south of Albany, when an out-of-control field burn cloaked the freeway with smoke. Seven persons were killed and eighty-seven others were injured.

  An eleven-day moratorium on field burning followed, and attempts to have the practice banned or curtailed, continue. Willamette Valley grass seed farmers use field burning to destroy excess straw, pests, and diseases. Most of the claims named the state of Oregon and Albany area farmer, Paul Thompkins.

  Woodman said that she was “basically” satisfied with the settlement made to her son’s estate.

  “I think Judge Murphy bent over backwards to reach an agreement,” she said … Woodman said that justice really would be served in the case when stricter controls are placed on field burning … [How is letting these people off the hook going to stop field burning?] “That’s what we wanted all along,” she said. “We’re afraid it’s going to happen again.” Woodman said that she has been surprised by the increase in traffic along I-5 in recent years and fears that another such accident there could be even more catastrophic…

  Woodman said that she has been energetically working in support of a ballot initiative being circulated by Oregonians Against Field Burning…

  Arthur Johnson stressed that the federal magistrate did not settle the claims by decree. Instead, the settlement work came about through concerted legal work from many parties … [This is too much! There’s no question that Judge Murphy announced at the beginning that we, all of us, were to be there twenty-four hours a day for as long as he wanted, and if anyone he called was not there within five minutes they would be charged with contempt of court. If that isn’t being forced, what is?]

  Johnson said that the case had been one of the most investigated and documented cases in the state. But although it was complex, because of the number of vehicles, injuries and lawsuits [not to mention deaths!] it did not pose unusually difficult legal issues. A ruling was made in April. A Linn County Circuit Judge said the state would pay no more than $300,000 for all claims from the incident. [When? In April, just days before the settlement conference: an appeal in a lower court concerning a federal court ruling which was then accepted by Judge Murphy! And the appeal was granted by a Linn County Circuit Judge, right in the middle of the seed-growing area where the accident happened!]

  “Once the court ruled that the maximum liability of the state was going to be $300,000, then everything else fell into place,” Johnson said. “Without that ruling, everyone was thinking, ‘The state’s going to pay me a million dollars.’”

  Johnson said that although claims were settled with regard to the state, one case involving two of the parties in the collision has yet to be resolved. [I think: “Here it comes at last.” ]

  Jimmy Phillips of Kaymond, Washington, said Saturday night he had not been informed of a settlement. Phillips was moving his family from Arizona to Washington when they were caught in the crash and lost their vehicle and most of their belongings.

  “I’d like to see it come to an end,” he said. “They keep saying it’s going to soon, but we haven’t had word yet of anything definite.” Phillips’s sister-in-law, Joy Phillips, who was also injured in the accident, would not comment on the matter.

  Rob looks up at me as I put the paper down on the table. I have a hard time speaking at first.

  “This entire report is untrue, Rob. No, I didn’t settle, never had any intention to, as you know. I can’t believe all those lawyers, even mine, were so thoroughly fooled.”

  “You sure, Will? The AP is usually pretty careful about those things. So is the Oregonian.”

  “May I use your phone, Rob?”

  I’m so mad I’m beginning to shake. I want to do this right.

  I pull down the phone directory and look up AP. I’m sur
prised it’s there. I phone. A woman answers. I give my name and my relationship to the I-5 crash. I tell her that the AP report in the Oregonian is incorrect.

  There’s a pause.

  “One minute, would you hold onto the line, please?”

  Rob is watching me. I’m trying to keep it all together. I have the newspaper in my hand; my hand’s trembling. After about five minutes, another voice comes over the phone. It sounds like a slightly older woman. I explain again. She apparently has the article in front of her.

  “What, exactly, was reported incorrectly?”

  “The fact that all claims were settled. I was a plaintiff of one of the most important cases at that conference. We lost our daughter, two granddaughters, and a son-in-law. My wife and I did not settle with anyone.”

  There’s a pause again. I don’t want to lose her.

  “It’s in the court record if you wish to verify my statement.”

  “Mr. Wharton, are you sure of this information?”

  “Absolutely. I had no intention of settling. At the summary, the judge tried to make a statement that all claims had been settled, but our lawyers there corrected him. He reluctantly agreed to change the phrasing to ‘virtually” all cases were settled. This was agreed to by the lawyers involved. As you can see, that word is not given in the headline nor the article. I should think AP would want to report the correct version of what happened at this important conference. I, and my wife, have no desire to settle this case out of court.”

  Again, there’s a long pause.

  “Would you give me your name once more and your relation to the settlement conference? Could you tell me again in detail what actually happened.”

  I do this. I wait.

  “Mr. Wharton, we’ll check this out with the reporter and with Judge Murphy and, if necessary, the court record. We certainly appreciate your having called our attention to this potential misinformation.”

  “You’re very welcome.”