Thursday, August 28, 2008

Part I: The Spectacle Ensued - August 28, 2008

When I told roommate that Mr. Bad Attorney had not been in court, I was guessing. When she told me that my guess was correct, she actually knew. Mr. Bad Attorney apparently told her at the first court appearance that this was the fact of the matter.

I had my first face-to-face meeting with him in court. I liken him to Senile Professor. He is far beyond his prime, has not been in court in years, is not up-to-date with the law, is outside his normal area of practice, and is in far over his head. The hole that man has dug himself and his client is dazzling. It is like looking at a horribly disfigured person: it churns your stomach to stare, but, for some reason, you cannot divert your eyes. As my father said, “this poor guy has no idea what is coming.” I think he is too old to know. Poor guy.

Our quiet side conversation in the court room went from unnoticed to the main event. As people poured in (mostly attorneys) they would chat, bringing the room to a quiet roar. As time progressed, the roar digressed to a soft hum, then to silence. As it turns out, I was not the only person paying attention to the horribly disfigured; our conversation was drawing the attentive stares of the courtroom. When I noticed this phenomenon, I decided to enjoy the moment (which turned into 15 to 20 minutes). I began speaking louder with each sentence. I wanted other people to witness the ensuing spectacle; I had to appease my crowd. I made sure the conversation was heard by all.

When he first approached me, I knew I was in the driver’s seat. My roommate made the appearance at the previous hearing and had a fun conversation about me with him. From what she told me, Mr. Bad Attorney admires me; she also told me that he was a little scared of me as I looked the dragon in the eyes and stared him down to a lizard (proverbially, of course). My knowledge of his probable demeanor in my presence was confirmed by his demeanor in my presence. The man was deferential.

He started out by asking me if I had seen the email with the “receipts” attached. (I used the quote strategically.) I told him that I had seen the email, but that a scanned copy of the poorly copied receipts was not going to suffice. He told me that he had hard copies on him and asked if I would like to sit down.

Before I continue, it is necessary to be informed of my latest and greatest thought process: this man is working on this case pro-bono. Every hour he spends working on this case is a billable hour he and his firm loses. Those who have worked in a law firm will attest that each member of a firm, from first-year associate to name partner are expected to bill clients a certain number of hours each week. The number of hours varies, but there is still a requirement nonetheless. If you are not able to bill the clients the requisite hours during the week, you either do not make as much or must work on the weekends to make it up. Now, back to the story…

I happily agreed to waste more of his time. We sat down in the gallery and began to chat. I am not going to reveal our case theories and thoughts (that will be after the trial – yes, I said trial – has concluded) but I will say this, everything they do has a problem. After he handed me the files, our grotesque conversation began.

Now that it is known that Roommate and I want to waste as much of Mr. Bad Attorney’s time as possible, I sought to invoke some of these time-wasting measures. Take mediation for example. We are not going to pay anything, and they want everything. Mediation probably will not work. But, it is a good way to waste some time.

I asked Mr. Bad to agree to a mediation. He told me that mediation would cost money. I told him that trial would cost him time, which equates to even more money. I was informed, by Mr. Bad, who hasn’t had client contact in years, nonetheless mediation, that mediation would not work. I told him that statistically, a great portion of cases settle in mediation, and there is a reason for that. He said that it would not work because Roommate and I did not want to pay anything. I told him that, however true that statement may be, mediation tends to bring a neutral voice into the picture. I relayed to him that I did not expect the mediator to come back with nothing as a number, but I did expect the mediator to breathe some reality into the conflict, especially for his client. He reiterated that it would not work because of our zero dollar figure. I repeated myself.

At this time, there was a hush in the courtroom. Noticing this, I became much louder. “I have already told you twice, I do not expect the mediator to tell us to settle for nothing. The word settle implies something higher than zero. I do expect the mediator to give you and your client a slice of reality. You have no case, and I think you know that.”

He quickly got off that topic and asked me why I won’t make his client an offer. I said that I am positive that we will win because state laws, state regulations and decades of caselaw that reflect our case with eerily similar facts all say that we should and will win. Mr. Bad Attorney then told a joke: “I do not think this is a caselaw case,” he began. “This is a facts case.” Chuckling noticeably, I questioned him as to what case in the world is decided where the law did not matter.

Senile? Perhaps.

He continued to explain to me that his client will testify, then Roommate and I will testify. Then the judge will decide who he believes. I must have had a smug grin on my face as I told him he was crazy to think that we weren’t going to call witnesses to testify on our behalf. Insert planned second time wasting element here: deposition.

“I need your witness list so that I can depose your witnesses,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I will give you the witness list in the required amount of time,” I retorted.

Goal two: success.

I then told him that this is ludicrous.

More tomorrow. To Be Continued…

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