"You don't plan on continuing the trial, do you?" the judge asked.
"Oh, certainly. After all, our case is almost over and there's Mrs. Elliot to consider. It would be awfully hard for her to go through a second trial."
"Yes, well that may be, but your father is lead counsel," the judge said.
Lyle Compton was short, bald and rotund. He usually had a disarming smile on his face. He represented insurance companies for a living, but he was sympathetic to plaintiffs and was fair and charmingly nonadversarial until he was forced into the courtroom.
"Peter, it wouldn't be right to make you continue this case," Compton said with sincerity.
"Mrs. Elliot has a right to be represented by the best. If you move for a continuance or a mistrial, I'm not going to object."
Peter kept control of his facial expression, but he was seething. He believed Compton was trying to sucker him into moving for a mistrial so he could save his case. And that crack about Mrs. Elliot deserving the best ... Peter's heart hardened. He would show Compton what it was like to really go up against the best.
"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Compton, but I'm prepared to continue."
"Do you feel that you're ready to do that, Mr. Hale?" the judge asked. "You've never been lead counsel in a case this complex, have you?"
"No, Your Honor, but I worked on this case from the beginning. I prepared the witnesses, wrote the pleadings and the legal memos. In all modesty, I believe I know the ins and outs of Mrs. Elliot's lawsuit as well, if not better, than my father."
"Is this what your client wants?" the judge asked.
"I haven't had an opportunity to confer with her. She doesn't know what happened."
Judge Pruitt looked troubled. "Well, why don't you take a few minutes to confer with Mrs. Elliot. But before you do, I have to tell you that I think you're making a big mistake if you go ahead. You should be with your father in the hospital. I know you're thinking of your client's interests, which Is commendable, but I can't imagine how you're going to be able to focus on this case without knowing that your father has pulled through."
Peter felt a brief flash of elation. The trial was going to continue and he was going to try it by himself. Then, as Peter walked over to his client, a moment of selfdoubt assailed him. Aside from his mistrust of Peter's abilities, was there some other reason why his father had ordered Peter to ask for a mistrial? Peter remembered how upset his father had been just before his heart attack, had that been about) Some witness and papers. As Peter sat down next to Mrs. Elliot, he tried to review every , thing he knew about the case. He could think of no witness who needed to testify other than the two who were scheduled for this morning and no papers that had to be introduced.
Before he could consider the matter further, Mrs. Elliot swung her wheelchair so she could face Peter.
"Where's Mr. Hale?" she asked fearfully.
Peter promptly forgot about the mystery witness and said, "Mrs. Elliot, I want you to stay calm. I have some news for you that may be a bit disturbing."
"Plaintiff rests,". Peter declared in a voice that conveyed to the jury the confidence he felt in his case. His last two witnesses had been terrific and Peter could not conceive of a juror who was not convinced that Nellie Elliot should be awarded millions to compensate her for the negligence of Northwest Maritime's driver.
"May I confer with Mr. Hale for a moment?" Lyle Compton asked judge Pruitt.
"Why don't I send the jury out for lunch, Mr. Compton. As soon as you're finished talking to Mr. Hale, you can make any motions you may have. We'll start the defense case after lunch."
"That would be fine, Your Honor."
When the jurors were gone, Compton motioned Peter to join him out of earshot of Mrs. Elliot. Peter felt he was on top of the world as he crossed the courtroom.
During a phone call to the hospital, he had been assured that his father would make a full recovery, and he was on the brink of winning his first million-dollar verdict.
"Peter," Compton said in a low voice, "I'm prepared to recommend a settlement of 1.5 million. I think that's a fair offer."
Peter's chest swelled. Compton was on the roes and he knew it. The offer was a last-ditch attempt to save his client the several million dollars more Peter was confident the jury would award.
"Sorry, Lyle, but I don't think that's enough.
Compton seemed uneasy. "Look, Peter, I feel very uncomfortable about the way this case is proceeding. You shouldn't have continued to try this matter. You're too inexperienced.
"Oh," Peter replied, fighting hard not to smirk. "Why don't we let the jury decide that."
Compton looked down. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
"I probably shouldn't do this, but I don't want to take advantage of you. I respect your father tremendously and, because of that, I feel compelled to tell you that you have problems with your case. Under the circumstances, this is a very good offer
Peter wanted to laugh in Compton's face. Problems with his case, indeed.
Did Compton think he would fall for this transparent attempt to prey on the insecurities of a young lawyer trying his first big case? He felt great seeing one of the best insurance defense attorneys in the state squirming like a worm on a hook.
"Lyle, I appreciate your concern, but it's no go."
Compton looked distraught. "All right. I tried, Peter, but I have a client, too."
As soon as the lawyers were back at their respective tables, Mrs. Elliot asked, "What happens now?"
"Mr. Compton will probably move for a directed verdict. It's nothing to worry about. It's routine. The defense always does that after the laintiff rests. He's going to argue that we haven't produced enough evidence to let the case go to the jury. He has to make his record. "He won't win?" she asked anxiously.
"of course not," Peter answered with a confident smile. "To rule against us, the judge would have to find that there is no reasonable interpretation of the evidence that could support our position. It's an almost impossible burden to meet."
"I have a motion for the court," Compton said, sounding almost apologetic.
"What Is the basis for your motion, Mr. Compton?" judge Pruitt asked.
"Your Honor, plaintiff's complaint alleges that Northwest Maritime is a corporation registered in the state of Oregon. It is in paragraph one of the complaint."
Peter looked down at the pleading that had been filed a year and a half before to formally put the case before the court. Mrs. Elliot's complaint alleged that Northwest Maritime was a corporation doing business in Oregon, that a truck driven by one of its agents had caused her injury and that the driver was negligent in the way he drove. It was a simple, straightforward court document.
"Our answer denied each and every allegation in the complaint," Compton went on. "When a defendant does that, it becomes plaintiff's duty to prove each and every allegation in the complaint. I kept track of the evidence and I submit that Mrs. Elliot has failed to prove the existence of the corporation."
Peter did not hear anything else Compton said. It was as if the engines on a plane in which he was flying stopped suddenly and the plane began plummeting downward at a dizzying speed. Peter had assumed that his father had entered the corporate documents on one of the occasions he had been in the law library researching legal issues. Now, it looked as if the evidence had never been produced.
Suddenly, Peter remembered Ned Schuster, the mystery witness who had been in the accident. The man who was bringing the documents his father was so up set about, right before he'd had his coronary. They must have been the documents that would prove that Northwest Maritime was a corporation. That's why Richard had implored Peter to move for a mistrial.
".. . to dismiss the case against Northwest Maritime and grant a directed verdict for my client," Compton concluded.