Free Jack with a Twist by Brenda Janowitz Page B
Authors: Brenda Janowitz
similar situation arose where opposing counsel began posturing on his client’s behalf before the case even began and that was what Jack said to shut him down immediately. It worked like a charm in that initial conference—simultaneously shutting up opposing counsel and currying favor with the judge—and I was hoping for a similar result.
I wish Jack was here with me right now. If he were here, he’d put the fear of God into this little Southern belle and we could probably force a settlement right now. Since leaving Gilson, Hecht, the one thing I miss most is working on all of my cases with Jack. Not only is he an amazing attorney, but he also used to give me something nice to stare at when I was bored to tears at these things.
“Ms. Miller is correct, Ms. Foxley,” Judge Martin says, “this is just to set up our court calendar. I won’t have you posturing on your client’s behalf. Unless you’re ready to talk settlement already?”
“No, sir,” Miranda says, looking down at her papers and straightening them out.
“We are ready to talk settlement whenever you are, Your Honor,” I say. “In fact, we really were expecting a very basic dissolution of partnership. Totally by the books. We weren’t at all expecting a contentious litigation.”
Wow, didn’t that sound, like, totally dramatic? I’ll have to remember to tell Jack about that little zinger later.
“Counselor?” Judge Martin says, looking at Miranda for a response.
“Sorry, Your Honor. My client is firm. He wants to proceed with litigation.”
“So, then let’s set up a calendar for the discovery process,” Judge Martin says, taking out his calendar, a huge red leather book that he places on his desk with a big slam.
“Would it be all right to take a very brief recess?” Miranda asks. This is highly unusual. An initial court conference is generally so brief that there’s no time to take a break.
I give a disapproving glance in Judge Martin’s direction, indicating that I do not want to take a break and that I’m ready to continue with the conference. He already took my side when Miranda started posturing and I just know that he won’t allow a recess if I indicate to him that I don’t want one. The control I’m already exerting over this case is embarrassing. I’ve got this guy eating out of the palm of my hand. But, it’s okay, since I’ll only be using my superpowers of litigation for good.
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Martin says. “Let’s take five minutes.” He must have misconstrued my disapproving glance as saying: I really need to go to the ladies’ room.
Anyway, a five-minute recess will give me enough time to call Jack and get some tips on how to deal with Miranda. You’re not allowed to bring cell phones into a federal courthouse, but Jack showed me a tiny trick that’s hardly even that illegal to sneak your phone in to court—you just turn your phone off as you go through security and hide it in an inside pocket.
Granted, I’m still not allowed to tell him that Monique is my client, but I can ask him about litigation strategy without revealing anything about the case. After all, asking him for tips on how to deal with an annoying adversary (with a totally put-on Southern accent) is not a breach of my ethical duties to my client.
I dial the number and hear the familiar ring tone for Jack’s cell phone. It’s the song “Hello, I Love You” by the Doors. I have the same one on mine. As I hear it ringing, I can hear the actual phone coming down the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” I say, as Jack rounds the corner, practically walking into me in his effort to covertly answer his phone while avoiding the glare of any federal marshals lurking in the hallway who might confiscate it.
“What are you doing here?” he asks right back, talking into the phone. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to court today.”
“You’re supposed to turn the phone off when you pass through security,” I
I wish Jack was here with me right now. If he were here, he’d put the fear of God into this little Southern belle and we could probably force a settlement right now. Since leaving Gilson, Hecht, the one thing I miss most is working on all of my cases with Jack. Not only is he an amazing attorney, but he also used to give me something nice to stare at when I was bored to tears at these things.
“Ms. Miller is correct, Ms. Foxley,” Judge Martin says, “this is just to set up our court calendar. I won’t have you posturing on your client’s behalf. Unless you’re ready to talk settlement already?”
“No, sir,” Miranda says, looking down at her papers and straightening them out.
“We are ready to talk settlement whenever you are, Your Honor,” I say. “In fact, we really were expecting a very basic dissolution of partnership. Totally by the books. We weren’t at all expecting a contentious litigation.”
Wow, didn’t that sound, like, totally dramatic? I’ll have to remember to tell Jack about that little zinger later.
“Counselor?” Judge Martin says, looking at Miranda for a response.
“Sorry, Your Honor. My client is firm. He wants to proceed with litigation.”
“So, then let’s set up a calendar for the discovery process,” Judge Martin says, taking out his calendar, a huge red leather book that he places on his desk with a big slam.
“Would it be all right to take a very brief recess?” Miranda asks. This is highly unusual. An initial court conference is generally so brief that there’s no time to take a break.
I give a disapproving glance in Judge Martin’s direction, indicating that I do not want to take a break and that I’m ready to continue with the conference. He already took my side when Miranda started posturing and I just know that he won’t allow a recess if I indicate to him that I don’t want one. The control I’m already exerting over this case is embarrassing. I’ve got this guy eating out of the palm of my hand. But, it’s okay, since I’ll only be using my superpowers of litigation for good.
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Martin says. “Let’s take five minutes.” He must have misconstrued my disapproving glance as saying: I really need to go to the ladies’ room.
Anyway, a five-minute recess will give me enough time to call Jack and get some tips on how to deal with Miranda. You’re not allowed to bring cell phones into a federal courthouse, but Jack showed me a tiny trick that’s hardly even that illegal to sneak your phone in to court—you just turn your phone off as you go through security and hide it in an inside pocket.
Granted, I’m still not allowed to tell him that Monique is my client, but I can ask him about litigation strategy without revealing anything about the case. After all, asking him for tips on how to deal with an annoying adversary (with a totally put-on Southern accent) is not a breach of my ethical duties to my client.
I dial the number and hear the familiar ring tone for Jack’s cell phone. It’s the song “Hello, I Love You” by the Doors. I have the same one on mine. As I hear it ringing, I can hear the actual phone coming down the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” I say, as Jack rounds the corner, practically walking into me in his effort to covertly answer his phone while avoiding the glare of any federal marshals lurking in the hallway who might confiscate it.
“What are you doing here?” he asks right back, talking into the phone. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to court today.”
“You’re supposed to turn the phone off when you pass through security,” I