Dirty Blonde

CHAPTER 6

Cate strode to the dais, her robes billowing theatrically, making her feel like an actress playing a role. Someday she’d feel like she belonged in this costume, but today wasn’t that day. The negotiations had failed, and Simone had refused to settle, even when the demand decreased to ten grand. It made no sense. The attorneys’ fees for today alone would be that much. Hartford didn’t sneeze for less than twenty grand.

“All rise!” the deputy boomed, his voice echoing in the crowded courtroom.

At the bar of court, Temin and Marz stood in matching wrinkles and brave smiles. Hartford and Simone, both tall, gym-toned, and Armani-clad, didn’t bother to smile. The gallery of reporters, sketch artists, and spectators rose, setting aside newspapers and notepads. Detective Russo anchored the first row next to Marz’s wife, and occupying the seat beside the redhaired consultant and Micah Gilbert was a woman reporter whom Cate recognized from Fox. She’d evidently been tipped off that today might be a big day.

“Good morning, everyone,” Cate said as she seated herself on the dais and arranged her robes around her. The jury box remained empty, and the black bucket chairs left swiveled in their positions.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” replied the chorus, more or less on cue, and Cate managed a stage smile.

“Mr. Hartford, you have a motion to make?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Hartford crossed to the lectern and squared his shoulders. “At this juncture, defendant moves for judgment as a matter of law under Rule 50. As Your Honor knows, the standard is well-established, and for these purposes only, the defendant Mr. Simone must accept as true the facts as alleged by plaintiff. We therefore assume that the facts are as Mr. Marz testified, that is, that Mr. Simone agreed to produce Mr. Marz’s story idea and treatment for television, and also that he said, verbatim, ‘When I make money, you’ll make money.’”

Back at counsel table, Temin made notes and Marz sat flushed, his fingers linked on the glistening walnut surface. His wife looked miserable, sitting in the row behind him. Cate could only imagine the pressure Marz was under. His job and his dream, gone.

“Defendant’s argument is simple, Your Honor. Mr. Marz’s testimony is undisputed that he and Mr. Simone did not write down the terms of their contract. Therefore, we’re dealing with an express oral contract. It is also undisputed that Mr. Marz and Mr. Simone didn’t discuss a price term for the contract, neither a specific number nor dollar amount. It is equally undisputed that they didn’t discuss a method of payment, means of payment, or time of payment. In fact, both parties agree that those facts are true.”

At defense table, Simone nodded slightly, and Marz glanced over.

“This Court must grant judgment as a matter of law on the grounds that the single statement by Mr. Simone, taken as true for these purposes only, that ‘when I make money, you’ll make money,’ is too indefinite to form an oral contract that is enforceable by this Court. In other words, it doesn’t matter whom you believe in this case, Mr. Marz or Mr. Simone. Even if everything Mr. Marz said is true, he still doesn’t have a contract, as a matter of law.”

Cate made a note on her legal pad. I’M NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT, EITHER.

“As Your Honor knows, this matter comes before this Court on diversity jurisdiction, and Pennsylvania law governs the facts, as all meetings regarding the alleged contract took place in Pennsylvania.”

Cate had been up most of the night, researching online, and had learned that a different result would probably have applied under California law, a state more experienced with the way entertainment contracts were formed. It told her just how manipulative Simone had been in arranging that the relevant meetings were held in Philadelphia. She generally approved of shopping, but for the perfect shoes, not the perfect law.

Hartford said, “Under Pennsylvania law, it is clear that express oral contracts that are indefinite as to the price term are not enforceable. The seminal case for this proposition is-”

Cate raised a finger, and Hartford fell instantly silent, demonstrating the deference shown only to Article III judges and Saudi royalty. “Mr. Hartford, what do you say to the fact that Mr. Marz quit his job at the district attorney’s office in reliance on his oral contract with Mr. Simone?”

“Your Honor, with all due respect, that would be irrelevant.”

“I remind you that Pennsylvania recognizes the doctrine of justifiable reliance. Mr. Marz justifiably relied on Mr. Simone’s representation, to his detriment.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Marz’s reliance was not justifiable on these facts. A reasonable man would have questioned the price term long before Mr. Marz did, especially given that he is a lawyer.”

“Isn’t that a question for the jury?”

“Not on these facts, Your Honor. A Pennsylvania court would not apply the justifiable reliance doctrine in these circumstances, and with respect, this Court is not free to disregard Pennsylvania law.”

Temin scribbled while Marz shifted in his seat, his brow knitting in anger. Simone was smiling slightly.

Cate leaned over the dais. “Pennsylvania also recognizes the unjust enrichment doctrine. What do you say to the fact that Mr. Marz worked for eight months on a treatment, which Mr. Simone accepted and then produced, making millions of dollars? Taken as true, these facts make clear that your client was unjustly enriched at the expense of Mr. Marz.”

The gallery shifted. Reporters took notes. Spectators whispered. The courtroom deputy smiled.

“Your Honor, Mr. Marz made an imprudent decision in quitting his job, one that a reasonable man wouldn’t make. We’ve all heard the adage ‘Don’t quit your day job.’ Furthermore, Detective Russo, given the same set of facts, did not quit his day job. The law of unjust enrichment does not ensure against bad judgment.”

Cate bore down. “Certainly, Mr. Hartford, the equities do not lie in your client’s favor.”

“With respect, Your Honor, the equities are irrelevant under the law. There is insufficient evidence of an enforceable contract for this matter to be put to the jury, and the law requires you to enter judgment as a matter of law in favor of Mr. Simone and his company. Not to do so, on these facts, I daresay, would be reversible error.”

Cate glared at him, unable to say what she wanted and too mad to write in big letters.

Hartford said, “To continue my argument, Your Honor, the seminal case in Pennsylvania is…”

Cate eased back in her chair, barely listening as Hartford recited the litany of case law supporting his position. She had read them last night, and Emily had confirmed them this morning. She was hoping Temin could come up with something, and when Hartford finished, she motioned to him. “Mr. Temin, your response?”

“Certainly.” Temin scurried to the lectern, and Marz shifted upwards in his seat. “May it please the Court, plaintiff opposes defendant’s motion for judgment as a matter of law. This case presents a clear question of credibility, which the jury can, and should, be able to decide. To grant this motion is to deny Mr. Marz his day in court.”

Cate’s shoulders sank, hidden in the voluminous robes. Temin’s argument was absolutely true, but it wasn’t a legal argument. It was about justice, not law, and Hartford was arguing law, not justice. The law was clear that even if Simone had said his famous line, it wouldn’t be enough to make an enforceable contract in Pennsylvania. And in that case, the law did not permit the question to be decided by the jury, because they would be swayed-by justice.

Temin was saying, “Mr. Marz has an absolute right to his day in court, Your Honor. It is his word against Mr. Simone’s, and only the jury is qualified to make that decision about who’s lying and who’s telling the truth. To take the case away from them would allow Mr. Simone to take ruthless advantage of…”

Cate couldn’t listen to him, either. Temin was making a persuasive jury speech, but the kind of words that swayed the heart, not the mind. And her heart felt sick. She’d sentenced a young mother to life in prison last week and felt better than she did right now. Then, at least, she had followed the law and done justice. Today she had to follow the law and not do justice. She had known, as a trial lawyer, that this could happen, but she’d never seen it, much less been the one to actually do it. The responsibility was all.

Temin finished up. “And for all of the foregoing, Your Honor, we ask the Court to deny the defendant’s motion.”

“Thank you, Mr. Temin. I have your argument.” Cate looked down at Hartford. “Rebuttal, Counsel?”

“Yes, thank you.” Hartford took the lectern, standing very erect, as Temin moved aside. “Your Honor, with all due respect, defendant takes issue with the Court’s demeanor as well as its characterization of the facts, and I object to-”

What? Cate frowned. “My demeanor is of no legal significance, and I haven’t characterized any facts, Mr. Hartford. I asked a few questions. Trust me, I’m allowed.”

“I never meant to suggest otherwise,” Hartford said, backing down. “In conclusion, defendant moves that the Court enter judgment as a matter of law. Thank you, Your Honor.” He made his way to his seat, and Simone acknowledged him with a nod.

Cate eased back in her chair, surveying the scene. Marz and Temin, on tenterhooks, and Simone and Hartford, on a roll. She knew the law and she knew she had sworn to uphold it. It wouldn’t make sense to delay the inevitable. There was no other way. Or was there?

Cate straightened up. “Gentlemen, I intend to rule from the bench and file a written opinion later, but before I do, I want to say a few words.” She turned to defense table. “Mr. Simone, I’m speaking directly to you now. I cannot imagine a case of such manifest injustice as I see before me today. I think your sense of right and wrong has utterly failed you, if indeed you had any in the first place.”

Simone’s eyes narrowed behind his hip little glasses, and Hartford’s mouth dropped open. Reporters scribbled away, sketch artists flipped the page, and whispering swelled in the gallery. The courtroom deputy looked up from his desk, his eyes shining. Cate didn’t reach for the gavel. She felt empowered enough already.

“I haven’t been on the bench very long, and I hope I never encounter a case such as this again. You may have made a fortune, Mr. Simone, but as far as I’m concerned, you stole every penny of it. You’re no better than a common thief.”

Hartford popped up, mortified. “Objection, Your Honor! That’s slander!”

“Sit down and shut up, Counsel.” Cate didn’t even look at Hartford, but locked eyes with Simone. “The idea for the show was Mr. Marz’s and the storylines were his and his alone. You manipulated and exploited him, and I want my opinion of you and this case to be perfectly clear, regardless of my judicial decision. You may get a Court for public relations, or, worse, television ratings. You’re getting away with murder, and you know it. Simply put, against my judgment, I grant judgment for defendant.” Cate picked up the gavel and slammed it down. Crak!

“No!” Marz shouted suddenly, leaping to his feet. “You bastard, I’ll kill you!” Suddenly he lunged for Simone and grabbed him by the shoulders. Hartford sprang away, and Simone toppled over in his chair, with Marz on top of him, throwing punches.

“Bailiff!” Cate yelled, shocked. Simone’s fancy glasses flew off, and Marz went for his throat. His wife screamed. The courtroom deputy leaped from his chair and rushed to help. The stenographer sprang from the steno machine. Chaos broke out in the gallery. Reporters wrote frantically. Simone’s assistant ran to help him. Russo went after Marz, and marshals ran from the back of the courtroom.

“Judge, let’s go!” said a voice, and Cate turned. It was Emily, on the dais. “You should get out of here.”

“I’m fine,” Cate answered. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart hammered and her knees felt weak. “I caused it, and I’ll stay until it’s over.”

Back in chambers, Cate sat in her crappy desk chair, staring out the window. The doors were closed and her office quiet, except for the almost constant ringing of the phones on her desk and work table. She didn’t answer. On the other side of the closed door, her secretary, Val Denton, fended off calls from the media. A religious woman, Val would give them the wrath of God. The law clerks would still be buzzing, though at least they had turned the TV off, on her command. The news at noon had carried sketches of the fistfight, and her lecture from the bench had gotten lost in the melee.

Ring! Cate tried not to hear any of it, watching the pewter clouds inch across the skyline behind the Ben Franklin Bridge. It looked like a storm brewing, but it could have been her state of mind. She didn’t know what she had done. Strike that, she didn’t know if she was allowed to do what she had done.

Buzz! The white light flashed on her phone, which was Val’s signal for Cate to pick up, which she did. “What? Are the townspeople at the gate? With torches?”

Val chuckled. “Chief Judge Sherman on the line. Should I put him through?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, but don’t let him intimidate you. It’s Meriden you gotta watch out for. I hear he’s runnin’ around whining about what you said in court.”

“Thanks.” Cate’s nickname for Val was Invaluable, because she was.

“Now hold for Sherman.” There was a click on the line, then the soft, quavering voice of Chief Judge Sherman.

“Goodness, dear! I just heard what happened. What a calamity! How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded on TV.”

“I don’t keep a TV in chambers. I heard about it from Jonathan, who said it was quite a to-do.”

Meriden. “But I only decked one guy, Chief.”

Sherman laughed softly. “What a case! It’s a trial by fire for you, isn’t it? I thought I’d handed you a plum, but maybe it’s a crab apple. Do forgive me.”

“Not at all, Chief. I think it’s been fascinating, a real lesson in lots of ways. I’m entering judgment today, and the courthouse will go back to normal.”

Sherman clucked. “I rather enjoyed the excitement. I heard Steven Bochco was in the hallway last week! Do you remember Hill Street Blues?”

“Was I born yet?”

“Ha! By the way, I heard you said some rather intemperate things on the bench.”

Cate cringed. Here it comes.

“I’ve gotten a call or two from the others. It’s probably my job as chief to let you know. I would have ruled from the bench, too. But, if you don’t mind some constructive criticism, I wouldn’t have made those comments in open court.”

“In my own defense, what I said was completely in order.”

“Undoubtedly.” Judge Sherman lowered his voice. “But the next time, make all the comments you want, but keep them in chambers. Off the record, like the old man does.”

Cate smiled. “Gotcha. Thanks. And sorry.”

“That’s my girl.” Sherman paused. “You know, all of us are moved by cases before us, certain cases, from time to time. That’s part of the passion for the law that I have, and I see in you. We don’t choose our cases, they choose us. Like our children.”

Cate thought of Warren.

“And I do like your fire, Cate. You’re a new kind of judge, a new model. You energize our stodgy old court. The law needs new life from time to time, or it grows old and stale. Inflexible, brittle. We have to change with the times, and we do. That’s what I love about this court. Our court.” Sherman chuckled. “Well, now, I am boring you, aren’t I? I lean to the rabbinical.”

“Nah, thanks for the advice, Rabbi.” Cate would have stayed on the line with him forever. He was her New Friend.

“Take care now,” Sherman said, hanging up.

Cate hung up, too. She couldn’t help wondering about which judges had called Sherman. Meriden, and who else? Why hadn’t they called her directly? Why run to Daddy? She fingered her pearls like worry beads and eyed the sky, where storm clouds conspired, though she tried not to take it personally. She felt a familiar pressure, building up inside, needing a release, and her thoughts skipped ahead.

It would be the third date, after all.