The Justice Game (31 page)

    She stared at the clinic and tried to honestly assess her own motives. Was she hesitating because she was scared? Or was this genuinely a bad idea?

    Either way, she couldn’t make herself go in there.

    She put her car in drive and pulled out of the parking spot. She would find out who was behind the blackmail; her resolve hadn’t been weakened one bit.

    But this was not the way.

Jason had heard that the ability of opposing lawyers to get along decreased exponentially as trial approached. Now he knew it was true. Throw in a high-profile case, a frosty relationship at the outset, and two young lawyers both trying to make a name for themselves, and the result was a constant parade to the courthouse so the judge could resolve petty disagreements.

    The first two Fridays in March found Kelly and Jason arguing over various discovery disputes. They took turns accusing each other of improperly withholding information, operating in bad faith, filing burdensome and harassing discovery requests, and other forms of underhanded lawyering and general thuggery. Judge Garrison ruled for Kelly on some points and for Jason on others, frustrating everybody.

    On the third Friday, the lawyers found themselves in Garrison’s courtroom again, this time arguing over Kelly’s desire to take a follow-up deposition of Melissa Davids. “I won’t need more than two hours,” she claimed. “There are some things I know now that I didn’t know when I first deposed her.”

    “Like what?” Jason asked.

    “I’m not required to divulge my deposition strategy,” Kelly responded.

    After twenty minutes of heated argument, Judge Garrison banged his gavel and told the lawyers he’d heard enough. He started with a lecture aimed at Kelly—he wasn’t going to keep letting her have a second and third shot at the defendant every time she thought of something new. But then he talked about the purpose of discovery and how both sides should have more than adequate opportunity to question the other party on all matters relevant to the case.

    Jason could see where the ruling was headed and wanted to scream. He understood the rules of full and open discovery, but Melissa Davids had already answered questions for nearly six hours. His client was going to have a fit.

    “You’re only getting two more hours with the witness,” Garrison told Kelly. “Not a minute more.”

    “Thank you, Your Honor.”

    “And you’ll have to fly to Atlanta at your expense. I’m not making Ms. Davids come back here for two hours.”

    “Yes, Your Honor.”

    “Anything else?” Judge Garrison asked.

    “No, Your Honor,” Kelly said cheerfully.

    Jason shook his head, refusing to give Judge Garrison the satisfaction of a verbal reply. At first, Jason had thought Garrison was a good draw for the case. The judge had risen through the ranks of the Republican party and was certifiably conservative. But now the information provided by Rafael Johansen was never far from Jason’s mind. The judge had issues.… Maybe somebody on the other side was pulling his strings. Jason didn’t think Kelly was capable of such a thing, but there were a lot of strident gun-control groups with an active interest in the case.

    Or maybe it was something less nefarious. Maybe Garrison just subconsciously favored nice-looking female attorneys.

    Either way, there wasn’t much Jason could do about it right now. After the hearing, he would call Case McAllister and tell him to get Melissa Davids ready for another two hours of deposition. What new angle did Kelly Starling want to pursue?

Ten days later, Jason stopped by his office early in the morning on his way to the airport. Not surprisingly, Bella was there. She had his trip folder organized and ready to go, including directions from the airport to MD Firearms, the prior deposition of Davids indexed and summarized, and every other possible item Jason might need on his trip, including the phone number for Judge Garrison’s chambers if the court needed to rule on something during the deposition.

    Jason thought about the day he had interviewed Bella, how he had almost hired that other woman—what was her name? Going with grit, girth, and experience over beauty and seduction had been one of the smartest decisions of his young legal career.

    But on this particular morning, Bella’s one major weakness was also in full bloom. She wasn’t satisfied just running her own life; she had to mother Jason, too.

    She did it from a familiar vantage point—blocking the door to Jason’s office, her arms folded across her chest, clutching manila folder files and legal documents.

    “Brad Carson used to always say a trial is a marathon,” Bella pontificated. “You can’t keep up this pace for a marathon.”

    “What pace?” Jason asked without looking up. He didn’t have time for this.

    “Let’s see . . . at 11:30 last night, you e-mailed me the first draft of a Motion to Compel in the MD Firearms case; two hours later, a draft of our expert’s opinions on the McAfee case—so now we’re looking at nearly two in the morning. Four hours later, I’m getting more e-mails about the need to set up appointments with fact witnesses for each of these hair cases.”

    Jason shrugged. “I’m nocturnal.”

    “Mmm-hmm,” Bella said, as if Jason’s answer had somehow confirmed her point. “When’s the last time you went to the beach?”

    Jason looked up. “Like every other normal human being, I don’t spend much time at the beach in January and February.”

    “I’m not talking about layin’ out or swimmin’ or something. I’m just talking about strolling on the boardwalk when the tourists are gone or eating at one of those restaurants that overlook the ocean. When’s the last time you did
anything
that wasn’t work related?”

    Jason put down his pen. She had a point. A small one, but a point nonetheless. When he moved to Virginia Beach, he had been drawn by the ocean, the sand, the water, the laid-back culture. He was going to learn to surf or maybe master the paddleboard. He would run on the boardwalk and join a gym and be part of the young lawyers’ association.

    He had done none of those things. Instead, he’d done what he always did: thrown himself into the intellectual challenges. Sure, he had played soccer in high school and starred in the school play, but mostly he studied. In college he avoided the fraternities and extracurricular activities so he could focus on the books. Because of what he’d been through, he didn’t drink and felt out of place at parties. He went to an SEC school but never attended a football game. It wasn’t until law school, where it was finally okay to be a nerd, that he had begun to thrive. Law review, moot court, and high class rank made him the envy of classmates rather than an outsider.

    But even in law school, he ate lunch alone every day at an out-of-the-way restaurant or in the kitchen of his one-person apartment. Jason was an unrepentant introvert. He had always considered himself a paradox—a loner who liked to perform. Since law school, he had learned that a lot of other public speakers and actors were introverts as well. He couldn’t change who he was, so why not accept it?

    “When’s the last time
you
went to the beach?” Jason asked, turning the tables on Bella. Deflect and distract, always a good defense.

    But Bella had worked for a lawyer for thirty years. “This isn’t about
me,
” she said. “Besides, you want to be like me someday? Fifty years old and all I have is my job?”

    The honesty of her assessment surprised Jason. And it may have surprised Bella a little as well, because she quickly added, “And my faith and friends at church. But… I mean, I wish I had done more stuff when I was your age.”

    In that moment of transparency, Jason felt a wave of sympathy for his assistant. He hadn’t really given much thought to what it would be like in Bella’s shoes. For Jason, the law was an intriguing mistress, a challenging intellectual exercise, and a way to make money while serving the clients. For Bella, it must have been a grind—all menial and administrative tasks. And worse, after spending most of her career with one lawyer, she had to start all over again with somebody new.

    But Jason wasn’t a counselor. Quite the contrary, he hated talking about personal issues. He decided to resort to another time-tested advocacy weapon—procrastination.

    “Let’s just get through the Crawford case first,” Jason said. “And then we’ll both turn into Virginia Beach socialites.”

    “Speak for yourself,” Bella said. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

The look on Melissa Davids’s face had been smug and impatient in her first deposition, but today it was pure contempt. Jason worried that his client might say something she would regret later, something that Jason might not be able to overcome no matter how skillfully he picked and cajoled the jury.

    Even as Kelly asked her preliminary questions, Jason’s palms were practically dripping with anxiety. He caught his leg bouncing nervously under the table and stopped before he bumped Case McCallister, sitting next to him.
What did Kelly Starling have that was so important it required a follow-up deposition?

    “In your last deposition, I asked if you were aware of the fact that Peninsula Arms had received three citations from the ATF even before Rachel Crawford’s death. You said you might have been aware of that. Do you remember that testimony?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Do you want to amend that answer?”

    “Of course not.”

    “Were you aware of those citations?”

    “Objection,” Jason said. “How many times does she have to answer the same question?”

    Kelly ignored him. “Ms. Davids, are you saying today, under oath, that you don’t recall whether you were aware of those three ATF citations?”

    “I said it before and I’ll say it again: I
might
have been.”

    Kelly snorted at the answer. Jason tensed even more, leg bouncing, heart pounding. He didn’t like where this was headed.

    “I also asked you whether you ever considered shutting down Peninsula Arms as a dealer.” Kelly consulted her bound copy of the prior deposition’s transcript. “And your response was, ‘No. If anybody had suggested such a thing to me, I would have told them I still believed in the Second Amendment and the free enterprise system.’ Do you remember that testimony?”

    “Not particularly. But if that’s what the transcript says, I don’t deny it.”

    “Isn’t it a fact, Ms. Davids, that you
definitely
considered whether MD Firearms should cut off rogue dealers and
definitely
decided against doing it because you wanted to protect the company’s bottom line?”

    Jason opened his mouth to object but it was too late.

    “Of course not,” Davids shot back. She looked like she wanted to jump across the table and attack Kelly. “That’s just your fantasy.”

    Jason knew what was coming next. Part of it was the smirk on Kelly’s face. Part of it was the way she let the answer hang out there as she deliberately pulled out a set of documents, slowly removed the paper clip and separated three copies.

    She kept one copy, handed one to the court reporter, and slid the third across the table to Jason. “Since your last deposition had twenty-six exhibits, I’m going to ask the court reporter to mark this next document as Plaintiff’s Exhibit 27,” she said calmly. “Then I’ll ask if you’ve ever seen this document before.”

    Jason glanced through the document quickly. Just as he feared, Kelly had somehow obtained a copy of the memo from Case McAllister.

    “I object,” Jason interjected, even before the court reporter handed the document to Davids. “This document is protected by the attorney-client privilege. I’m instructing the witness not to answer any questions about it.”

    Without saying a word, Kelly Starling pulled out another set of documents, removed a paper clip, and separated three single sheets of paper. When Jason got his copy, his throat constricted.

    It was a copy of Davids’s e-mail to Gerald Franks, CEO of Walker Gun Co., urging him not to blacklist renegade dealers from the Walker distribution chain. The e-mail was cryptic and to the point—vintage Melissa Davids.

    While Jason stared at the memo, Kelly had it marked as Plaintiff’s Exhibit 28. “Do you recognize this?” she asked Davids.

    “Hold on,” Jason said. He turned to Kelly. “Where did you get this?”

    She shrugged. “I don’t have to answer that.”

    “This e-mail and the attached memo are protected by the attorney-client privilege. I’m instructing the witness not to answer.”

    “You’re kidding,” Kelly said.

    Jason felt his face flush, but he was committed now. “I’m basing my objection on the joint defense privilege. Both companies faced the prospect of being named as defendants in a lawsuit. Under those circumstances, it’s not a waiver of the attorney-client privilege to share a privileged document with an executive from another company.”

    Kelly laughed cynically. “That’s creative. But it’s also total garbage. Do you have any cases where the joint defense privilege has been applied to two companies that aren’t even defendants in the same case together?”

    Jason sat up straighter. “You’re not going to talk me into this. If you want to call the judge, be my guest.”

    Kelly gave one final harrumph and suspended her questions so they could get Judge Garrison on the phone. Halfway through Kelly’s explanation of the issue, the judge cut her off.

    “Is this true?” he asked Jason. “Did Ms. Davids send this memo to another company’s CEO?”

    “Yes, Your Honor. But both companies were potential targets in the lawsuits filed by the northeastern cities. MD Firearms had already been named as a defendant. In fact, that’s the very reason the memo was drafted in the first place.”