The Litigators (16 page)

“Support staff? Clerks, paralegals, interns?”

“Rochelle handles all that. It’s a small firm where we do most of our own typing and research.”

“He’s actually home for dinner,” Helen added. “I’ve never seen him so happy.”

“You look great,” Caroline said. “Both of you.”

The judge was not accustomed to being outnumbered or outflanked. “These two partners, are they trial lawyers?”

“They claim to be, but I have my doubts. They’re basically a couple of ambulance chasers who advertise a lot and survive on car wrecks.”

“What made you choose them?”

David glanced at Helen, who looked away with a smile. “That, Dad, is a long story that I will not bore you with.”

“Oh, it’s not boring,” Helen said, barely suppressing laughter.

“What kind of money do they make?” the judge asked.

“I’ve been there three weeks. They have not shown me the books, but they’re not getting rich. And I’m sure you wanna know how much I’m making. Same answer. I don’t know. I get a piece of what I bring in the door, and I have no idea what might walk in tomorrow.”

“And you’re starting a family?”

“Yes, and I’ll be home for dinner with my family, and T-ball, and
Cub Scouts and school plays and all the other wonderful stuff parents are supposed to do with their kids.”

“I was there, David, I missed very little.”

“Yes, you were, but you never worked for a sweatshop like Rogan Rothberg.”

A pause as everybody took a breath. David said, “We saved a lot. We’ll survive nicely, just wait and see.”

“I’m sure you will,” his mother said, switching sides completely and now fully aligned against her husband.

“I haven’t started the nursery yet,” Helen said to Caroline. “If you’d like, we can go to a great shop around the corner and look at wallpaper.”

“Perfect.”

The judge touched the corners of his mouth with a napkin and said, “Associate boot camp is just part of the routine these days, David. You survive that, make partner, and life is good.”

“I didn’t sign up for the Marines, Dad, and life is never good at a huge law firm like Rogan because the partners never make enough money. I know these partners. I’ve seen them. For the most part, they’re great lawyers and miserable people. I’ve quit. I’m not going back. Drop it.” It was the first flash of anger during lunch, and David was disappointed in himself. He drank some mineral water and took a bite of chicken salad.

His father smiled, took a bite himself, and chewed for a long time. Helen asked about David’s two sisters, and Caroline jumped at the chance to change the subject.

Over dessert, his father asked pleasantly, “What type of work are you doing?”

“Lots of good stuff. This week I prepared a will for a lady who’s hiding her assets from her children. They suspect she inherited some money from her third husband, which she did, but they can’t seem to find it. She wants to leave everything to her FedEx deliveryman. I represent a gay couple who are trying to adopt a child in Korea. I have
two deportation cases involving illegal Mexicans who were caught in a drug ring. I represent the family of a fourteen-year-old girl who’s been hooked on crack for two years and there’s no place to lock her up for rehab. A couple of drunk-driving clients.”

“Sounds like a bunch of riffraff,” the judge observed.

“No, actually, they’re real people with real problems who need help. That’s the beauty of street law—you meet the clients face-to-face, you get to know them, and, if things work out, you get to help them.”

“If you don’t starve.”

“I’m not going to starve, Dad, I promise. Besides, these guys do hit the jackpot every now and then.”

“I know, I know. I saw them when I was practicing, and I see their cases now on appeal. Last week, we affirmed a $9 million jury verdict, a terrible case involving a brain-damaged kid who got lead poisoning from some toys. His lawyer was a sole practitioner who did a DUI for the mother. He got the case, called in a gunslinger to try it, now they’re splitting 40 percent of $9 million.”

Those numbers bounced around the table for a few minutes. “Coffee, anyone?” Helen asked. They all declined and moved to the den. After a few moments, Helen and Caroline left to inspect the guest room that was about to become a nursery.

When they were out of range, the judge mounted his final assault. “One of my law clerks came across a story about the Krayoxx litigation. Saw your picture online, the one from the
Tribune
, with Mr. Figg. Is he a straight-up guy?”

“Not really,” David admitted.

“Doesn’t look like.”

“Let’s just say that Wally’s complicated.”

“I’m not sure your career will be advanced if you hang around with these guys.”

“You could be right, Dad, but for now I’m having fun. I look forward to getting to the office. I enjoy my clients, the few that I have, and I am enormously relieved to be out of the sweatshop. Just relax a bit, okay? If this doesn’t work out, I’ll try something else.”

“How did you get involved in this Krayoxx litigation?”

“We found some cases.” David smiled at the thought of his father’s reaction if he told the truth about their search for clients. Wally and his .44 Magnum. Wally offering cash bribes for client referrals. Wally hitting the funeral home circuit. No, there were things the judge should never know.

“Have you researched Krayoxx?” the judge asked.

“I’m in the process. Have you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. The TV ads are running in Minnesota. The drug is getting a lot of attention. Looks like another mass tort scam to me. Pile on the lawsuits until the drugmaker is facing bankruptcy, then broker a huge settlement that makes the lawyers richer and allows the manufacturer to stay in business. Lost in the shuffle is the issue of liability, not to mention what’s best for the clients.”

“That’s a pretty fair summary,” David admitted.

“So you’re not sold on the case?”

“Not yet. I’ve plowed through a thousand pages, and I’m still looking for the smoking gun, the research to prove that the drug hurts people. I’m not sure it does.”

“Then why did you put your name on the lawsuit?”

David took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Wally asked me, and since I’m new at the firm, I felt an obligation to join the fun. Look, Dad, there are some very powerful lawyers around the country who have filed this same lawsuit and who believe this is a bad drug. Wally does not inspire a lot of confidence, but other lawyers do.”

“So you’re just riding their coattails?”

“Hanging on for dear life.”

“Don’t get hurt.”

The women were back and organizing a shopping trip. David jumped to his feet and claimed to be infatuated with wallpaper. The judge reluctantly tagged along.

———

D
avid was almost asleep when Helen rolled over and said, “Are you awake?”

“I am now. Why?”

“Your parents are funny.”

“Yes, and it’s time for my parents to go home.”

“That case your father mentioned, about the little boy and the lead poisoning—”

“Helen, it’s five minutes after midnight.”

“The lead came from a toy, and it caused brain damage, right?”

“As I recall, yes. Where is this going, dear?”

“There’s a lady in one of my classes, Toni, and we had a quick sandwich last week in the student union. She’s a few years older, kids in high school, and she has a housekeeper who is from Burma.”

“This is fascinating. Can we get some sleep?”

“Just listen. The housekeeper has a grandson, a little boy, who’s in the hospital right now with brain damage. He’s comatose, on a respirator, things are desperate. The doctors suspect it’s lead poisoning, and they’ve asked the housekeeper to search high and low for lead. One source might be the child’s toys.”

David sat up in bed and switched on a lamp.

R
ochelle was at her desk diligently tracking news of a bed linen sale at a nearby discount house when the call came. A Mr. Jerry Alisandros from Fort Lauderdale wanted to speak with Mr. Wally Figg, who was at his desk. She routed the call through and returned to her online work.

Moments later, Wally strutted out of his office with his patented look of self-satisfaction. “Ms. Gibson, could you check flights to Las Vegas this weekend, leaving midday Friday?”

“I suppose. Who’s going to Las Vegas?”

“Well, who else has asked about going to Vegas? Me, that’s who. There’s an unofficial meeting of Krayoxx lawyers this weekend at the MGM Grand. That was Jerry Alisandros on the phone. Maybe the biggest mass tort operator in the country. Says I need to be there. Is Oscar in?”

“Yes. I think he’s awake.”

Wally tapped on the door as he shoved it open. He slammed it behind himself. “Come right in,” Oscar said as he pulled himself away from the paperwork littering his desk.

Wally fell into a large leather chair. “Just got a call from Zell & Potter in Fort Lauderdale. They want me in Vegas this weekend for a Krayoxx strategy meeting, off the record. All the big boys will be there to plan the attack. It’s crucial. They’ll discuss multi-district litigation, which lawsuit goes first, and, most important, settlement. Jerry thinks
that Varrick might want a quick endgame on this one.” Wally was rubbing his hands together as he spoke.

“Jerry?”

“Alisandros, the legendary tort lawyer. His firm made a billion off Fen-Phen alone.”

“So you want to go to Las Vegas?”

Wally shrugged as if he could take it or leave it. “I don’t care anything about going, Oscar, but it’s imperative that someone from our firm show up at the table. They might start talking money, settlement, big bucks, Oscar. This thing could be closer than we realize.”

“And you want the firm to pay for your trip to Vegas?”

“Sure. It’s a legitimate litigation expense.”

Oscar ruffled through a pile of papers and found what he wanted. He lifted it and sort of waved it at his junior partner. “Have you seen David’s memo? It came in last night. The one about the projected costs of our Krayoxx litigation.”

“No, I didn’t know he was—”

“The guy’s very bright, Wally. He’s doing the homework that you should be doing. You need to take a look at this because it’s scary as hell. We need at least three experts on board now, not next week. In fact, we should’ve had them lined up before you filed suit. The first expert is a cardiologist who can explain the cause of death of each of our beloved clients. Estimated cost to hire one is $20,000, and that’s just for the initial evaluation and deposition. If the cardiologist testifies at trial, add another $20,000.”

“It’s not going to trial.”

“That’s what you keep saying. Number two is a pharmacologist who can explain to the jury in great detail exactly how the drug killed our clients. What did it do to their hearts? This guy is even pricier—$25,000 initially and the same if he testifies at trial.”

“That sounds high.”

“All of it sounds high. Number three is a research scientist who can present to the jury the findings of his study that will show, by a preponderance
of the evidence, that statistics prove you’re much likelier to suffer heart damage while taking Krayoxx than some other cholesterol drug.”

“I know just the guy.”

“Is it McFadden?”

“That’s him.”

“Great. He wrote the report that started this frenzy, and now he’s a bit reluctant to get involved in the litigation. However, if a law firm will fork over an initial retainer of $50,000, he might favor the law firm with a lending hand.”

“That’s outrageous.”

“It’s all outrageous. Please look at David’s memo, Wally. He summarizes the backlash against McFadden and his work. There are some serious doubts about whether this drug actually causes harm.”

“What does David know about litigation?”

“What do we know about litigation, Wally? You’re talking to me, your longtime partner, not some prospective client. We bark and growl about hauling bad guys into the courtroom, but you know the truth. We always settle.”

“And we’re going to settle now, Oscar. Trust me. I’ll know a whole lot more when I get back from Vegas.”

“How much will that cost?”

“Peanuts, in the scope of things.”

“We’re in over our heads, Wally.”

“No, we’re not. We’ll piggyback with the big boys and make a fortune, Oscar.”

R
ochelle found a much cheaper room at the Spirit of Rio Motel. The photos on its Web site were of stunning views of the Vegas Strip, and it was easy to get the impression that its guests were in the thick of things. They were not, as Wally realized when the airport shuttle van finally stopped. The tall, sleek casino-hotels were visible, but fifteen
minutes away. Wally cursed Rochelle as he waited in the sauna-like lobby to check in. A standard room at the MGM Grand was $400 a night. At this dump it was $125, a two-night savings that almost covered his airfare. Pinching pennies while waiting on a fortune, Wally told himself as he climbed two flights of stairs to his rather small room.

He couldn’t rent a car because of his DUI conviction and lack of a valid license. He asked around and learned that another shuttle ran from the Spirit of Rio to the Strip every thirty minutes. He played dollar slots in the lobby and won $100. Maybe this was his lucky weekend.

The shuttle was packed with overweight retirees. Wally couldn’t find a seat, so he stood, clutched the handrails, rocked along in bodily contact with sweaty people, and, as he glanced around, he wondered how many might be Krayoxx victims. High cholesterol was definitely on display. He had business cards in his pockets, as always, but he let it pass.

He roamed the casino for a while, watching closely as an astonishing variety of people played blackjack, roulette, and craps, games he’d never played and had no desire to try now. He killed some time at a slot machine and twice said no thanks to a comely cocktail waitress. Wally was beginning to realize that a casino was a lousy place for a recovering drunk. At 7:00 p.m., he found his way to a banquet room on the mezzanine. Two security guards blocked the door, and Wally was relieved when they found his name on the list. Inside, there were two dozen or so well-dressed men, and three women, engaged in light chatter over drinks. A buffet dinner was being arranged along a far wall. Some of the lawyers knew each other, but Wally was not the only rookie in the crowd. They all seemed to recognize his name, and they all knew about his lawsuit. Before long, he was beginning to fit in. Jerry Alisandros sought him out, and they shook hands like old friends. Others crowded around, then little pockets of conversation peeled off here and there. They talked about lawsuits, politics, the latest in private jets, homes in the Caribbean, and who was getting divorced and remarried. Wally had little to add, but he gamely hung on and proved
to be a good listener. Trial lawyers prefer to do all the talking, and at times they all talked at once. Wally was happy to just grin, listen, and sip his club soda.