The Litigators

CHAPTER 22


Another aspect of big-firm life that David had learned to despise was the endless meetings. Meetings to evaluate and review, to discuss the firm’s future, to plan everything, to greet new lawyers, to say good-bye to old ones, to stay current on the law, to mentor rookies, to get mentored by senior partners, to talk about compensation, labor issues, and an endless list of other incredibly boring topics. The Rogan Rothberg culture was nonstop work and nonstop billing, but there were so many useless meetings that the making of money was actually often impeded.

With that in mind, David reluctantly suggested his new firm have a meeting. He’d been there four months and had settled into a comfortable routine. He was worried, though, about the lack of civility and communication among the other members of the firm. The Krayoxx litigation was dragging on. Wally’s dreams of a quick jackpot were fading, and revenue was down. Oscar was increasingly more irritable, if that was possible. In gossiping with Rochelle, David learned that the partners never sat around the table to think strategically and to air complaints.

Oscar said he was too busy. Wally said such a meeting was a waste. Rochelle thought the idea was awful until she realized she would be invited, then she became enamored with the idea. As the only non-lawyer employee, she thought the idea of being allowed a soapbox was appealing. With time, David was able to cajole the senior and junior partners, and Finley & Figg scheduled its inaugural firm meeting.

They waited until 5:00 p.m., then locked the front door and put the phones on hold. After a few awkward moments, David said, “Oscar, as the senior partner, I think you should run the meeting.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Oscar shot back.

“Glad you asked,” David said as he quickly passed around an agenda. Number 1: Fee Schedule. Number 2: Case Review. Number 3: Filing. Number 4: Specialization.

“This is just a suggestion,” David said. “Frankly, I don’t care what we talk about, but it’s important for each of us to be able to unload.”

“You spent too much time in a big firm,” Oscar said.

“So what’s bugging you?” Wally asked David.

“Nothing’s bugging me. It’s just that I think we could do a better job of keeping our fees uniform and reviewing each other’s cases. The filing system is twenty years out of date, and as a firm we’re not going to make money if we don’t specialize.”

“Well, speaking of money,” Oscar said, picking up a notepad. “Since we filed these Krayoxx cases, our gross has declined for three straight months. We’re spending far too much time on those cases, and our cash is getting low. That’s what’s bugging me.” He was staring at Wally.

“The payoff’s coming,” Wally said.

“That’s what you keep saying.”

“We’ll settle the Groomer car wreck next month and net around twenty grand. It’s not unusual to go through a dry period, Oscar. Hell, you’ve been doing this a long time. You know the ups and downs. Last year we lost money nine months outta twelve, and we still showed a nice profit.”

There was a loud knock on the front door. Wally jumped to his feet and said, “Oh no, it’s DeeAnna. Sorry, guys, I told her to take the day off.” He raced to the door and opened it. She made her entrance—skintight black leather pants, hooker’s heels, tight cotton sweater. Wally said, “Hey, honey, we’re having a little meeting. What say you wait in my office?”

“How long?” she asked.

“Not long.”

DeeAnna smiled like a tart at Oscar and David as she strutted by. Wally led her to his office and closed her inside. He sat down at the table, slightly embarrassed.

“Know what’s bugging me?” Rochelle asked. “Her.” She nodded toward Wally’s office. “Why does she have to stop by every afternoon?”

“You used to see clients after five,” Oscar jumped in. “Now you’re just locked in there with her.”

“She’s not bothering anyone,” Wally said. “And not so loud.”

“She bothers me,” Rochelle said.

Wally raised both palms, arched his eyebrows, and was instantly ready for a brawl. “Look, she and I are getting serious, and it’s none of your business. Got that? I’m not going to discuss it further.”

There was a pause as everyone took a breath, then Oscar launched another round. “I suppose you’ve told her about Krayoxx and the big settlement that’s just around the corner, so it’s not surprising she’s hanging around. Right?”

“I don’t talk about your women, Oscar,” Wally fired back. Women? More than one? Rochelle’s eyes widened, and David remembered all the good reasons for hating firm meetings. Oscar glared at Wally in disbelief for several seconds. Both men appeared stunned at their exchange.

“Let’s move along,” David said. “I’d like permission to study our fee structure and attempt to come up with a proposed schedule that will aim for uniformity. Any objections?”

There were none.

On a roll, David quickly passed around some sheets of paper. “This is a case I’ve stumbled across, and it has great potential.”

“Nasty Teeth?” Oscar said, looking at a color photo of the collection.

“Yep. The client is a five-year-old boy in a coma from lead poisoning. His father purchased this set of teeth and fangs last Halloween, and the kid kept them in his mouth for hours. The various paint colors are loaded with lead. Page 3 is a preliminary report from a lab in Akron where one Dr. Biff Sandroni examined the teeth. His conclusion is at the bottom—all six sets of plastic teeth are coated with lead. Dr. Sandroni is an expert on lead poisoning, and he says this is one of the worst products he’s come across in the last twenty-five years. He thinks the teeth were probably made in China and imported by one of the many low-end toy companies here in the States. Chinese factories have a terrible history of coating a million different products with lead paint. The Food and Drug Administration and the Bureau of Consumer Protection scream and order recalls, but it’s impossible to monitor everything.”

Rochelle, looking at the same handout as Oscar and Wally, said, “That poor child. Is he gonna make it?”

“The doctors think not. There’s substantial damage to his brain, nervous system, and many of his organs. If he lives, he’ll be a very sad sight.”

“Who’s the manufacturer?” Wally asked.

“That’s the big question. I’ve been unable to find another set of Nasty Teeth in Chicago, and Helen and I have been poking around for a month. Nothing online. Nothing in suppliers’ catalogs. So far, no clue. It’s possible that the product shows up at Halloween only. The family did not keep the package.”

“There must be similar products,” Wally said. “I mean, if the company makes crap like this, then surely it makes crap like fake mustaches and such.”

“That’s my theory. I’m accumulating a nice collection of similar items, and I’m researching the importers and manufacturers.”

“Who paid for this report?” Oscar asked, suspiciously.

“I did. Twenty-five hundred bucks.”

This caused a gap in the conversation as all four looked at the report. Finally, Oscar asked, “Have the parents signed a contract with our firm?”

“No. They’ve signed a contract with me so I could get the medical records and begin the investigation. They’ll sign one with the firm if I ask them to. The question is simply this: Does Finley & Figg take this case? If the answer is yes, then we need to spend some money.”

“How much?” Oscar asked.

“The next step is to hire Sandroni’s outfit to go into the apartment where the boy and his family live and look for lead. It could be in other toys, paint on the walls that’s chipping, even in the drinking water. I’ve been to the apartment, and it’s at least fifty years old. Sandroni needs to isolate the source of the lead. He’s fairly confident we have the source, but he wants to exclude everything else.”

“And how much does that cost?” Oscar asked.

“Twenty thousand.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. Wally whistled and scattered the sheets of paper. Only Rochelle was hanging on, and she really didn’t have a vote when the issue was spending money.

“With no defendant, there’s no lawsuit,” Oscar said. “Why burn cash investigating this when you don’t know who to sue?”

“I’ll find the manufacturer,” David said.

“Great, and when you do, then we have ourselves a lawsuit, maybe.”

The door to Wally’s office rattled, then opened. DeeAnna took a step out and said, “Wally, how much longer, baby?”

“Just a few minutes,” Wally said. “We’re almost finished here.”

“But I’m tired of waiting.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” She slammed the door and the walls shook.

“I guess she’s now running the firm meeting,” Rochelle observed.

“Knock it off,” Wally said to Rochelle, then to David he continued: “I like this case, David, I really do. But with the Krayoxx litigation in full swing, we can’t commit to spending big money on another case. I say you put this on hold, maybe keep looking for the importer, and after we settle Krayoxx, we’ll be in a great position to pick and choose. You’ve got this family signed up. This kid ain’t going anywhere. Let’s keep it on a leash and crank it up next year.”

David was in no position to argue. Both partners had said no. Rochelle would say yes if she had a vote, but she was losing interest. “Fair enough,” David said. “Then I would like to pursue it myself, in my spare time, with my own money, and under the protection of my own malpractice policy.”

“You have your own policy?” Oscar asked.

“No, but I’ll get one easy enough.”

“What about the twenty grand?” Wally asked. “According to the financials here, you’ve grossed less than $5,000 in the last four months.”

“True, but each month has exceeded the prior one. Plus, I have a little cash in the bank. I’m willing to roll the dice and try to help this little boy.”

“It’s not about helping a little boy,” Oscar shot back. “It’s about financing the lawsuit. I agree with Wally. Why not put it off for a year?”

“Because I don’t want to,” David replied. “This family needs help now.”

Wally shrugged and said, “Then go for it. I have no objections.”

“Fine with me,” Oscar said. “But I want to see an increase in your monthly gross.”

“You’ll see one.”

Wally’s door opened again, and DeeAnna stormed out. She stomped across the room, hissed the word “Bastard!” under her breath, then yanked open the front door, snarled “Don’t call me!” in the general direction of the table, and shook the walls again when she slammed the door behind her.

“She has a temper,” Wally observed.

“What a class act,” Rochelle said softly.

“You can’t be getting serious with her, Wally,” Oscar said, almost pleading.

“She falls under the category of my business and not yours,” Wally said. “Anything left on the agenda? I’m tired of this meeting.”

“Nothing else from me,” David said.

“Meeting adjourned,” the senior partner announced.