The attorneys’ fees were negotiated separately and would be paid into another fund. For each individual case, the fee was $800, regardless of actual damages. Cohen-Cutler, as well as the other lead class action firms, would get an additional 8 percent of the gross.
The business commentators were immediately buzzing with the news, and the general belief was that Swift was doing exactly what it was expected to do. Throw a pile of money at its problem, make it go away, and move on. With windfalls all around, the settlement was expected to be approved by the courts within days.
By 5:00 p.m., not a single class action lawyer was on record opposing the settlement. They were too busy hustling the unsigned Swift plaintiffs.
—
HADLEY CALLED TODD late Tuesday afternoon with some dreadful news. She had been unable to work her magic and bump their case down the road a week or two. Instead, the prosecutor handling their charges was adamant that they show up in court Friday for their initial appearances. Hadley said the case was getting some attention. Everyone was so bored with druggies and DUIs it was rather refreshing to have such an unusual case on the docket. Sorry, boys.
“We have to hire a lawyer,” Todd said. They were sitting on a park bench at Coney Island, smoking long black cigars and sipping bottled water.
“Let’s argue,” Mark said. “I say we don’t hire a lawyer.”
“Okay. We don’t show up in court Friday. What happens then? The judge will probably issue bench warrants and our names go into the system.”
“So? Big deal. It’s not like we’re narco-traffickers or al-Qaeda. We’re not peddling drugs or plotting terror. Do you really believe that anyone will be serious about tracking us down?”
“No, but we’ll be wanted, dead or alive.”
“What’s the big deal if no one is looking for us?”
“What if we find ourselves in a bind and need to leave the country? We pull out our passports at the airport and a bell goes off somewhere. Outstanding warrants in D.C. The customs guy couldn’t care less what crime we’re charged with. We try to explain that it’s nothing but a couple of clowns pretending to be lawyers, but he’s not impressed. All he sees is a red flag, and suddenly we see the handcuffs again. Gotta tell you, I’d love to avoid any more handcuffs.”
“And what’s a lawyer going to do?”
“Delay, delay, delay. Buy us some time, keep the warrants at bay. Negotiate a deal with the prosecutor, keep us out of jail.”
“I’m not doing jail, Todd. I don’t care what happens.”
“We’ve had this discussion. What we need is time, and the lawyer can stall this thing for months.”
Mark pulled on his cigar; got a mouthful; blew a thick cloud. “Got anybody in mind?”
“Darrell Cromley.”
“What an ass. I hope he’s still trying to find us.”
“I’m thinking about Phil Sarrano. He was a third year at Foggy Bottom when we started. Good guy, works with a small criminal firm near Capitol Hill.”
“I remember him. What’s he gonna charge?”
“We won’t know until we ask. Five to ten grand, don’t you think?”
“Let’s haggle, okay? We’re still on a tight budget.”
“I’ll call him.”
Phil Sarrano wanted a $10,000 retainer. Todd gasped, choked, stuttered, appeared to be stunned, and explained that he and his co-defendant were just a couple of law school dropouts with no jobs and about half a million in debts between them. Todd assured him the case would not go to trial and would not consume much of his time. Slowly, he chiseled away at the number, and they finally agreed on $6,000, money Todd said he would be forced to borrow from his grandmother.
An hour later Sarrano called back with the bad news that the judge assigned to the case, the Honorable Abe Abbott, wanted the two defendants to appear in person at 10:00 a.m. Friday, Division 6, in the District Courthouse. Evidently, Judge Abbott was intrigued by the case and rather eager to get to the bottom of things. Thus, no postponement of the initial appearances.
“And he wants to know where Zola Maal is these days,” Sarrano said.
“We’re not in charge of Zola Maal,” Todd said. “Try Africa. Her family just got deported and maybe she went with them.”
“Africa? Okay, I’ll pass that along.”
Todd broke the news to Mark that they would be headed back to D.C. a lot sooner than they had expected. Todd had appeared before Judge Abbott on one occasion; same for Mark. The upcoming reunion was not a welcome thought.
38
The Frazier home was on York Street in Dover, Delaware. The Lucero family still lived on Orange Street in south Baltimore. Thus, York & Orange Traders came to life via the astonishingly efficient incorporation laws of Mark’s home state. For $500, paid by credit card, the charter was granted online, and the fledgling company used as its business address one of the many corporate services available in Delaware. Once up and running in the U.S., York & Orange Traders immediately began to expand. It looked southward and chose the Caribbean nation of Barbados as its first branch. For a fee of $650, the company got itself registered in the Lesser Antilles.
Opening a bank account there, though, would not be as easy as registering a business.
After weeks of online research, Mark and Todd knew better than to try their luck with Swiss banks. Any whiff of ill-gotten gains, and the Swiss would refuse to do business. As a whole, their banks were wary of the U.S. regulators, and many flatly refused new business from the States. Things appeared to be a bit more laid-back in the Caribbean.
—
WALL STREET LIKED the news of the proposed settlement. Swift Bank opened sharply higher and continued to rise on heavy trading throughout the morning. By noon Wednesday, it had doubled and was nudging $27 a share.
Swift’s lawyers were scrambling to get approvals from the six federal judges handling the class actions. Not surprisingly, at least not to Mark and Todd, who were monitoring minute by minute with several court watch apps, the judge in Miami crossed the finish line first and signed off on the deal before 2:00 p.m., less than twenty-four hours after Swift announced its plans.
Not long thereafter, Marvin Jockety called Mark and, with strained politeness, said, “Please call Barry Strayhan.”
“Sure. The number?”
Jockety gave him the number and went away. Mark immediately called Strayhan, who said, “We’ve upheld our end of the bargain. What about you?”
“We’ve canceled our meeting with the Times. We’ll sit on things until the money comes through, then we’ll go away. Just as we promised.”
“What’s your angle with the settlement?”
“Harvard Law School, right, Mr. Strayhan? Class of 1984?”
“Correct.”
“Didn’t they teach you at Harvard to avoid questions that will not be answered?”
The line was dead.