Follow the Money

17


The brief made it to the United States District Court for the Central District of California at three-thirty in the afternoon. The next day at ten in the morning, my phone rang.

“Mr. Olson, this is Ed Snyder of the Los Angeles Times. Do you have a minute?”

A reporter? I had no idea what to say. Was I even supposed to talk to reporters? I assumed not. “Yeah, this is Oliver Olson.”

“Mr. Olson, thanks for talking to me,” the voice said, despite the fact that I hadn’t done any talking yet. “The receptionist said you were working on the Steele case.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s right.” The brief had barely been on file for twelve hours, and most of those were in the middle of the night.

“Well, I’m doing a story on the Steele case and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” His voice sounded young and hungry.

“Well,” I laughed, trying to act like a veteran at this sort of thing. “That depends on the questions.” Did people really ever answer with “no comment”?

“Certainly. I’ve read the brief. It’s quite a story. Do you guys really believe you’ll get Steele released?”

It seemed like a silly question. Like I was going to say no. “Well, we think Mr. Steele did not receive a fair trial. Given the testimony of Dan Kelly, it’s fair to say that a jury would likely have reached a different conclusion had they been presented with the evidence that Mr. Kelly has to offer.” I told myself to shut up, to just stop speaking, but the words flowed out.

“I see.” Ed paused on the other end of the line. I could hear him taking notes. Shit, I thought. I was going to be quoted in the newspaper and there was no way that could be good. If anyone was to be quoted, it was undoubtedly supposed to be Carver.

“So,” Ed went on, “how does Mr. Steele feel about all of this finally coming out?”

“Well, as you might imagine, he’s looking forward to getting a chance to tell his side of the story. He’s looking forward to getting the truth out there.”

“If he does get out, does he plan to seek office again?”

“You know, we’re just taking things one step at a time. I certainly haven’t talked to Steele one way or the other about that. I simply have nothing to say on that topic.” I had to find a way to end it. Could I just hang up?

“I was just wondering whether you know if his politics have changed during his incarceration. I would assume they have on certain issues like prison reform, but I was wondering about his more traditional issues. For example, has he expressed any opinion one way or the other on drilling in the Alaskan Wilderness Preserve?”

The question seemed bizarre. Steele was in prison for murdering his wife, the last thing on the guy’s mind was an issue as obscure as that. “Uh, no.” I chuckled, “I haven’t heard him talk about anything like that.”

“Well, I was just wondering. I mean, rumor was that he was getting ready to push for a bill that would open up those sections of Alaska for drilling. It was the last piece of legislation he was working on before his arrest. I was just wondering if that was an issue he still felt strongly about.”

“I have no idea. I think he has a lot of other things on his mind at the moment.”

“Well, never hurts to ask.” Ed paused and then he spoke again in a less formal and more earnest tone. “Uh look, I’m trying to put together a series of stories about Steele and his appeal. If you can think of anything, anything at all of interest, give me a call. I won’t quote you or anything. I’ll only refer to unnamed sources, you know, background. We younger guys gotta stick together you know.”

“Uh, sure.” I was suspicious, but interested. It was always good to make friends in the news business. I took down Ed’s number and hung up.

Drilling in the Alaskan Wilderness Preserve was a position that seemed at odds with Steele’s pro-environment stance, and I couldn’t see what relevance his position on an issue like that could possibly have to his habeas petition.

I went back through the file and leafed through the newspaper articles. There was only a single reference in one story written three days after the murder. It recounted simply that two days before the murder, Steele returned from a trip to Alaska where he had discussed the issue of tapping Alaska’s oil reserves with the state’s governor. That was it.

I placed the articles back in the folder and pulled the old day planner out. The meetings from that last week corresponded with the newspaper. There was a dinner at the governor’s mansion, lunch with an oil industry group, the meeting at the Fairbanks Hotel with Gary R., and the flight home two days before the murder. I was finished flipping through it when Jim Carver poked his head around the door.

“Hey there, got a minute?” he said as he strolled on in. It was the first time Carver had come to my office. He took a seat and laced his fingers behind his head. “So, how’re things going?”

I told him everything was fine. That the summer had been great. I sounded like a goofy kid. Gee Mr. Carver, this summer’s sure been swell!

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you really did an excellent job on the Steele matter.” Then he lowered his arms and leaned forward. “I’m going on vacation starting next week and I’ll be out for several weeks. My wife and I are spending the next couple of weeks in the south of France. Steele’s oral argument will be right when I get back and I want to be sure you’re still around to help with whatever needs to be done to get ready for that.”

Carver paused and smiled, watching my confused look. “I know these kinds of decisions aren’t supposed to be officially made for a few more weeks, but I wanted to make sure I could come down myself. So, on behalf of myself and the firm, I’d like to offer you a permanent position with Kolberg & Crowley.” Carver stood up and reached his hand across the desk, as if welcoming me to an exclusive club.

I almost burst out laughing. I didn’t know how to react. I had been so immersed in the case I had almost forgotten I was applying for a job. A numbness overcame me and I stood and shook Carver’s hand.

“That’s great. That’s wonderful news. Thank you.” I could hear my own voice gushing, the words flowing out naturally and without reflection. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Great, great.” Carver put his hands on his hips, peering down over the top of his glasses. “So, can I tell the committee that you’re joining us, or do you want to take a little time with the decision?”

“No, I think my mind’s made up.” All of the rationalizations came over me at once. Nonprofit work, the ACLU, those kinds of jobs would always be out there. Those kinds of organizations were always looking. Why not get some real experience at a place like K&C first? Why not let K&C absorb the cost of training me? It seemed like a good deal. I could pay off my loans, get my life together, and then, in a few years, when the time was right, I could always make the move and do something else. I could almost hear myself joining the chorus of thousands of other law students who had recited the same internal monologue.

But all I could say was, “I’m really looking forward to joining the firm.” What was I going to tell Liz? How would I explain it to her? And did I even feel that torn about it?

Carver was already turning to go. “I’ll let the committee know.” Carver was halfway out the door when he turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot this.” He pulled a white envelope from his pocket. It was creased from where he’d been sitting on it. He shook my hand a final time and smiled. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks.” I stood behind my desk and watched Carver’s back disappear through the doorway. Then I looked down at the envelope, staring at it blankly for a moment. I assumed it was a letter and tore it open. I was right. It was a letter welcoming me to the firm:



Dear Mr. Olson:





Welcome to Kohlberg & Crowley.





As you know, the firm will pay for your bar examination fees and provide you with a salary while you study for the exam. Although the Human Resource Department will be in touch with you regarding these and other benefits, there are some programs in place that you may wish to take advantage of now.





First, although salaries are set in January of each year, current first year associates are paid $160,000 per year. We anticipate that your starting salary will be at least this amount. Furthermore, we have relationships with several banks in Los Angeles that provide our attorneys with low interest, zero-point mortgages to enable the purchase of a home as soon as possible. In addition, if you are interested, the firm has a relationship with a BMW dealer in Beverly Hills that will enable you to acquire a new automobile through them at zero percent interest based on your having accepted our offer of permanent employment.





Finally, because you attend a local law school, we would be pleased to have you continue with the firm on a part time basis during your final year of school. Should you decide to work part-time, you will be paid seventy-five dollars per hour.





Thank you once again for deciding to join us and please accept the attached check as a token of our gratitude.





Very truly yours,

/s/ Kent Jolley

Managing Partner



I turned the page. Behind it was a pay stub and a check for $10,000. I sat down, my mouth open and hands shaking slightly. I was convinced that someone would walk in at any moment and say, gotcha! and it would all be gone. I was twenty-four years old and had just been offered a job making $160,000 a year and some of the best fringe benefits imaginable. It was probably three times what my dad made.

And, beneath my excitement, I could feel cynicism already blooming. I knew there was something the firm would ask in return, something large and painful to give. And when they asked, I would have to be prepared to give. If I didn’t like it, I could quit or be fired and the cushy life I’d grown used to would be gone. After awhile, walking away would no longer be a realistic option.

But for now I could enjoy it. I folded the check and put it in my pocket. Seventy-five dollars an hour to work part-time. That was a grand a week while I was in my last year of school. I’d already saved enough over the summer to cover my tuition and living expenses for the year. The extra income would just be walking around money.

I laughed as I divided the ten thousand I’d just put in my pocket by the nine months I had left in school: just over $1100 a month. I reached for the phone to call home with the news, wondering how much the payments on a new BMW would be.