Ca$h Call, page 25
Stan Turner
Jodie closed her pad and said, "That ought to shake them up a bit."
"I hope so. It’s our only chance to salvage anything out of this pitiful case."
The following week, Pam and Don Blaylock came to my office purportedly for a meeting to discuss the several lawsuits against them. Pam resisted the meeting at first but finally agreed when I stressed the urgency of the situation. Don had just picked Pam up at the airport and when they arrived they appeared to be cordial. Pam looked even thinner and paler than when I had seen her last. Don was very nervous and concerned for Pam's comfort. I thought how things had changed from the first time I had met them a year earlier. I knew this meeting might be their last chance to ever restore life as they once knew it. It was time for a miracle.
"Hi, Pam. How have you been?" I asked.
"Okay. I'm a little tired from the flight."
"Thank you so much for coming. I know it was a lot to ask of you, but it's absolutely imperative that we respond to the discovery requests that we just received from the attorneys for the landlord."
"What kind of discovery?" Don asked.
"Well, we've got interrogatories, requests for admission, and requests for production. It will probably take us several hours to go through all of this and then you'll have to go see if you can find all of the records they're looking for."
Pam stiffened up, looked me in the eye and said, "Couldn't Don have done this by himself? Why do you need me?"
"You need to approve and sign all of this discovery since you're a named party."
She took a deep breath and sunk back in her chair.
"Before we get to the discovery, though, I wanted to talk to you about something else."
"What's that?" Pam said.
"You know about the time I met you two I got an incredible break. . . . At least it seemed like one at the time. An old client referred a wrongful death case to me. You may not realize it, but a good wrongful death case for any attorney is like winning the lottery. I was elated. I was so excited I canceled all my appointments, went home, and took Rebekah and the family out to celebrate. You probably think I'm rich, right? Most people think all lawyers are rich. Well, that's not the case. I started my practice on a shoestring four years ago, and since then I've spent 110% of what I've earned. Finally, I thought, I'd have a few bucks in the bank and, maybe even a little financial security for a change. It was just a matter of time.
"Anyway," I continued. "The case was great. The newspaper reports said that our client's father was hit by the son of a rich Oklahoma oil man who was driving a 1982 Porsche. To top it all off, the driver was arrested for DWI and involuntary manslaughter. It was a dream case, I knew I was going to be an instant millionaire. I even promised Jodie a new BMW, if you can believe that."
"Unfortunately, my dream quickly turned into a nightmare. The 1982 Porsche turned out to be a 1972 Porsche. The driver, it seems, was estranged from his family and was penniless—so broke, in fact, that he didn't even have insurance. Then I discovered my client had never met his father and the extent of his damages were that he wouldn't be able to look his father up some day!"
"So, my last hope is that this guy gets indicted for DWI and manslaughter. At least that would insure that I could get a big punitive damage award which would at least enhance my reputation and perhaps lead to some better wrongful death cases in the future. Ha! What a joke. The grand jury no bills the driver because his blood test isn't quite incriminating enough. So, now I've got nothing. Actually, less than nothing. Now I've got court costs, expert witness fees, investigation bills and court reporters to pay. If the case has to be tried it could cost me twenty-five grand. But that's not the worst. A wrongful death case could take hundreds of hours away from my practice. I could lose another thirty to fifty thousand easy in billable hours. Suddenly the price tag for this little fiasco is fifty to a hundred thousand bucks!"
I got up and went over to the window and looked out at the Dallas skyline. Don shook his head and gave me a sympathetic smile. Pam shifted slightly in her chair but said nothing. "So," I continued. "What I'm trying to tell you is, I really screwed up. I should have investigated the facts thoroughly before I ever took the case, but I didn't. I got greedy and now I'm paying for it. So, I just want you to realize everyone makes mistakes for one reason or another. We're all just human beings struggling to survive. If we didn't have some bad times, how could we ever appreciate the good times, right?"
I came back to my desk, sat down and leaned toward Pam and Don, and said, "You know, several years ago I had a client who came to me about a business venture. He wanted my advice about whether to do the deal or not. I looked over the material that he gave me, talked to the principals involved, and even flew to the location of the business to inspect it. When I was done I concluded that the deal stunk and I advised my client to forget it.
"Unfortunately," I continued, "he was sold on the deal and didn't take my advice. In fact, he got mad at me for telling him it was a bad deal! I tried to reason with him and point out why the deal was bad but he didn't listen. In fact, he ended up firing me.
"Just a few months ago he called me up and wanted a meeting. I consented, and we met at a bar and had a drink together. He told me the deal was a disaster. Everything that I had told him that would happen did happen. Not only had he lost his investment but he was sued and lost his entire business as well. He concluded by saying that he blamed me for everything that happened to him.
"Blamed you?" Don exclaimed.
"Right. I was flabbergasted by his statement and asked him how he figured I was to blame. He said I should have whacked him over the head and made him take my advice. I should have flat forbidden him to do the deal!
"Of course, I've given what he said a lot of thought, and, you know, he might be right to a degree. Sometimes maybe I'm not getting across to my clients what they should do, particularly when the choice is clear. . . . And this is particularly the case with you two."
"What do you mean." Pam asked tentatively.
"I know neither of you like the idea, you've told me you'd never do it and I know you don't want to hear this, but . . . you need to file bankruptcy! It doesn't matter what anyone thinks. It doesn't matter what it will do to your credit. It doesn't matter how humiliated you might feel. It's the only thing you can do considering the desperate circumstance you find yourself in."
Pam sighed. "Is this why you brought me all the way from Seattle? You thought you were going to convince me to file bankruptcy?"
"No, I brought you here at the request of your son who has been devastated by what's happened to both of you. We brought you back here to take one last stab at saving your marriage."
"What? Are you a marriage counselor now?" Pam asked angrily.
"No, but I do a lot of bankruptcy and a fair amount of divorces and one thing I've observed is that financial stress is devastating to a marriage. You know it's been almost a year ago that Rebekah and I first met you two. Since then we've gotten to know you pretty well. We always admired both of you and your wonderful family. I don't think I've ever known anyone happier than you two were when we met you. . . . Now the only thing that has happened in the last year is you've lost a lot of money and you've incurred a lot of debt. So what?! It's not anybody's fault. It's just money. You still have the most important thing in life, each other's love and the love of your children. Don't throw away the most precious things in your life!"
I paused a moment and then continued, "So I'm telling you now file bankruptcy! Get on with your life. Once your debts are all forgiven the stress in your life will vanish and the healing process will begin."
When I was finished neither Pam nor Don said a word. I thought of my old days when I sold life insurance. Once you've made your pitch, the first person to talk loses. After a minute Pam took a deep breath and said, "Do I have to go in front of a judge?"
I smiled and replied, "No, just ten minutes in front of a trustee and I'll be right there at your side."
Don looked longingly at Pam and before long they were in each other arms. I got up and left the room to give them a little privacy.
When I got home and told Rebekah that night the news she was elated. "It’s too bad they have to file bankruptcy, but I’m so glad they are back together. When you see a family as strong as the Blaylocks in trouble, you wonder if the same thing could happen to you."
I looked into Rebekah’s eyes and said, "It would never happen to us. Our family will always be together. I promise."
We embraced.
Rebekah said, "Now all you have to do is get Jim off the murder charge and everything will be back to normal."
I sighed. "Yeah, wouldn’t that be sweet. Unfortunately, Margie and Laura Bell both have alibis. Margie’s is a little shaky but she has no motive unless—"
"Unless what?"
"Unless she caught Luther cheating on her which wouldn't be a big shock."
I let Rebekah go and walked a few feet away.
"You think he was two-timing Margie?"
"Yeah—with a stripper named Julie. If Margie somehow found out about it, she might have been pissed off enough to want to kill him."
Rebekah thought for a moment. "But why kill him? They weren’t married. Why not just leave him?"
"Good question. She had nothing to gain by killing him."
Margie’s lack of a motive baffled me. She had to be the killer. If she wasn’t, then Jim or Rob had killed Luther. I couldn’t accept that. Racking my brain for an answer and only coming up with a headache, I decided I needed to probe Margie’s life a little deeper. There were two obvious places to start—her employer and her ex-husband. I opted for the ex-husband since he would be more likely to give me dirt on Margie than her current employer. He agreed to see me after he closed up his office at five. We met at Denny’s a few blocks from his dental clinic.
"I’ve talked to Margie, and she’s told me some things about you two that I’d like to verify. I know there are two sides to every story."
"What does our relationship have to do with your murder investigation?"
"Well, it doesn’t directly. I’m more concerned with Margie’s veracity than anything else. Have you ever known her to lie?"
"No, she was always pretty honest."
"She says you got a divorce because she caught you with your dental hygienist?"
He shrugged. "Yes, I’m afraid that’s true. She dropped in my office just after work, and Mary and I were letting off a little steam. You should have seen her face. Oh, was she pissed."
"What did she do?"
"Oh, God. While we were getting dressed she trashed my dental office."
"Really? She has a hot temper?"
"Oh, yes. You don’t want to be in her path when she erupts."
"Do you think she would be capable of murder given sufficient provocation?"
He thought for a moment and then replied, "I couldn’t rule out the possibility."
Now that I knew about Margie’s temper, I pretty much had the scenario figured out. Unfortunately, I needed evidence if I was going to get a jury to believe it. I didn’t have to prove my theory completely, just create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury.
25
Docket Call
Several weeks after Jim Cochran was arrested, we were scheduled for a docket call. Judge Martin Wingate of the 555th Criminal District Court had been assigned the case. Judge Wingate was a no-nonsense judge known for moving his docket quickly. When I called my old law professor Harry Hertel to ask him about Wingate, he told me the judge would probably sign a scheduling order to push the case along quickly. This concerned me because my investigation was far from complete and I needed as much time as possible to get ready for trial.
The press mobbed me as I walked out of the elevator on the sixth Floor of the Dallas County Courthouse.
"Mr. Turner. How does it feel to be trying another murder case?" a reporter asked.
I tried to make my way through the crowd of reporters but quickly realized I was pinned in. It was apparent I was going to have to answer a few questions before they would let me in the courtroom. I replied, "Sobering to say the least. . . . I just hope I can get my client a fair trial."
"Is it true Mr. Cochran threatened to kill Luther Bell a few days before the murder?"a second reporter asked.
I chuckled. "Believe it or not, a number of people threatened to kill Luther the week before he was killed, but obviously they all didn’t do it."
A narrow crack in the wall of reporters developed, so I quickly slipped through it and forced my way into the courtroom. Much to my surprise, Paula was there. I walked over to her.
"Hi," I said.
"I thought you might need some moral support."
"Thanks."
"They’ve assigned Will Thornton to prosecute this case. He’s a world class asshole. I don’t know a single person who likes him."
"Oh, wonderful."
"You better watch your back because he’ll do anything to win. The word ethics isn’t in his dictionary."
"So, what are his weaknesses?"
"His ego. He’s often over-confident and thinks his evidence is better than it really is. If you out-hustle him you can win. Just don’t let his cocky, know-it-all attitude intimidate you."
"Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up."
She gave me a frustrated look. "I wish you’d let me be second chair. I could really be a valuable asset."
"I know. Maybe I will. Just give me a little time with—"
"With?"
"My wife, Rebekah. She won’t be crazy about me having a woman as a partner."
"Oh, so that’s the problem."
I nodded. "But, it’s not an insurmountable one if I handle it right. Just give me a little time."
"Okay. I’ve got to run. I just wanted to warn you about Will."
After Paula left, I went up and introduced myself to Will Thornton. He was very cool and didn’t seem interested in talking to me right then, so I took a seat and waited. After a few minutes Jim Cochran walked in the courtroom. I went right over to him.
"Hi, Jim. How are you doing?"
He shrugged. "I’ve had better days."
"Well, not much is going to happen today. The judge will ask for your plea and then he’ll set the case for trial. The DA has assigned Will Thornton to prosecute your case. I understand he’s a prick, so this isn’t going to be a fun trial."
"Oh, just my luck."
The court reporter’s door opened and she quickly took her chair. The bailiff stood and said, "All rise!" The judge entered the courtroom and took the bench. He shuffled through some papers and then looked up.
"The State versus Michaels."
An assistant DA approached the bench along with a short, bald attorney. They talked with the judge for a few moments and then left. Several other cases were called and then the judge said, "The State of Texas verses Jim Cochran."
Thornton and I approached the bench and stood in front of the judge. He opened the file, studied it a minute, and then looked at us. "Well, gentlemen, I want to get a few things straight before we start. Mr. Thornton, you will present yourself in this courtroom with dignity and respect. Do you understand?"
Thornton glared at the judge without saying a word. "Do you understand, Mr. Thornton?" he repeated.
Thornton took a deep breath and said, "Yes, Your Honor."
"Good," the judge said, and then turned to me with his piercing glare. "And Mr. Turner, if you disobey an order of this court I’ll throw you in jail for contempt without hesitation. And I won’t wait until after the trial. . . . Do you understand?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes, Your Honor."
"Then with that out of the way, is your client ready to make his plea, Mr. Turner?"
"Yes, sir. He is."
The judge looked at Jim and asked, "Mr. Cochran, you are charged with murder under Section 19.02 of the Texas Penal Code. How you plead?"
Jim stood up straight and confidently said, "Not guilty, Your Honor."
The judge nodded and said, "Very well, I’m going to set this case for trial on February 13, 1984 at nine. My clerk will forward a scheduling order which will be followed to the letter without exception. Understood?"
We both replied, "Yes, Your Honor."
"Then that will be all. You’re dismissed."
Thornton bolted out of the courtroom. Jim and I followed close behind. As we walked toward the elevators, we talked.
"I guess the judge wanted us to know who’s boss," I said.
