The Justice Game

10

Jason spent nearly an hour in Sherwood’s office, by far the longest amount of time he had ever spent with the CEO of Justice Inc. He learned that Sherwood had served nearly ten years as managing partner of a large New York law firm, and Jason soaked in law management tips, at one point even asking to borrow a legal pad and pen so he could get it all down. The conference ended only after Olivia interrupted again, reminding Sherwood of his next appointment.

“Okay,” Sherwood said, “we’re wrapping it up.”

When Olivia left, he turned back to Jason. “You’ve heard me say it a hundred times before, but I want it to be the last thing you hear from me. You’re going to make an obscene amount of money in your life. But there will always be someone making more, and it will never feel like quite enough.”

Sherwood’s dark eyes burned with an intensity he reserved for this issue alone. “We’ve given you better training than most elite lawyers will ever receive. Like other Justice Inc. alums, I’ll stay in touch and help you however I can. I only ask for one thing in return. Do your part to alleviate suffering in a third world country. We give 10 percent of our gross profits to such causes. I’d ask you to think about doing the same.”

Jason nodded and took the unlit cigar out of his mouth. It suddenly seemed a little pretentious.

“I’m going to turn you over to our HR department now,” Sherwood said. He stood and Jason followed suit. “We’ve got some severance documents for you to consider and some draconian security processes in place, but don’t take it personally. There are millions of dollars at risk on every case, and we’ve got to be careful.”

“I understand,” Jason said. He shook Sherwood’s hand, threw his cigar in the trash can, and gathered up the envelope that contained his severance check along with the legal pad on which he had jotted three full pages of notes. He thanked Sherwood for the amazing experience of working with Justice Inc. and then followed Olivia to the office of Michael Ortberg, Justice Inc.’s director of Human Resources.

There, Jason filled out a small mountain of paperwork-a severance agreement, health insurance elections, a non-compete and confidentiality agreement, and other similar documents. He reluctantly surrendered his firm-issued BlackBerry, thinking about how many personal e-mails and voice mails the device contained. The blow was lessened somewhat when Ortberg explained that Mr. Sherwood had authorized Justice Inc. to provide a replacement BlackBerry with the first year’s service agreement paid in full. As a convenience, Ortberg said the company would transfer Jason’s contact list to the new device, though they couldn’t do the same with the e-mail.

“I’m sorry,” Ortberg said. “Company policy. That e-mail address belongs to Justice Inc., and we have to maintain complete control over it.”

Ortberg explained that Jason could transfer his e-mails from his firm computer to a flash drive before he turned in his computer. “We’ll also erase all your personal data on the hard drive before we reissue it,” Ortberg said.

“Do you want me to bring the computer in tomorrow?” Jason asked.

“Actually, we have a policy about that too. We’ll have one of our folks follow you home and bring everything back to the office. It’s not that we don’t trust you. But some of our attorneys and employees are released on less than favorable terms and we have to apply the policy the same way for everyone who leaves.”

“I understand,” said Jason, though he actually didn’t. What happened to all the trust the CEO of the company had expressed just an hour or so earlier? “I’ll need to delete some passwords for my bank accounts and other personal things before you take the computer back.”

“Rafael can handle that.”

Rafael Johansen showed up a few minutes later. Jason decided the man must have arrived fresh from the studio lot of Hollywood’s latest action flick. Dark-skinned and buff, Johansen was wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt and white slacks. The shirt was loose, hiding the man’s biceps, but his forearms had the bulging veins and rock-hard look of a steroid abuser. Rafael had thin hair and a trim beard that followed a granite jawline, and he wore a Bluetooth earpiece and dark sunglasses even though the forecast called for more rain.

Jason tried to begin a conversation during the taxi ride to his apartment, but Rafael apparently specialized in one-word grunts. They rode most of the way in silence.

Once inside Jason’s apartment, Rafael produced a checklist of items he needed according to the contract Jason had signed when he first started work for Justice Inc. They started with Jason’s laptop. Jason downloaded his personal items to a flash drive and deleted those same files from the hard drive. Rafael watched over Jason’s shoulder the entire time.

Next, Jason gave up all the flash drives, CDs, and paper files he had produced while at Justice Inc. His contract called everything a “work for hire” and specified in no uncertain terms that it all reverted back to the company. Rafael called somebody on the phone and spoke to them in Spanish. Twenty minutes later, two men appeared at Jason’s apartment and started loading everything into boxes.

They reached a point of impasse when Rafael insisted on personally inspecting Jason’s desk drawers and the drawers of his filing cabinet for additional Justice Inc. materials. Jason refused, challenging Rafael to point out contractual language that entitled him to invade Jason’s privacy.

“I am just ensuring that you’ve complied with your contract,” Rafael insisted. “This is for your own protection. If proprietary information gets leaked, I’ll be able to certify that it didn’t come from you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Jason said.

Rafael stared at Jason for a moment. He had slipped his sunglasses on top of his head an hour earlier, revealing emotionless dark eyes that he now used to try to bully Jason.

Instead of intimidating Jason, it only made him mad.

“I’ll have to make a phone call,” Rafael said.

He called Michael Ortberg, who asked to talk with Jason and played the role of good cop on the phone. It was nothing personal, Ortberg said. He acknowledged that Rafael had no contractual right to look in the drawers but he urged Jason to let Rafael look anyway. “I know you’ve got nothing to hide,” Ortberg said. “So if you could just humor him on this, it would make things a lot easier.”

“What’s next, my sock and underwear drawer?”

When Jason’s sarcastic comment was met with momentary silence, he became even more agitated. “You’re kidding,” he said.

“Yes, I’m kidding,” Ortberg said. “Let me talk to Rafael.”

Rafael took the phone and walked into another room. When he returned, he told his men to make sure they had everything boxed up and labeled. He removed a form from a folder and asked Jason to sign it.

While the men taped and labeled the boxes, Jason studied the form. It was a certification that he had returned everything-every piece of data and information he had ever generated or collected while at Justice Inc., whether stored electronically or contained on paper or in any other manner. Jason read the form, opened his desk drawer, and handed another flash drive to Rafael, then signed the form.

Rafael took the form, then handed Jason a plain white envelope with Jason’s name on it. “Mr. Sherwood wanted you to have this,” Rafael said.

After Rafael and his men left, Jason sat down at his desk and opened the envelope. Any warm fuzzies he’d had about his time at Justice Inc. had largely disappeared. Rafael had made Jason feel like a convicted felon trying to steal the company’s proprietary secrets.

The envelope contained a letter from Robert Sherwood, expressing his gratitude for a job well done. I’ve never terminated anyone for being too good, the letter said. Seems like that might merit a small bonus.

Enclosed was another check for $75,000-half a year’s salary. It made his total severance $150,000.

Though it still seemed like a strange way to leave a company, Jason no longer felt underappreciated.

He sat for a few minutes in silence, contemplating how quickly his life had changed. It was times like this when he most longed to pick up the phone and call his mom-a remarkable woman who had lost a six-month struggle with cancer when Jason was in junior high. Until she died, Jason had always been his mother’s son, soaking up the attention and unconditional love that came as natural to her as breathing. She died after the cancer metastasized from her colon to her liver. Fourteen years later, Jason still teared up just thinking about her.

At the time, people simply shook their heads. “She was so young,” they’d said.

His mother’s death left Jason with his father-a strict disciplinarian who never remarried. Jason now felt obligated to call his father and let him know about these recent developments. His father had grudgingly accepted Jason’s going to work for Justice Inc. but had always dreamed of Jason becoming a prosecutor. Instead, Jason would have to tell his dad about his plans to become a criminal defense lawyer, joining the “dark side.”

His father would curse and let Jason know he was disappointed. He would remind Jason, as he had many times before, that Jason would be serving time behind bars if not for the fraternity of the men in blue-the way they looked out for each other’s families. He would do everything within his power to send Jason on another guilt trip.

But it would only backfire, reminding Jason of the reason he had chosen this path in the first place. If other cops were as willing to work outside the law as the ones Jason knew, all kinds of innocent people would need good defense lawyers.

His father would never understand that. He would accuse Jason of being a sellout.

But Jason knew the truth.

It was his father who had sold out. The system had already purchased his father’s soul.

Robert Sherwood looked up at a knock on his office door.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and Rafael Johansen stepped in. “We’re all set,” he said.

“Do you think he’s got copies of the software?” Sherwood asked.

“Maybe. He wouldn’t give us access to his desk drawers and filing cabinets.”

Sherwood thought about this for a moment. Given the enormous sums at risk, Justice Inc. had always been obsessed with protecting its proprietary information.

“I think he’s a straight shooter,” Sherwood said. “But let’s put surveillance on him for a year or so just to play it safe.”