Dead Peasants (23 page)

73

Jack went into his pre-trial mode. Every waking minute was spent at one end of the dining room table, outlining examination of each witness, thinking through the order of exhibits and careful preparation of voir dire examination of the jury panel and opening statement. After five days Jack shut down the computer, satisfied he was basically ready, and headed for the kitchen. J.D. was coming through the back door.

“Afternoon, Son. What happened to your crutches?”

“Trainer said I’m through with them,” J.D. said as he turned to rummage through Jack’s canes. “He suggested I use a cane for a few more days. I told him I knew just where I could get one.” J.D. picked out a solid oak cane with an eagle for the handle. “Okay if I use this one?”

“Be my guest. You want a glass of water?”

J.D. thought a minute. “Well, since I’m not actually in training right now, I suppose an occasional beer wouldn’t hurt.”

Jack nodded and opened the refrigerator, pulling out two Bud Lights. As he handed the beer to his son, Colby appeared in the kitchen, sleep still in her eyes from an afternoon nap. Jack smiled as he realized she was making the effort to crawl out of her shell.

“So, if everyone’s having a drink, where’s mine? Chardonnay, if you please, bartender. Then I suggest we all adjourn to the patio. I think we may be in for a first class sunset.”

After they had settled into chairs on the patio and Killer had made the rounds to be petted and have his ears scratched, J.D. asked, “So, how’s the trial prep coming, Dad?”

Jack sipped his beer as he thought through what he had done over the past several days. “I’m basically done. I’m sure I’ll come up with some more questions and thoughts for opening statement over the next week. That’s the beauty of the computer age. When I was a baby lawyer, we’d fill yellow pads with all of this stuff and then had to make notes in the margins when something else popped up. Now, I can go into whatever document I need and insert a question in its rightful place.

“The only pieces missing from the puzzle are those other dead peasant policies the judge blocked me from getting.”

“Just how important are those policies?” Colby asked.

“In reality, we should win the case without them. Still, I don’t know what impact they might have since we haven’t seen them. Like I said before, if we had them and could get them in evidence, the jury might be so pissed off that they would award several million in punitive damages for June. More importantly, they could also get you off the hook on the murder charge, particularly if we’re right and Allison had policies on those other employees who met with violent deaths. I’d at least like to have a look at them before trial and then try to figure out a way to get them in evidence.” Jack sighed. “Only, I gave it my best shot and struck out.”

Jack thought for a minute, then turned to J.D. “Son, you’re supposed to be the computer whiz. You think you could hack into Allison Southwest’s computer system and get the information on the policies we’ve been looking for?”

J.D. nodded. “I think I can probably do it, but if the state bar finds out you’re using evidence that we got from hacking into Allison’s system, won’t you get in trouble?”

Jack walked over to stand behind Colby and put his hands on her shoulders. “Son, Allison raised the stakes when he killed Rob and got Colby charged with murder. Her life is on the line. If what we’re doing helps get her off, I’ll deal with the state bar later. I wouldn’t give a damn if I had to trade my license for her life.”

74

The next morning Jack was awakened by a pounding on his door. “Wake up, Dad. Get your ass out of bed. I’ve got everything.”

Jack put on shorts and a T-shirt and met J.D. at the kitchen table. After pouring a cup of coffee, he took a seat beside his son.

“It took me all night, but here’s what you want, copies of all of the applications and policies and a spread sheet that lists the employees and former employees who have insurance coverage, their Social Security numbers, the amount of the coverage and amount of the premiums along with their last known addresses. The beneficiary on every one is Allison Southwest. The spread sheet is even in alphabetical order.”

“Here, let me have that paper. I’ll read the names and you tell me if there was coverage and how much.”

As Jack read the names, J.D. scrolled down the spread sheet. After thirty minutes they had completed the list. All nineteen had polices on their lives from $200,000 to $500,000, double indemnity in the event of accidental death.

“You made that list before Rob was killed. Was he covered?”

J.D. took a minute to get to the right place on the spread sheet. “There he is. “$500,000 coverage, in effect for fifteen years, beneficiary Allison Southwest.”

“Now there’s one more,” Jack said. “See if Colby is on that sheet.”

J.D. clicked his mouse a few times. His eyes grew big as he drew in a breath. “Oh my God, Dad. There’s a policy on Colby for two and a half million dollars. Why would Allison have put the biggest coverage on her?”

Jack poured another cup of coffee as he thought. “I suspect she was a rising star back when she worked there. If she’d stayed, she probably would have run the finance operations for all of the dealerships. On top of that she was young and female. The premiums had to be dirt cheap.”

“Wow, Dad, we’ve got him. We’ve got Allison.”

“No we don’t, Son, not yet. We’ve got information. I can’t offer one bit of this in evidence. Not to say that I can’t use it to make Allison sweat and hopefully lay a trap so we can force him to provide this same information during trial. That’s my job as a trial lawyer. I’ll figure out a way.”

“Why don’t you turn all of this over to Joe Sherrod and let him run with it?”

Jack shook his head. “Two reasons. We might lose the element of surprise in our trial which is just a week away. As to the charges against Colby, all this would do is give the Fort Worth cops is a motive for Allison. They think they’ve made their airtight case against Colby. They don’t have any other evidence, and they’re not likely to bust their butts to look for proof that Allison had Rob killed. This won’t change their minds. Joe can wait. As I said, one way or the other, I’ll use this information. There’s got to be a way to tie Allison to Willie’s death and all these other deaths. I just need to think on it for the next week, and then we’ll see how the trial plays out.”

75

Jack awoke at four o’clock in the morning, tossed and turned for a few minutes and resigned himself to the inevitable. It was the first day of trial and his body was already pumping with adrenaline. He stopped by the bathroom and then went to the closet to pull on his cut-offs, T-shirt and running shoes. He walked to the kitchen and saw that the coffee was not set to come on for another hour and a half. After he pushed the start button, he went to the back door and hollered to Killer who was asleep in one of the patio lounges. Killer bounded to the door.

“Come on, let’s you and me go for a walk.” He hooked a leash to Killer’s collar, and they went out the front door and across the street to the country club. Killer’s leash was twenty-five feet long on a spool that gave him enough leeway to sniff out new smells or the scents of dogs who passed by the day before.

Jack thought about the days to come. He remembered the early days of his career as a trial lawyer when he wanted to be in the courtroom but still dreaded stepping foot across the court’s threshold. He smiled as he remembered his first trial when not only did his voice crack on voir dire, but throughout the trial his hand shook so badly that he couldn’t take notes. Then, there were the years that he couldn’t sleep more than four or five hours a night and by the fourth trial day he was functioning on adrenaline and coffee. All of that had now changed, except for this morning, the first day of trial. Now, he knew what to expect and knew he could handle anything thrown at him by the judge or opposing counsel. He fully expected to be in command when he set foot in the courtroom. It was his stage and he expected all eyes, particularly those in the jury box, to be on him.

By the time he and Killer turned after going twenty minutes away from the house, he had thought through his preparation once again and was satisfied that everything had been done. In the past week he had met with June and explained what she should expect. He paid for Jerry Buchanan to drive up from Palestine to make sure there were no gaps in his testimony. David Gamboa, his local insurance broker, was prepared to testify that dead peasant policies were illegal in Texas. Then he smiled. His legal assistant, seated right next to him at counsel table, was J.D. If J.D. did decide to go to law school in a few years, that would be the one thing that would bring him out of retirement. The law firm of Bryant & Bryant had a nice ring to it. Last, but, of course, not least, Colby would be in the audience, acting as another pair of eyes and ears, a thirteenth juror, so to speak. Her job would be to listen to the evidence and offer her lay opinion of witnesses and constantly keep her eyes on the jury to see how they were receiving the evidence. Now her role took on new meaning after the criminal charge against her. And it would be good for her to have something to focus on other than her own problems.

When he and Killer walked back to the house, he found the
Star Telegram
on his driveway. Hopefully, Hartley had done his job. Jack wanted a human interest story on June Davis and her fight with Allison Southwest. It didn’t need to be big, but Jack wanted it to remind Judge McDowell that others were watching him and his rulings. Jack stopped on the front porch under the light to glance at the paper. It wasn’t on the front page, but it was the second story on the local news section. That would do for now.

After pouring coffee and making sure Killer had food and water, he sat at the kitchen table to read the story and glanced at the rest of the headlines. Nothing good going on in the world with the exception of TCU football. The first game of the season was the following weekend. The coach was quoted as saying that J.D. might be activated by the second game. Jack was getting his second cup of coffee when J.D. walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Damn, Dad, I thought I was the one getting up early.”

“I beat you by about an hour. Your coach says he may activate you for the second game. You think you’ll be ready?”

“Heck, I was ready before pre-season started. I’ll just have to convince him I’m okay to start that game. Will we be through with the trial in two weeks?”

Jack nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. This is not a long one. We might even finish before the week is out.”

J.D. poured his double helping of Cheerios heavy on the sugar. “Which of those three new suits you bought me last week should I wear?”

“Your call. They’re all conservative. Don’t carry a cane, though. One Bryant with a cane is enough. Let’s plan to leave here at seven-thirty. I always like to get to the courtroom early. Besides, on the first day, I want to grab the counsel table closest to the jury.”

J.D. looked up from his cereal. “Any particular reason?”

“Not really. It’s just another one of those quirks of trial lawyers. We’d be in the middle of the jury box if we could. I’m going to wake Colby. Lucille leaves in an hour and a half.”

76

Jack’s team parked in the courthouse parking lot about ten minutes before eight. J.D. put three boxes on a dolly and Jack carried his briefcase and his Bat Masterson cane.

At the light Jack remembered his encounter with the guy who threatened his life.
Too bad that son of a bitch isn’t around now. I’d let him go one on one with J.D.,
he thought. They mounted the steps. The only problem with being in the old courthouse was that J.D. had to haul each box to the top, one at a time, and then retrieve the dolly. When they entered the building, only one deputy was on the metal detector. Jack started to empty his pockets until the guard stopped him.

“Hell, Jack. That won’t be necessary. I know you and no one else is around to complain. This your son?”

“Yep, that’s J.D.”

“Why’s he all dressed up in a monkey suit like you. We need him out on the field.”

“I pulled a hamstring a couple of weeks ago,” J.D. replied. “I’m out until week after next. Meantime, I’m helping my dad in a trial.”

“And if this lovely lady is with you, she can just walk around the metal detector, too.”

“I’m Colby Stripling. I’m part of the trial team.” Colby said.

They took the elevator to the second floor. When it opened, they saw June sitting alone on one of the benches outside the courtroom, wearing the same black dress that she had worn to bury her Willie. She rose as they approached. Colby and Jack hugged her. Jack introduced J.D. The decision to have her attend trial alone was another strategic one. He considered having Willie, Jr. or her daughters join her and then thought better of it. He wanted the lone widow to be up against a big corporation. Jack believed there were multiple ways to send a message, and he used them all.

They entered the courtroom and found a new bailiff seated at the desk inside the rail to the right side of the bench. While J.D. unloaded boxes and placed them along the inside rail, Jack went to the bailiff to introduce himself. The bailiff was medium height, wore glasses and had a full head of gray hair. Jack guessed he had been on the street for twenty or so years and had enough seniority to take this job to fill out his thirty years until retirement

“Morning, Bailiff, I’m Jack Bryant.”

The bailiff rose and extended his hand. “Gregg Waddill. Pleased to meet you. The regular bailiff is on vacation this week. I’ll be taking his place. This your associate?”

Jack turned to J.D. “Step over here. Actually, this is my son, J.D. He goes to TCU but is taking a short leave of absence to act as my paralegal this week. J.D. this is Deputy Gregg Waddill.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Deputy, unless the judge dictates a preference, we’ll take the counsel table closest to the jury box.”

“It’s first come, first served in here. That one is yours. I see you have another assistant in the audience. It’ll be a while, but when we get the jury in here, I’ll ask that she join you at counsel table for jury selection.”

That prompted Colby to come through the gate and shake the bailiff’s hand. .Fifteen minutes later Ace Leyton entered the courtroom, trailed by Dwayne Allison and what appeared to be a young associate. Ace was in that small group of lawyers that considered that he had entered a war zone when he stepped through the courtroom door for trial. He refused to look at Jack or his team or even acknowledge their presence. He would address Jack only if specifically instructed by the judge. Early in his career some older lawyer must have instilled in him the idea that such tactics would intimidate the other side. All it brought from Jack was a smile.

Dwayne Allison was not quite sure what to do with himself. He watched his lawyer unloading his briefcase, then glanced around the courtroom, finally settling on Colby. Getting no instruction from Leyton, he walked up to the rail and stuck out his hand. “How are you, Colby? Sorry about your house and all of your current problems. I want only the best for you.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Allison. The road’s been a little bumpy lately, but it’ll be okay.”

She turned to take a seat at Jack’s counsel table as the judge entered from his chambers.

“Good morning, gentlemen and ladies. We’re here to try the case of June Davis v. Allison Southwest. Announcements, please.”

“Jack Bryant here for the plaintiff. We’re ready.”

“Phillip Leyton here for the defendant. We’re ready, too, Judge.”

“Now, would you be so kind as to introduce your clients and any members of your staff who will be present during trial.”

Jack rose. “Judge, this is June Davis.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Davis.”

“Also, Judge, my son, J.D. Bryant, is a paralegal in my office and will be with me at counsel table. This is Colby Stripling. Other than voir dire, she’ll be in the audience.”

“Mr. Leyton?”

“Judge, this is Dwayne Allison. I believe you and he have been on some rodeo committees together.”

“That we have. Welcome, Dwayne. From this point forward, I’ll be calling you Mr. Allison.”

“Understood, Judge,” Allison replied.

“Judge, this is my associate, Ryan Fairchild. This will be his first trial.”

“Listen and observe well, Mr. Fairchild. These are two excellent lawyers.”

McDowell certainly got up on the right side of the bed this morning,
Jack thought.
Maybe Hampton’s stories did some good.

Leyton had just taken his seat when something occurred to him. “Judge, there’s one matter that I’m not sure how to handle and seek the court’s advice. Mr. Bryant’s son is
his so-called
paralegal. I know he’s on the Horned Frog football team and is being touted for All America. Looks to me like his son ought to be out practicing with the team for the opening game this weekend. It appears that Mr. Bryant is trying to gain an unfair advantage, having his son sit beside him through the trial.”

McDowell pondered for a moment, then turned to Jack, obviously buying into the spin Leyton was putting on the issue. J.D. squirmed in his seat, not sure what all of this meant.

“How about it, Mr. Bryant. Why’s your son here?”

Jack pushed to his feet with his usual courtroom demeanor, total, calm control. In fact, the only reason that a judge or jury would ever see Jack blow his stack is if he saw some tactical advantage in doing so. “Not an issue, Judge. J.D. spent the summer, working with me as a paralegal. As you may have seen in the paper, he pulled a hamstring and is out until at least the second game of the season. Unlike Mr. Leyton’s national firm, I’m a one man shop. J.D. is thinking about going to law school and since he can’t practice for a while, I need him here with me.”

McDowell reluctantly nodded his understanding.

“Then, that brings up another issue, Judge,” Leyton said. “What do we tell the jury about J.D.? We can say nothing, but some of them are going to recognize him and wonder what he’s doing here. Or we can have you or Mr. Bryant say something about why he is here. Frankly, I don’t like either solution.”

“Judge, I don’t really care. J.D. is going to be here. We’ll accept whatever the court decides.”

McDowell drummed the fingers of his right hand on his bench as he thought. “Okay, this is not a big deal. I’ll introduce him to the jury myself and make it brief, then move on. Okay with everyone?”

Both lawyers nodded their approval.

The judge looked around the courtroom, and turned to the bailiff. “We don’t have a reporter. Would you buzz her, please? We need to be on the record.”

Two minutes later a large, fiftyish woman with purple hair marched into the courtroom like it was a grave inconvenience and took a seat at her machine. “Can I have a card from any lawyer who will be speaking in this trial?”

Jack and Leyton complied with her request.

“Now, my rules are that everybody keep their voices up so I can hear them, and no one will be talking over anyone else. If that occurs, I’m just going to throw up my hands like this.” She lifted her hands like she was a referee signaling a touchdown. “That means I’m not getting a good record and nobody wants that. Right, Judge?”

McDowell shook his head at his court reporter. “She’s right. This is Ms. Cartwright. She’s been in this courthouse for thirty years. What she says, goes. Now, what pre-trial matters do we have?”

“None from me, Judge,” Jack said. “I know the rules and expect to follow them.”

“Mr. Leyton?”

“Judge, just a couple. I don’t want the life insurance in this case being called a dead peasant policy. That’s pejorative and prejudicial to my client.”

“Agreed, Mr. Leyton. Mr. Bryant, you will refer to the life insurance policy as the policy or the life policy, nothing more.”

Jack nodded his understanding.

While they were talking, Hartley Hampton had slipped in the hallway door and took a seat on the back row. He was already taking notes.

“Then, Judge, you’ve already ruled that any evidence of other life insurance on other employees was not discoverable. We want to extend that to any mention of them in the trial of this case.”

“That will also be sustained, Mr. Leyton.” McDowell looked to the back of the courtroom at Hampton. “I see that a member of the media is already here. I don’t want either of you or your clients talking to the media during the trial of this case. There’s already been an article written by Mr. Hampton about the start of this trial. I want this case tried in the courtroom, not in the media. Understood?”

Jack jumped to his feet. “No sir. It’s not understood. I expect to abide by the disciplinary rules when it comes to talking to the media, but unless you’re going to enter a gag order, I don’t agree with you. My client and I are entitled to talk to the media and respond to their questions. What you are suggesting is infringing on our First Amendment rights.”

Part of the speech was to make his point with the judge and part was to give something to Hampton to put in the paper if the judge maintained his position.

Leyton rose to his feet. “I agree with you, Judge, and have no reason to be talking to the press.”

The judge looked at each lawyer and out to where Hampton sat before speaking. “If both counsel don’t agree, then I’ll withdraw my previous comments. But, listen good, Mr. Bryant, you stray beyond what the disciplinary rules permit and I’ll personally report you to the grievance committee after the trial. Understood?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders and sat down.

McDowell glared at him for not responding. “Okay, I’ve ordered a panel of forty-eight.” He looked at his watch. “They should be here in about an hour.” McDowell pushed out of his chair as the bailiff said, “All rise.”