Justice Hunter (2 page)
O
nce the dust settled, the lynching began. Hunter felt that as far as Melissa Zane was concerned, he was faring as well as could be expected. It was all the usual crap—all the banter and verbal sparring that give lawyers a bad rap. But it was Judge Russo who rattled Hunter’s cage, even more than he had anticipated. The judge had a bug up his ass from the instant he laid eyes on Hunter. As for the inexcusable “incomprehensible tardiness,” which Hunter couldn’t deny, the judge sanctioned Hunter’s firm five grand. Just like that. It was entirely unheard of. Hunter tried to block it out, but it toyed with his concentration.
How the fuck am I going to handle that?
There were glimmers of hope, but the judge was having none of it. The proverbial nail in the coffin was Hunter’s witness, who proved to be rough around the edges and less than reliable. Accompanied by a perky brunette “assistant,” the authorized Mediacast representative was a no-nonsense, middle-aged salesman with nicotine breath and a husky voice. With his salt-and-pepper moustache, lazy comb-over, and cheap polyester suit, the guy resembled a homicide detective, not a multimillionaire sales executive with a media powerhouse. Hunter would’ve probably been better off had the witness not shown. Who knows? Maybe Russo would’ve permitted an adjournment. Hunter was second-guessing his decision to put the guy on the stand after he finally bothered showing up—close to thirty excruciating minutes late, no less.
Hunter’s client was seeking an emergency injunction against the cheeseball represented by Zane. Allegedly he’d misappropriated hundreds of clients and trade secrets over the course of a three-year period. Blinded by unadulterated ambition and greed, the defendant treated his position with Mediacast like a two-bit whore. He was a lateral hire and literally born to sell. In a way, he was probably too good. When he wasn’t self-dealing and wining and dining his clients, he was outfoxing upper-level management, who tended to be preoccupied with the sort of issues plaguing a Fortune 500 company in the midst of a meteoric rise to power—all the regulatory stuff and bottom-line crap just to placate the shareholders. The last thing Mediacast worried about was the deceit and plotting of a rogue sales manager. And naturally this left hundreds, if not thousands, of clients ripe for the taking. Plus it was an easy sell because these were the sort of clients who weren’t feeling the love anymore, anyway.
“Objection,” Zane interrupted, champing at the bit.
“Sustained!”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Hunter couldn’t help but to turn to his adversary, disgusted by the shameless ring kissing. Zane, like most litigators in the city, would’ve said or done literally anything to ingratiate herself to the judge.
“Spare us all the history lesson,” Russo added, “and get to the goddamn point.”
“That’s precisely where I’m going, Your Honor.” Hunter paused, collecting his thoughts. “So whatever your perception of my client, they’re still entitled to the equal protection of the law—even if you think they hold a monopoly or price gauge, some of the usual criticisms leveled at them. When it comes to exercising their rights, they shouldn’t be treated any differently from any other company. And here, as I’ve demonstrated, the evidence of misappropriation and theft couldn’t be any more overwhelming,” Hunter said as he gestured toward the defendant, who was sitting there arrogantly, slouched and smug.
“This man was entrusted with sensitive client information, and he didn’t hesitate to exploit the situation, solely for his own personal gain. His, and other illicit conduct like this, can’t be tolerated, let alone condoned. It was never part of his job description to steal clients, and we all know it. The contract, which we ask this court to uphold, as well as the laws in the commonwealth, call for stiff penalties. Only this court’s immediate intervention can guarantee that the proverbial bleeding stops and that the irreparable harm does not persist unchecked.” Hunter’s passion and conviction were undeniable.
Beetle-browed, Russo proceeded to disregard the evidence out of hand and eviscerate the artfully drafted non-compete, a product of Whitman’s transactional department. “To say that document is draconian would be an understatement.”
And that is pretty much how the entire hearing went. Hunter and Zane battled, trading barbs and litigation blows during the other examinations. Hunter strategically pumped up the defendant’s ego, cleverly ingratiating himself. He wanted him to feel at ease, knowing that that might get him to talk. And ultimately the slickster broke when he began to act invincible. Hunter figured it was that same cavalier attitude that had gotten him into hot water in the first place. The defendant had actually managed to convince himself that he was smarter than the rest of the world. And Zane’s redirect was not nearly enough to rehabilitate her client. The damage was too significant, thanks in large part to Hunter’s getting under his skin.
Overall, Hunter’s witness, in spite of his distracting nicotine leg twitch and gruff cadence, did a competent job. Their preparation had paid off, and he pretty much stuck to the script—except for the impromptu and off-color barbs he slung in Zane’s direction. He just couldn’t help himself.
“Calm your jets, hon,” he said chauvinistically, knocking the wind out of her sails the instant he sensed her momentum building. “No need to get your panties in a twist,” he added, flashing a slimy smile, a gold cap glittering somewhere in a mouthful of stained, crooked teeth.
Nice touch,
thought Hunter.
Zane’s feminist impulses nearly got the better of her, exactly what he was going for. Yet Zane maintained her composure, only channeling the rage into tougher lines of questioning.
“But isn’t it true, Mr. Chablis, that my client originated these accounts in controversy?”
The witness pretended not to hear. He continued to chuckle to himself as she approached the stand.
“Is something funny, Mr. Chablis?”
“No. Of course not. I’m taking your desperate questions quite seriously.”
“Mr. Chablis,” she scolded. “I know this may be a big game to you, but I can assure you that we take these unfounded allegations
quite seriously
as well.”
That last jab sobered him up a bit, the corners of his mouth wilting.
“So I will ask you again.” Her tone was impatient, hostile. “Did my client or did my client not originate those accounts?”
“Objection,” interjected Hunter, getting to his feet. “This is clearly badgering.”
“Overruled!”
“That means you can answer the question now, Mr. Chablis,” she said smugly. The witness looked dejected, his plan to evade it abruptly cut short.
No response.
An admission
, thought Hunter.
Shit!
“A simple yes or no will suffice.”
“Can I explain our policy at Mediacast?”
“No, you may not!”
By now the judge was leaning forward, awaiting the answer with bated breath.
“I’m the only one who gets to ask the questions now!” She looked over at Hunter, the end of the whip catching him on the recoil. “
Your attorney
already had his opportunity to ask questions,” she added, implying that Hunter had erred during his case in chief.
Russo got in on the action, apparently having the urge to feel needed. “Answer the question, Mr. Chablis,” he warned.
“Not in my opinion, counselor,” he stated indignantly.
“Then it’s a no?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“And you’re positively sure about that?”
“Sure am.”
“And you stand behind that testimony?”
Chablis nodded.
“And you were sworn in this morning?” she said. “And you vowed, under oath, to tell this court the truth?”
“I did.”
Hunter cringed as his adversary swooped in for the kill.
“Have you ever seen this document?”
Here comes the smoking gun
, thought Hunter, bracing himself.
Z
ane was in her element. Cross-examination of Hunter’s witness was in full-bore. The tension in the courtroom mounted like a medieval guillotine.
“Do you recognize that document?” Zane demanded as she casually passed a copy to Hunter.
“Objection.”
“On what basis?”
“Relevance.”
“Not so fast, counselor.”
“You can answer the question,” she said, snidely.
“Oh, that was a question?”
“Answer it,” ordered the judge.
“It looks like court papers.”
“Excellent, Mr. Chablis. Now we’re making some progress.”
“Objection.”
“All right, Ms. Zane. You’ve made your point.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“It’s actually an answer to a lawsuit filed against your company. Isn’t that right?”
“Apparently.”
“Now turn to the last page, what is entitled, ‘˜Verification.’”
Chablis flipped through rebelliously.
“Now do you recognize that signature?”
“Yes.”
“That’s you, Mr. Chablis, right?”
Chablis nodded.
“We’ll need a verbal response, sir. We’re making a record here.”
“Yes.”
“Do you recall what this litigation concerned?”
“You’ll have to excuse me. I don’t. There are dozens of frivolous suits filed against our company every year.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course it is.”
“Must be the deep pockets, huh?”
“You got it.”
“And they’re all frivolous? To use your words.”
Hunter knew where she was going with this, and he sure hoped his witness wasn’t taking the bait. “I mean that’s my perception,” he added, reassuring Hunter with a fleeting glance. “You’d have to ask legal, though.”
Good boy
, thought Hunter.
“But I’m asking
you
, right?”
“Obviously. But I’m just saying if you want to be a hundred percent sure.” He paused, making sure the judge was with him. “That is important to you, isn’t it, Ms. Zane?”
Offended, she rifled back, “I’m the one who gets to ask the questions, Mr. Chablis, not you.”
“Apologies,” he said insincerely after he made his point.
“Now let me ask you again. Take a look at those papers and tell me what that case was about. Take your time.”
Chablis subtly shook his head no as he appeased her.
“You did read them before you swore to the factual averments under penalty of perjury, didn’t you, sir?”
“I must have,” he replied, playing dumb.
“Well, let me refresh your memory. This was a suit filed by another former manager at your company. Someone who coincidentally was employed at the same level as my client,” she said, gesturing to hers.
“And?”
“He sued for bonuses after he was terminated.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” said Hunter, getting to his feet. “Clearly, this is unrelated litigation, which has no bearing on this case.”
“Ms. Zane?”
“I’m getting there.”
“I’ll allow it. But you’re on a very short leash.”
“Of course. Now when you responded to the suit, you counterclaimed on the theory that that plaintiff had been engaged in funneling clients away from Mediacast,” she continued.
“I still don’t…”
“Let me make it crystal clear for you sir,” she interrupted. “Your allegations were virtually identical to those before the court today. Isn’t that true?”
“This is prejudicial,” objected Hunter.
“Ms. Zane. Please. Your client isn’t anything special. The sales world is replete with characters just like your client. If I had a dollar for…”
“That wasn’t my question, though, Mr. Chablis!” she exclaimed. “And I’ll remind you again that you’re under oath.” Slowly, she asked, “Are the allegations, or are the allegations not, virtually the same?”
Hunter considered objecting but decided she was hanging herself. No need.
Russo’s bound to slap her for badgering at this rate. She’s making this too personal, beating up on the witness. She’ll wind up undermining her own argument by garnering sympathy for the guy.
“You heard my answer, counselor,” the witness remarked calmly, which only further incited Zane.
“Sir! This is your last warning. Answer the question,” she demanded.
“Come on,” Hunter interjected. “She’s clearly badgering the witness. He already answered to the best of his ability. And frankly, Ms. Zane should have subpoenaed someone with more knowledge of that particular case.”
“This is cross, Your Honor. And with all due respect, his client is the one who swore off in the other case.”
“And we all know he signed off in his capacity as an authorized representative, which certainly doesn’t mean he has the facts memorized or that he deserves to be interrogated about an entirely different and unrelated matter.” Frankly, Hunter was desperate to make this line of questioning go away.
God only knows how many other similar cases she’s unearthed.
“I’m sustaining the objection,” said Russo, after weighing the argument.
“But…”
“Move on, Ms. Zane.”
“Your Honor, I believe this is indicative of a pattern.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained,” he said, now glaring at Zane.
“We have evidence that the plaintiff levels these sort of allegations against employees so it doesn’t have to pay out sizeable bonuses.”
“Objection!” said Hunter, impressed nevertheless by Zane’s tenacity.
“And we believe that’s what’s going on here.”
“Then why didn’t they put that on the record with the court before today’s hearing? They had more than ample notice.”
“And we fully intend to.”
“Sustained! Sustained! What part of sustained don’t you understand, Ms. Zane?” he asked, rhetorically.
A few murmurs were audible among the restless reporters toward the back of the courtroom.
“Now move on!”
Hunter tried to make eye contact with his witness, who’d been sitting there smugly, witnessing the carnage. As relieved as he was to have averted disaster, he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. And his client had some explaining to do if Zane’s theory was even remotely credible.
“Yes, Your Honor,” she replied, defeated. Yet Hunter suspected Zane’s antics were more deliberate than she was letting on. She could’ve been pushing Russo just to see how far she could go. Or was she trying to force his client’s hand at settlement? With the media following the company’s every move, rumblings of extortion had the potential to become an absolute public relations nightmare. A class action wouldn’t be altogether inconceivable. Hunter never underestimated his opponent, especially someone as talented as Melissa Zane. There were more tricks up her sleeve. And his unsuspecting client didn’t have a clue. “Now, Mr. Chablis, let me redirect your attention to this case. You do know about
this
case, don’t you?”