Dead Ringer

“Now, Ms. Rosato, please continue,” Judge Sherman said, squaring his puffy black shoulders. “I’d really like to hear you defend this motion. I could have simply denied your request, but I admit, you intrigued me.” His gaze softened for a minute, and Be

“Okay, Your Honor,” Be

Be

Be

“I am therefore moving the court, at this admittedly early juncture, to appoint class counsel by using the auction-bidding method, as opposed to private ordering. This method is particularly appropriate to the case at bar, in which a newcomer to the class-action practice represents the plaintiff with the greatest damages. In addition, because my law firm is so small, I can provide the least expensive legal services to the class as a whole.”

Judge Sherman frowned. “Let’s be clear. You’re not asking me to appoint you class counsel today, or even ultimately. That would not only be unorthodox, it would be insane. Rather, you’re asking that I determine that auction bidding be the method whereby I appoint class counsel. Your motion goes to the procedure, not the substance.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Your co-counsel have not had an opportunity to brief this matter, Ms. Rosato.”

“I welcome their briefs, Your Honor. My only intent was to get things rolling.” Be

But by now Judge Sherman’s frown had taken up residence on has forehead. “Normally, a matter like this wouldn’t be brought up on motion, Counsel.”

“You mean, that’s not how it’s done, Your Honor.”

“Precisely.”

“I understand that, but there is no reason why it couldn’t be, or shouldn’t be, is there?”

“Perhaps not.”

“It’s in my client’s interests to be open and aboveboard about this process, Your Honor. My predicament as his counsel is that I know precisely how it is done. Secrecy and closed proceedings do not serve my client, nor does delay. I recognize that this motion and hearing are somewhat unconventional, but my only other choice is to risk my client’s rightful position as lead plaintiff to the vagaries of backroom bargaining by powerful members of a very exclusive club-to which I do not belong.”

Be

Back at second chair, Linette held his breath, red-faced, seething. His bleached teeth were set in a grimace. Quinones and Kerpov looked frozen and pale, as if they’d been cast in plaster death masks. The court stenographer paused in her typing, her fingers poised in midair. The silence deafened until the judge broke it:

“My, my, my. This is unusual.” Judge Sherman shifted in his seat and replaced his glasses, then took a minute to let his gaze shift down the line to Linette and the other class-action lawyers. It returned to Be

“What! This is an outrage!” boomed a sudden voice from the back, with a thick accent, and Be

Linette was standing up, waving Mayer into his seat. “Herman, sit down. Be quiet. Let me handle this.”

“This is my business, Lawyer!” Mayer shouted back. His dark eyes flared with indignation. The veins in his stringy neck bulged like an angry rooster’s. He waved a hand with a heavy gold wedding ring. “I know my business! I will not sit here silent while that woman lies about my business! My business!”

St. Amien had risen to his feet, too, his lips parted in affront. “How dare you accuse me, Herman!” he said, his voice only slightly raised. “I did not steal your contract with Hospcare, you fool! You had no contract with Hospcare! They came to me-”

Holy shit. World War II is breaking out. “Robert!” Be

“Fool! Liar!” Suddenly Mayer turned and, red-faced, gave St. Amien a strong shove that almost toppled him.

“Argh!” St. Amien said, struggling to stay on his feet, righting his glasses with dignity.

“Robert!” Be

Crak! Crak! Crak! “Order! Order!” Judge Sherman shouted, banging his gavel on the dais, as Be

“Herman!” Linette said, pivoting on his slippery Italian loafer. Next to him, Quinones’s eyes widened and Kerpov looked embarrassed. Brenstein turned away, and Linette tried to contain his client. “Sit down! Right now!”

“Don’t you tell me to sit down!” Mayer shouted back, pointing at Linette with a long index finger. Be

“Herman, sit down!” Linette thundered, instantly red-faced. He took a threatening step forward, which surprised even Be

Crak! The judge howled, “Mr. Mayer, you will sit down this minute or I’ll have you hauled off!” Mayer obeyed reluctantly then, sinking into the seat beside a grim-faced St. Amien and still shaking visibly from his outburst. But he seemed cowed enough for Be