Dead Peasants (14 page)

44

The deputy parked in front of Allison’s headquarters and knocked on the door.

Ann opened it. “Afternoon, Deputy. No one ever knocks on this door. Come on in.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m here to serve some papers on Mr. Allison. Is he here?”

“Nope. Out to a meeting at one of the dealerships. Should be back in an hour or so. You want to wait for him?”

The deputy nodded. “If it’s all right, I’ll just sit on one of the rockers on the porch.”

“Suit yourself.”

The deputy took off his hat and folded himself into one of the rockers. He was just settling in when the door opened and Ann handed him a bottle of water.”

“Many thanks. Mr. Allison own all of these quarter horses?”

‘They’re his pets. The ones over there to the left are his racing stock. See that Palomino?” She pointed over to a muscular blond horse standing under the shade of a tree. “He’s got a long name. Mr. Allison just calls him Diablo. He’s worth half a million at least. Make yourself at home. Mr. Allison just called and is on his way back. I told him you were here. That didn’t make him very happy.”

“When I pay someone a call, I’m usually not bearing good news.”

The secretary went back inside, and the deputy dozed off in the rocking chair until he heard the sound of a vehicle. He opened his eyes to see a Lincoln Navigator with dealer plates parking beside his vehicle. A heavyset man he took to be Dwayne Allison got out of the car.

As the owner of multiple car dealerships, Allison was accustomed to getting sued. Just part of the cost of doing business. He knew the deputy was just doing his job.

“Afternoon, Deputy. I’m Dwayne Allison. I hear you’ve got some papers for me.”

The deputy reached for his hat before rising from the chair. “Yes, sir. Some lady named June Davis is suing your corporation and the insurance agency. Sorry to have to serve these on you, sir. I’m chairman of the sheep and goat committee of the livestock show and appreciate all of your efforts for the folks in Fort Worth, particularly those kids who get scholarships from the Livestock Show.”

“Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate your service, too. We’ve all got to give back to our community. Would you like to come in?”

“No, thanks. I’ve done my job. I have three other stops to make this afternoon.”

Allison went to his office and glanced at his watch. Four o’clock. That’s close enough to cocktail hour as far as he was concerned. He walked to the bar and poured bourbon over ice and returned to his desk to flip through the petition. It was routine, similar to many that he had to deal with every year. The only part that got his attention was the dollar amount, $1,600,000 plus a claim for punitive damages, and attorney’s fees. He gulped half of his bourbon and picked up the phone to call Phillip “Ace” Leyton, his attorney, who agreed to meet him the next morning at the ranch.
Doing business is getting a whole lot more complicated,
he mused.
Maybe I just ought to shut all the stores down and raise quarter horses.
Then he remembered that he had personally guaranteed the floor plans on all of his dealerships with Quillen Bank and Trust. “Damn Quillen,” he yelled. “Why can’t we go back to the old days where I sold and serviced cars, made most customers happy and had money in the bank?” Then his voice dropped and he said to himself, “Shit, those days are gone for ever.”

45

A dusty black Toyota Tundra pickup turned into the ranch and parked. A tall, lean man dressed in a white shirt and dark tie stepped from the vehicle. He had hooded eyes and a flat nose above a turkey gobbler neck. The lawyers that frequented the Tarrant County Courthouse called him “Lizard,” but not to his face. Leyton was the senior Fort Worth partner of a national law firm. He took one last drag on a Camel and crushed it under his boot, then entered the front door without knocking.

“Morning, Ann,” he said.

“Mr. Allison is waiting for you. Go right on in. I’ll bring your coffee with cream and sugar in just a minute.”

“Thanks, darlin.’ If you ever get tired of working for old man Allison, you give me a call, you hear?”

He opened the door to find Dwayne looking out a picture window at his quarter horses. “I heard that, you son of a bitch. Don’t you go trying to steal my secretary.”

Dwayne smiled as he turned to shake Ace’s hand. “Take a look at Diablo out there. That one’s going to win me the All American Futurity at Ruidoso Downs this year. Purse is supposed to push two million. I guess the economy doesn’t have everybody scared. Have a seat.”

Ann brought Ace his coffee. After he had a chance to sip it, Dwayne pitched the petition at him. “Take a look at this pile of horseshit.”

Leyton slowly drank his coffee and flipped the pages of the petition. When he got to the end, he asked, “How many of these dead peasant policies do you have?”

“Dammit, Ace, don’t call them that. Makes me sound like some feudal lord preying on my serfs. To answer your question, somewhere around seven thousand.”

Leyton let out a low whistle. “My friend, you could have a big problem. Texas outlawed these about ten years ago. Unless you’ve got an executive where you can justify key man insurance, say a store manager, you shouldn’t have been taking out these policies. Now, I don’t think it’s anything more than a misdemeanor if you get caught, but your insurance agency could lose its license.”

“Ace, I took care of that years ago. In fact I think one of your partners told me how to do it. All my employees sign an employment agreement. In fine print buried in the middle of the last page is a clause that authorizes Allison Southwest to provide $10,000 in life insurance coverage to employees and further permits additional insurance in an amount to be decided by the company with Allison Southwest as beneficiary. Additionally, the applications are signed in Jamaica, where the coverage is not prohibited.”

Leyton took out a Camel, lit it and inhaled deeply. Allison pushed an ashtray his direction. “Still, I think this is a case of first impression in Texas courts and the question of insurable interest looms like a thundercloud overhead. Ms. Davis get her $10,000?”

Allison paced the floor behind his desk. “Damned if I know. If she didn’t, I’ll write her a check. I don’t understand what the big deal is about insurable interest. I had a right to insure them when they worked for me.”

“That’s the whole deal with insurable interest. If an employer doesn’t have any more insurable interest because an employee doesn’t work for him, who’s to say that he might not just hire someone to bump off that employee. Not likely to happen, but the Department of Insurance wants to eliminate the temptation.

“And what about you running for mayor of Fort Worth?” Leyton asked. “I know you’ve been considering it, and, from what I hear, you have a pretty good chance. If this hits the media, your previously good reputation as a civic leader is going to become tarnished to say the least.”

Allison ignored his lawyer’s admonition. “You know this Bryant? I figure him for nothing more than an ambulance chaser.”

Leyton flipped to the signature at the back of the petition. “If it’s who I think, yeah, I do know of him. I thought he practiced in Beaumont, but this address is out on North Main. He’s one of the state’s better plaintiff lawyers. Damn sure not an ambulance chaser. You thought about settling this?”

“That son of a bitch wants the entire policy except the premiums. I’m not about to give up what I bargained for. Besides, I’ve already spent the $400,000. Go fight him. I’ll deal with the media if the problem comes up.”

46

New cases filed in Tarrant County were randomly assigned to one of several civil district judges.
June Davis v. Allison Southwest
landed in Judge Bruce McDowell’s court. Leyton could not have been more pleased. McDowell had been a solo practitioner, working out of a storefront office on Henderson Street, a few blocks from the courthouse. He made a modest living handling divorces, traffic tickets, drawing up the occasional will and praying for the day when someone would be wheeled through the door, having been in a wreck with an eighteen wheeler. He also was active in politics, working as a foot soldier for the party in power. When he first graduated from law school Texas was a Democratic state, and he dutifully worked the polls for Democrats. Once he sniffed the wind and realized that the scent of the elephant was in the air, he jumped to the Republican Party. Some day, he thought he might land a bench and maybe be set for life and a sweet retirement.

Judges in Texas didn’t make much money, compared to the rest of the profession. For that reason, most judges came from one of two backgrounds. Some were young lawyers, wet behind the ears with no idea what went on in a courtroom until they were appointed or elected. They usually used the judicial appointment as a stepping stone to a job with a big firm at double the salary. Then there were the ones like McDowell who sought the position because the $125,000 it paid would be a giant pay raise.

When McDowell’s predecessor died of a heart attack midway through his four year term, McDowell hightailed it to Ace Leyton’s office. As senior partner of the largest law firm in town, Leyton had the governor’s ear when it came to judicial appointments. Of course it didn’t hurt that the firm was a significant contributor to the governor’s campaign. In fact, the firm contributed to any campaign where the elected official would impact on Fort Worth and Tarrant County. The political party was irrelevant. The firm backed winners, and had been known to contribute to both candidates in the same race if it was too close to call.

When McDowell showed up in his office, pitching his loyalty to the Republican Party, Leyton listened with feigned interest and said he would be back in touch. After interviewing several other candidates, he concluded that McDowell was no worse than the rest and would certainly be beholden to his firm and the clients they represented if he got the bench. With a phone call to the governor’s appointments secretary, it was done. Bruce McDowell became Judge McDowell.

Jack Bryant was familiar with how judges got their jobs in Texas. It was the same throughout the state. Still, he was new to Fort Worth and didn’t really know the political lay of the land. When he saw Ace Leyton’s name on the answer to his lawsuit, he knew the firm and could only assume that members of that firm carried a big stick around the Tarrant County Courthouse. Nonetheless, he decided to fire his opening salvo with a motion for summary judgment, alleging that Allison Southwest had long ago lost any insurable interest in the life of William Davis.

McDowell’s court was in the old red courthouse. Sitting at the top of Main Street overlooking the Trinity River, it had been refurbished but not changed. From the outside, anyone would know it was a courthouse. It took twenty steps to get to the entrance that was guarded by four granite columns. The interior had marble floors with a rotunda in the center of each level. Judge McDowell’s courtroom was on the second floor. A twenty foot ceiling was awe-inspiring for most visitors. The bench was elevated four feet above the rest of the courtroom. Behind the bench was an ornate wooden façade, flanked with the United States and Texas flags.

Jack climbed the steps to the entrance, once having to use his cane for balance. J.D. was with him. At the metal detector, Jack explained his knee and received a cursory wanding before taking the elevator to the second floor. When they entered the courtroom, they found nearly every seat taken, not a surprise since Judge McDowell had that day reserved for his motion docket.

Judge McDowell entered from the door to the left of the bench. He was sixty, completely bald and overweight by fifty pounds. He breathed heavily as he mounted the stairs to his bench and sat with a grunt. “You folks be seated,” he said. “Let’s sound this docket.”

As he called the cases, various lawyers announced their appearances. Jack was disappointed to find that they were next to last. Then, Judge McDowell said, “Let’s hear the Davis v. Allison Southwest case first. Mr. Leyton, would you please come forward?”

Jack noted that he was not also invited to the front even though it was his motion. He rose, carrying his file, and followed Ace Leyton to the bench, where he said, “Good Morning, Judge McDowell, I’m Jackson Bryant. This is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of being in your court.” Professionalism carried the day even though the deck may be stacked against you.

“Welcome, Mr. Bryant. I see you’ve got a cane. Would you feel more comfortable arguing your motion seated at counsel table?”

“No, Judge. I usually do just fine. I would like to introduce myself to Mr. Leyton.”

Jack turned and stuck out his hand. Leyton took it and nodded without a greeting before turning back to the bench.

“You may proceed, Mr. Bryant. Please note that I have read your motion and Mr. Leyton’s reply.”

“Thank you, Judge. The motion is not complicated. My client’s husband died a few months ago. By happenstance she learned that Allison Southwest had taken out a very large life insurance policy on her husband back when he worked as a porter for one of the defendant’s dealerships. He was never told Allison had taken out a policy or that Allison kept paying premiums all these years. It’s what is known as a ‘dead peasant’ policy, Your Honor.”

“Your Honor, I object,” Leyton interrupted. “It accomplishes nothing to characterize the policy in that way. It’s a term life insurance policy, plain and simple.”

“Sustained. Mr. Bryant, please refer to it as the life insurance policy or the policy.”

Jack nodded. “In any case, Judge, there’s no doubt that the defendant took out a $200,000 policy on the life of a porter who never made more than $20,000 a year. It paid double in the event of accidental death. The law in this state is quite clear that a company or person must have an insurable interest in the life of another before placing a policy on that person. That insurable interest must continue throughout the life of the policy. I’ve cited the cases in my motion.”

McDowell turned to Leyton. “Your response, Mr. Leyton.”

“Judge, Mr. Davis signed an employment agreement permitting exactly what occurred here. He gave Allison Southwest the right and my client exercised it. The benefits under the policy belong to Allison.”

Jack was about to respond but Judge McDowell raised his hand. “I’ve heard enough. The plaintiff’s motion is denied.”

Jack stared at the judge for a moment before turning on his heel and walking through the swinging door, motioning J.D. to follow.

Once they were in the car Jack said, “Well, we know what we are up against. Looks like it’s two against one. My biggest concern is that now that Leyton now knows which way the judge is going on this issue. He’ll be filing his own summary judgment, claiming that Willie approved it. That could be a major problem.”

Leyton waited a week so it would not appear too obvious that he was paying for favorable rulings. It was late in the afternoon when Judge McDowell’s direct line rang.

“Judge, Ace Leyton here.”

“Nice to hear from you, Ace. I was just thinking about calling you to go to lunch. Election season is rolling around and I’ve already drawn an opponent.”

“Great minds think alike, Judge. I was just calling to offer my help. I’ll start by telling you that I’ll make sure that every person in our Fort Worth office contributes the $2,000 maximum to your campaign.”

Both the judge and Leyton knew that was a not too subtle way to get around campaign contribution laws. Two thousand dollars was the maximum, and certainly file clerks and secretaries didn’t have $2,000 to throw at a campaign. However, in their next paycheck there would be a bonus of $2,000 plus enough to cover the taxes on that amount with a suggestion that the firm was supporting Judge McDowell. The employees were well trained and knew what to do.

After Leyton ended the conversation with the judge, McDowell thought for a minute and estimated that with lawyers and staff, Leyton’s firm probably had a hundred and fifty employees.
Three hundred thousand dollars
, McDowell thought.
Now that’s the way to kick off a campaign.