This led me down a rabbit hole defending several mom-and-pop businesses that were being systematically sued by the same lawyer and plaintiff. The lawyer was named Shane Montgomery. He ran a one-man shop on the Westside, and he and a client, a blind man named Dexter Rose, had a never-ending supply of cases to file under the Americans with Disabilities Act. It was purely a moneymaking scheme. Montgomery would file a lawsuit on Rose’s behalf against a small business or restaurant, claiming that the website designed to promote the establishment was inaccessible to the blind man. This was a gray area in the federal ADA law and challengeable. But the lawsuit was quickly followed by a letter from Montgomery stating that Rose was willing to settle the lawsuit before it became too expensive and reputation-damaging for the small-business operators. The records showed that the average settlement was only three thousand dollars, but I learned that Montgomery and Rose were filing as many as eight lawsuits a week.
Lorna pulled every active case filed by Montgomery and Rose in Los Angeles County. We then sent letters to 109 businesses, offering my defense against the lawsuit at no expense to them. This resulted in my filing a countersuit on behalf of forty-three businesses targeted by Montgomery and Rose. In the course of investigating the case, Cisco Wojciechowski came up with a smoking gun. The lawsuits filed by Montgomery all stated in the cause of action that Rose was blind and therefore could not drive and needed to rely on food-delivery servicesfrom local restaurants. It said he lived on a stipend from the Social Security Disability Insurance program. Cisco went to work and learned that Rose was indeed on the SSDI’s payout roll but he was not receiving the maximum monthly payment, as would be expected for a blind individual.
To get on the SSDI list at all, Rose would have needed a government physician’s confirmation of his disability. Cisco cadged a copy of that report from a connection he had made at the Social Security Administration office downtown. It stated that the physician had determined through testing that Rose was completely blind in one eye but retained half his vision in the other. The physician said this limited disability allowed Rose partial function in terms of ambulation and other daily activities, such as reading. He thus received only a partial stipend.
The SSDI report was a case killer. When Montgomery was confronted with it and notified that I planned to use it as the centerpiece of my case as well as in complaints to the Social Security Administration, the ADA commission, and the California bar, he quickly folded his tent. He dropped all pending lawsuits filed on behalf of Rose and agreed to a settlement of $250,000, which I distributed evenly to my forty-three clients after taking 10 percent off the top. Last I heard, Montgomery and Rose had both moved to Florida, where they were no doubt planning their next legal scam.
The point is, I had done some good work since I left the courtrooms and hallways of the Criminal Courts Building and crossed the street to civil. But I had not stood in the proving ground in front of a jury or been in a trial in nearly three years. I missed it. I craved it. I waited for it. And now I had it. On Monday morning, April 7, I stood in front of the mirror in the house on Fareholm in my best suit, the blue Hugo Boss wool blend, and appraised my look. I wore a powder-blue modern-fit dress shirt, buttoned at the wrists, as cuff links weretoo ostentatious to flash at a jury. My tie was a muted blend of blue and purple stripes held securely down in the middle with a silver clip with the familiar Lincoln Motor Company logo of a cross inside a rectangular frame—my one holdover from my days in criminal. A Lincoln salesman once told me that the logo symbolized power, leadership, and strength, and that was why I wore it. I would need all of those attributes when I stepped into the proving ground of the courtroom.
“Who’s the boss? You’re the boss.”
It was Maggie. She had come up behind me and was reflected in the mirror. I blushed. She knew me and knew my routines, the things I did to prepare for legal combat. She put her arms around me from behind and buttoned my jacket.
“You look like a killer,” she said.
“Legally, I hope,” I said.
She kissed the back of my neck.
“Go get ’em, Tiger,” she said.
I smiled. She was sending me off to war. But it was also the name of a coffee shop in West Hollywood we frequented on weekends. We’d both sit there working on our cases while sipping lattes.
“You’d better get going if you want to be the first one in the courtroom,” Maggie said.
Again, she knew me. On the opening day of a trial, I liked to be the first one seated at the lawyer tables. I liked to see the courtroom fill as the call for the jury came. It helped drop me into courtroom-killer mode.
I turned around for a kiss goodbye. She was still wearing her long sleep shirt and looked beautiful despite her unkempt morning hair.
“When are you going in?” I asked.
“I’m being lazy today,” she said. “I have a ten o’clock charging conference. I’m not going in until then.”
In a previous life I would have asked who the suspect was andwhat the charges would be, always looking for the next client. But that was the criminal-case me.
We kissed and hugged and she wished me luck. It was very different from when we were married and she was a major-case prosecutor and knew that I was going off to defend someone accused by her own agency of criminal deeds. Now wishing me luck was legitimate.
I grabbed my briefcase off the chair by the door and stepped out onto the front deck. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bottom of the steps, where a black Lincoln Navigator was waiting in the street. The front passenger door was open, and Cisco was leaning against the fender, waiting. He had pulled the tarp off the one Lincoln I still kept stored in the warehouse and put it back into service.
Cisco held his hand out toward the open door. I started down the steps. It looked like the Lincoln Lawyer was going to ride again.
26
MY FIRST-AT-THE-TABLES REVERIEdid not last long. As soon as the Mason brothers showed up, the court clerk approached and informed us that the judge wanted to see us in chambers. As we headed back there, I half expected Marcus to ask once more if my clients would take the settlement offered on Saturday, but he walked with his head down and didn’t say a word. Mitchell did the same.
Judge Ruhlin was behind her desk and invited us to sit down, but she was already in her black robe. That told me that this meeting would be perfunctory. And soon it became apparent that she was acting as a referee before a boxing match, telling each combatant the rules:No low blows, no rabbit punches, and when the bell rings, you immediately go back to your corners. Now shake hands and come out fighting.
“Gentlemen, I want to take this moment to impress upon you the need to maintain decorum during this trial,” she began. “I want no outbursts, no demonstrations of upset or frustration. We will conduct ourselves in a courtly fashion. Each of you will show respect to youropponent. If you object or ask for the court’s attention to any matter, do not state your objection until called upon. If you break these rules, there will be consequences. Is this understood?”
“Absolutely,” Marcus said.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said.
“Very well, then,” Ruhlin said. “In looking at our day, we have opening statements that should run no longer than one hour each. This will give us time this afternoon to begin witness testimony. Mr. Haller, do you have witnesses ready and in the courthouse?”
“Your Honor, I will have witnesses ready to go,” I said. “The first will be Detective Clarke and he is scheduled to arrive at ten. After that, I plan to put my clients on the stand. Depending on how long cross-examination is, I think that should easily take us through the day.”
“All right,” Ruhlin said.
