Alligator Park (36 page)

I prepare three sterilized
specimen jars mixing brand new Farm-eXia with clean well water to produce a 1.0
gram per liter solution, the same concentration as was found in the lake water.
To make sure there are no surprises, I pretest them in the MSQ 9000 EVO which
tells me they read 99.98% pure R-form isomer, exactly what I expected.

I place the jars in a bag,
and then, make my way to the roof up a steel ladder bolted to the inside wall.
The ladder leads to a small trap door which opens out onto the roof. Doug had it
installed to allow him easy access to the equipment and machinery that requires
frequent service. I set up the three specimen jars between a couple of air
conditioners where they would be in direct sunlight all day long, but somewhat
protected from the frequent wind gusts that could displace the jars and ruin
the experiment. And then, after exiting the roof, I wait.

At noon, Berkeley calls to
inform me that the trial has been scheduled to start in ten days, on a Monday,
in Baltimore.

“They chose Baltimore because
it’s centrally located, only an hour from Washington by car and the same from
Philadelphia. They’re planning to bring in their lobbyists, wine and dine them
while they watch the slaughter. And then they can dash back to Washington to do
their dirty work with renewed vigor. And they want to be close to Philadelphia
because their main research facility is there and they can bring in expert
witnesses at the drop of a hat.”

He goes on to explain that
jury selection is scheduled for this coming Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday,
and he plans to fly up to Baltimore on Tuesday night.

“Do I need to be there?” I
ask.

“Oh heavens no. Jury
selection is just a lot of legal pushing and shoving. You’d be bored in five
minutes.”

He tells me he wants us there
the Sunday afternoon before the trial so we can get settled, and more
importantly, have a meeting to go over strategy. He’s graciously taken on the
expense of supplying me, Fargo, Doug, Brad, Sandy, and the Stewarts with
airline tickets and hotel reservations which, he explains, will come out of the
award. But secretly, I realize if I flub this and there’s no award and no
settlement, Berkeley will end up bearing the entire cost of the trial, with
nothing to show for it. Even though he’s well off financially and will hardly
notice the expense, it weighs on my conscious nonetheless.

I use the opportunity to
explain to him my latest theory, how the harmless R-form isomer is being
converted to S-form by the sun’s UV radiation.

“That’s great. The more
science the better. I need a report for GWI right away,” he says.

“Are you sure you want to let
them in on this? It’ll give them time to refute it.”

“You already know why we
can’t spring it on them in the courtroom. They’ll ask for a delay and that will
increase costs all around. Remember, the law is the search for truth. If we
miss something, and it comes out in the courtroom, it’ll look really bad, and
the jury will not forgive us.”

I conclude the call agreeing
to send him the report as soon as I confirm the results. There’s nothing much
else to do for the rest of the day so I let Doug know I’m leaving and then
drive myself back home.

I spend the weekend helping
out at the restaurant and the time goes quickly. Then on Monday, I return to my
job at Semi and complete the work Doug has set aside for me. After lunch, I
climb back up to the roof and retrieve the specimen jars that were exposed to
sunlight. They have now been up there a half-day on Friday, all day Saturday,
all of Sunday, and a half-day on Monday, three days total.

I anxiously run them through
the MSQ 9000 EVO and measure the S-form isomer at 0.43 percent. Extrapolating
this number over five weeks works out to five percent, the same number we got
from the alligator farm. I feel a moment of exhilaration that this confirms the
theory and then spend the afternoon finishing off the report I promised
Berkeley. At four o’clock I email it to him and ten minutes later he emails
back he’s going to reopen the $8 million settlement offer and use my report as
a prod to get them to the table. He’s convinced this last bit of science will
be enough to put doubt in their mind and push them to settle.

But the week goes by and I
hear nothing. And then, on Friday, Berkeley calls and tells me he had a
settlement conference with them and they’re holding firm for a trial. They tell
him they know about the ultraviolet effect and it’s a non-issue. They’re still
convinced they’ll crush us in court. It’s a big win they want so they can
splash it all over the media and scare off any other would be litigators, and they’ve
made it perfectly clear to Berkeley; they’re going to spare no expense to get
it.

My alarm rings at 5:00 AM, and as I open
my eyes, I realize this is Sunday, the day I fly to Baltimore to get ready for
the trial. But ready I’m not. There are gaps in my theory, places where GWI can
stuff a wedge and make me look unprepared and incompetent. I’m dealing with
pros, researchers and scientists that have years of experience and have seen it
all. They have no patience for an amateur.

But I have no choice. I can
only persevere and go forward. Backing out now would be an admission our case
was poorly conceived and the judge would surely hit Berkeley and the Stewarts
with Rule 11 sanctions for wasting everybody’s time. That could go into the
millions, and even though I wouldn’t be personally liable, it would most
certainly destroy my confidence and become my downfall. I must put on the best
case I can, present the evidence passionately, with enthusiasm, in spite of the
odds, and convince the judge and the jury, we have not approached this case
with frivolity. I’m certain my theory is correct, but GWI feels confident they
can prevail. What do they know I don’t? What could I possibly be missing?

I hop out of bed, put on my
exercise wear, and then sneak outside to the early morning twilight, careful
not to make any noise. I make my way to the end of the pier, roll out my Yoga
mat, assume the Lotus position, and then close my eyes, relax my body, and
clear my mind. It’s cool and quiet, except for the occasional croak of a frog
or the squawk of a bird, and I feel like I’m at the center of the universe.

A gentle rain begins to fall,
but I ignore it. The rain turns into a downpour, beating against the deck
boards with such ferocity it creates a roar. It runs down my hair, over my
face, and drenches my clothes, but I pay it no mind. Is it an omen? Is it a forewarning?
Should I be worried?

And then it stops, as
abruptly as it started. I’m dripping wet, but not uncomfortable. My mind
relaxes, drawing energy from the universe. My thoughts shoot back to December,
when I first came here, and what a neophyte I was. I think about the people I
met, the things I learned, and the courage I’d gained from independent
thinking. A great rush comes over me. I feel exhilaration, and contentment, and
confidence. I feel I can take on the world.

I finish up my routine, roll
up my mat, and head back to my bedroom. I get out of the wet clothes, take a
shower, and get ready for the trip to Baltimore. I spend the morning packing my
suitcase and reviewing my notes. Berkeley told me to be prepared for a two week
trial, so I stuff as many clothes as possible into my luggage. It’s going to be
business-casual for this trip. No one will be taking pictures in the courtroom
and I’ll be far away from Damon so there’s no reason to be concerned about a
disguise. And, of course, I won’t need the gun.

At noon, I saunter into the
living room dragging my carry-on and suitcase. Fargo, Doug, and Brad are sitting
at the table, chatting among themselves. They’ve signed up to be expert witnesses
and will accompany me on the flight to Baltimore. Berkeley has arranged it so
they can testify right away, and then, fly back on Tuesday. Detective Bolt had
offered to be an expert witness and was supposed to accompany us. But when his
captain found out it was out of state, and would take more than a day, he
balked at the idea. Berkeley had the good sense to get a video deposition from
him which can be shown at any time during the trial.

Will and Juanita wander in
the front door, back from church. We had decided earlier it would be prudent to
close the restaurant this week so he and Juanita would get a break from the
constant pressure. Will has pledged to use the time to catch up on his sleep
and we all agree he has earned that right. Juanita is using the opportunity to
drive her parents to their former home in Laguna Pueblo, to visit their
extended family.

I approach Will and give him
a hug. I do the same to Juanita. They wish us all a safe trip, and then we grab
our things and exit. Since I’ll be flying back myself, I’ve decided to drive my
own vehicle to the airport and park in the economy lot. I don’t want to inconvenience
anyone to pick me up. Will has graciously offered to pick up Fargo, Doug, and
Brad, when they fly back on Tuesday.

We pile into my truck, and then,
I drive the sixty mile trip to Daytona International. We arrive with plenty of
time for the three o’clock flight, board the plane, and in two and a half hours,
arrive at Baltimore-Washington airport. The Stewarts, along with Sandy, have
flown out of Jacksonville and are waiting for us at the car rental area. I rent
an eight passenger van, and drive everyone to a luxury hotel where Berkeley has
reservations waiting for us.

After we check-in and have
dinner, Berkeley calls a pretrial meeting to review the facts and plan a
strategy. He shows us the schedule he put together, when each person will
testify, and gives everyone pointers on how to make a good impression on the
stand.

“You’ll be each paid $10,000
per day for your expert testimony. That’s the maximum the judge would allow.
Any questions?”

No one has a question so he
dismisses the group but asks me to stay a while longer so he can review my
latest results and go over the science he needs to present. His chemistry
background allows him to grasp the concepts quickly and thoroughly and he takes
detailed notes. By 10:00 PM we have covered all the main points so we break up
for the night and return to our respective rooms.

The next morning, I wander
into the hotel lobby at 7:30 AM and meet up with the group. Berkeley joins us a
few minutes later and he’s dressed in a crisp Italian suit over a pastel yellow
shirt with a shiny blue tie. He not only looks the part of a successful big-city
lawyer, he defines it. I would have never guessed it was the same guy we first
met back at the yacht wearing white shorts, a golf shirt, and flip flops.

He leads us out the door and
along the sidewalk to the Edward A. Garmatz United States District Courthouse
only a few blocks away. It’s an imposing structure, constructed of white
concrete and glass in the seventies modern architectural style, and dominates
an entire city block.

It’s a beautiful warm day and
the stroll is just what we need to get into the right frame of mind for the
battle that is about to commence. We arrive at the courthouse at 8:00 AM, pass
through security, and then Berkeley warns us not to speak to anyone about the
case, or anything related to the case, no matter how innocent.

“The person you think is a
casual observer may in fact be an informant for the other side,” he says.

The Stewarts find a seat in
the public viewing area and I accompany Berkeley to the plaintiff’s table and
sit down in the place assigned to me. He had previously petitioned the judge to
allow me to sit next to him as a technical advisor and the judge agreed as long
as I don’t testify. Fargo, Doug, Brad, and Sandy have been sequestered in a
special soundproof room so one person’s testimony will not influence the
others.

The trial doesn’t start until
nine so I glance around the room to see if I recognize anyone. Eldridge
Broadhampton, the CEO, is sitting in the front row of the public viewing area
along with his personal advisors. At the table for the defense are two men,
Ellis Grimes, his chief council, and another man I don’t recognize. He’s
exquisitely dressed in a fine grey suit and has an imposing stature, tall and
somewhat broad at the waistline. I lean over to Berkeley and whisper: “Who is
that man?”

“That’s Clarence Fullbright,
probably the most expensive criminal lawyer in America.”

“Why do they have a criminal
lawyer?”

“It’s just a form of
psychological intimidation. They want to send a message they don’t mess around
and consider our accusations criminal.”

“It’s working,” I say, as my
heart palpitates.

“Well, don’t worry. He might
be top drawer for criminal cases, but we’ll see how he does for product
liability.”

The jury files in at 8:45 AM,
and after they are seated, the bailiff asks everyone to rise. The judge comes
in through a back door, takes his place at the bench, and then, tells everyone
to be seated. The bailiff starts the proceedings by announcing the court case:

“George and Victoria Stewart, Plaintiff

verses

Global World Industries, Defendant.

Court Docket, Maryland 15-12925.”

The judge turns toward the
jury and greets them:

“Welcome everyone. In a few
moments you will be hearing the opening statements from both parties in the
litigation. This is an opinion. It is not evidence, nor is it a statement of
fact. It is merely a summary of what the attorney hopes to prove or disprove
during the course of the trial and may be interspersed with his personal views.
Please take it with a grain of salt.”

He then turns to Berkeley:

“Counsel for the plaintiff,
please proceed.”

Berkeley gets up, approaches
the jury box, and then looks at each person in the eye. He looks magnificent,
projecting the confidence of an airline pilot bringing in a 747 in a thunderstorm.
In a calm gentle voice, he addresses the jury:

“This is a simple case about
a boy named Kevin.” He pauses for a moment to allow it to sink in and then
continues: “There are some that would try to make this complicated, confusing
you with a lot of technical jargon that has little to no bearing on the case,
but please, do not be intimidated. I say simple, because it’s a case about a
young man, with a bright future, doing what hundreds of other young men have
done, watching the moonlight over a romantic Florida lake with the woman he
loved. And then, without warning, was brutally torn apart by rogue alligators
resulting in his death. It is a sad story, but I am of the belief it didn’t
have to happen. I believe that if Global World Industries had not put profits
ahead of safety, if GWI had spent more time testing the pesticide Farm-eXia
before releasing it, this would not have happened and Kevin would still be with
us today. In fact, if GWI had been more responsible, none of us would be here
today.

Over the next two weeks I
will be bringing in expert witnesses to show how GWI neglected basic safety
guidelines, and even when they were alerted to the danger, did nothing to
prevent it. I ask only that you listen to the testimony, review the evidence,
and think about Kevin. Think about how his life was ripped from him. Think
about his parents, and how they will never know the joy of seeing their boy
graduate from college, or see him get married. Think about how they will never
feel the love of the grandchildren he could have given them. And then, after
you have considered the pain they endured, and will continue to endure, I would
like you to come back into this room and give me an honest decision.”

I feel the urge to applaud,
but remind myself this is a court, not a theater. But the jury seems genuinely
moved; indeed, some of the jurors are patting their eyes with a tissue.
Berkeley turns to face the judge.

“Thank you, Your Honor, he
says, and then joins me at the plaintiff’s table.

The judge turns to Clarence
Fullbright.

“Counsel for the defense, you
may proceed with your opening statement.”

Fullbright stands up,
unfastens the button at the front of his jacket, and then saunters over to the
jury box. He places both hands on the railing and leans towards them.

“What you have just heard is
hogwash, total speculation.”

He hesitates for a moment
letting the jury fully absorb the impact of his statement, and then continues.

“To imply my client, Global
World Industries, would release an unsafe product is not only unprofessional
and irresponsible, it is scandalous. I would like to read you a brief passage.”

Fullbright strolls back to
the defense table, picks up a three-ring binder, and then opens it to a page
tagged with a yellow sticky note. He faces the jury and begins reading.

“The mission of GWI is to serve
the public good, provide useful and superior products, protect the health and
welfare of the public, and maintain a clean and healthy environment.”

He puts the book down and
then returns to the jury box, staring down the jury.

“This paragraph is right out
of the employee handbook, the same book that is given to everyone at the
company. Every employee is expected to memorize it and recite it at least once
a year. Now, I ask you, does this sound like a company that is insensitive to
the concerns of the public?”

He waits for a moment and
looks around the courtroom as if he’s expecting an answer, but everyone remains
silent.

He continues: “My opponent
tells us he intends to prove GWI neglected its duty to the public and released
Farm-eXia with inadequate testing. Well, I intend to do the opposite; show how
GWI not only followed EPA safety standards, they exceeded them, with testing
that was not even required. I intend to show that GWI takes safety seriously
and would never put anyone at risk. Yes, we are in business to make profits,
but profits have never overshadowed our commitment to environmental protection
and the safety of the public. Everyone at GWI, from the CEO on down, has a
great sense of sadness for the premature death of Kevin. But it was an accident,
an unfortunate accident. Nothing can bring him back. At the end of the
testimony, I believe the facts will show that nothing GWI did or didn’t do
contributed in any way to his death. I also would like you to deliberate on
those facts, convince yourselves, beyond a doubt, that GWI is innocent of any
accusation that they were responsible for Kevin’s death. Thank you very much.”