John Grisham

"How long was this policy in effect?"

"Twelve months. It was a one-year experiment. It had never been done before in the industry, and it was generally viewed by management as a wonderful idea. Deny for a year, add up the money saved, deduct the amount spent on quickie court settlements, and there’s a pot of gold left."

"How much gold?"

"The scheme netted an extra forty million or so."

"How do you know this?"

"You stay in bed long enough with these miserable men and you hear all sorts of trash. They’ll tell everything. They’ll talk about their wives, their jobs. I’m not proud of this, okay? I didn’t get one moment of pleasure from it. I was a victim." Her eyes are red again, and her voice shakes a little.

Another long pause as I review my notes. "How was the Black claim treated?"

"Initially, it was denied like all the rest. But it was a big claim, and coded differently. When the words ‘acute leukemia’ were noticed, everything I did was monitored by Russell Krokit. At some point early on, they realized that the policy did not exclude bone marrow transplants. It became a very serious file for two reasons. First, it was suddenly worth a ton of money, money the company obviously didn’t want to pay. And secondly, the insured was terminally ill."

"So the claims department knew Donny Ray Black was going to die?"

"Of course. His medical records were clear. I remember one report from his doctor saying the chemo went well but the leukemia would be back, probably within a year, and that it eventually would be fatal unless his patient received the bone marrow transplant."

"Did you show this to anyone?"

"I showed it to Russell Krokit. He showed it to his boss, Everett Lufkin. Somewhere up there the decision was made to continue the denial."

"But you knew the claim should be paid?"

"Everybody knew it, but the company was playing the odds."

"Could you explain this?"

"The odds that the insured wouldn’t consult a lawyer."

"Did you know what the odds were at the time?"

"It was commonly believed that no more than one out of twenty-five would talk to a lawyer. That’s the only reason they started this experiment. They knew they could get by with it. They sell these policies to people who are not that educated, and they count on their ignorance to accept the denials."

"What would happen when you received a letter from an attorney?"

"It became a very different situation. If the claim was

under five thousand dollars and legitimate, we paid it immediately with a letter of apology. Just a corporate mix-up, you know, that type of letter. Or maybe our computers were to blame. I’ve sent a hundred such letters. If the claim was over five thousand dollars, then the file left my hands and went to a supervisor. I think they were almost always paid. If the lawyer had filed suit or was on the verge of filing, the company would negotiate a confidential settlement."

"How often did this happen?"

"I really don’t know."

I step back from the podium, say, "Thanks," then turn to Drummond, and with a pleasant smile say, "Your witness."

I sit by Dot, who’s in tears and sobbing quietly. She’s always blamed herself for not finding a lawyer sooner, and to hear this testimony is especially painful. Regardless of the outcome, she will never forgive herself.

Fortunately, several of the jurors see her crying.

Poor Leo walks slowly to a spot as far away from the jury as he can stand and still be allowed to ask questions. I cannot imagine what he might ask, but I’m sure he’s been ambushed before.

He introduces himself, very cordially, tells Jackie that of course they’ve never met. This is an effort to inform the jury that he hasn’t had the benefit of knowing what in the world she might say. She gives him a blistering look. She not only hates Great Benefit but any lawyer sorry enough to represent it.

"Now, is it true, Ms. Lemancyzk, that you have been committed recently to an institution for various problems?" He asks this question very delicately. In a trial you’re not supposed to ask a question unless you know the answer, but I have a hunch Leo has no idea what’s com-

ing. His source has been a few desperate whispers during the past fifteen minutes.

"No! That’s not true." She’s bristling.

"I beg your pardon. But you have been receiving treatment?"

"I was not committed. I voluntarily checked into a facility and stayed for two weeks. I was permitted to leave whenever I wanted. The treatment was supposedly covered under my group policy at Great Benefit. I was supposed to be covered for twelve months after my departure. They, pf course, are denying the claim."

Drummond chews on a nail, stares down at his legal pad as if he didn’t hear this. Next question, Leo.

"Is that why you’re here? Because you’re angry with Great Benefit?"

"I hate Great Benefit, and most of the worms who work there. Does that answer your question?"

"Is your testimony here today prompted by your hatred?"

"No. I’m here because I know the truth about how they deliberately screwed thousands of people. This story needs to be told."

Better give it up, Leo.

"Why did you go to the treatment facility?"

"I’m struggling with alcoholism and depression. Right now, I’m okay. Next week, who knows? For six years I was treated like a piece of meat by your clients. I was passed around the office like a box of candy, everybody taking what they wanted. They preyed on me because I was broke, single with two kids and I had a nice ass. They robbed me of my self-esteem. I’m fighting back, Mr. Drummond. I’m trying to save myself, and if I have to seek treatment, then I won’t hesitate. I just wish your client would pay the damned bills."

"No   further  questions,   Your   Honor."   Drummond

scoots quickly back to his table. I walk Jackie through the railing and almost to the door. I thank her more than once, and promise to call her attorney. Deck leaves to drive her to the airport.

It’s almost eleven-thirty. I want the jury to ponder her testimony over lunch, so I ask Judge Kipler to break early. My official reason is that I need time to study computer printouts before I can call any more witnesses.

The ten thousand dollars in sanctions arrived while we were in the courtroom, and Drummond has submitted it in escrow, along with a twenty-page motion and brief. He plans to appeal the sanctions, so the money will sit, untouchable, in a court account pending the outcome. I have other things to worry about.

Chapter Forty-five

I GET A FEW SMILES FROM THE JURORS AS they file to their seats after lunch. They’re not supposed to discuss the case until it’s officially handed to them, but everyone knows they whisper about it every time they leave the courtroom. A few years ago, two jurors got in a fistfight while debating the veracity of a certain witness. Problem was, it was the second witness in a trial scheduled for two weeks. The judge declared a mistrial and started over.

They’ve had two hours to simmer and boil over Jackie’s testimony. It’s time for me to show them how to rectify some of these wrongs. It’s time to talk about money.

"Your Honor, the plaintiff calls Mr. Wilfred Keeley to the stand." Keeley is found nearby, and bounces into the courtroom, just itching to testify. He seems vigorous and friendly, in sharp contrast to Lufkin and in spite of the indelible lies already exposed against his company. He obviously wants to assure the jury that he’s in charge, and that he’s a soul to be trusted.