Karolina's Twins (22 page)

“So, what's your plan?”

“You tell me, Catherine. How do you want to play it? I'm sure he'll jump at a compromise solution, one which gets him out of this standoff and allows him to keep his rigid reputation intact.”

“Such as?”

“Would you agree to answer Peterson's questions privately to him in his chambers? Kind of an offer of proof, an in-camera review of your knowledge? That way, Peterson can satisfy himself that Lena's welfare is not in danger, and Arthur won't know what you've said.”

Catherine shook her head. “I'd have no control over what Peterson does with the information I give him. He can and will ask me anything and everything. And if I disclose it all to him and he decides it's material, then what? He has the power to order me to put it all on the record. Then if I refuse, we're back to square one, except now I've divulged my client's confidences and they're not safe with him. I can't see how that would work.”

Walter sighed. “Neither can I. Still, it would take brass balls for him to imprison a pregnant attorney on a civil contempt charge.”

“I don't want you playing that card. First of all, I don't think it would work. I don't think Peterson gives a damn that I'm pregnant. Second, I'm not going to stand in front of all my peers and beg Peterson not to throw me into jail because I'm pregnant. I want him to acknowledge that the attorney-client privilege, as much as he doesn't like it, gives me the right to refuse to answer his questions. I want to stand up for my client.”

Catherine reached into her attaché and pulled out a folder. “I've prepared a draft memorandum containing the points and authorities in support of my position. Use it if you think it's helpful.”

Walter nodded. “I think it's a good idea to file a brief, even though it won't make any difference at the hearing. Its benefit will come when we have to appeal Peterson's order. I'll put a couple lawyers to work on this and see if they come up with anything else.”

Catherine rose. “I appreciate your help very much, Walter. You're a good friend.”

“So are you. See you tomorrow morning.”

 

T
WENTY-TWO

L
IAM AND WALTER WERE
right on the money; Peterson's courtroom was standing-room only on Thursday morning. Anyone who had a few minutes between court calls dropped in to see if Peterson would actually hold Catherine Lockhart in contempt and lock her up until she purged herself by answering his questions. No one doubted Peterson's resolve, just as no one had ever accused him of being sensitive or personable. Liam took a seat in the back row.

“All rise.” The gavel slammed three times and Judge Peterson entered the room through the corner door. He took a step, surveyed the overflow crowd, sneered, shook his head and barked, “Don't you people have anything better to do?” He climbed the steps, took his seat and motioned for everyone else to be seated. Michael Shirley, Susan Cooper and Arthur Woodward sat at counsel table to the judge's left. Catherine and Walter were at counsel table on the right. Catherine had instructed Lena not to attend. The room grew silent.

Peterson nodded to his clerk, who announced the case. “Case number 13 P 6268,
In re: the Guardianship of Lena Woodward,
continued by previous court order for status.” Shirley, Walter and Catherine stood and approached the bench.

“The record will show,” Judge Peterson said, “that this matter was continued to this day following my order to Ms. Lockhart to disclose certain non-privileged information to the court and her refusal to do so. I continued this matter as a courtesy to Ms. Lockhart to enable her to see the error in her judgment and properly comply with my order.” He peered down over his reading glasses at the attorneys standing before him. “I take it from the presence of Mr. Jenkins that Ms. Lockhart intends to contest my order. Is that correct, Mr. Jenkins?”

In his dark blue pinstriped suit, tailored perfectly to fit his six-foot-four frame, his monogrammed white shirt and floral Brioni tie, Walter Jenkins, past president of the bar association and founding partner of one of Chicago's leading firms, stood regally before the bench. He looked directly into the eyes of Judge Peterson and never diverted his gaze.

“That is absolutely correct,” Jenkins said in sonorous tones. “Ms. Lockhart intends to abide by rule one-point-six of the Illinois Rules of Professional Conduct providing that ‘A lawyer shall not reveal information relating to the representation of a client unless the client gives informed consent.' Mrs. Woodward has not given her consent and Ms. Lockhart rightfully refuses to reveal any information
relating
to her representation, which includes answering your intrusive inquiries. Your Honor well knows that the attorney-client privilege underpins the essence of the American legal system—that no one can tear down the walls of confidentiality that each and every client expects when communicating with his or her attorney. The matters entrusted to an attorney behind the closed office door are strictly and indelibly private and confidential. As such, Ms. Lockhart is simply unable to divulge confidential matters.”

Peterson tapped his pencil on this desktop and swiveled his head to the left. “Do you have a response, Mr. Shirley?”

“Is a response even necessary?” Shirley said with a snort, in his Tennessee drawl. “You gave a judicial order, and Ms. Lockhart refuses to follow it. Mr. Jenkins can spout his fancy oratory all over the Daley Center, but it doesn't change the facts. Arthur alleges that his mother suffers from dementia, and, specifically, she lies in the throes of an obsessive delusion that some imaginary woman named Karolina gave birth to imaginary children seventy years ago that Mrs. Woodward, of all people, is now required to find. And my client further asserts that even if this obsession were not damaging enough to her emotional well-being, unscrupulous lawyers and investigators are willing to separate Mrs. Woodward from her considerable life savings to further this ludicrous quest to find these nonexistent children.”

Shirley started to pace. “Two days ago, when I advised Your Honor that Ms. Lockhart was likely representing Mrs. Woodward in this ridiculous venture, and requested the appointment of an independent attorney, Your Honor quite rightly asked Ms. Lockhart what the nature of her representation was—not what she was told in confidence, mind you, just the nature of the matter she was handling. Such a simple request. And what did she do? She refused. Is there no more obvious admission of guilt? She wants to continue to milk this bogus case until Mrs. Woodward is out of money. But she doesn't want to tell you that, so she says, ‘It's confidential.' Well, it's not. As Your Honor has quite properly noted, the nature of her engagement is not a communication, and thus it is not protected.

“So Your Honor's order is not only within legal bounds, but it's necessary to protect the interests of a poor disabled woman. In contumaciously refusing to answer, Ms. Lockhart is flagrantly violating the authority of this probate court. She thinks she's above the law and I believe this court needs to teach her a lesson. No one is above the law. We urge you to compel her to answer your proper inquiry by means of contempt sanctions, including coercive incarceration until she purges herself of her contempt and comes clean with the information.”

A loud buzz of conversation began skittering among the spectators, enough so that the judge slammed his gavel several times. “Do I need to clear this courtroom?”

“May I respond, please, to the comments of Mr. Shirley, Your Honor?” Jenkins said, and took a deep breath.

Peterson waved his hand back and forth. “No. I've heard enough.” He looked down at Catherine and spoke dispassionately. “This court is concerned that Mrs. Woodward may be following a path injurious to both her health and her financial well-being. That doesn't mean that I'm accepting the petitioner's unproven allegations as true, but they concern me greatly. Especially when the attorney-client privilege may be used to as a curtain to hide a lawyer's complicity in a financial scandal. I'm not saying that I believe any or all of Arthur Woodward's accusations. All I'm saying is that I deem them serious enough to invoke my responsibilities as a probate judge to conduct a further inquiry. Do you understand me, Ms. Lockhart?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Will you please comply with this court's order and inform me fully of the matter in which you represent Mrs. Woodward?”

“No, sir, I will not.”

“One more time, with the knowledge that I will use my judicial authority to sanction you, Ms. Lockhart, will you comply with this court's order?”

“No, sir, I will not.”

“Regretfully, Ms. Lockhart, I hereby remand you to the custody of the Cook County sheriff to be coercively incarcerated in the Cook County Jail until you are prepared to comply with this court's orders and fully answer this court's inquiries.”

Immediately, loud gasps and comments skittered through the courtroom, such that Judge Peterson again slammed his wooden gavel several times. “Silence!” he yelled. “Or she'll have company in the jail.” Liam hung his head and covered his eyes with his hands.

“Motion to stay the order, if you please,” Walter said. “We intend to take this matter immediately to the appellate court for an expedited review. We ask that your contempt order be stayed until the appellate court has rendered its decision.”

“Denied.”

The court's deputy moved from behind his desk, took out his handcuffs and approached Catherine, who stood steadfast before the bench. Judge Peterson held up his index finger. “I will not stay this order indefinitely while the appellate court takes its sweet time to consider my ruling. But I will stay the order until Monday morning at ten
A.M.,
at which time I direct you all to return. During that time, Ms. Lockhart, I advise you to reconsider your refusal.”

“Most respectfully, Your Honor,” Shirley interjected, “of course I'm not happy with Your Honor's overly gracious deferment of your lawful contempt order, but during the stay may we have in place an order preventing Ms. Lockhart from meeting with Mrs. Woodward, from communicating with Mrs. Woodward, or from assessing or accepting any fees from Mrs. Woodward?”

“That's outrageous,” Jenkins blared. “Mrs. Woodward has the right to consult with any attorney of her choosing at any time. This court has no right to interfere with that relationship. Such an order is
per se
reversible.”

“Then reverse it, Mr. Jenkins,” Judge Peterson snapped, standing and leaning far over his bench. “Take it up and see what you can do with it. Personally, I'd love to tell you what you can do with it. But the bottom line is, there are allegations raised in this courtroom that Ms. Lockhart is perverting her role as an attorney to lead a disabled woman down an indefensible path for Ms. Lockhart's own pecuniary gain. I don't know if they're true or they're false. If they're true, then there are grounds for disbarment and criminal prosecution. But they may be false, and I hope for her sake they are, and it's precisely for that reason that I ordered Ms. Lockhart to talk to me. But she won't. So the order will be to incarcerate Ms. Lockhart until she obeys. That order is stayed until Monday. In the interim, I will enter a separate order of protection strictly preventing Ms. Lockhart from accepting any fees or costs, or promises to pay any fees or costs, during the pendency of the contempt. However, I will not prevent her from meeting or communicating with whomever she chooses.”

Shirley returned to counsel table, winked and smiled at Arthur, who nodded his head and pumped a fist.

“Your Honor,” Walter said, “we have prepared a memorandum of law setting forth our position on the erroneous nature of this procedure and that of your order. I ask that the memorandum be filed of record at this time and considered before Monday's court hearing.”

“The memorandum will be accepted. This court's adjourned.”

Walter pulled Catherine aside in the hall outside the courtroom. “I'm sorry we didn't do better, but he gave you three days to change your mind. You should think about it. Before coming in here, we didn't know exactly what he would do. Now we know. He won't hesitate one second to send you to jail and keep you in jail, and the Cook County Jail is no place for you.”

“What about an expedited appeal?”

“You're still looking at three, four weeks, maybe more. Do yourself a favor. Talk to Lena about waiving the privilege.”

“She's not the reason. I told you, she'd waive it if I asked her to, but not because she wants the information released. She'd waive it just to protect me. I know for a fact that there are very personal issues here that she doesn't want to reveal to Arthur, and I won't be bullied into disclosing them.”

“I saw a look in Peterson's eyes this morning that the rest of the courtroom didn't see,” Walter said. “It was a look of fear. He's searching for a way out of this trap. None of the lawyers in that room approved of what he was doing and he knows it. The appellate court will not affirm him, he'll get a slap on the wrist, and he's pretty sure of that as well. He's bound to catch major shit one way or another. We should both think about what lifelines we can toss him. What if we could structure a limited inquiry—a specific list of questions—ones that don't divulge any more than Arthur already knows?”

Catherine nodded. “I'll think about it.”

“Will you at least talk to Lena and find out what her deep dark secret is?”

Catherine nodded. “I'll see her this weekend and I'll urge her to finish her story. If she has a deep dark secret, she may reveal it to me, but I won't disclose it to anyone.”

“Of course. But it may help us frame a set of questions that won't disclose her secret.”