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Authors: Perri O'Shaughnessy

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BOOK: Unfit to Practice
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Marilyn took the sheets gingerly. She flipped to the last sheet and nodded her head. “This is it.”

Nolan took Marilyn through the next minutes after receipt of the envelope: She had read Nina's intake notes several times, spoken with her superiors, then returned to her office and called Nina. As Marilyn described the telephone confrontation and Nina's denials, Nina vividly recalled the unnerving call that had sent her home to bury her head under the covers.

“And what exactly about this document caused you to call Ms. Reilly?”

“The last sentence on the third page.”

“Read that sentence to us, please.”

“It says, ‘Client breaks down, says he set fire himself!' There's an exclamation point. Then it goes on, kind of scribbled, ‘Advised him don't say any more, don't want to hear this.' ”

Judge Brock followed along on his copy. Nina read hers. Still it tore at her. She hadn't written those words. Kao had not confessed. There was no evidence Kao had set fire to his own store, except for this damning, damnable forgery. For six months they had been trying to figure out who would go this far, and they simply couldn't figure it out.

Only now, in this airtight room, did she see in great detail the hundred holes in her defense, the big, unresolved questions. On the other hand, every case she ever defended arrived in court too soon. There were always unanswered questions. That kept things alive and ever hopeful. She still had hope, as her clients must, watching the red digital clock change, minute by minute, that the tides would turn again. She would prevail against all odds. Jack would work a miracle or Paul would. The judge would somehow forgive her for that one moment of carelessness weighed against a lifetime of diligence and duty.

“And Ms. Reilly said that within two days of picking up the check she personally delivered it to her clients?”

“Yes.”

“In your experience, is that the usual turnaround time for clients to receive their settlements from law offices?”

“I've been doing this work for thirty years and I don't remember ever seeing a check go into a trust account and out to a client that fast.”

“And have you ever received any explanation as to why this check was turned over so fast?”

“Just what I said. She claimed there was some mysterious danger to them.”

“Now, then. What did you do after speaking to Ms. Reilly about this file you received?”

“I went straight to my boss and told him the whole story. I was distraught. He had me write up a quick summary, and I packaged it with the claim file and a copy of the check. It was turned over to our legal counsel. A month later, I took my early retirement and left the company. I had gotten sloppy over the years. I had let her talk me into paying out too much money, even aside from the file. You get old and you lose your edge. You get lazy. I was finished. Then I—I lost my husband. It was time to go home to Kansas City.”

“Did this matter have any impact on you personally?”

Marilyn blinked back tears. “It made my husband's last months—hard.”

“I have nothing further,” Nolan told the judge.

Jack cross-examined. The answers were more of the same. Marilyn's mood did not improve and neither did her testimony's impact on their case. He kept the cross short. When Jack finished, the red numbers showed in five-inch-tall characters five minutes past twelve.

“We'll recess until one-thirty,” the judge said. “We have the writing examiner ready, is that correct?”

“He'll be here,” Nolan said.

“Court is adjourned.”

They all trooped out. Nina headed for the bathroom. As she washed her hands, Marilyn came out of one of the stalls.

“I'm very sorry you had to go through this, Marilyn,” Nina said. “But I didn't lie to you. Somebody forged that document.”

“Don't even try,” Marilyn said.

“Someday I hope you'll—”

“I have a flight to catch. Pardon me if I don't wish you luck.” She brushed coldly past.

24

N
INA WAS SWORN
and took the stand. She and Jack had hashed this out and the pretrial struggles with Gayle Nolan had been fierce, but they had won many concessions: The scope of her testimony would be limited solely to the Vang case and notes.

From the witness box Jack looked far away, and she felt the Promethean presence of Judge Brock just to her right. Lines of tension pulled all around her. The judge seemed troubled to have a member of the bar seated in the box, though he must be used to it; she turned her head slightly to acknowledge him, but he looked away, shunning her.

Marilyn had wounded her. She wanted to protest, to defend herself, but the witness box was like a cage. She understood finally why even the most obstreperous witness answered respectfully and fell into the formality of the court ritual. She felt chastened already, and the questioning hadn't even begun.

Nolan said from her table, “Ms. Reilly, you are a member of the State Bar of California and the defendant in this action?”

“Yes.”

“On or about August eighth, you were practicing law in your office in South Lake Tahoe, California?”

“Yes.”

“Did you meet with a person named Kao Vang for the first time on that day?”

Jack sat upright in his chair, waiting for Nolan to make a false move, but with the rules of evidence as loose as they were, he would not be able to do much.

“Yes.”

“In what regard?”

“To discuss whether I would represent him in an insurance matter.”

“A claim against Heritage Insurance?”

“Yes.”

“And did you agree to that representation?”

“Yes.” She watched Jack. He nodded encouragingly. They had agreed that she would go that far.

“What did you agree to do for Mr. Vang?”

“I would respectfully like to state that I am only answering this entire line of questions because I have been ordered to do so by this court after making written objection through my attorney. Otherwise I would not answer these questions.”

Nolan smiled at that. Tapping her chin, she said, “Well, I don't know why not, since at least thirty or forty people have seen the contents of the file by now, but let's go ahead. You submitted a claim for Mr. Vang based on an alleged arson that destroyed his business, am I correct?”

“Yes.” The business was co-owned by Mrs. Vang, Nina wanted to say, but she and Jack had decided that she would volunteer nothing.

Nolan got up and went around to the front of her table, placing her at front and center. She folded her arms. “And during the course of that first meeting with Mr. Vang, was anyone else present?”

“Just Mr. and Mrs. Vang and their translator, Dr. Mai.”

“Did you or anyone tape record that initial conversation or videotape any part of it?”

“No.”

“Did you take any handwritten notes?”

“Yes.”

“Is this your usual procedure when first meeting with a client?”

“Yes. I have a form called Client Intake Interview. I fill in basic information about the client. Then I take notes of the discussion.”

“As the conversation is taking place?”

“Yes, although I might add something after the meeting is over that I want to remember.”

“And what is the purpose of this note-taking?”

“Well, to remind me of the information.”

“Who else sees this form?”

“No one, except my secretary, who might see it while she is affixing it to the file or—that's about it.”

“And she might read it?”

“I have never told my secretary not to read it. She is free to read it. She needs to know what the case is about in order to perform her duties.”

“Does the client see this form?”

“Never.”

“If I asked you as your client to give me a copy, why wouldn't you give me one?”

Nina said, “Because I may place my personal reactions and judgments into those notes. Not just the information stated. These are my personal confidential notes.”

“Are they entered into a computer at any point?”

“Never.”

“Where are those intake forms kept?”

“In a locked file behind my secretary's desk.”

“All the time?” Nolan had begun walking back and forth as she warmed up.

Nina watched her like a cobra hypnotized by a flute-playing swami.

“From time to time I take files home that contain client-intake notes.” She glanced at Jack, who hid his embarrassment on her behalf well from the court and poorly from her. Oh, why in hell had she done that!

“And why would you take files home?”

“To work on them.” Do not volunteer, she reminded herself. Nolan was leading her toward the precipice.

“Did you, on September sixth of last year, take the client file of Mr. and Mrs. Vang to your home? The file that contained your intake interview?”

“Yes.” Nolan took her through the truck sequence, the evening, the storm, her fatigue, the lost key, the next morning, and the realization that the files had been in the truck. Nina kept her voice low and pleasant. She looked at the judge, as she had so often counseled her clients to do, but he turned his eyes to something on Nolan's table and did not notice. She felt again, acutely, how she had let the three sets of clients down, but right alongside that feeling ran a defiance she simply could not quash.

“When was the next time you saw the Vang file?” Nolan asked, pacing in front of her, not looking at her either. Nolan was trying to keep her train of thought, keep the rhythm going, get the points out bang-bang-bang. Aware of Nolan's thinking and Jack's thinking as well as her own, Nina felt psychologically jerked around, as though she were playing all the roles in an enigmatic drama.

“I didn't see it until my attorney and I went to your office. You called my attorney and said that the file had been recovered from Marilyn Rose, the previous witness.”

“And at that time did you come to my office with Mr. McIntyre?”

“Yes.”

Nolan dug out Exhibit 16. Nina tensed. “Is this the file you saw at my office?”

Nina took the exhibit and saw the familiar blue label, “Kao Vang.” “I'd have to look inside.” Nolan nodded and Nina opened it. The only contents were the three sheets of scribbled notes she had taken. The claim and its supporting documents had been kept in another file. She turned to the last page and saw the last sentences, the damning ones she hadn't written.

Nolan said very carefully, “And is that the file you saw in my office, with the same contents?”

“Yes, it's the one I saw in your office.”

“With the three-page form inside?”

“Yes, but this is not the three-page form in my original file. This form has been altered.” At last we come down to it, Nina thought.

The judge seemed to sigh and deflate a little. He looked down upon her at last, and she nervously decided she preferred his detachment after all.

“So,” Nolan said. “It's the same manila folder?”

“Yes.”

“It's the first page of notes you wrote at the time of the interview?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Same second page?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Same third page?”

“No. There are additional words. The last sentences. I didn't write them.”

“These words? ‘Client breaks down, says he set fire himself! Advised him don't say any more, don't want to hear this'?”

“Yes.”

“Ms. Reilly, please close that exhibit. Now, I want you to tell me the first full sentence on the second page.”

“Objection!” Jack said. “Irrelevant. Just because she can't recite the whole thing by memory doesn't prove that she can't recognize words she never wrote.”

“She says she doesn't remember writing these words,” Nolan said. “Let's see what words she does remember.”

“That's not a fair test, Judge. She knows what she was thinking at the time, what information she had heard at the time. That's one reason she knows she didn't write the words, because of the fact that the information was never given to her.”

“I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Counsel,” Judge Brock said. “I will allow some limited testing of the witness's memory as to the file contents.”

“The first full sentence on the second page, Ms. Reilly,” Nolan said, coming closer. “What does it say?”

“I have no idea,” Nina answered. “However, I know that what I wrote in that first sentence was based on something the client told me. So I know I wrote it. I also know that the last sentences on the third page are forged because they reflect information my client never gave me.”

“But you testified earlier that the notes often contain observations and judgments that are your own thoughts, did you not?”

“Yes, but the forged statements were not observations or judgments of mine at the time of the interview.”

“You also testified that you sometimes add things in later, after the client has left.”

“I didn't add those final nineteen words. They were forged.”

“So you say. Is that your handwriting in those final sentences?”

“It looks like my handwriting. I might not even know it wasn't my handwriting, except I know I never wrote those last words. That's a forgery.”

“You'll admit it looks like your handwriting?”

“It's a decent forgery, I guess.”

“You insist that it's a forgery. So who forged it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I can only speculate.”

“But do you have any personal knowledge? Can you enlighten us in some verifiable fashion as to who, why, when, where, anything at all?”

“Not of my own personal knowledge. However, I feel this is part of a pattern. In all three of the files there was some sort of interference prejudicial to the client. In the Vang case, these sentences were forged. In the Brandy Taylor matter, Cody Stinson received an anonymous call. In the Cruz matter, Ali Peck was called anonymously. Mr. Cruz has also now filed a blatantly false charge against me.”

“You may feel all sorts of things. But do you have any proof that there is someone out there trying to harm your clients?”

“The whole train of events. The theft of my files in the first place.”

“But that could just as easily have been a car thief who inadvertently rode off with your files, am I correct? For all you know?”

“But then the file contents were read and used. That's more than a car theft.”

“Do you have any personal knowledge that the person who, as you put it, interfered in each case is the same person each time?”

“Makes sense to me,” Nina said. “Person or persons.”

“Okay, let's look more closely at your theory that this is all part of a pattern. Now in the Brandy Taylor matter, Ms. Taylor told you, and you noted in the file, that she had evidence that Mr. Stinson had committed a murder. And I will remind you that Mr. Stinson testified that there was then a call to him stating exactly this damaging information.”

“Correct.”

“And in the Cruz matter, Mr. Cruz told you, and you noted in the file, that a witness named Ali Peck had information harmful to his custody case. And then let me represent to you and to the court that attorney Jeffrey Riesner will testify that he received a phone call informing him precisely about this harmful witness.”

“Yes.” Nina knew where Nolan was going, and that Jack couldn't stop her. Helpless, she clenched her fists tight, holding on to her anger.

“So the file contents were read and reported to others, as you say.”

“Yes.”

“And isn't it true that exactly the same thing happened in the third case? That your client Mr. Vang told you a secret, just as Ms. Taylor and Mr. Cruz did. You wrote it down. And just as in those two cases, Heritage was contacted, and the company was told the damaging information. Isn't that the pattern?”

“No,” Nina said, continuing the struggle to keep her feelings off her face and out of her voice.

“This third party, whom none of us has identified, if this third party did all this, it would seem that his M.O. was to reveal secrets, not to make them up, wouldn't it?”

“The Vang case was different. There was no secret in that case.”

“Mr. Vang didn't break down and tell you that he had burned down his own store?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Mrs. Vang never said that?”

“No!”

“You didn't learn that from someone and add it to your own notes?”

“No!”

“Who did burn down that store, then?”

“The police haven't arrested anyone.”

“So Mr. Vang hasn't been cleared?”

“He was never arrested. There's no evidence that he burned his store down!”

“Oh, yes there is. There's his confession in your file. And the little matter of his flight to Laos.”

Nina drew a long breath. “Even if he confessed to me, which he didn't, it would be privileged information, inadmissible in any real court.”

“Strange to hear you say that, when it was your carelessness that allowed it to fall into the public eye, isn't it?”

“Objection,” Jack said. “Argumentative.”

“Sustained. Let's move on, Counsel.”

“Isn't it true that there is no other suspect in connection with that fire and that Mr. Vang admitted to you he caused the fire?”

“Compound,” Jack said.

“Rephrase the question.” It was dizzying. Nolan was cross-examining Nina on direct examination. Nina struggled to get her bearings. She couldn't anticipate what Nolan would ask next. The suspense in this box made strategic thinking impossible. Every moment, she felt the guillotine blade trembling above.

“Did Mr. Vang admit he caused the fire at the time of the interview?”

“No. No.”

“Did he deny it?”

“In so many words, yes.”

“Isn't it true that you conspired with the Vangs to put in a fraudulent claim for them, knowing the arson was caused by Mr. Vang?”

“No, that is not true. Why would I put my career in jeopardy by doing something so unethical and criminal?”

“You're a sole practitioner?”

“Yes.”

“Your income varies sometimes substantially from month to month?”

“Yes.”

“How much did you charge Mr. Vang for this work you did for him?” Nolan held up the exhibit that contained her billing to the Vangs.

BOOK: Unfit to Practice
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