Directed Verdict (15 page)

16

LESLIE HAD ANTICIPATED THIS DAY
for two months. Time crawled during the flight across the Atlantic. Leslie could think of nothing but Brad. There were so many things she would tell him when she saw him at the airport. Two months of thinking had cleared her head and calmed her mind. She was nervous but ready to pick up where they left off. She had dreamed for weeks of spending time with Brad, an afternoon at the beach followed by dinner and a long stroll on the boardwalk. She was determined not to compare Brad to Bill, since she was not at all sure who would win if she did.

There would be no handshakes this time. They would start with a hug. She was almost running as she approached the end of the concourse where he promised he would meet her. Two months of waiting. It would be worth it.

“Welcome back, Rhodes scholar,” Bella said.

“Thanks, Bella. Where’s Brad?”

“Great to see you, too,” Bella said.

“I’m sorry, Bella. I just wondered if something was wrong.”

“I’m parked in a metered spot out front, so why don’t you grab your baggage and meet me at the curb. We’ve got trouble in the
Reed
case. I’ll explain on the way to the office.”

Leslie had not planned to go to the office, but she didn’t complain. It sounded serious.

* * *

Leslie found Brad, Sarah, and Nikki waiting for her in the main conference room. The conference room table and floor were cluttered with law books, notebooks, legal pads, briefs, miscellaneous papers, and half-filled coffee cups. The phones were ringing unmercifully, but Brad and the others seemed oblivious.

After warm greetings for Leslie and a hugfest that included everyone but Bella, Leslie pulled out a document she couldn’t wait to share with the team and placed it on the table. It was labeled “Preliminary Game Plan for
Reed v. Saudi Arabia
” and contained Leslie’s best thinking for the case—witnesses to call, experts to use, evidence that would hurt and evidence that would help. It demonstrated her trademark attention to detail. The others did not know that it was in the works—she wanted to surprise them with it and use it as the framework for preparing the case.

Brad didn’t notice Leslie’s document and tossed another on top of it. It was an affidavit in support of Rule 11 sanctions, signed by Mack Strobel. It had been filed earlier that day. Leslie picked it up and began reading.

On May 11, I had a telephone conference with plaintiff’s attorney, Mr. Bradley Carson, for the purpose of explaining our firm’s intent to file a Rule 11 Motion against Mr. Carson based on the frivolous nature of this case. I called Mr. Carson, as a courtesy, in order to give him an opportunity to explain whether he had any cases or authorities that would support the unprecedented claims that he makes in this case.

In response to my question of whether he was aware of any cases or other authority that would support the filing of this case, Mr. Carson indicated that he was aware of no such authority. He also acknowledged our firm’s greater expertise in international law and questioned whether we were aware of any authority that would justify the filing of this case. In this regard, his precise words, to the best of my recollection, were, “You’re the expert in international law; you tell me whether you think there is any law or case authority to justify our filing.” I responded by telling Mr. Carson there was no legal basis for this case. I waited several weeks, fully expecting Mr. Carson to either drop his suit or provide me with legal authority that would justify the filing of this case. I have not heard back from Mr. Carson and accordingly file this Motion for Rule 11 Sanctions based on the enormous waste of judicial time and resources occasioned by the filing of this suit.

My client, the nation of Saudi Arabia, has incurred legal fees and expenses to date to defend this suit in excess of one hundred forty-five thousand dollars ($145,000) and, accordingly, requests sanctions in that amount against Mr. Carson.

Leslie’s face turned one shade darker than her auburn hair. She cursed Strobel, then noticed the disappointed look on Sarah’s face. “Sorry, Sarah. I just don’t understand how any officer of the court can just flat out lie like this in an affidavit. It’s outrageous.”

“Welcome to the real world,” Nikki said.

“This one’s my fault,” Brad said. “I thought he was fishing for information about our case, so I didn’t give him any. From now on, if anyone talks to Strobel or another member of the defense team on the phone, follow it up with a letter confirming the substance of the conversation. We can’t afford to have them misrepresenting us to the court.”

“It’s ridiculous that you can’t trust the other lawyer any more than that,” Leslie said.

Brad flipped his glasses on the table and picked up another document. He stood up to pace as he explained its legal import.

“This is another motion filed today by Kilgore & Strobel. It’s a motion to compel answers to interrogatories. They have noticed it for a hearing on the same day as the motion to dismiss. Before I get into the details of this motion, let me make one thing clear.” He paused and looked around. “This motion to compel is nobody’s fault, and it won’t do any good to beat ourselves up over this. There will be no finger-pointing on this team.”

He then turned to Sarah. “As leader of this team, and the lawyer who you personally retained, I take full responsibility for any issues raised by this pleading.”

Leslie’s stomach began to churn. What was Brad talking about? Interrogatories were part of the typical discovery process in any lawsuit. One side would send a group of questions, or “interrogatories,” to the other side asking about witnesses or exhibits or any other relevant facts or circumstances. The interrogatories would then be answered under oath, or objections would be lodged and a judge would determine whether the interrogatories had to be answered.

Leslie and Nikki had answered the defendant’s interrogatories nearly a month ago. Leslie provided the legal objections, and Nikki provided the factual information. The objections and answers were full and fair. Leslie couldn’t imagine what the defendants were complaining about now, but her instincts told her she had missed something. Something big. She tucked her cold and clammy hands under her legs.

“The motion to compel requests that the court overrule all of our objections as untimely, then require us to answer every interrogatory. Some of these interrogatories request information that is clearly protected by the attorney-client privilege. They are claiming that we missed the deadlines for filing objections—”

What?!
“That’s ridiculous,” Leslie interjected. She’d heard enough. “We filed all of our answers and objections within the thirty days allowed by the rules.” She grabbed a code book and thumbed through it.

“I hand-delivered the objections myself,” Nikki added.

“Here it is,” Leslie announced. “Rule 33(b)(3): ‘The party upon whom the interrogatories are served shall serve a copy of the answers, and objections, if any, within thirty days.’” She closed the book and placed it back on the table.

“If you two are done, let me finish.” Brad was still pacing. “Under federal procedure, each district court can pass some of its own local rules to supplement the federal rules. Leslie, they don’t teach you this in law school, and you had no reason to know it, but the Norfolk courts, in their infinite wisdom, have passed a local rule requiring that all objections to interrogatories be filed within fifteen days, not thirty.” He paused for just a second, but to Leslie, it stretched out endlessly. The awful consequences of this blunder immediately numbed her brain and set her stomach on fire. She could barely hear Brad’s next words for the ringing in her ears. “That’s why I’m saying this motion is my fault. I should have warned you to read the local rules.”

Leslie felt the blood drain from her face.

“Won’t the court cut us some slack?” Nikki asked. “This must happen all the time.”

“It does happen all the time. But the court has a history of not being very forgiving on these matters.”

Leslie forced herself to move and to think. Fighting off rising panic, she pawed through the local rules in the book that Brad had dropped on the table. She read the rule three times and still couldn’t believe it.

“There are lots of problematic interrogatories,” Brad continued. “But none as bad as number three. It requests the name of ‘every alleged church member who ever worshiped with Charles and Sarah Reed during their tenure in Saudi Arabia.’ Of course, we objected to this interrogatory, but now our objection may not hold up because it wasn’t timely filed.”

“What does that mean?” Sarah asked. It was the first time she had shown any interest in the legal issues.

“It means if we lose on the motion to compel, we must provide the names of every church member who ever worshiped with you and your husband and pray that they are not persecuted by the Muttawa, or . . .” Brad’s voice trailed off.

“Or what?” Leslie insisted.

“Or drop the case in order to protect these innocent church members,” Brad concluded.

“We can’t give them the names,” Sarah said firmly. “Dozens met with us on nights other than Fridays that the Muttawa do not know about. Charles died rather than divulge those names. I would do the same.”

Sarah’s uncharacteristic bluntness generated a long silence. A sickened Leslie was unable to speak.

“Then we’ll have to win the motion to compel,” Brad said at length, “and talk the court into granting some mercy on this one.”

The scene unfolding before Leslie’s eyes was surreal, a lawyer’s worst nightmare. The case would be lost, not on the merits, but on a technicality. Just like that. Justice perverted.

“So it all comes down to one judge and whether that judge will allow us to file objections late?” Leslie exhaled sharply. “No matter what the law says, it all just comes down to the discretion of one judge, thumbs-up or thumbs-down, and the case is over just like that?” Her voice was full of disdain, her pristine view of the law crumbling by the second.

“That pretty much nails it,” Brad said.

Silence took over, the weight of this precarious position sinking in. Tears of frustration and guilt welled up in Leslie’s eyes.

“This is all my fault,” she said, her voice wavering. “I was the one responsible for filing the objections. I sweat out every detail of this case. I dot every i and cross every t, and somehow I missed this. I spent the last four months of my life working like a dog on this case and the last two weeks working around the clock on a detailed game plan for the case, and now it’s all just wasted work because of some idiotic local rule that nobody knows about.

“The law isn’t about this stuff,” she said, and with her left hand she made a clean sweep of the table in front of her, knocking law books and documents, including her beloved game plan, onto the floor. “It’s about clever lawyers like Strobel taking advantage of fools like me.”

Then, in front of her speechless colleagues, Leslie stood and bolted from the room, leaving the others staring in disbelief.

* * *

Brad had a strong urge to run after Leslie, talk to her, somehow calm her down, and make everything right. But something else told him to stay put. Leslie would have to learn to respond like a professional. Running to her would not help.

Sarah stood and looked at Brad. “Let me talk to her.”

“Good luck.”

As soon as the door shut behind Sarah, Nikki started in.

“Leslie’s got to get a grip. But I don’t see why we’ve got to drop this case if we get a bad ruling. I mean, let’s just ask the judge to allow us to produce the names to Strobel under a court order that says he can’t share them with his client. That way, we can buy some time and settle this baby.”

“Right,” Bella scoffed. “Let’s put our trust in Mack Strobel, Boy Scout that he is. Even if he doesn’t tell the Muttawa, he’ll want to take depositions, and how do you hide the names then?”

Brad sat back in his chair and turned toward Nikki, interested in this budding debate. Maybe it would help him sort things out. Right now, Bella had a point.
Advantage, Bella.

“All right then, we just run a bluff,” Nikki responded. “You give them phony names, which still buys you enough time to settle, then you get something out of this deal. You don’t just cave.”

Shaky,
Brad thought.
Bella will smash this one.

“Brilliant. The only difference between that and highway robbery is that we wouldn’t be using a gun.” Bella snorted. “Let me get this straight. We run a scam on the court, lie under oath, and try to obtain money under false pretenses in the meantime.”

Match point.

“Well, what’s your bright idea?” Nikki shot back, her voice rising in frustration. “Just let the creep go? Let him laugh at us all over Saudi Arabia?”

“Drop the case!” Bella scowled. “Cut your losses! Don’t be stupid!”

Nikki didn’t respond this time; she just glared straight ahead at Bella. She looked ready to pounce.

In an act of studied defiance, Bella whipped out a pack of cigarettes, shaking one loose, and lit it up in the middle of the no-smoking conference room.

“Nice,” Nikki said, chasing the smoke away with a wave of the hand. “Black-lung cases, Brad, what do they go for these days—for an overweight single secretary with limited earning capacity?”

Bella stood.

“Sit down,” Brad said sharply. He turned to Nikki. “That’s not necessary.” Then back to Bella. “C’mon, put it out.” She sighed, dropped her cigarette into a half-full coffee cup, and plopped into her seat. Brad felt like he was lecturing a couple of kids. “Nikki, we don’t handle cases that way here. If the client says drop it, we drop it.”

Nikki snorted out a derisive little laugh. “Oh yeah. I forgot. Let’s see . . .
Lewis
case, two weeks ago. Client wanted 150K; insurance company offers 100; you said, ‘Take it.’
Pardee
case, last week. Defense attorney says 75K; client says 90; you take 85.
Migliori
case—”

“They’re different,” Brad argued. “Every one of those cases is about a greedy client, unrealistic demands. You agreed with every one of the settlements. It’s our job to make the client see reality. Sarah . . . well, she’s different.”