The Justice Game

Epilogue

After a two-day media blitz, Melissa Davids settled into her nondescript office in the out-of-the-way industrial park that served as the national headquarters for MD Firearms. The factory was running full bore, trying to keep up with the orders flooding in for MD-9s and MD-45s with the new GPS system and fingerprint-activated safety lock. Almost every employee was working overtime.

At 10 a.m., Melissa called Case McAllister to her office for a quick meeting.

Before he arrived, she picked up the memo and moved in front of her desk. As usual, this would be a stand-up meeting. If it took five minutes, it would be too long.

“How’s Annie Oakley?” Case asked as he walked in the door.

“Remind me never to do CNBC again,” Melissa replied. “Hopeless liberals.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Case reminded her.

“Yeah, well… they haven’t changed.”

“There’s a surprise.”

Melissa handed Case the memo. “Look this over and let me know what you think.”

She watched his eyes glance over the page and then lock on the handwriting at the top. The document was a copy of the memo Case had written two years ago entitled “Sales to Dealers Sued by Northeast Cities.”

But Melissa had crossed through her original handwritten instructions and replaced them with new ones. Case, the consummate pro, didn’t show the slightest hint of surprise as he read. Let’s cut off the worst of these renegade dealers. I’ll leave it to you to separate the sheep from the goats. All licensed dealers might be entitled to buy guns. But not all dealers are entitled to buy our guns.

“I think I can make this happen,” Case said. “After all, the Second Amendment’s not a license to kill.”

Melissa shot him a look. “Quotes like that-you oughta work for CNBC.”

It took Robert Sherwood two days to get the FBI off his back. Once he provided documented proof that Justice Inc. and its clients would have stood to lose tens of millions of dollars from a plaintiff’s verdict, the feds had to concede that Andrew Lassiter, Rafael Johansen, and Tony Morris must have acted outside the purview of Justice Inc. But the feds were not willing to concede total defeat; they made noises about possibly prosecuting Sherwood for illegally tapping into Jason Noble’s phone calls and intercepting his e-mails.

“Maybe Rafael Johansen was intercepting those calls and e-mails,” Sherwood argued, “but he wasn’t passing that information back to us. Think about it. If I had been monitoring Jason Noble’s e-mails, I would have known he was being blackmailed. And if I’d known he was being blackmailed, I wouldn’t have invested millions in MD Firearms and other gun companies.”

The logic was unassailable, and Sherwood knew that his firewall of legal protection would hold. While attorneys like Jason were working for Justice Inc., their company phone calls and e-mails were closely monitored-all perfectly legal. Justice Inc. had tens of millions of dollars riding on each case. The cell phones and e-mail accounts were company property. Permission to monitor them was contained in a bunch of legalese buried in the small print of contracts the lawyers signed when they handled company cases.

Andrew Lassiter’s access to those records, along with the repossessed computers of those lawyers, was undoubtedly how he had learned about Kelly’s affair and been alerted to something fishy with Jason’s car accident.

Once the attorneys left the New York City firms and quit working for Justice Inc., they were on their own. From time to time, Sherwood might use Rafael Johansen to investigate or monitor the lawyers, particularly if they were suspected of harboring proprietary information that belonged to the company. But Sherwood was a master at plausible deniability.

“Just how Johansen did the monitoring was his business,” Sherwood explained. “He was an independent contractor, and I didn’t ask any questions. I just continued to stress that everything needed to be done on the up-and-up.”

By the third day, the FBI had run out of questions, and Robert Sherwood was ready to make some serious money.

The company was flush with cash from the Crawford case, and the clients had never been happier. Sure, Sherwood had received some panicked phone calls on Monday right after the devastating cross-examination of Chief Poole. In the sanctuary of his office, he had paced and cursed and called Jason all kinds of names for not vetting Poole properly. But on the phone with clients, Sherwood had been the epitome of composure, urging them to ride it out, assuring them that Jason would pull a rabbit out of his hat during closing arguments.

Then came the shocking events of Monday afternoon. A mistrial in the real case. A defense verdict by the shadow jury. A shoot-out at the Surf and Sand that had turned Melissa Davids into a folk hero.

MD Firearms stock had skyrocketed, and Justice Inc.’s clients cashed in.

In the following weeks, the only cloud on the horizon for the firearms manufacturers was the newfound popularity of plaintiff’s attorney Kelly Starling. There were rumors her firm was already preparing half a dozen new cases on behalf of gun victims. According to Sherwood’s sources, she had turned down a gig as a legal commentator for CNN to stay focused on her crusades against gun makers and sex traffickers.

But such matters no longer concerned Robert Sherwood. He had already moved on. There were millions of AIDS victims in Kenya, and Sherwood was never one to rest on his laurels.

“Brett Lawson, line one,” Olivia called out.

Sherwood spent the next fifteen minutes talking to the father of Carissa Lawson, the backup singer who had died with high levels of cocaine and oxycodone in her blood. Despite the jury verdict in the criminal case acquitting Kendra Van Wyck, Brett Lawson was convinced she had poisoned his daughter. Months ago, Mr. Lawson had filed a wrongful death suit and promised to bankrupt Kendra Van Wyck and all of her associated companies. He reminded the world that O. J. Simpson had won the criminal case and lost the civil case. The standard of proof was different. He wouldn’t rest until justice was served.

But now, the civil case had bogged down due to the ineptitude of the L.A. celebrity lawyer handling the matter. Robert Sherwood had called some of his connections in the entertainment industry, who in turn had talked Brett Lawson into calling the CEO of Justice Inc.

“I’ve got just the lawyer for you,” Sherwood promised. Due to Jason’s notoriety from the Crawford case, it didn’t take long to convince Mr. Lawson he’d be better off changing attorneys. Jason Noble could win this case in his sleep.

Sixty seconds after Sherwood hung up, Olivia was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. She knew why Brett Lawson had called.

“Well?”

Robert Sherwood looked up and smiled. He pulled a cigar out of his desk drawer and lit it.

“Game on,” he said.