Unclean Hands, page 9
Ten minutes later, while Rick wiped down a window, Arnie returned lugging a box through the door. He said, "Stop.. I told you I would fix this place up."
Rick lowered the rag to his side. "I'm thrilled you're here. I don't want to think you might regret the move."
"I haven't been here more than fifteen minutes. I'm not regretting anything–yet."
The box he brought in contained an assortment of brown file folders. He pulled out one and placed it on the shelving unit behind the desk.
"They let me take some crap I brought in, but fought me on the better cases. Spencer called some of my clients right after I quit and told them they fired me–suggested I stole from the firm, so those clients would stay at the firm. They got to my clients before I contacted them. I lost the best ones. I managed to save a couple of smaller files, but that's all I'm bringing over."
Rick frowned at the thought of paying two attorneys on his caseload. "I started some marketing, but we'll improve how we find new contacts. I'm assuming prospective clients won't be able to resist the charm of two dashing attorneys."
"Hopefully we'll have more to sell than our good looks."
"We're funny, too."
"It's looking like we're in trouble."
They spent the next twenty minutes straightening the office, hanging diplomas, and placing some files on shelves. Rick sat in the faux leather chair he placed in the office.
"Now that you're close to being set up, let's talk about the work we have and how we can split the tasks."
Arnie pointed to the files behind him. "I got some work to do on those cases. A few depos and discovery responses, but I'm going to be a bit lean for a while." He frowned.
"Not to worry," Rick said. "Like I told you, a couple of my cases are heating up and they're why I asked you to come aboard. Both have a lot of outstanding discovery and are scheduled for mediation in two weeks before Ken Nisken. We have a lot of work to do to prepare for the mediations and if we can resolve either one of them, that might go a long way to getting some bills paid."
"I also wanted to let you know that when I went back to retrieve my belongings from the firm, Crotec and Spencer didn't leave my side, making sure I didn't cause any trouble. As I was leaving, they mocked me for coming to work with you. They called both of us losers, and said they would make you look stupid in your case with them. They promised to use all the big firm tactics we were taught and bury us under paper."
Rick waved his hand. "Screw them. Like I told you, I'm more than ready to handle anything they throw our way. So let's open up these files and learn them inside and out, so when we are face-to-face with them we can demonstrate our superiority."
Rick's voice got louder as he emphasized the last couple of words. He reached his fist in front of him and Arnie tapped it with his. "I got your back, brother."
Rick pictured two movie heroes standing back-to-back fending off the zombie mob, fighting until hope was almost extinguished and then figuring out a narrow escape route. He wondered in their newly formed tandem, if they would find redemption or get devoured before finding their path to safety.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dressed in a prim, green, summery dress with delicate, long sleeves, Emily Hawkins entered the office and in a small voice announced her presence. "Hello, Rick, it's me, Emily. Are you here?"
She examined the framed picture of a smoky city, its buildings silhouetted by the dusky sunlight. Surprised hearing an unrecognized voice approaching her from behind, she spun and was greeted by a tall, dark haired man extending his hand.
"Arnie McBride. I'm new here. Hoping to help out on your case–if that's okay with you."
"Sure," Emily said with a lurch. "Is Rick still meeting with me?"
"Of course. We figured two for the price of one is an excellent deal."
Emily grinned and let go of Arnie's hand. "I don't know much about mediation, or what I need to do."
"Don't worry," Arnie said, "It's our job to answer your questions."
He led her to the conference room and before they took seats, Rick arrived carrying a pile of papers with his yellow legal pad sitting on top.
"You ready to start?"
She pulled a chair from the table and sat. "Fire away."
For the next hour, they took turns explaining the dynamics of a mediation and trying to set her expectations at a reasonable level so there was, at least, a chance of getting the case resolved. The two lawyers explained how, unlike a judge, a mediator wields no real power, his purpose to allow the parties to find common ground to reach a settlement.
"He will start with everyone in the same room," Rick explained, "but will separate the parties and then move back and forth trying to convince Emily to lower her demand and getting the defendants to offer more money. If successful, they will meet somewhere in the middle and, poof, the case is resolved."
Arnie stood and walked to the window. "It's never that easy," he said, "B & D will come up with all sorts of reasons why they will win the case or how we're asking for too much money. We will try to convince the mediator why your monetary demands are more than reasonable.
Emily lifted her eyebrows and nearly raised her hand wanting to interject. "Will I speak at the mediation?"
Rick laughed. "Doubtful. Lawyers like to maintain control of their clients. We understand what you want and it's better if we do the talking. Sometimes people act testy. We're trained to maintain our composure."
"Which we can do, most of the time," Arnie said, smacking Rick on the back. He turned towards Emily, "I won't tell you about the time at a deposition where Rick got in a shouting match over whether he could confer with the witness–that's ancient history."
Rick pushed Arnie away with a subtle elbow and addressed Emily. "I told you before, I worked with the attorneys representing the store. Arnie did also and truth be told, neither one of us likes them. I don't think they're trustworthy, but that's not your problem–it's ours. I doubt our relationship with them will be a factor at the mediation, so no need to worry."
The two lawyers sat opposite Emily and explained how the facts of the case are important at the beginning of the mediation, but predicted how the mediator would move away from what happened to Jerry in the parking lot because he didn't want the parties to bog down in arguing over whose side was right. Rather, he would focus on the money and as long as the parties continued to compromise, the mediator would be happy–and the likelihood of a settlement would increase.
"What’s my role, if you guys are doing all the talking?"
"Fair question," Rick said. "Your role is important. You're supposed to scare them. Not by being an ogre, but by being someone they wouldn't want in front of a jury. We want you to be calm and appear reasonable. Not someone who would fall apart if they got a chance to cross-examine you. We want you to be sympathetic–which won't be too hard because you are now a widow as a result of what they did."
Rick explained how other clients had torpedoed possible settlements by being too pushy or by not being patient with the process. "This can take hours and you will feel frustration. That's typical. Don't let that interfere with how we handle the mediator. We will be upfront with him, but only to a degree. We’ll play some poker. I don't want the other side to be able to read us by how we act."
Emily crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.
Rick laughed. "I think you understand the point.”
He stacked up his papers spread across the conference room table.
"One last concept to discuss. I don't want you to get your expectations too high. Chances are the case won't settle at the mediation. That's okay, because we can still learn something about their thinking while we're talking with them. We may throw out some major dollar figures, but I don't want you to assume the case is worth that much just because we ask for the money. I'm optimistic they will be reasonable and you can leave the mediation never having to worry about going to trial."
Arnie leaned in and added, “You're in charge. We don't make any demand you haven't approved first and the only way the case resolves is if you agree. It's your case and you're the boss."
They glanced at each other and then at Emily. "You got any more questions?" Rick asked.
She shook her head. "Nope. I understand much better than I did." She stood and gave both attorneys hugs. "Thanks guys. I'm glad you're in charge."
They walked her to the front door and watched her trot down the front steps. Once they shuffled back to the offices down the hallway, Arnie leaned against the frame of Rick's door with his hands in his pockets. "Think this mediation will be productive?"
Rick sat on the edge of his credenza and cocked his eyes towards the ceiling. "Who knows? Wouldn't it be amazing if we can settle and have some money flowing into the firm? With your buddies Spencer and Crotec on the other side, anything might happen. Problem is, I won't trust a word coming out of their mouths. So, I guess that makes reaching an agreement a little more difficult."
Arnie turned to leave, but stopped. "In fifteen minutes we do it again with your tiger dude."
Rick grabbed his phone. "Wait till you meet this guy. He will blow your mind."
"You've been building him up for weeks. No way can he meet my overblown expectations."
Chapter Thirty
Not fifteen minutes after Emily left the office, Billy Blevins banged on the door ready to prepare for his mediation, scheduled the morning before Emily's. Never had Rick participated in two mediations on the same day, let alone with the same mediator.
Billy sauntered into the conference room, dressed in a green silk shirt and wide-legged white pants. He poured himself a glass of water and bowed in Rick’s direction. Rick wondered if doing back-to-back sessions was too ambitious, and perhaps, overly optimistic.
Without saying a word, Billy took the seat at the head of the table.
Rick walked over and stood over him until Billy sheepishly removed himself and slunk over to the next seat.
"Thanks. That's my seat," Rick mumbled, sliding in the vacated chair.
After introducing Arnie to Billy, Rick went into a similar spiel as he had with Emily, explaining the ins and outs of mediation, what Blevins should expect to happen, and how he should handle himself. Billy stared at the wall without giving any indication of listening. Within minutes, it was apparent Billy wasn't as compliant as Emily and more willing to disregard the instructions of his attorneys and pursue his own agenda.
"Billy, focus!" Rick demanded. "You aren't listening and your attention is somewhere else."
"Sorry, man. I'm hearing what you're telling me, I'm just on a different page. You guys don't understand how this is screwing with me. When Frank Francisco first called me, I didn't know who he was. He wanted to invest in my parks. Against my better instincts, I took him in as a minority investor, yet he's trying to take over the whole business right under my nose."
Rick glanced up from his yellow pad. "It's not so simple. You both are pursuing breach of contract claims against each other. He has a separate tortious interference with contract lawsuit against you and your federal court suit claiming Francisco secured a contract through fraud for another business of his by taking proprietary information from your zoos is pending."
"His claims against me are bullshit. I have the bastard over a barrel with mine."
The last remark made Rick squirm. He leaned his head forward, placing it in his hands.
"Your claims are not as strong as you think, and his claims against you aren't crap. They are legitimate. The evidence suggests you made a series of phone calls to a company with whom Mr. Francisco was about to enter into a significant supply contract. After your calls, the other company backed out and it took him six months to fill the gap. As a result, he lost a bunch of clients and lots of money. Sounds like a decent claim."
A couple of small beads of sweat appeared on Blevins' forehead. "That slime bag is trying to screw me over and you're taking his side." Blevins stared Rick in the eyes.
Neither blinked.
"Listen," Rick said, "my job is to gather the facts and then analyze them for you. I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass and tell you your case is a winner when it's not. That doesn't help either one of us."
Rick paused to allow Blevins a chance to regain his composure. "Your claims have some merit and so do his. That's my analysis."
"He's trying to steal my business and you're letting him get away with it."
Rick focused on the ceiling. "No, we're fighting for you. Now, we come up with a plan for negotiating."
The tension in the room dissipated somewhat as they discussed the best ways to extract a settlement offer from Francisco. Rick's blood pressure went up each time Blevins' neuroses kicked in causing him to veer the conversation towards imagined sleights and other irrelevant matters. By the end, Rick couldn't decide if he had participated in a preparation meeting or a counseling session.
"Don't know what that was all about," Arnie said after Blevins departed. "I didn't say anything of value. I wanted to help, but it went off the rails right from the beginning."
"Nothing for you to do. He's Billy Blevins and sometimes he talks, but rarely does he listen. I'm betting this mediation will be going down the tubes, but it'll be interesting to witness the festivities from center ice. Sort of like watching a slow motion train wreck."
Chapter Thirty-One
Glass walls reminiscent of Hannibal Lector's jail cell enclosed the series of conference rooms. The aura, however, was much sleeker and more modern than an antiquated lockup. Ken Nisken's offices provided an impressive, yet utilitarian, venue for mediations. Each room had every electronic hook-up conceivable so attorneys and their clients would be productive during times when the spotlight shone on other participants.
Lawyers understood conferences might take as much as ten hours with the mediator moving from room to room handling the negotiations. In a complicated, multi-party piece of litigation, some defendants could hang out in their rooms, without participating in active negotiation for hours, only saved from complete boredom by utilizing internet access through a computer or cell phone.
A spunky, young receptionist held the door open for Rick, Arnie, and their flamboyant client, Billy Blevins. "Mr. Nisken will begin the mediation once all parties are here and ready. We will meet in the central conference room first and then you can break out to your own room."
She pointed across the poured concrete hallway to a larger conference room in the middle of the smaller satellite rooms. "Coffee and soda are set up in the hallway with bagels and donuts. Please help yourself to whatever you like." She made an awkward half-bow, turned, and slid out of the room.
"Nice digs," Blevins said, looking up at the halogen lights casting direct beams onto the long, dark table in the center. "This guy must pull in a lot of cash. I hope he's worth the price."
Rick stood and walked over to Blevins. "Billy, mediation only works if the parties are willing to compromise. How are you feeling about that, today?"
"Not good. I didn't sleep at all last night, worrying about how the rat tried to screw me over. Not good at all."
Rick turned away and rolled his eyes for Arnie's benefit. He mouthed, "Awesome."
Arnie nodded and directed his attention to his yellow pad as Blevins paced around the table.
Stilted conversation, mixed with an occasional uncomfortable silence, marked the next ten minutes until the mediator stuck his well-coiffed, gray haired, head into the room. He extended his hand to Blevins, "I'm Ken Nisken. I'm well acquainted with your fine lawyers."
Rick smiled, knowing he had met the mediator only once before at a conference, while Arnie didn't know the man.
"If you're ready to start, please head over to the center conference room. Mr. Francisco and his attorney are already in there."
From their vantage point looking into the other room across the hall, they had no difficulty distinguishing the lawyer from the client as they sat with their backs facing towards them at the long table. The long flowing mane of blond, teased hair draped the back of the man sporting black leather pants and tight-fitting leather blazer. No introduction was needed–this was Tiger Land owner, Frank Francisco. The gentleman with the corporate part in his jet black hair wearing the pinstriped suit was, without a doubt, Thomas Rorspot. Rorspot's well-deserved reputation of a soft spoken attorney with a meticulous, crafty mind, preceded him.
Extending his well-manicured finger, Nisken directed Rick's group to the far side of the table and then took the seat at the head to place himself between the two sides. He exchanged glances with both groups, "Thank you for providing me with your mediation statements. You gave me a lot to digest, but I believe a resolution can be found."
Rick leaned back in his chair. This was the same crap every mediator spouted. They always displayed optimism and then went into their speech about how the parties should go outside their comfort zones to reach a resolution. After five minutes of additional introductory commentary, Nisken glanced at Rick and asked if he wished to make any presentation to the other side.
Rick was about to decline, but Blevins leaned forward with his eyes not blinking, and said, while pointing at his business partner, "He better be paying me lots of money. Trying to steal my business is bad enough, but going around and spouting lies to ruin my reputation is worse. I've told my attorney to add a claim for defamation."
He glanced over at Rick, who avoided his gaze.
Francisco threw back his head and his mouth rounded. "I'm ruining your reputation?" He put his hand on his chest. "Billy, you told everyone I'm a loser and I'm incompetent running a business. I couldn't open up another zoo because you dragged my name through the mud and now everyone in town thinks I'm a moron."
"I wonder why?" Billy said under his breath, a smug expression on his face.
And away we go. . . . Rick pictured the chances of reaching a settlement melting like an ice cube on a hot sidewalk.
