The Litigators (Page 69)
On the subject of sanctions, Ms. Karros took charge and said, “Your Honor, this is a Rule 11 motion we are filing at this time.” Copies were slid across the table as she continued, “We are requesting sanctions on the grounds that Mr. Figg’s reckless actions in court yesterday caused a mistrial, resulting in unnecessary expense to our client. Why should Varrick Labs pay for the plaintiff’s unprofessional behavior?”
Wally shot back, “Because Varrick has a book value of $48 billion. My net worth is substantially less.” Humorous, but no laughs.
Judge Seawright read the motion carefully, and when David and Wally realized this, they began reading too. After ten minutes of silence, the judge said, “Your response, Mr. Figg?”
Wally tossed his copy of the motion onto the table as if it were filthy. “You know, Judge, I can’t help the fact that these guys charge a zillion dollars an hour. They are obscenely expensive, but that should not be my problem. If Varrick wants to burn its cash, then it certainly has plenty to burn. But don’t get me in the middle of it.”
“You miss the point, Mr. Figg,” Nadine replied. “We wouldn’t be doing the extra work if not for you and the mistrial you created.”
“But $35,000? Come on. Do you people really think you’re that valuable?”
“Depends on the outcome of the trial, Mr. Figg. When you filed this lawsuit you asked for, what, a hundred million or so? Don’t criticize my client for putting up a vigorous defense with good legal talent.”
“So, let me get this straight. During this trial, if you and your client do something to sort of string things along, you know, drag out the trial, God forbid make a mistake, anything like that, then I can file a quick motion for sanctions and collect some money? Am I right about this, Judge?”
“No. That would be a frivolous motion, subject to Rule 11.”
“Of course it would!” Wally said with a belly laugh. “You guys make a great tag team.”
“Watch it, Mr. Figg,” Judge Seawright growled.
“Knock it off,” David whispered. A few seconds of silence followed as Wally settled down. Finally, the judge said, “I agree that the mistrial could have been avoided, and that it has caused additional expense. However, I think $35,000 is somewhat on the excessive end. Sanctions are in order, but not to that extent. Ten thousand dollars is a more reasonable sum. It is so ordered.”
Wally exhaled—another shot to the gut. David’s next thought was to try to speed things along so the meeting could come to a merciful end. Finley & Figg couldn’t afford much more. He offered a lame “Judge, we need to get back to the hospital.”
“Adjourned, until Friday morning.”
CHAPTER 39
The second jury was comprised of seven men and five women. Of the twelve, half were white, three were black, two were Asian, one was Hispanic. It was slightly more blue-collar and slightly heavier as a whole. Two of the men were uncomfortably obese. Nadine Karros had decided to use her peremptory challenges to exclude fatties instead of minorities, but she had been overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of girth. Consuelo was convinced that this jury was far more to their liking than the first.
Monday morning, as Wally stood and made his way to the podium, David held his breath. He was on deck, and another heart attack would force him into the lineup against overwhelming competition. He was pulling mightily for the junior partner. Though Wally had lost a few pounds frolicking with DeeAnna, he was still pudgy and unkempt. As far as heart attacks go, he appeared to be a much likelier candidate than Oscar.
Come on, Wally, you can do it. Give ’em hell and please don’t collapse.
He did not. He did a passable job of outlining their case against Varrick Labs, the third-largest drugmaker in the world, a “mammoth corporation” based in New Jersey, a company with a long, deplorable history of littering the market with bad drugs.
Objection by Ms. Karros. Sustained from the bench.
But Wally was careful, and with good reason. When a stray word or two can cost you upward of $10,000, you tiptoe lightly around anything you’re not sure of. He repeatedly referred to the medicine not as Krayoxx but rather as “this bad drug.” He rambled at times but for the most part stayed on script. When he finished thirty minutes after he started, David was breathing again and whispered, “Nice job.”
Nadine Karros wasted no time in defending her client and its product. She began with a lengthy, detailed, but quite interesting list of all the fabulous drugs Varrick Labs had brought to the market over the past fifty years, drugs that every American knew and trusted, and some that most had never heard of. Drugs that we give to our children. Drugs we consume with confidence every day. Drugs synonymous with good health. Drugs that prolong lives, kill infections, prevent diseases, and so on. From sore throats and headaches to cholera outbreaks and AIDS epidemics, Varrick Labs had been on the front lines for decades, and the world was a better, safer, and healthier place because of it. By the time she finished with Act One, many of those in the courtroom would have taken a bullet for Varrick.
Switching gears, she dwelled on the drug at hand, Krayoxx, a drug so effective that it was prescribed by doctors—“your doctors”—more than any other cholesterol drug in the world. She detailed the extensive research that had gone into developing Krayoxx. Somehow, she made clinical trials sound interesting. Study after study had proven the drug to be not only effective but safe. Her client had spent $4 billion and eight years researching and developing Krayoxx, and it stood proudly behind this wonderful product.
Without staring, David watched the faces of the jurors. All twelve followed every word. All twelve were becoming believers. David himself was being persuaded.
She talked about the experts she would call to testify. Eminent scholars and researchers, from such places as Mayo Clinic, Cleveland Clinic, and Harvard Medical School. These men and women had spent years studying Krayoxx and knew it far better than the “lightweights” the plaintiff would present.
Wrapping up, she was confident that when all the proof had been heard, they, the jurors, would have no trouble understanding and believing there was absolutely nothing wrong with Krayoxx, and they would retire and reach a quick verdict for her client, Varrick Laboratories.
David watched the seven men as she walked away. All fourteen eyes followed her closely. He glanced at his watch—fifty-eight minutes—and the time had flown.
Two large screens were erected by technicians, and as they worked, Judge Seawright explained to the jury they were about to watch the deposition of the plaintiff, Ms. Iris Klopeck, who could not attend due to health reasons. Her deposition had been taken and recorded by video on March 30 in a hotel in downtown Chicago. The judge assured the jury this was not unusual and should not influence their opinion in any way.
The lights were dimmed, and suddenly there was Iris, much larger than life, frowning at the camera, frozen, clueless, stoned. The depo had been heavily edited to remove what was objectionable and the squabbles between the lawyers. After breezing through all the background material, Iris got to the topic of Percy. His role as a father, his work history, his habits, his death. Exhibits were offered and flashed onto the screen: a photo of Iris and Percy splashing in the water with little Clint, both parents already morbidly obese; another photo of Percy at the grill with friends around, all preparing to devour bratwurst and burgers on July 4; another of him sitting in a rocker with that orange cat in his lap—rocking, it seemed, was his only exercise. The images soon ran together and formed a picture of Percy that was accurate but not pretty. He’d been a very large man who ate too much, never broke a sweat, was a slob, died too young, with the cause of death fairly obvious. At times, Iris became emotional. At times, she was practically incoherent. The video did little to arouse sympathy. But as her trial team knew so well, it was a much better presentation than having her there in person. Edited, it ran for eighty-seven minutes, and everyone in the courtroom was relieved when it was over.