Page 142 of The Proving Ground
“Fifty thousand a week to stay on the sidelines,” I said. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Wendt.”
“I can assure you there will be more work than standing on the sidelines,” Wendt said.
I held the contract out to him.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever sue you again,” I said. “I’m sure there will be opportunities, especially after this case. In fact, I’m going to be on CNN tomorrow, and that will probably help get me a few clients. But I can’t take your money, Mr. Wendt. If I did, I think I’d be lost. As a lawyer and as a man.”
He reached out and took the contract. He nodded as he put it back into his inside coat pocket.
“I thought I had to try,” he said. “Is this where you tell me to get the fuck off your porch?”
I nodded.
“Pretty much,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you would do just that.”
Wendt stood up and glanced out at the view as if seeing it for the first time.
“Sunset should be nice tonight,” he said.
“It usually is,” I said.
He nodded and headed to the steps. He pulled a phone as he went down and I heard him tell someone that he was ready. I stayed out on the porch. I saw a black Escalade pull up, and one of the bodyguards I recognized from the warehouse visit got out and opened a rear door. Wendt got in and I watched the sleek Cadillac glide silently down the hill.
I don’t think I’d ever felt better about turning down money in my life.
50
THE SAYING GOESthat some days you eat the bear and other days the bear eats you. And sometimes it happens all in the same day. Sometimes the same hour.
I survived the meeting with Judge Ruhlin and four jurors from the case undamaged. The jurors had all been my picks and I had picked well. They told me they had been ready to drop the bricks on Tidalwaiv.
“You had them on the ropes,” said the set builder. “I was ready to lower the boom on them. What they did with that girl was so wrong. And so sad for that mother. The judge says the settlement is kept secret, but I hope they paid her the big bucks.”
I appreciated the comments but knew the jurors had heard only one side of the case. That kept things in perspective, at least for me.
But what made me leave the courthouse feeling like I had eaten the bear happened after the judge excused the jurors. That was when she said the magic words to me.
“Mr. Haller, you are welcome in my court anytime.”
Like Santana’s opening guitar riff in “Jingo,” those words put a jolt of electricity straight down my spine. I lost my cool and smiled. I told her I looked forward to the next time.
“There is also the matter of the contempt citation,” the judge said. “I believe that I will continue to hold that in abeyance. You’re free to go now, Mr. Haller.”
“Thank you, Judge,” I said.
It was when I stepped out into the sun, onto the steps where the day before I had basked in a fifty-two-million-dollar win, that I got caught by the bear. My phone buzzed as I put on my sunglasses. The screen told me that the call was from the California Health Care Facility in Stockton.
But it wasn’t a collect call from David Snow.
“Mickey Haller,” I said.
“Michael Haller?” a male voice asked. “The attorney?”
“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”
“This is Sergeant Tamar at CHCF Stockton. You are the attorney of record for inmate David Francis Snow?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
