Rogue Lawyer

We meet in the mayor’s office, a splendid room on the top floor of City Hall, with tall windows and views in three directions. A secretary pours coffee from an old silver pot as we take our places around a small conference table in one corner. We struggle through the obligatory chitchat and make ourselves smile and act relaxed.

Through discovery in the civil trial, I have let it be known that I intend to subpoena both of these guys to the witness stand. This fact hangs over the table like a dark cloud and makes professional politeness almost impossible.

Woody brusquely says, “We’re here to talk about a settlement, right?”

“Yes,” I say, and remove some papers from my briefcase. “I have a proposal, one that is rather lengthy. My client, Doug Renfro, prefers to settle all claims and get on with his life, what’s left of it.”

“I’m listening,” Woody says rudely.

“Thank you. First, the eight city cops who murdered Kitty Renfro must be fired. They have been on administrative leave since the murder, and—”

“Do you have to use the word ‘murder’?” Woody interrupts.

“They haven’t been convicted of anything,” Moss adds.

“We’re not in a courtroom, okay, and if I want to use the word ‘murder,’ then I’ll use it. Frankly, there is no other word in the English language adequate enough to describe what your SWAT boys did. It was murder. It’s embarrassing that these thugs have not been terminated and that they’re still getting their full salaries. They have to go. That’s number one. Number two, the chief has to go with them. He’s an incompetent jerk who should not have been hired in the first place. He oversees a corrupt department. He’s an idiot, and if you don’t believe me, then ask your voters. According to the last poll, at least 80 percent of the people in this city want him fired.”

They nod gravely but ca

The reasons are simple and complicated. If the eight warrior cops and their chief are terminated before the civil trial, they would likely become hostile witnesses against the City. It’s best if they remain united in their defense against the Renfro lawsuit.

I continue, “Once the lawsuit is settled you can finally terminate them, right?”

Moss says, “Need I remind you that our liability is capped at $1 million?”

“No, you need not. I’m very aware of that. We’ll take the million as a settlement, and you immediately fire the eight cops and the chief.”

“Deal!” Woody practically yells across the table as he slaps it with a palm. “Deal! What else do you want?”

Even though the City is on the hook for a measly million bucks, these guys are terrified of another trial. During the first one, I exposed in dramatic detail the gross malfeasance of our police department, and the Chronicle broadcast it on the front page for a week. The mayor, the police chief, the city attorney, and the council members were in bunkers. The last thing they want is another high-profile trial in which I humiliate the City.

“Oh, I want a lot more, Mayor,” I say. Both look at me with blank faces. Slowly, fear begins to form in their eyes. “I’m sure you remember the story of my little boy getting kidnapped last Saturday. Pretty frightening stuff but a good ending and all that happy horseshit. What you don’t know is that he was kidnapped by members of your police department.”

Woody’s tough-guy facade melts as his face droops and turns pale. Moss, a former Marine, is proud of his perfect posture, but right now he can’t keep his shoulders from sagging. He exhales as the mayor sticks a fingernail between his teeth. Their eyes meet briefly; identical looks of terror.

With a bit of drama, I drop a document on the table, just out of their reach. I say, “This is a ten-page affidavit, signed by me, in which I describe, under oath, the kidnapping, an abduction orchestrated by Assistant Chief of Police Roy Kemp, in an effort to coerce me to divulge the location of his missing daughter’s body. Arch Swanger was never my client, contrary to what you’ve read and what you believe, but he did tell me where the body was supposedly buried. When I refused to pass along this information to the cops, my son was kidnapped. I caved, told Detective Reardon what I knew, and a full-scale dig took place at the location last Sunday night. They found nothing; the body was not there. Kemp then released my son. Now he wants me to forget all about it, but that’s not going to happen. I’m working with the FBI. You think you have problems with the Renfro case, just wait until the City finds out how rotten your police department really is.”

“Can you prove this?” Moss says with a dry throat.

I tap the affidavit and reply, “It’s all right here. There is surveillance footage from the truck stop where I found my son. He has been able to identify one of his abductors, a cop. The FBI is hot on the trail and chasing leads.”

This is not entirely true, of course, but how could they know? As in any war, the truth is the first casualty. I remove another document from my briefcase and place it next to the affidavit. “And this is a rough draft of a lawsuit I plan to file against the City for the kidnapping. Kemp, as you know, is on administrative leave, still on your payroll, still an employee. I’ll sue him, the department, and the City for a crime that will be front page from coast to coast.”

“You want Kemp fired too?” Moss asks.

“I don’t care if Kemp stays or goes. He’s a decent chap and a good cop. He’s also a desperate father who’s going through hell. I can give him a break.”

“Mighty nice of you,” Woody mumbles.

“What’s this got to do with the settlement?” Moss asks.

“Everything. I’ll bury the lawsuit and forget about it, get on with my life, and keep a closer eye on my kid. But I want another million bucks for Renfro.”

The mayor rubs his eyes with his knuckles as Moss sags even lower. They are overwhelmed and for one long minute ca

“This is extortion,” Moss says.

“It certainly is, but right now extortion is a few notches down the pole. At the top is murder, followed by kidnapping. You don’t want to start a pissing contest with me.”

The mayor manages to stiffen his spine and say, “And how are we supposed to find another million bucks to pass along to you and Mr. Renfro without someone leaking it to the press?”

“Oh, you’ve moved money around before, Mayor. You’ve been caught a couple of times, got embarrassed with the scandals, but you know the game.”

“I did nothing wrong.”

“I’m not a reporter, so knock it off. Your budget this year is 600 million. You have rainy-day funds, discretionary funds, slush funds, reserves for this and for that. You can figure it out. The best route may be to deal with the city council in executive session, pass a resolution to reach a confidential settlement with Renfro, and handle the money offshore.”

Woody laughs but not because of anything humorous. “So you think we can trust the city council to keep this quiet?”

“That’s your problem, not mine. My job is to get a fair settlement for my client. Two million is not fair, but we’ll take it.”

Moss gets to his feet, looking dizzy. He paces to a window and stares out at nothing. He stretches his back and paces around the room. Woody seems to grasp the reality that the sky is falling and asks, “Okay, Rudd, how much time do we have?”

“Not much,” I reply.

Moss says, “We need some time to investigate this, Sebastian. You come in here, drop a bomb like this, and expect us to believe everything. There are a lot of moving parts here.”

“Indeed, but an investigation will only cause leaks. And where will it take you? You’re going to call in Kemp and ask him if he kidnapped my son? Gee, I wonder what he’ll say. You can dig for months looking for the truth and you won’t find it. And, I’m not in the mood to wait.” I slide the affidavit and the lawsuit across the table in Woody’s direction. I stand and grab my briefcase. “Here’s the deal. Today is Friday. You have the weekend. I’ll be here at ten Monday morning to wrap things up. If you boys can’t figure it out, I go straight to the Chronicle with that little pile of papers. Imagine the story, the damage. Headlines on cable around the clock.”