Dead Peasants (22 page)

70

Jack called Colby as soon as he got out of court and told her about the threat. She promised to lock herself in the house with the alarms on. Next he called Joe to report the incident and told him just to take a look at the New Orleans sketch to identify the man. Jack was steaming when he got back to the RV and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that there were no pro bono clients lined up in the parking lot. He needed to focus on the Davis case and the threat made on him in the street. After unlocking the door he tossed his briefcase on the passenger seat and sat at the table, pondering what to do. How could he deal with the threat from some unknown person? It almost surely came from Allison, but he couldn’t be certain. He considered Quillen and the other dozen or so financial institutions he and Van Buren had sued. Obviously, they were suspects, but his mind kept coming back to Allison and Leyton. Somehow he had to address the threat. Finally, he concluded that he could only leave it in Sherrod’s hands. For him it would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Then his mind drifted to McDowell’s ruling an hour ago. There had to be a way to put pressure on McDowell so Leyton didn’t win every battle. If these rulings continued throughout trial, he knew he was going to lose, leaving appeal as his only hope. Even if he got McDowell reversed on appeal, it would be too late for Colby.

At last he had an idea that he thought might potentially solve both problems. He picked up his cell phone and called Hartley Hampton.

“Star Telegram, Hampton here. How you doing, Jack?” Hampton said as he glanced at his caller i.d.

“Could be doing better. Can you drop by my RV sometime this afternoon. I may have a story for you.”

“Hell, Jack, after the props I got on that last series I did on you, I’m not waiting until afternoon. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”

Twenty minutes later a car pulled into the parking lot, the door opened and Hampton climbed the steps. Hampton stuck out his hand. “Ace reporter at your service.

What do you have for me?”

Jack invited Hartley to take a seat at the table and retrieved a bottle of water for him from the refrigerator.

“To start, let’s keep this on background at first. When I get through talking, we’ll decide what you can use.”

Both men understood that background meant the information was confidential until Jack said otherwise. Jack walked Hartley through the lawsuit from the very beginning when June knocked on his door with the envelope and check from the postal department, his unsuccessful meeting with Allison, the filing of the lawsuit and the morning’s hearing.

“Of course nearly all of that is public information, except my confrontation with Allison, which I don’t want you to use. For some reason you guys in the media haven’t picked up on this story.”

Hartley nodded. “Up until this very moment it was just one more civil lawsuit. We media types usually aren’t much interested in civil litigation unless there’s a bigger story surrounding it.”

“I tried to get a computer run on Allison’s dead peasant policies this morning, and Judge McDowell denied my motion almost before I could finish talking. You can have a copy of the motion.

“Wait a minute,” Hartley interrupted. “Isn’t there something about an insurable interest? Where is that when one of Allison’s employees quits or gets fired?”

“Leyton found an old employment agreement from thirty years ago that he says gave Allison the right to continue coverage on Willie Davis even after he retired. I suppose they will claim the same thing on all of the dead peasant policies.”

Hartley was scribbling as fast as he could on his steno pad. “Anything else?”

“Oh, we’re not through. I’m getting fucked by McDowell every time I go in his courtroom. I’ve been around courtrooms long enough to know when the judge is intentionally favoring one side. Best guess is he’s gotten a lot of money from Leyton’s firm, maybe Allison, too. I figure that Leyton and Allison have decided to pull out all stops to win this one to discourage other such lawsuits. It’s common practice with big corporations. If they think there’s potential for a bunch of lawsuits, they’ll throw the kitchen sink at the first one. Whatever it takes to win, they’ll do it.”

Hartley raised his hand. “Only we have contribution limits. No one can give more than $2,000 to the judge’s campaign in one election. That’s not enough money to buy off a judge.”

Jack shook his head. “I’ll bet if you go to the public records, you’ll find that a lot of money has been flowing into McDowell’s campaign, most of it from people associated with Allison or Leyton.”

Hartley was already reaching into his briefcase to retrieve his computer. “You’re wireless here?”

Jack nodded.

Hartley fired up his computer and clicked a few keys. When he got to the screen he was looking for, he scrolled down as his eyes grew big. “Shit, McDowell already has about two hundred contributors, all for the max. That raises a bunch of red flags right there. It’s really early in this election cycle to have those kinds of contributions in a local judicial race. Of course, they give only home addresses, not employment.”

“I’ll bet you’ve got search capability that can identify their employers. Care to place a small wager that most of them are working for Allison or Leyton’s law firm?”

Hampton closed his computer as he thought. “Wow, this could be big, maybe bigger than that last story I did on you. I knew I should have just camped out in your parking lot and waited for the stories to roll in. Anything else?”

Jack put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands as he debated the last two issues. Then he spoke. “This is definitely background. We think that Allison may have caused the deaths of twenty of his former employees and had dead peasant policies on all of them. One of them was Robert Jones. He was suffocated in a nursing home just two weeks ago. Colby Stripling is a friend of mine and was his wife. You know she’s been charged with the murder. She didn’t do it. Allison did. Of course, the charge against her is public, but I’d appreciate it if you would leave her out of your story for now. That case hit the headlines and then disappeared. Colby can’t handle any more publicity.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Hampton said. “We’ll leave her out of the story provided I get an exclusive when you’re ready to talk.”

“Done.”

“Okay, I’ll ask one more time. Anything else?”

Jack nodded. “One more thing. I had parked my car in that lot across the street from the courthouse this morning and was waiting at the light. McDowell scheduled us for eight o’clock. No one else was around until I hear this guy behind me saying in a low voice I better quit practicing law in Fort Worth. He threatened me. I told him to go fuck himself, but it shook me up. Someone tried to kill Colby while we were in New Orleans for the Sugar Bowl. An eye witness gave the New Orleans police enough of a description that they did a sketch. It looks like the same guy threatened me this morning.”

“You think he was working for Allison?”

“Don’t know and you can’t suggest that. Besides the case with Allison, I’m involved in close to five hundred lawsuits involving multiple banks and mortgage companies. Seems I’ve managed to make a lot of enemies in a very short time in Fort Worth.”

“Can I just say that your life has been threatened?”

“That’s okay. In fact, I want you to do it. Maybe the publicity will back them off for a while. But, you also have to understand I called you because I’m trying to level the playing field with Judge McDowell.”

“I get it. When does your trial start?”

“Two weeks.”

“You can bet my story is going to get McDowell’s attention as well as that of Allison and Leyton.”

“I appreciate it, Hartley. At this point, I don’t care if I bring them all down.” Jack paused. “They have it coming.”

71

Jack got home that evening and was surprised to find J.D.’s pickup beside the garage. He found his son in the man cave, leaning back in a recliner with crutches beside him.

“J.D., what the hell happened?”

“I pulled a goddamn hamstring in my left leg at practice this afternoon. Hell, I’m in better shape than anyone out there. You know I worked my butt off all summer. Nobody stretches more than me. Then this happens a week and a half before our opening game.”

“Could have been worse. How long are you on crutches?”

“Trainer says about a week. I go in for therapy every day during the next week. Then, I may be able to do it on my own. I may be back for the third game of the season. Shit! Why couldn’t this have happened six weeks ago?”

Colby had come downstairs to fix a sandwich. “I told him that all major sports athletes sustained injuries. J.D., you might as well calm down and accept it. A few weeks isn’t your entire career.”

J.D. relaxed. “Both of you are right. Let’s change the subject. What’s going on with the charges against Colby and June’s lawsuit?”

Jack shook his head. He recounted the events of the day, including the threat on his life as he paced in front of the blank television. He finished with his interview with Hampton.

“Damn, Dad, you’re pulling out the heavy artillery. You really think McDowell will change his attitude?”

“Put it this way, he couldn’t be any worse.”

Colby had remained silent until Jack finished. “Look guys, I’m not worried about some damn motion, even if you do say it’s important. You received a threat on your life this morning. Someone’s trying to kill me. On top of that I’m charged with murder. None of us are safe. Is this ever going to stop? I feel like I’m confined to a bunker as it is. I had a peaceful, pleasant existence until you set foot in my life, Jackson Douglas. Now my life’s hell and you don’t seem to give a damn.” Colby bolted from the room and up the stairs.

“She’s right, of course,” Jack said in a low voice. “I really have screwed up her life, ours, too, to some extent. I could use a little help, though. Since you’re out of football for a few weeks, you want to be my trial paralegal?”

J.D. pulled his dad into a bear hug. “Damn right I do. You think one of us ought to tie one arm behind his back to make it a fair fight?”

Jack broke into a laugh. “That’s the Bryant spirit. Now, I need to go make amends with Colby. Maybe I can talk her into getting out of her bedroom a little more.”

Jack climbed the stairs and tapped on Colby’s bedroom door. Ten minutes later J.D. heard his footsteps and Jack joined him in the man cave.

“Colby okay?”

Jack shook his head. “About as well as can be expected. She’s calmed down for now, but the pressure is really getting to her. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better.”

72

Jack crawled out of bed and found a T-shirt and some cut-off jeans. He shut the bedroom door behind him and found Killer sleeping in the kitchen. With the events of the night before, no one let him out; so, Jack hooked a leash to his collar to take him for a morning walk before he retrieved the newspaper from the driveway. When they approached the front door, Killer stopped and growled, baring his teeth at something on the other side. Jack opened the door to find a handful of reporters on the lawn. Killer started barking and straining at his leash. There were strangers on his lawn, and he would vanquish them.

Jack knew what was happening even before he got his paper. Hartley had put a rush on his story. He wanted it on the front page.

Before he could retrieve the paper, he had to come to an understanding with the reporters. “Heel, Killer.”

Killer stopped his barking and stood alongside Jack. “Morning, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Mr. Bryant, what can you tell us about Allison’s dead peasant policies?” one asked.

“Is it true your life was threatened yesterday?” a woman chimed in.

“Did you know that Judge McDowell had taken nearly $400,000 in contributions from Allison and his law firm?”

Jack put up his hands. “Truce, guys. Let me grab my newspaper so I’ll know what the hell you’re talking about. Then I’ll take a quick shower and put Killer out in the back yard so he can take a leak. I’ll be back here in thirty minutes.”

Jack returned to the kitchen where he let Killer out in back, knowing he would immediately make a beeline for the driveway wrought iron gate where he would warn the strangers to keep their distance. He poured a cup of coffee from the automatic brewer and sat down to read the
Star Telegram
. It was the lead story.

Headline: JUDGE ACCEPTS $400,000 FROM LITIGANT AND LAW FIRM

Headline: JUDGE REFUSES TO RELEASE DEAD PEASANT POLICIES

Small Banner: LAWYER’S LIFE THREATENED

My God, Jack thought, seeing it in bold print and all caps makes it sound even worse.

Jack chuckled as he put down the paper. He’d read enough. Now he would make short order of the mob outside. After a shower and shave, he dressed in brown slacks, a white shirt and loafers. He knew what he was going to say and also knew it would not make the reporters happy. Before going to the front door, he whistled to Killer from the back. Killer rounded the corner and stopped at his feet. “Good dog, Killer. You protected us once again. Now come on in the house.”

Jack told Killer to stay in the kitchen and walked to the front door where he motioned for silence. “Sorry to keep you folks waiting. I’ve now read the
Star Telegram
story and really can’t add anything more to it.”

“Are you going to move to recuse Judge McDowell?” a voice yelled

“That’s really trial strategy that I prefer not to discuss. However, let’s see how events unfold over the next couple of days. I wish I could tell you more, but Mr. Hampton certainly has done his homework. I have no reason to disagree with what he has reported. You all have a good morning.”

Judge McDowell stepped out to pick up his paper and was also confronted by reporters. “What the hell? What in tarnation are you doing on my lawn? You’re trespassing and I demand that you get off my property.”

He grabbed his paper and hurried back to the sanctity of his house. As he read the paper a scowl settled on his face. How the hell did this happen? All he did was take campaign contributions. And what business is it of some damn reporter that he ruled the dead peasant policies weren’t discoverable. After re-filling his coffee he reached for his cell phone and called Ace Leyton. When Leyton answered, he spewed out a string of expletives. As he paused to get a breath, Leyton jumped in.

“Judge I’ve got a couple of reporters on my lawn, too. Calm down.”

“Calm down? You son of a bitch, you may have just cost me my election and just when my pension was about to vest. How the hell could this happen?”

“Judge, it’s just business as usual. Our employees contribute to campaigns all over the state. They list their home addresses, and no one ever looks beyond that. Someone talked this Hampton guy into digging. My guess is it’s Bryant. Unfortunately, it’s all out there on the internet. We’re going to have to come up with another plan to support our fine judicial candidates like you.”

“Hell, the horse is out of the barn. Some other future plan doesn’t do me any good.”

Leyton paused while he thought. “I have an idea. Suppose you call a press conference this afternoon and say you just learned of the contributions coming from my firm and Allison when you read the story. You’re an honest judge and you’re sending refund checks to everyone remotely connected with the lawsuit.”

At four that afternoon the bailiff stuck his head in the judge’s door. “It’s time, Judge. You’ve got a whole courtroom full of reporters. Lights are everywhere and cameras are rolling.”

McDowell wiped the sweat from his brow and, pushing his shoulders back, he walked into the courtroom and made the effort to climb to his bench as if he were thirty years younger and fifty pounds lighter. He poured himself a glass of water.

“Be seated ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. I’m pleased to clear up some misconceptions that have surfaced today.”

Two reporters on the front row looked at each other and shook their heads.

Another reporter asked, “What misconception, Judge? You received $400,000 in campaign contributions from lawyers and litigants on one side of a case I understand is going to trial in two weeks.”

McDowell was not accustomed to having questions thrown at him in his own courtroom. “Sir, if you’ll give me a moment, I’ll explain. All we have on our computer and all that’s reported to the Election Commission are names and home addresses. We have no idea where these people work. Now that this has come to light, I’ve instructed my campaign staff to return every one of the questionable contributions. That task will be completed in a week.”

A television reporter on the front row blurted out, “What about Leyton’s firm? They had to know what they were doing.”

McDowell wiped the sweat from his face again. “That’s up to Mr. Leyton. I think that he and his firm have abided by the letter of the law. You may want to check other sitting judge’s reports. Maybe they’ve done this for a number of judges they consider well qualified.” McDowell tried to smile.

Hartley Hampton rose from the back row. “Judge McDowell, are you going to recuse yourself from the Davis case?”

McDowell had enough. He rose from his chair and pointed his finger at Hampton. “Absolutely not. I’m one of the most senior judges in this county. My reputation for impartiality is beyond reproach. Anyone and everyone who sets foot in my court will be treated equally. Good day.”

Another call took place that day. Dwayne Allison called Leyton. His voice was surprisingly calm. “Ace, you’ve created a helluva mess, haven’t you?”

“I’m doing my best to unwind it. I never figured all of this would come out in the open. It never has up until now, and our firm does it in at least twenty states where judges are elected, maybe more. Dwayne, do you want me to resign so you can get other counsel?”

There was silence on the phone before Allison spoke. “No, not at this late date, but if you don’t win, let your partners know I’ll be suing your firm for malpractice. If I lose, the amount of the loss will come to rest at your feet. Understood?”

“Understood, Dwayne.”

That evening Jack convinced Colby to join him and J.D. in the man cave. J.D. flipped local channels to catch coverage of the story. When it got to be seven o’clock, Jack clicked off the TV.

“You going to try to recuse him?” Colby asked.

“Hell, no,” Jack replied. “Before today I would have done about anything to have gotten rid of him. Now, he’ll be watched like a hawk by the media. He’ll call them straight for damn sure. By the way,” Jack grinned. “Remind me to send Hampton a case of scotch at Christmas.”