Silent Justice (16 page)

Ben hated it here. Courtrooms were always nerve-wracking, even to the best of litigators, but there was something particularly intimidating about federal court. Ben hadn’t opposed Colby’s inevitable motion to remove the case here; a redneck state court judge might’ve dismissed this case without blinking twice. But in federal court there was always a sense that the stakes were raised, that everything you did was subject to greater scrutiny. And that wasn’t entirely imaginary, either. Federal judges were notorious for holding those who practiced before them to high standards, and nowhere more so than in the Northern District of Oklahoma.

Ben and Christina sat patiently at the plaintiffs" table while Charlton Colby entered the courtroom—with his entourage.

“Is my math impaired,” Christina whispered, “or does he have four other attorneys with him?”

Ben nodded. “One junior partner and three associates. And two legal assistants to boot.”

“Is this supposed to intimidate us?”

“What do you think?” He craned his neck. “Is Loving ready?”

“Just like you told him.”

“Good.” Ben watched as Colby’s group surrounded the defendants" table. With their intense expressions, they looked like Pentagon staffers huddled together in the war room. Almost as an afterthought, Colby broke from the pack and strolled casually toward Ben and Christina.

“Good to see you again, Ben.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Ben replied. “But I can’t.”

“Now, now, Ben. Let’s not take this personally.”

“I do take it personally. You’ve impugned my reputation.”

He shrugged casually. “It’s all part of the job.”

“Maybe your job. Not mine.” Ben rose to his feet. “I’ve managed to handle something like a hundred lawsuits over the past few years, and I’ve never once resorted to your kind of tactics.”

“Which is why you’re still a solo practitioner who has to represent whatever walks in the door.”

“While you work in a penthouse representing blue-chip clients who don’t care what you do as long as you win?”

Colby tilted his head. “Clients like results.”

“And so you’ve developed your rep as the king of bare-knuckle litigation. You call out the attack dogs every time some big corporation has a plaintiff they want to screw.”

“Jealous, Ben?” A smile crossed his face. “From what I hear, you could take a few tips from my playbook.”

“I’d sooner starve.”

“I suppose that is the alternative.” His eyes narrowed. “Particularly if you continue to pursue this case.”

Ben felt his neck stiffening. “Did you have some reason for coming over here?”

“Yes. Against my better judgment, my client has instructed me to make you an offer. Five thousand dollars per child. Take it or leave it. It won’t be offered again.”

“Five thousand dollars? These people have lost their children! What kind of settlement offer is that?”

“It isn’t a settlement offer. It’s go-away money. Your clients" loss is quite sad, but Blaylock bears no responsibility for it. We are, however, willing to pay a small sum to avoid the cost of litigation.”

“Oh, I bet that’s a big concern for you. What are you and your four helpers billing Blaylock? About a thousand bucks an hour?”

“That, of course, is none of your concern.”

“It’s certainly Blaylock’s concern. Is that him?” Ben pointed toward an elderly gentleman sitting in the front row of the gallery. He was immaculately tailored in a blue pinstriped suit.

“It is.”

Ben took a step forward. “I wouldn’t mind meeting him.”

Colby closed him off. “He doesn’t want to meet you. Do you accept our offer or not?”

“Not. Big-time not.”

Colby pivoted, his expression unchanged. “That is a decision you will live to regret.”

About five minutes later, Judge Perry entered the courtroom. Ben had never known him to be particularly cheery, but today his expression was positively grim. He was middle-aged, around fifty, Ben guessed. Handsome for his age, with an ample shock of black hair and a strong face that had grown craggy without seeming wrinkled. Everything about him—his bearing, his voice, his appearance—gave an impression of strength. And, on this occasion, extreme intolerance.

“First of all,” he said, “I want the parties to know I’ve read the pleadings and the Motion and Brief, so don’t feel like you have to rehash anything therein. Second of all, I want the parties to know that although I am not in any way prejudging the present case or motion, my tolerance level for frivolous lawsuits is absolutely zero. The courts calendar is vastly overloaded. Legitimate litigants often have to wait years to get to trial, in no small part because unscrupulous lawyers accept clients" money to file lawsuits that are absolutely without merit. Whether they do it out of greed or mere stupidity I don’t know, and it makes no difference. It’s a drain on the taxpayer and this court and I will not tolerate it. If I find that this or any other suit is without merit, I will not hesitate to dismiss it, and furthermore, will take severe action against the lawyer who filed it with the harshest possible sanction.”

Ben felt the color drain from his face. Well, this was certainly encouraging.

“Mr. Colby, I believe this is your motion. Take the podium.”

“Yes, sir.” Colby launched into a long harangue that, despite the judge’s instructions, mostly rehashed what he had already written in his brief. He talked about how the plaintiffs" suit was entirely frivolous, that even granted the most favorable interpretation of the facts, the plaintiffs did not state a claim upon which relief could be granted. He finished with a long-winded windup about the importance of stamping out frivolous suits, which managed to borrow key words and even entire phrases from the judge’s earlier diatribe on the same subject. Ben could only marvel. Colby was nothing if not slick.

“Excuse me, counsel,” the judge interrupted, “are you suggesting the plaintiffs failed to conduct a reasonable investigation prior to filing their claims?”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

“Then I’d like you to address that issue. And please present any evidence you have.”

“That puts me in a bit of a sticky situation, your honor. On the subject of what evidence the plaintiffs have to support their claims, the best witness is, of course, the plaintiffs" attorney. Therefore, as my first and only witness, I call Ben Kincaid to the stand.”

Ben jumped to his feet. “What kind of sleazy tactic is this?”

Judge Perry rapped his gavel hard. “Mr. Kincaid, I will not have that kind of language in my courtroom. You will treat opposing counsel with respect or you will be excused.”

“Your honor, I’ve had no notice that I would be called as a witness.”

“I don’t see why you need any time to prepare,” the judge responded. “You’re familiar with your own case, aren’t you?”

“Of course, your honor. But I can’t testify against my own clients. I’m the lawyer, not the witness.”

“Your honor,” Colby interjected, “who better knows what the basis for this suit might be?”

“Well, calling an opposing attorney to the stand is a bit irregular. Perhaps you could just describe your preliminary investigation to the court, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Why should I have to preview my case in advance of trial? Colby hasn’t previewed his for me.”

Judge Perry’s face was livid. “Counsel, you will comply with my request.”

Ben was beginning to flush himself. He knew he was standing on the edge of a slippery slope. If he let Colby get away with this one, there would be no stopping him. “Your honor, the Rules of Professional Conduct say that an attorney’s first and foremost duty is to zealously represent his clients. I intend to honor that duty. And I can’t square that with taking the stand to testify against them or giving opposing counsel an advance look at our case.”

Judge Perry rose to his full height. He jabbed his gavel in Ben’s direction. “I’m going to assume you didn’t understand me, counsel, so I’m going to explain it one more time. I’m a federal judge. I have the full authority of the federal law enforcement community, including the ability to lock you up, to bar you from practicing in the federal courts, or to initiate disbarment proceedings, until such time as you comply with my order. You will do as I direct.”

Ben glanced over at Colby, who was standing calmly behind the podium, a smug expression on his face. This tactic was succeeding beyond his wildest dreams. Regardless of the result, Judge Perry was already alienated against Ben. “No, sir. I can’t do that.”

Perry was so enraged he was beginning to shake. “Last chance, Mr. Kincaid.”

Ben squared himself. “I’m sorry, your honor. No.”

With a flourish worthy of a master magician, he withdrew a small metal corkscrew from his overcoat.

“I give you the humble corkscrew,” he said, holding it delicately between his fingers. “It doesn’t look like much. You wouldn’t run if you saw it coming. But in the right hands, it can be positively deadly. And best of all, painful.”

Maggie screamed, so hard her temples throbbed, so hard it was just barely, almost, audible. But it was not nearly enough. He turned on the television and turned up the volume, just in case she managed to muster more power when the actual torture began.

“I’ve made quite a study of anatomy, you know. It comes in handy in this line of work.” He grabbed the bottom of her blouse and literally ripped it off her body, tearing it at both ends till her bra and bare torso was exposed. He pressed his fingers against her bottom two ribs. “I know, for instance, that the doctors label these the Tl and T2 ribs. I also know that if I twist this corkscrew, slowly, between Tl and T2, it will not kill you. Not immediately. It will hurt like hell. It will likely puncture your lungs, which, if untreated, will of course kill you. But not right away. For the first several hours, all you’ll have is pain. Pain like none you’ve ever experienced in your life. Pain so intense you’ll wish you were dead. But you won’t be.”

He walked his fingers up her rib cage. “I’ll go left, right, left, right, working my way up, until I finally reach right here.” His fingers paused. “Here, I’ll point the corkscrew upward and pierce your heart. Then you really will die, although even then not as quickly as you’d like. And we won’t be there for hours. So let’s get back to the beginning.”

He pressed the tip of the corkscrew against the space between the first two ribs. She flinched, trying to pull away, but there was no escape.

“Here we go.”

She clenched her eyes shut, bracing herself against the pain she knew was about to follow.

“Oh my goodness. I forgot something.”

Her eyes popped open.

He punched her amiably on the shoulder. “I almost forgot. I’m supposed to give you a chance to tell me what I want to know. But can I tell you a secret?” He crouched down next to her ear and whispered. “I’m hoping you won’t. At least not at first. That would spoil all the fun.”

He grasped the edge of the tape covering her mouth. “Needless to say, if you even think about screaming, the tape will go down and I’ll just start drilling. Without mercy.”

He gave the tape a violent jerk. “So tell me, Maggie. Is the merchandise secure?”

Her lips trembled so she could barely speak. “I don’t know.” Her face was desperate and pleading. “It wasn’t me! I never had it!”

“Wrong answer.” He snapped the tape down. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you another chance. Sometime between T6 and T7.”

He pressed the metal tip of the corkscrew against the soft flesh covering her two bottommost ribs. Her gut-wrenching cries for help were almost completely muffled. The only person who heard them was the one who not only didn’t care, but rather enjoyed it.

“
That was an order, Mr. Kincaid!” the judge bellowed. His voice boomed all the way up to the high-vaulted ceiling and reverberated back down again. “You will take the witness stand.”

“With regret, your honor, I must refuse.”

“Bailiff!” Judge Perry’s lips quivered. “Take Mr. Kincaid to a jail cell, where he will remain unless and until he decides to comply with my order.”

The bailiff was a burly, balding man who was obviously startled, since most days his only job was to keep himself from falling asleep. He strode hastily toward Ben.

Ben held up one hand. “Your honor, may I make a suggestion?”

“No!”

“The issue here is whether we have sufficient basis for filing a Complaint, right? And whether the Complaint is legally sufficient to state a claim? I can’t take the stand against my clients, but I can offer affirmative proof to support our position.”

“This is nonsense,” Colby interjected. “A ploy to delay the inevitable.”

“How can he know that?” Ben shot back. “He has no idea what we have or what we know.”

“I know he has no evidence against Blaylock. Because none exists.”

“What about the EPA report?” Ben replied.

Judge Perry appeared surprised. “There’s an EPA report?”

“Yes, your honor,” Ben continued. “A report on the contamination of the Blackwood water well. And it mentions H. P. Blaylock by name.”

Perry slowly lowered himself back into his seat. “That wasn’t mentioned in Mr. Colby’s brief.”

“It’s inconsequential,” Colby said, maintaining his calm demeanor. “Bureaucratic guesswork. All it says is that Blaylock is a possible contributor. It’s not even admissible.”

“The issue isn’t whether it’s admissible, your honor. It’s whether the plaintiffs have any reasonable basis for their claims.”

“There’s nothing reasonable about relying—”

“And what about the toxicology reports from the contaminated well? What about the geologists" report on the ravine running from Blaylock’s property? What about the information from the Centers for Disease Control on possible toxicological causes of leukemia? None of which Mr. Colby mentioned in his brief.”

Colby hesitated for a moment, and Ben thought he knew why. Colby hadn’t mentioned all this other evidence because he didn’t know about it. But he didn’t want to admit that to the judge.

“This is all bluff,” Colby said, eventually. “Bluff and bluster. If Mr. Kincaid really has all this evidence, let’s see it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Ben motioned to Christina, who was standing at the back of the courtroom. She pushed open the back door. A moment later, Loving entered pushing a dolly loaded with four large bankers boxes.