It was the perfect case for the levying of punitive damages, and there was little doubt in

his mind a jury would agree with him. I certainly did, and at that moment neither Arthur

nor Rafter nor any other lawyer sitting over there wanted any part of Mordecai Green.

"We'll settle for five million," he said as he came to an end. "Not a penny less."

There was a pause when he finished. DeOrio made some notes, then returned to the

agenda. The matter of the file was next. "Do you have it?" he asked me.

"Yes sir."

"Are you willing to hand it over?"

"Yes."

Mordecai opened his battered briefcase and removed the file. He handed it to the clerk,

who passed it up to His Honor. We watched for ten long minutes as DeOrio flipped

through every page.

I caught a few stares from Rafter, but who cared. He and the rest were anxious to get their

hands on it.

When the Judge was finished, he said; "The file has been returned, Mr. Jacobs. There is a

criminal matter pending down the hall. I've spoken to Judge Kisner about it. What do you

wish to do?"

"Your Honor, if we can settle all other issues, we will not push for an indictment."

"I assume this is agreeable with you, Mr. Brock?" DeOrio said. Damned right it was

agreeable with me. "Yes sir."

"Moving right along. The next item is the matter of the ethics complaint filed by Drake &

Sweeney against Michael Brock. Mr. Jacobs, would you care to address this?"

"Certainly, Your Honor." Arthur sprang to his feet, and delivered a condemnation of my

ethical shortcomings. He was not unduly harsh, or long-winded. He seemed to get no

pleasure from it. Arthur was a lawyer's lawyer, an old-timer who preached ethics and

certainly practiced them. He and the firm would never forgive me for my screwup, but I

had been, after all, one of them. Just as Braden Chance's actions had been a reflection on

the entire firm, so had my failure to maintain certain standards.

He ended by asserting that I must not escape punishment for taking the file. It was an

egregious breach of duty owed to the client, RiverOaks. I was not a criminal, and they

had no difficulty in forgetting the grand larceny charge. But I was a lawyer, and a

damned good one, he admitted, and as such I should be held responsible.

They would not, under any circumstances, withdraw the ethics complaint.

His arguments were well reasoned, well pled, and he convinced me. The folks from

RiverOaks seemed especially hard-nosed.

"Mr. Brock," DeOrio said. "Do you have any response?"

I had not prepared any remarks, but I wasn't afraid to stand and say what I felt. I looked

Arthur squarely in the eyes, and said, "Mr. Jacobs, I have always had great respect for

you, and I still do. I have nothing to say in my defense. I was wrong in taking the file, and

I've wished a thousand times I had not done it. I was looking for information which I

knew was being concealed, but that is no excuse. I apologize to you, the rest of the firm,

and to your client, RiverOaks."

I sat down and couldn't look at them. Mordecai told me later that my humility thawed the

room by ten degrees.

DeOrio then did a very wise thing. He proceeded to the next item, which was the

litigation yet to be commenced. We planned to file suit on behalf of Marquis Deese and

Kelvin Lam, and eventually for every other evictee we could find. DeVon Hardy and

Lontae were gone, so there were fifteen potential plaintiffs out there. This had been

promised by Mordecai, and he had informed the Judge.

"If you're conceding liability, Mr. Jacobs," His Honor said, "then you have to talk about

damages. How much will you offer to settle these other fifteen cases?"

Arthur whispered to Rafter and Malamud, then said, "Well, Your Honor, we figure these

people have been without their homes for about a month now. If we gave them five

thousand each, they could find a new place, probably something much better."

"That's low," DeOrio said. "Mr. Green."

"Much too low," Mordecai agreed. "Again, I evaluate cases based on what juries might

do. Same defendants, same wrongful conduct, same jury pool. I can get fifty thousand per

case easy."

"What will you take?" the Judge asked.

"Twenty-five thousand."

"I think you should pay it," DeOrio said to Arthur. "It's not unreasonable."

"Twenty-five thousand to each of the fifteen?" Arthur asked, his unflappable demeanor

cracking under the assault from two sides of the courtroom.

"That's right."

A fierce huddle ensued in which each of the four Drake & Sweeney lawyers had his say.

It was telling that they did not consult the attorneys for the other two defendants. It was

obvious the firm would foot the bill for the settlement. Gantry seemed completely

indifferent; his money was not at stake. RiverOaks had probably threatened a suit of its

own against the lawyers if the case wasn't settled.

"We will pay twenty-five," Arthur announced quietly, and $375,000 left the coffers of

Drake & Sweeney.

The wisdom was in the breaking of the ice. DeOrio knew he could force them to settle the

smaller claims. Once the money started flowing, it wouldn't stop until we were finished.

For the prior year, after paying my salary and benefits, and setting aside one third of my

billings for the overhead, approximately four hundred thousand dollars went into the pot

of gold the partners divided. And I was just one of eight hundred.

"Gentlemen, we are down to two issues. The first is money--how much will it take to

settle this lawsuit? The second is the matter of Mr. Brock's disciplinary problems. It

appears as though one hinges on the other. It's at this point in these meetings that I like to

talk privately with each side. I'll start with the plaintiff. Mr. Green and Mr. Brock, would

you step into my chambers?"

The clerk escorted us into the hallway behind the bench, then down to a splendid oak-

paneled office where His Honor was disrobing and ordering tea from a secretary. He

offered some to us, but we declined. The clerk closed the door, leaving us alone with

DeOrio.

"We're making progress," he said. "I've got to tell you, Mr. Brock, the ethics complaint is

a problem. Do you realize how serious it is?" "I think so."

He cracked his knuckles and began pacing around the room. "We had a lawyer here in the

District, must have been seven, eight years ago, who pulled a similar stunt. Walked out of

a firm with a bunch of discovery materials that mysteriously ended up in a different firm,

which just so happened to offer the guy a nice job. Can't remember the name."

"Makovek. Brad Makovek," I said.

"Right. What happened to him?"

"Suspended for two years."

"Which is what they want from you."

"No way, Judge," Mordecai said. "No way in hell we're agreeing to a two-year

suspension."

"How much will you agree to?"

"Six months max. And it's not negotiable. Look, Judge, these guys are scared to death,

you know that. They're scared and we're not. Why should we settle anything? I'd rather

have a jury."

"There's not going to be a jury." The Judge stepped close to me and studied my eyes.

"You'll agree to a sixmonth suspension?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "But they have to pay the money."

"How much money?" he asked Mordecai.

"Five million. I could get more from a jury."

DeOrio walked to his window, deep in thought, scratching his chin. "I can see five

million from a jury," he said without turning around.

"I can see twenty," Mordecai said.

"Who'll get the money?" the Judge asked.

"It'll be a nightmare," Mordecai admitted.

"How much in attorneys' fees?"

"Twenty percent. Half of which goes to a trust in New York."

The Judge snapped around and began pacing again, hands clenched behind his head. "Six

months is light," he said.

"That's all we're giving," Mordecai retorted.

"All right. Let me talk to the other side."

* * *

Our private session with DeOrio lasted less than fifteen minutes. For the bad guys, it took

an hour. Of course, they were the ones forking over the money.

We drank colas on a bench in the bustling lobby of the building, saying nothing as we

watched a million lawyers scurry about, chasing clients and justice.

We walked the halls and looked at the scared people about to be hauled before the bench

for a variety of offenses. Mordecai spoke to a couple of lawyers he knew. I recognized no

one. Big-firm lawyers did not spend time in Superior Court.

The clerk found us and led us back to the courtroom, where all players were in place.

Things were tense. DeOrio was agitated. Arthur and company looked exhausted. We took

our seats and waited for the Judge.

"Mr. Green," he began, "I have met with the lawyers for the defendants. Here's their best

offer: the sum of three million dollars, and a one-year suspension for Mr. Brock."

Mordecai had barely settled into his seat, when he bounced forward. "Then we're wasting

our time," he said and grabbed his briefcase. I jumped up to follow him.

"Please excuse us, Your Honor," he said. "But we have better things to do." We started

for the aisle between the pews.

"You're excused," the Judge said, very frustrated.

We left the courtroom in a rush.

________________________________________________________________

Thirty-eight