Free In Firm Pursuit by Pamela Samuels-Young Page A

channels.” Bailey pulled a videotape from a large envelope and handed it to Ferris, who walked over to a TV monitor built into the wall and slipped the tape into a VCR machine. Ferris remained standing while the tape played.
    The grainy picture showed Jenkins sitting on a shabby-looking set decorated with a chair and love seat that looked like Goodwill rejects. A dusty fake cactus stuffed inside a straw basket appeared close to tipping over. The whole room had a faded appearance that had nothing to do with the quality of the videotape.
    â€œI know for a fact that Micronics had at least six confirmed cases of sexual harassment in the last five years,” Jenkins ranted. “Yet my client—the only black man falsely accused of this heinous offense against women—was the only one they fired.”
    The host of the show, who resembled a thinner version of Al Sharpton, sat across from Jenkins and pitched him one softball question after another. In response to each inquiry, Jenkins went into a long, repetitious diatribe about how Micronics had bilked the Air Force out of thousands of dollars on an Air Force contract and fired his client based on trumped-up charges of sexual harassment for trying to expose the fraud.
    â€œI think we’ve seen enough,” Bailey interrupted. Ferris hit the Pause button and returned to his seat.
    Porter did not wait for the General Counsel’s nextwords. He had no idea how Jenkins found out about the cases in that memo, but it was not his job to play spin doctor. “I’m afraid we can’t keep Jenkins from talking to the media, and I use that term loosely with respect to what we just saw. If I’d known you wanted to discuss the Randle case, I would’ve invited Ms. Henderson along.” Porter could not have looked any more indifferent.
    â€œShe’s the very reason we called this meeting.” The General Counsel suddenly looked uneasy. “We have reason to believe that Ms. Henderson has committed a very serious ethical breach.”

CHAPTER 16
    I returned from my hair appointment just after four and found my secretary, Shelia, packing up to leave.
    Shelia followed me into my office with a worried look on her face. “I have to tell you something that I’m not supposed to be telling you,” Shelia said after she had closed the door.
    Loyalty was Shelia’s middle name. She had worked for O’Reilly & Finney for more than fifteen years and had seen hoards of attorneys come and go. She was only ten years my senior, but still treated me like a daughter. “Just before you got here, I got a call from Joseph Porter’s secretary,” Shelia began. “She asked me to bring over your cell phone records for the last six months.”
    I was putting away my purse, but Shelia’s words stopped me in my tracks. “My cell phone records? Did she say why?”
    Shelia glanced behind her at the closed door. “No, but she did say Mr. Porter was calling from his car, and that he left specific instructions directing us not to tell you about his request.”
    I had never seen Shelia look so troubled. I sat down behind my desk. “Why would Porter want my cell phone records? And why not ask me for them?”
    â€œI think it may have something to do with the Randle case,” Shelia said.
    â€œWhat makes you think that?”
    â€œRight before his secretary called, Haley went into your office and took some of the Randle files. And when I delivered your cell phone records to Mr. Porter’s office, Haley was sitting in there with the files.”
    She waited for me to speak, but I was too stunned.
    â€œI don’t know what’s going on, but thanks for having my back, Shelia.” I gave her a hug.
    She walked out, then popped her head in again. “That haircut is the bomb.”
    â€œThanks.” I absently ran my fingers through my hair.
    What in the world was Porter up to? Had Haley run to Porter