Ever After (24 page)

Mona isn't too happy with this idea. I tell her I can make it back in under ten minutes. Murphy's not going to cite me on contempt for five minutes.

When we return, neither Ted Mitchell nor Clint is there. Mona drifts around, trying to find out the latest. I see Danny and tell him what I've done concerning the suit against Bert. He doesn't seem too happy, either. I tell him if he wants to eat, I'll stand guard. I have the phone number of the restaurant at the Hilton.

I feel gritty. I'm sensing more and more that our lawyers want to settle as quickly as possible. A trial means higher costs to them, and they don't want to risk a jury.

The one phone in the court-house has a long line in front of it, educated men and women with hourly rates of a hundred and $200. The guy on the phone is screaming into it, at, I presume, his wife.

“But I've got to have at least a clean shirt. I'm beginning to smell like a sick dog.”

At ten I leave. I give Mona the room number and ask her to phone me if the judge calls for us. I'm dead tired. I don't know how these people do this for a living. I close the door to my room, take my shoes, shirt, and pants off, and go right out.

And then the phone rings. I don't know where I am. Then I realize, it's probably someone phoning to tell me the judge has called for us. It's Mona. She's in her room and wants to know if we can have a drink downstairs.

We meet in the lobby. She's in an alcove, drinking a beer, an ordinary one. I slide into the chair across from her. She's watching me, lawyer fashion. She's smoking. There's a glass on the table but she's drinking from the bottle.

“What'd you think of today?”

“You mean, really? Or is this some lawyer ‘lead-up-to-something' talk?”

“Really. I'd like to know. I watched you. I know you're not happy.”

“Mona, would you be happy if you'd been dragged away from your work at a critical section, forced to spend $800 to fly to a place you did not want to go to, sitting in an airplane for more than ten hours, plus two hours in an airport, all because you want to live where you want to live, do what you want to do, and not go to jail?

“Then I arrive and am told I'm in the wrong town and am about 200 miles from where I'm really supposed to be. Next, I learn that the judge has pulled an end run on our lawyers, that I can't do what I want to do, that is, bring to court the state of Oregon and anyone else who was responsible for killing our daughter and practically her whole family. Then these assholes want me to sue my son-in-law just to grab his best friend's insurance money.”

I break down. I put my forehead on the table and my tears splash on it. Just then, the waiter comes with another bottle of beer for Mona. When he leaves, I lift my head. He probably thinks we're lovers having some kind of quarrel, the pretty young lady leaving the bald-headed old man. Being angry and crying at the same time reminds me of when I was a kid getting beaten up in a fight. Swinging, ducking, bleeding, fighting, and crying all at once.

“Then this Judge Murphy tells us we can't sue anybody, and I'm beginning to see that nobody, not even our own lawyers, wants to go to court. They're afraid of this judge and don't trust juries, the basis of our judicial system. Judge Murphy has our hands tied, and I don't understand how he's done it, and I'm not getting an explanation. He has locked us into a courtroom that we can't leave for any reason for more than five minutes. I can't even take a crap in five minutes. And there aren't enough crappers in the whole place, if I needed to. And you ask me why I'm looking unhappy. Think about it! Are you happy?”

I spread my hands flat on the glass table, then reach for one of the little napkins which had come with the beer. I start wiping up the tears and the ring of moisture from the beer bottles. Mona reaches out and takes hold of both my hands.

“No, I'm not happy. I think a good part of what you say is true and I'm sorry to admit I'm part of it. But I have my job to keep and I'm the low woman on this particular totem-pole. There were things I wanted to tell you, warn you about, but I couldn't. I work for a large firm; Ted Mitchell is a partner in that firm. I'd like to become a partner myself, I think. This is the year I could make partner if everything goes right.”

She lets go of my hands. I look her in the eyes.

“If you think it's so bad, then why don't you quit? I sure as hell would.”

She looks me right back in the eyes.

“So, I feel guilty about some of these things. I don't think any of the plaintiffs' lawyers expected this. You're right: we were outmaneuvered by Judge Murphy, the state of Oregon, Thompkins's attorney, Sampson's attorney, and who knows who else. I'm sorry. That memory of your daughter and her family is being dragged through a travesty of justice. It's a trite phrase, but it seems to be what's happening.”

She lights another cigarette and takes a gulp from her beer. She's pinning me down with her green-blue eyes.

“The reason I asked you to come down is that Ted Mitchell is convinced we'll be called into Judge Murphy's chambers tomorrow and has a pretty good idea of what is going to be offered us. He thinks it's too low. He doesn't want you to accept it. He'll probably say the same thing to Danny Billings. You should get together with Danny before we go see the judge.”

She stops again.

“Please don't tell anyone I talked to you about this. I wasn't supposed to. Go to bed. We've worked out a watch just in case Judge Murphy decides to check out his power in the middle of the night. Do you know Murphy's law?”

“Yes, if anything can go wrong, it will.”

“Keep it in mind, please. Don't shoot off your mouth tomorrow, if you can help it.”

“I can't promise anything. Let me get the bill for your beers.”

“No, don't bother. It'll be on the bill.”

I don't ask if it's her bill, or my bill. Is this considered a legal consultation and the two beers part of my expenses?

“You go to bed yourself, Mona. Thanks for giving me some of the scoop. You should be sharp tomorrow; that's what you're paid for. By the way, what's with Ted Mitchell? He acts like a man whose mind isn't on what he's doing here.”

“That's something I can't talk about either. But I tell you Ted Mitchell has a reputation as one of the best trial lawyers in the state of Oregon.”

With that, we shake hands across the table and I turn away. As I'm standing at the elevator I look back and she's still sitting and is lighting another cigarette. Maybe she has another appointment, maybe with Danny.

I get upstairs to my room, undress completely, put on my pajamas, and drop off into the red blur of sleep.

I
PULLED
the drapes before I went to sleep, so it's eight-thirty when I wake. I shower, dress, and walk across to the court-house to see what's going on. It looks as if everybody's there, but I don't see Mona, Clint, or Ted Mitchell. I hang around a few minutes, then go back to the hotel for breakfast. I order the continental style and rush it a bit. There's no telling with a guy like this Judge Murphy. Mona spots me and rushes up. Ted Mitchell is behind her.

“Where were you? We've been looking everywhere.”

“At the hotel having breakfast. Where else?”

“We called your room and had you paged.”

She's nervous. Ted Mitchell is nervous, too. I smile at him, and he sits down. Danny is behind him.

“Judge Murphy wants a conference. I told him you weren't here, so he took in another group but wanted us to make sure we were all together when they came out.”

There is excitement in Mitchell's voice.

“Judge Murphy then called me in alone about fifteen minutes ago and told me that Sampson has offered to settle for $650,000.”

He looks at me. I try not to react. I wait.

“I told him, in my opinion, it wasn't enough but I needed to consult our clients.”

He waits again. The lawyer's expectant pause, waiting for the other person to commit. I jump in.

“If he's talking about settlement out of court, it isn't enough. But you know I don't want to settle. I want a jury trial. Money is not the reason I'm here. You know how I feel about this.”

I turn toward Mona. She nods, but her face is white.

“Aside from protecting my wife and me against any possible suits that could be brought against us, my reason for entering this whole legal mess is to bring the dangers of field burning once more before the public eye.”

Mitchell turns to Danny.

“How do you feel about this offer, Danny?”

“That's a lot of money. What do you think the case is worth?”

“I feel it's worth at least $800,000. Will, in the little time we have, maybe you and Danny ought to talk this over. We'll stay out of it.”

I start up the aisle. Danny follows.

“Let's go outside where there's some air and sunshine, Dan.”

We sit on a granite post. The sun feels soothing and warm. He starts.

“What do you have against settling, Will?”

“I think we have a strong case, Dan, one that any jury will settle in our favor. But that isn't the only reason. I want a jury trial. It's why I'm here. I want to bring this whole scandal out in the open. If we make Sampson defend itself in court, it'll start blaming the state of Oregon or Thompkins or anyone it can. This will put us in a good position when we go after those two later.”

“Yeah, but the judge has thrown all that money in the pot. We can't sue them.”

“Have you agreed to putting that money in the pot, Danny—or taking any of it? Has anybody asked you about it? Has Ted or Clint or Mona asked you if you want that?”

“Well, no, but they're lawyers, and it seems like a good idea to get all this over with. You never know about juries. They can decide almost anything. We could wind up with nothing.”

“So, you'd like to settle rather than go to court. Is that it?”

“I'd hate to lose all that money on a gamble. I wouldn't feel right about Wills.”

“OK. I'll compromise. I hate to take a chance on not having a jury trial, but let's push Sampson and Judge Murphy somewhat. How about a million even? I've heard Mona and Clint talk about those kinds of numbers. That's the figure given in the original complaint, a million against Sampson, and a million against Thompkins, just as punitive damages for negligence, let alone personal and property loss. Those are the specific claims for relief presented by Ted Mitchell and Mona Flores. We'd be letting them off easy at a million.”

“Is that right? A million each, just for punitive damages? I didn't know that.”

“Well, what do you say? Here comes Mona to lasso us into the corral.”

“OK. I'll go along with that, a million, nothing less.”

I stick out my hand and we shake. Mona comes up smiling.

“So you two have worked it out between you?”

“That's right, Mona. Danny and I are in total agreement.”

She looks surprised and expectant.

We walk back into the courtroom.

As we enter, Judge Murphy emerges from his warren, three other people with him. He looks around until he spots Mitchell, then motions us toward him.

As we come to the door, he shakes hands with all of us, first with Mitchell, then Mona, along with a slight bow, then Danny and, finally, me. There's a row of chairs along one wall. Judge Murphy closes the door behind us. He's smiling as he moves toward a leather swivel chair and sits down. He looks us over, making a washing movement with his hands.

“Well, we're all together at last.”

He looks quickly at me.

“I hope the Good Lord will help us reach some kind of agreement in this complicated and many-faceted case.

“I'd like each of you to tell me your feelings, honestly, about what you would consider an adequate and fair compensation for your loss or that of your clients. As you probably know, I've already told Mr. Ted Mitchell the amount I think would be a proper settlement. Has he informed you all of this?”

We bob our heads in agreement.

“Well, who'd like to speak first? I want each of you to be honest now and state your opinion of a fair settlement.”

He waits.

Nobody speaks. There's a long silence. I start looking around the room. It's a lot more comfortable than what we've got out there in the bull pit. There's another door that probably leads to a bathroom and a bed.

He continues scanning us. I've volunteered enough; I'm learning the legal game. Danny is looking at his thumbs.

Judge Murphy turns to me.

“Well, Mr. Wharton, we've already had your opinions regarding this settlement conference at the beginning of our session. Would you mind starting by telling us more about your feelings now?”

I shift in my chair, leaning forward.

“Well, first, Judge Murphy, I'd like to say that the circus out there doesn't look like any legal system I was taught in school. I see nothing resembling the normal processes of law. It's more like a three-dimensional poker game. Secondly, I have no intention of settling out of court. You know this. My lawyers know it. I feel I was shanghaied here under threat of being cited for contempt of court. I consider that a form of blackmail, coercion.”

I watch him. He's nodding but the sides of his mouth are turned down. I wonder when he'll stop me. It's time to drop my bomb.

“Judge Murphy, I understand you're a Christian, a dedicated Christian. Is that true?”

“Yes, Mr. Wharton. I'm a Christian, a believer in Our Lord Jesus Christ. What has this to do with the situation today?”

“Do you read the Bible, Judge Murphy?”

He straightens up in his seat, practically sitting at attention, military style.

“Yes, daily.”

“New and Old Testament, Judge Murphy?”