Page 50 of Precise Justice

TWENTY

Marc’s office door opened and Carolyn stuck her head in. Marc was on the phone with another private investigator he used. Tony Carvelli was working on a case for Marc.

“Gail Payne is on the phone,” Carolyn whispered.

“Hey, I gotta go. I have a call I need to take. Later,” Marc said and hung up.

“Line four,” Carolyn told him.

Marc said thanks to Carolyn as he answered the call about Robbie’s malpractice case.

“Marc Kadella,” he said.

“It’s Gail, Marc. I don’t think so, sorry. Like I told you, we had a couple of these as malpractice against the doctors who were involved. Our lawyers are waiting for someone else to win one. The lawyers told me that quack psychiatrist from the U came in as their expert. Convinced the jury that the kids had all of the normal signs of gender dysphoria.”

“Yeah, you mentioned him. Phillip Friedman.”

“None other,” Gail said.

“Robbie’s shrink. Supposedly a leading shrink about gender dysphoria,” Marc answered.

“Yeah, you mentioned that when we first talked. I guess he came across well on the stand…”

“He’d be a defendant this time, or would that be worse?” Marc asked.

“I don’t know. The symptoms for this are so vague, especially for preadolescent children,” Gail replied.

“Hell, when I was six or seven I wanted to be a cowboy. I should sue my mother for not buying me a Colt Peacemaker and a horse. Later, when I was ten or eleven, I wanted to be Joe Montana. All kids go through that,” Marc replied.

“I wanted to meet Joe Montana. I think I’m a little older than you,” Gail said.

“We’ll leave that alone. Okay,” Marc said with a sigh, “I told him it was a long shot.”

“Sorry. I know our lawyers would like to win one. Bye, Marc.”

Marc checked the clock on the wall. Four fifteenP.M.Robbie should be home by now from school and his appointment with Friedman. He brought Robbie’s file up on his computer. He found Robbie’s personal phone number and dialed it.

“Sorry about being a little late, Robbie,” Priscilla said while Robbie put on his seat belt. “If your father was more dependable…”

“Dad’s dependable, Mom. You just won’t let him be a father,” Robbie said.

“Where is that coming from?” Priscilla almost yelled.

Robbie’s phone rang while Priscilla thought about the question.

“Robbie, it’s Marc Kadella.”

“Hi, Marc. Do you have news?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s not good. They turned it down,” Marc answered him.

“Well, I guess that’s not a surprise.”

“Is that the lawyer? Is that Kadella? Give me your phone,” Priscilla demanded.

“No, the call is for me,” Robbie said.

“Give me your phone, young lady. Right now!”

---