sail into U.S. ports without threat of being subject to seizure. I am not about to defer ruling so you can go back to Miami and think about it.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” As Jack squeezed out from the bench seat toward the aisle, the new lawyer for the Big Palm Island Resort handed him a Post-it.
“My legal gem,” he said softly. “Use it.”
Jack read it quickly to himself: Mr. Candela is as slimy as the sludge in our ocean. A bolt of courtroom brilliance worthy of a law-school dropout.
“I’ll pass it on to Freddy,” Jack whispered. He walked down the center aisle, pushed through the swinging gate at the rail, and went to the podium.
“Jack Swyteck, counsel for Bianca Lopez,” he said, adding the case number.
It could have been Jack’s imagination, but reporters in the media section seemed to take even greater interest with Bianca’s wrongful death suit front and center. The judge, too, seemed more energized, twisting her long strand of white pearls as she spoke.
“Mr. Swyteck, what is your response to Mr. Candela’s point that anyone suing the oil consortium must come forward with affirmative proof that the consortium was at fault? That strikes me as a pretty tough row to hoe, given that this spill took place in Cuban waters.”
Jack had two possible strategies: He could be brief and simply distance himself from Freddy and the others, or he could go on the offensive and try to score points. Choosing the latter, he laid his iPad atop the podium and opened his research file.
“Proving fault will not be a serious obstacle for Bianca Lopez,” said Jack. “Already I’ve uncovered a damning report from the Center for Democracy in America, a Washington-based organization that sent a team of specialists to Cuba on an offshore drilling investigation. I would note that the CDA is not a right-wing anti-Castro organization. To the contrary, the stated goal of the CDA is to end the trade embargo and normalize relations between the United States and Cuba. Even with that agenda, the CDA made the following finding,” said Jack, pulling up the report on his iPad. “I quote: ‘A foreign diplomat provided the CDA delegation with one concerning evaluation. He said some of Cuba’s partners see Cuba as something of a laboratory for gaining experience in deep water.’ End quote.”
Not a single reporter in the courtroom missed that jewel.
“A laboratory,” said Jack, driving home the point, “conducting experiments in five thousand feet of water—without the necessary experience. I’m confident that we will be able to show that this ‘laboratory’ operated without proper safety and evacuation standards.”
Candela jumped to his feet. Even in his unprepared state, Jack was too well armed to suit the oil consortium.
“Your Honor, this is highly improper.”
“Yes, but highly interesting,” said the judge.
“I have much more,” said Jack.
“I think we’ve heard enough,” said Candela.
“I have time,” the judge said.
Reporters in the front row literally scooted to the edge of their seats.
Judge Carlyle settled back in her tall leather chair, making herself comfortable. “Continue, Mr. Swyteck.”
Jack could feel the momentum, but Candela cut him off, his tone somewhere between nervous and conciliatory. “Your Honor, since there is only one wrongful death suit filed in the United States, I am sure that the consortium can come up with an arrangement to satisfy Mr. Swyteck that, in the unlikely event his client prevails at trial, there will be sufficient assets to satisfy a judgment. As for today, we would urge the court to focus solely on the property claims and enter an order that protects our supertankers and keeps business operating as usual.”
The judge considered it. “Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Swyteck?”
“A ten-million-dollar bond posted in the next three business days is acceptable,” said Jack.
“Ten million?” said Candela, incredulous.
“On the other hand,” said