Tales from the Shark Tank

You’ve not heard much from the legal eagle because she was preparing to do a hearing in Jeffersonville, Indiana, a good 250 miles from home. It happened Wednesday, and the run up to it was – um – interesting. “Interesting” is, of course, one of those words.

I had thought myself well prepared long since. I knew what scant case law is out there on what is considered “support” for purposes of preventing application of the statute of limitations. I had (I thought) copies of every motion filed. Hard not to; I’d filed most of them. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, the phone rang. It was the other attorney. She’d gone to ask the judge what the hearing was actually going to be about, since there were a raft of free-floating motions. One of them, it turned out, was hers, a motion to have a DNA test done at the State’s expense. That was the first red flag: since the state has never provided assistance for the kidlet, the state can’t (by statute) pay for the test. I said as much to Ms. V.. “Oh, it’s a small town, we do it all the time” she tells me. “So long as the judge signs it, the Prosecutor’s office doesn’t care.” Umm…ok. But she was going on. “The judge said he’s already signed my order, though I haven’t seen it yet. And I know you didn’t get a copy of my motion, because I wrote your address wrong on the envelope and it came back to us. He says there’s no need of a hearing tomorrow, so he’s taking it off the calendar until he has the test results, and he’s taking your motion to dismiss on the statute under advisement. He doesn’t want to take evidence. You don’t need to drive down here. He’s kind an old-fashioned judge, thinks kids have a right to know who their parents are.” I’m thinking, “Umm…old fashioned? Truly old-fashioned would be to say ‘mother was married, husband is therefore father, and I’m not going to bastardize the kid unless I’m forced into it.’ That would be old-fashioned.” I was stunned. The statute of limitations trumps all. I’ve never seen such a motion put into limbo like that. And Ms. V. should have known better. She herself is a City Court judge. I figured she just thought she could do what she wanted because she’s a local judge. She all but said as much. “This is small-town practice, we do it pretty casually.” Ok, there’s casual, and then there’s beyond the pale. But after some discussion, protest, and phone calls, the hearing got left on the calendar. If nothing else, it would be appealable, but only if I kept the record clean, showed up ready to go and had to be told in person that the hearing was off, etc. I thought it was going to be a train wreck. I called the Kentucky attorney I was helping, told him what was going on and brainstormed with him, asked him to find case law for us since I was on my way to collect my kid from science day camp and wouldn’t get the chance, and prepared for a train wreck for which I was the engineer. That was the state of mind in which I drove south. And when I got there, that was what I prepared my clients for. (I figured out later that they hadn’t understood any of what I’d said, but that’s another story.)

And it’s not what happened. The judge was listening when I called and told his secretary “I want a hearing, and I want a record. Don’t take it off the calendar.” We had our hearing. We had our record without my asking for it. (That’s not automatic.) Clearly, my learned opponent hadn’t expected that, as she wasn’t a bit prepared…or if she was, her client had forgotten what she said. The judge took evidence. He told the other attorney not to go on with the paternity test, as the state couldn’t get reimbursed for the expense by my client (ok, I’m thinking, he’s read his case law), and that a statute of lmitations defense “trumps everything, even a positive test”. The wanna-be father shot himself in the foot with a semi-automatic weapon…which is to say that in response to his own attorney’s question, he made our case for us. The judge asked me if I wanted to file a brief with written arguments, which in translation means “counselor, please write this up and tie it into a neat package with a bow for me”, and gave me a month in which to do so. It came out as well as it possibly could have.

And I learned a few things. I learned that I can have another attorney, one whom I’ve known since I was 17, sitting next to me and not be the least bit nervous about it. I learned that despite nearly a decade out of the courtroom, I have decidedly not lost my chops. I’ve learned that I still know how to nail a point home – and when to stop pounding. I learned that I can still kick butt and take names. And that is very good to know.

There is an attorney in Indianapolis who has rubbed me the wrong way for years. He’s not a bad person, he’s just very rigid, and that drives me crazy. We have had one case going on for far too long, exacerbated by bankruptcy and other mishegas. (“Insanity” for the Yiddish-impaired) Now, with the judge losing his temper entirely, we are set for trial this Friday morning.

So what’s the latest? Our clients have worked out an agreement without us. That’s good for my client and his, ok for me, and not so great for him, among other things because his fee is generally a percentage of the judgment, and no judgment can mean no fee. More, the agreement reached is one I suggested and this attorney advised his client not to take at least two years ago. But now he’s stuck with it, because what our clients do supercedes anything we do.

I must admit, I’m human enough to enjoy the irony.

Update:  The case is officially dismissed.  As my client said to me when I called to give him the news, “No more Mr. H. ever again.”

My friend Murray, who comments here often, is another shark lawyer. He and I both thought of the same “case” when the unfortunate hunter of cartoon fame came up. Someone wrote an “opening statement” for a trial in the case of Wile E. Coyote v. Acme giving the facts of the matter in the language of plaintiff’s attorneys, for whom nothing is ever simple. It’s a hoot, with or without the legal background. There’s also a response from “defense counsel”.
But y’know, there’s another case crying to be written. In more modern parlance, ol’ Wile was stalking Ms. Roadrunner. Anyone up for State of Arizona v. W. E. Coyote, on harrassment or stalking charges? I don’t know enough about criminal law to do it justice…you should pardon the expression.

This morning’s paper contained an article of great personal interest. The Court of Appeals has ruled on my freedom of religion case, the one that made the papers a few months back. We won by unanimous vote of a three-judge panel. They never even got to the constitutional issue; they ruled simply that Indiana law forbids the courts from interfering with parent’s right to make decisions unless there is some specific reason to believe the child’s physical or emotional health or safety are at risk. “I don’t like/ understand what you believe” is not sufficient reason. More, neither the judge nor the commissioner had given a specific reason. That, so far as the Court of Appeals was concerned, was the end of that.

There were some quotes from the original judge saying that his original ruling had been based on misunderstanding. I am here to tell you that if he still misunderstood what was involved after the hearing on the first attempt to fix the problem, then he was distinctly hard of listening that day. I’m sorry; I was there. His entire attitude was “I’ve made up my mind, now go away and don’t bother me.” But I have to agree with my husband. The conversation for which I would have liked to be a fly on the wall was the one between the judge and his master commissioner, who made the initial ruling that the judge later affirmed and got blamed for. I suspect “look what you got me into” was the least of the things he would have had to say. And I’m also quite glad to be out of Marion County, as I suspect it will be years before I become merely another quiet, competent attorney to that judge.

But I think the thing I am glad to see is the clarity with which this “non mainstream religion” was explained by the local, very conservative paper, and even more the utter respect with which the whole matter was treated. These are Witches, but at least as far as I can tell, there have been no witch hunts. Even the editorials that the paper printed ran along the lines that the judge should keep his orders off the parent’s faith. I suspect a lot of people have learned a good deal, both about a tiny minority religion that worships nature and the earth, and about why the limits our system puts upon the courts are so important. All things considered, I suspect this may well be my last case that has anything to do with family law. If it turns out to be so, I think it’s a good note on which to go out.

I just fielded a call from a man who was referred to me for a custody case. He has his grandchildren, and wants to keep them. Friends of mine sent him to me, evidently with glowing recommendations.

I listened to the tale, told him no, and gave him the name of another attorney. He said that cost was not an object, and I said no yet again, restraining myself from saying that there wasn’t enough money in the world to get me to take another custody case, or indeed another family law case of any sort. He kept it up, and I cut him off, suggesting that if he couldn’t take down the name and number he should call me back when he wasn’t driving, explaining that there wasn’t an office number at which to call me, as I no longer have a private practice. It took a bit of time, and some serious firmness, but I did not permit myself to be persuaded. When I got off the phone, he believed that I was not going to represent him, either now or at some nebulous future time.

I guess maybe I really have learned my lesson well, as the song goes. I can turn down these cases, and it’s all right.

Update: He did indeed call back, and all he asked for was the other attorneys name and number. It seems I was sufficiently convincing the first time.

I’m stunned at the way what started as a fairly ordinary divorce has begun a sea change. Last night, my client called to tell me all the shows he’s being interviewed on. He’s to be on Fox, CNN and a couple of others, some of which aren’t even picked up locally. We’re not talking about 30 second spots, either; he’s getting 20 minute segments. Someone’s innaugurating a website (I’ll post the url when I have it). Someone else has begun a Pagan political census, to find out what sort of voting bloc these folks actually are. The ACLU is using the case as an example of what they do for a series to be televised nationally. People are forwarding discussion excerpts to me from sources as diverse as fundamentalist Christian homeschooling to SF fannish discussion groups, which for the most part are united in their outrage. I’ve known for a long time that freedom of religion wasn’t a done deal, but this case – this ordinary divorce case – has brought national attention to how fragile the right is in a way all the school prayer suits have failed to do. The ripples are still spreading. I never dreamed of such a thing.