Once We Were Brothers (46 page)

Ryan shrugged. “Haven’t finished reading and researching. This is a high profile case. Who knows?”

Jeffers leaned forward and whispered quickly to the judge.

He smiled, nodded and replied, “Tomorrow is Wednesday. I have some time after my calendar call. Come see me then.”

The committee meeting was called to order and the committee members took their seats.

Chapter Fifty-four

Catherine walked into The Gavel restaurant shortly before noon on a busy Friday. The old Chicago watering hole, kitty-corner from the courthouse, had borne witness to countless deals, settlements and trade-offs, not to mention thousands of post-verdict whiskeys in celebration of victory or in consolation of defeat, and Fridays started early. Catherine struggled to adjust her eyes to the dark of the bar. A raised hand in the corner caught her attention and she nodded.

In a burgundy vinyl booth set into the darkest part of the room, sat a thin man in a short sleeve white shirt and narrow black tie. His suit coat was neatly folded on the seat beside him. A half-empty highball glass held an amber liquid. No ice. Sunglasses hid the red in his jaundiced eyes. A porcelain ashtray was filled with the detritus of chain smoking, testimony to the morning’s passage of time.

“Hello, Mickey.”

He patted the booth. “Slide in, Cat.” He pointed to his drink. “Can I get you something?” He raised his eyebrows and seeing Catherine’s hesitation said, “Coffee, maybe?”

“Coffee’d be fine.” He lifted an index finger and a waitress materialized from the darkness, took the order and disappeared.

“Damn, Cat, you’re looking good.”

“You too, Mickey.”

A wry smile appeared along with a short nasal chuckle. “Don’t kid an old bullshitter, I look like the wrath of God.”

Catherine’s eyes misted and she turned to face him. “It’s been a long time, Mickey, and…so many times…I tried to pick up a phone, find the words to tell you how sorry I was…that I walked out on you…that I left you with all my baggage…that I trashed our relationship…I tried to find some way….”

He held up his hand like a stop sign. “Don’t go there. You did what you could do at the time, baby. You were sinking, and we all saw it, but like the Titanic, the rift was too big to fix. We couldn’t save you. All we could do was watch.” He took a swig and finished his drink. A fresh one replaced it moments later.

“It’s all ancient history, Cat. You’ve come back stronger than ever.”

She shook her head. “If you only knew. The hurt I caused to you and to others…still haunts me. Every day.”

“Let it go, Cat.”

Catherine nodded slightly and sipped her coffee. “I was surprised to hear your message on my voice mail” – she mimicked his gravely voice – “‘Hey, Cat. Meet me at The Gavel tomorrow at eleven. It’s important.’ So what’s up?”

Mickey swirled his drink. “The fix is in.”

Catherine felt the bile rise in the pit of her stomach. “The Rosenzweig case?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know this?”

He shrugged his right shoulder slightly. “Doesn’t matter. Old Mick’s still got his contacts.” He took a swallow and stared into the darkness. “Ryan’s always been for sale. He’s due to step down at the end of the year and peddle his influence to some big firm. He and Jeffers struck a deal Wednesday. Cash now, partnership later.”

“And my case?”

“He’ll pitch it. Jeffers has a motion for summary judgment. After you file your answer, Ryan’ll toss the case.”

Catherine’s heart thumped hard in her chest. “Shit, Mickey.”

“Sorry, Cat.”

“What if I SOJ Ryan – get the case away from him before he decides the motion?”

“Substitution of judges? You can try. But you know the law as well as I do. An SOJ has to be brought at the earliest possible time after the alleged prejudice is discovered. He’s had the case for weeks. Besides, if he’s made any substantive decisions, he doesn’t have to grant your motion. He’ll fight hard to keep the case. It’s a big payday.”

“There have been no substantive decisions. He’s only ruled on procedural matters.”

Mickey shrugged again, as if to say, “Like that’ll really matter.”

Catherine banged her fist on the table. “Damn! What can I do, Mickey?”

“You can start drinking at ten in the morning, like I do. It’s a great cure for disillusionment.”

Mickey lit another cigarette; Catherine gazed into her coffee cup. Conversations and laughter in the bar raised the background noise.

“What about Murphy?” Catherine said finally.

“The chief judge? He’s no crusader. He didn’t get to his position by rocking boats.”

“Can you help me, Mickey?”

He sadly shook his head. “I’ve passed along the bad news. It’s all this old drunk can do.” He raised his hand to signal the cocktail waitress and Catherine knew the meeting was over. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Cat. If you have to, and it does you any good, you can use my name.”

“Take care of yourself, Mickey,” she said and walked out into the glare of the noonday sun.

Chapter Fifty-five

Catherine knew the only chance they had was to get the case away from Ryan. She immediately began to draft a motion to transfer the case to another judge. She was aware that according to Illinois law, such a motion was routine and was usually granted without a hearing. Judges were not permitted to inquire into the basis for the claim of prejudice. It was only necessary that the litigant allege that he could not get a fair trial because the judge was prejudiced against him.

However, Catherine also knew that Illinois disapproved of flagrant forum shopping. Appellate case decisions held that if a judge had made a substantive ruling, a decision based on the merits of the case, such a motion should be rightfully denied. The line between substantive and procedural decisions was often blurred. If a judge wanted to deny the transfer, he’d likely claim there had been substantive rulings.

Catherine filed the motion and set it to be heard as an emergency Monday morning before Ryan’s regular call.

* * *

Judge Ryan placidly read the motion while Catherine and Jeffers stood before his desk in his chambers.

“What makes you think I’d be prejudiced against Mr. Solomon, Catherine? I’ve given you a fair shake every time you’ve appeared before me.”

“You know you can’t make that inquiry, Judge.”

Ryan nodded and looked over at Jeffers. “Gerry, what’s your position on this motion?”

“We oppose it. I think it’s outrageous that, at this late date, after the matter has been pending before you for weeks, Ms. Lockhart suddenly wants to go judge shopping. We have a trial setting and a motion for summary judgment pending. Our recent settlement conference was unsuccessful and now Ms. Lockhart wants to delay the inevitable. It’s as plain as the nose on her pretty little face.”

Judge Ryan wagged his finger in reproach.

“The bottom line, Your Honor, is that you’ve made substantive rulings,” Jeffers continued. “It’s too late to bring this motion. It’s no longer timely.”

“What substantive rulings, Gerry? I think they’ve all been procedural, haven’t they Catherine?”

Shocked at Judge Ryan’s amenability, at the thought that he might actually grant the SOJ, and that Mickey might have had bad information, Catherine harbored second thoughts. But she responded, “That’s correct. The only matters before you have concerned settings.”

“Oh, not true,” Jeffers said. “On December 20th we appeared before you with four motions, one of which was to accelerate the case for trial. At the time, we examined the heinous allegations of the complaint and I think you stated that we were entitled to ‘nip it in the bud’ if we could. It was for that reason you gave us an early trial date. Now Ms. Lockhart is seeking to have you reverse yourself and buy more time to fabricate a case against my client.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows and looked to Catherine for her reply.

“A trial setting is procedural,” she said. “There have been no substantive rulings.”

Ryan set the motion down on his desk and looked thoughtfully at Catherine. “On most occasions, I’d be inclined to agree with you. But here, I’m afraid I view this motion as a delay tactic. There were good reasons for me to accelerate the case for trial. Illinois law cautions me not to grant a substitution where its main purpose is to effectuate a delay. I’m going to deny your motion. The trial date will stand. I advise you to have your answer to Mr. Jeffers’ motion for summary judgment filed on time. I will grant no extensions.”

* * *

Catherine met Liam for lunch.

“Can’t you appeal Judge Ryan’s decision?” he asked.

Catherine sighed. “Not at this time. I’d have to wait until the case is over, until after Ryan has granted Jeffers’ motion and dismissed the case. By then the newspapers and television stations would be having a field day, ridiculing Ben and praising Rosenzweig, ‘Chicago’s Treasure.’ I think the appellate courts would be pressured to leave the case alone. Besides, any appellate rulings would be years away.”

Liam watched Catherine as she took a bite of her salad. She should have looked defeated. But, on the contrary, Liam saw no despair.

“What’s going on in that head of yours? You’re not admitting defeat?”

“Nope,” she said.

He smiled. “What?”

She put her napkin down and rose from the table. “I’m going sky-diving without a parachute. Do me a favor, have some bail money ready this afternoon. I’ll call you.”

With his heart full of admiration, Liam watched her stride confidently from the room.

Chapter Fifty-six

The offices of the Chief Judge of the Circuit Court of Cook County were located on the seventeenth floor of the Daley Center. The large, well-appointed chambers afforded a southeast corner view: Monroe Harbor, Millenium Park, the museum campus and Soldier Field. His privacy was guarded by his secretary of twelve years, a humorless woman named Glenda Szabortusz, nicknamed “Saber-tooth” by the litigation bar. She sat in the outer office like a watchdog. Catherine entered her domain shortly after 2 p.m.

“Please tell Judge Murphy that Catherine Lockhart is here to see him on an emergency matter,” Catherine said.

Glenda did not look up from her crossword puzzle. Her grey hair was tied up in a bun. “I don’t have you scheduled for an appointment.”

“No, ma’am. It’s an emergency.”

Glenda put down her pencil and looked up at Catherine in annoyance. “Judge Murphy does not see anyone without an appointment. Does this concern a pending matter?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Then Judge Murphy will not see you without all attorneys being present. He does not permit
ex parte
communications. You’ll need to contact your opponent and schedule an appointment, in writing, setting forth the reasons that you seek to involve the Chief Judge. In detail. Follow the rules, Miss Lockhart.” She lowered her head and returned her attention to her crossword puzzle. “Good day.”

Catherine stood for a moment, then quickly walked behind Glenda, opened the door to the Chief Judge’s chambers and marched in. James Murphy was seated at his desk reading a report from the Courts Commission and was taken aback by the sudden intrusion. Although his football days at Notre Dame were only memories, the stocky white-haired judge still cut an imposing figure. Behind him on the wall hung a photograph signed by the Irish coach, his arm around a lanky Jimmy Murphy.

Glenda came scrambling in after Catherine. “I tried to stop her, Judge. I told her to make an appointment. She just barged right in. Want me to call security?”

Murphy swiveled his head and looked at Catherine.

“I’m sorry to bother you, your honor,” she said, “but I need to speak to you privately. It’s most urgent.”

Murphy sighed and waved Glenda back to the outer office. She left and shut the door.

“What’s this all about, counsel?” he snapped at her.

“It’s about Judge Ryan. I want you to remove him from a case.”

“A case you’re working on?”

She nodded.

Murphy looked puzzled. “Did you file an SOJ?”

“I did. It was denied.”

“Well, you have your appellate rights. This conversation is most improper, Miss…?”

“Lockhart.”

“I cannot, nor would I, intercede. Good bye, Miss Lockhart.”

Catherine didn’t move. “Your honor, I want you to pull him off the case. Reassign it. Ryan’s on the take and I’m not about to sit by and see my client sold out by a dirty judge.”

“What!” Murphy bellowed. “Chuck Ryan?” His face turned red. “You better damn well have a videotape or you’re finished practicing law in this county. What’s your evidence?”

“I’ve been informed by someone who knows.”

“Who?” Murphy shouted.

“I can’t say. I can only tell you that Ryan’s taken money and been promised a cushy job when he retires, all in exchange for pitching my case.”