Viewpoints critical, p.5
Viewpoints Critical, page 5
"Hold it! Hold on. What do you mean?"
"Dare, how can you be that obtuse? Look. You've pointed out exactly how anyone with enough money and a big enough computer can take full advantage of the legal system. You've not only said it, but you provided step-by-step directions, a basic 'how-to' manual."
Susan glared through the screen at her younger brother. Finally, her expression softened.
"Dare, I understand the position you're in. You have to produce, or you get the chop. You want to get ahead, and this looks like the way to get there. But don't you understand? Fine, you have access to a computer and a complete data-processing center. I don't. Neither do most attorneys for the little people.
"Now what can Mort Rainwater do against Amalgamated Agriculture's water diversions when they have a legal computer and your little manual, and I don't? When they can plug in all the steps you outlined, and I can't? Sure, I understand the process, but I don't have the resources. It's not the computer, per se. We could probably scrounge that. It's all the programming, all the information. So back to my basic question. What can Mort Rainwater do?"
Darrow shrugged.
"You've got it. Nothing."
The silence built up.
"What was I supposed to do, Suse? Forget it? I've got an impossible case against the government. Without the technique, there's no chance of winning. We go to trial next week, and I don't know that what I've got will even work, but it's the only chance I've got."
"I understand. But if you've prepared your case as well as you did that article, the poor government attorney doesn't stand a chance unless your client murdered someone right on prime time, vidfaxers and all watching."
Darrow shrugged again. Susan always put him on the defensive. She was usually right, too.
"Oh, Dare, it's not your fault. Someone would have come up with it sooner or later. And I guess I'm proud it was you. But what it's going to do to the practice of law, I don't even want to guess."
After her call, Darrow sat for a long time, looking at the wall.
Maybe she was right this time.
Some of the ramifications were obvious—the shuffling of attorneys within firms as the defense and prosecution tried to match strengths, the power plays in trying to get a particular judge for a particular case, the increasingly trumped-up reasons for venue changes as the prejudices and inclinations of judges were laid out in black and white.
What about computers? Did they already make a difference? Would his programs make it worse?
He accessed the Law Directory.
First, he tried his own firm. The entry he wanted was buried, but it was there, "(ell)" stood for "computerized legal library."
Within an hour he had the listings of the twenty firms in the country with the complete computerized systems like his own firm's. Just twenty, including, interestingly enough, Gerswin, Fiori and Smithers. Then he pulled the two hundred largest firms without the "(ell)" listing and vocotyped out the comparisons he wanted.
He carried the package down to Peters in Data Management.
"Compared to the last request, this one's simple enough, Mr. Bryan. Should be ready first thing in the morning."
Because he didn't sleep well, Darrow was up early enough to catch the 6:10 RT-8 and was at the closed doors of Flush, Fairley, and Forefront by seven thirty. For the first time in years, he actually unlocked the doors himself.
Data Management called him at 8:05, and he was back at his desk with the printouts in minutes.
The first page was enough, but he plowed through to the end. He read the summary twice, the second time out loud.
"The 'ell' firms obtained favorable rulings in 72.1 percent of their cases
actually tried. The non-'cll' firms obtained favorable rulings in 37.3 percent of such cases."
There was more, with the usual bureaucratic caveats, but what it boiled down to was simple. The firms with money to computerize were already twice as successful as the noncomputerized firms. Was it because successful firms adopted new techniques faster? Or was it because the computer made the difference?
Darrow frowned. It made no difference. In either case, the gap between the two would widen because a noncomputerized firm legal firm couldn't use the techniques even if it wanted to.
Darrow knew he wasn't the best legal mind. Imagine what Darcy could do with the techniques. That was only the beginning.
What about other applications? What if someone hired a computer to find out what crimes were the easiest to defend? Or what laws were never upheld? Or in which localities crime paid the most? Would the big-money boys use the computer to select the judicial candidates they presented to the politicians?
Public defenders wouldn't have computers, would they? Neither would attorneys from rural areas. The fees of "computerized" law firms would jump to pay for the hardware and software. But the clients would pay, especially once they saw how the technique brought results.
The upcoming trial wasn't just a case, but the test run of the whole system he'd planned.
If he won this way, did he deserve to? Would it prove Eastwood's innocence? Then again, had the system ever proved that? Or did it just prove who had the best attorney?
"Darrow," Darcy began as he edged his head into the cubicle, "have a minute?"
"Sure. Welcome to my humble abode."
"Not much longer, I suspect. One way or the other."
Darrow nodded and waited.
Darcy grinned. "If you don't smoke a pipe, the 'nod and wait' technique is the next best one."
Darrow grinned back, before the impact of Darcy's words sank in. "The techniques for the Eastwood case are a make-or-break thing?"
"Right." "Cost?"
"Hank Forefront got the bill for your programs. If they work, you'll get partnership status."
"And if they don't, the front door?"
"Not quite so bluntly, but essentially, that's correct. Good thing I had that article. Since I'm nominally your supervisor, Hank checked with me before coming to take off your head."
Darcy shook his head wryly.
"Between you and me, Darrow, until this came up, I wouldn't have bet a dollar on your chances. If it works, they can't afford to let you go. And if it does, even if they did, a dozen firms would offer you something. So ... if you produce, you're golden."
Darrow repressed a smile.
He liked Darcy, but the protection he'd gotten from the older attorney would certainly be repaid if Darrow succeeded. Darcy would claim that he was following Darrow and would be rewarded for encouraging him. Darrow might get partnership status. Darcy might reach senior partner status on the basis of Darrow's work.
And it all rested on the trial.
The trial got under way quickly, more quickly than Garrity had anticipated, Darrow suspected.
From the defense table, Darrow surveyed the crowd, trying to pick out familiar faces. Not that it was all that difficult—only a handful of people were on hand for the opening statements.
With a shock, Darrow recognized Jim Fiori, conferring with a man he didn't know. Fiori looked up, as if he had felt Darrow's stare, grinned, and gave back a "thumbs-up" signal.
By agreeing to most of the facts, Darrow had stripped Garrity of his strongest weapon. Nevertheless, Darrow had to object to drive the point home.
". . . and the government will prove," thundered Garrity, "that the accused did in fact heinously and willfully violate the law by importing over a million gallons of heating oil every month in foreign ships—"
"Objection. Facts are stipulated, and the character of the accused is not the question. The question is the law."
"Sustained," ruled the judge.
"... Congress in its wisdom did choose to protect the American people by enacting such protective safeguards, disregarded so cavalierly—"
"Objection. Question is not the intent of Congress nor the character of the accused, but whether the law applies."
"Sustained."
After a series of objections, Garrity wiped his streaming face and turned to the bench.
"Your Honor, while I realize that the distinguished and honorable counsel for the defense is defending his client to the best of his considerable ability, I would like to inquire if the purpose of these continual objections is the furtherance of the law of the land or its obfuscation."
"Mr. Garrity, the counsel for the defense had generously agreed to virtually all of your stipulations in order that we may concentrate on the legal questions. If you feel that additions to the stipulated facts are necessary at this point, you may make such additions. Counsel for the defense retains the right to object to irrelevant material."
"In that case, Your Honor," returned Garrity, "we will emphasize the basic legal grounds for the government action. According to the Oil Import Act of 1983, the controlling interest of any foreign-incorporated or foreign-based business or corporation, engaged in the production, refining, transportation, or distribution of petroleum products in the United States by any U.S. citizen is prohibited. Section 503 is absolutely clear in its intent..."
Garrity devoted the rest of Saturday to the intent of Section 503, all of Monday to the intent of Section 801, all of Tuesday to the intent and applicability of Section 803(b), and all of Wednesday to a listing of successful government prosecutions of violators of the various oil control laws.
By Wednesday night, Darrow sensed that Judge Lerata was suffering from a case of terminal boredom.
Garrity rested his case Friday morning at eleven o'clock.
"The prosecution rests and apologizes for rushing through the applicable law, but we feel that the only possible verdict is conviction."
After a lunch recess, Darrow began.
"Your Honor, the essence of our case is simple, so simple that I find myself puzzled by the prosecution's arguments. Basically, we contend that, first, the individual rights of privacy of the defendant were violated, and second,
that Sections 503, 801, and 803, so heavily cited by the prosecution, are unconstitutional.
"In reviewing the statutes and case law cited by the prosecution, one should note that for some reason, not a single case tested the merits of the law itself, and that in all but two of the twenty 'precedential' cases cited, the defendant pleaded 'guilty.' We intend to show not only Article I, Section 8, grounds for invalidity, but also First, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Fourteenth Amendment challenges."
Darrow started with the medical records.
Garrity had already accepted them during the pretrial conference, and it only took Darrow an hour or so to establish his point.
"... then what conclusions would you draw from these tests, Doctor?"
"That the individual in question had been subject to persona-altering drugs, probably sclopsclertin or a variant, certainly a drug of that generic family . . ."
"... and why does the Enforcement Branch maintain stocks of Sclopsclertin A, Agent Searles?"
"I don't know. That's a matter of policy."
". . . and how does a licensed physician obtain Sclopsclertin A from your company, Mr. Armbruster?"
"They can't. We can only produce it under contract for the government."
"Does any other company produce it?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Darrow didn't have to prove the Enforcement Branch actually used Sclopsclertin A on Eastwood, just that the government had the drug, that no one else did, and that Eastwood showed signs of the drug in his system immediately after his release from custody.
According to the computer profile, that would satisfy the judge.
"Objection. Counsel for the defense has not proved that the Enforcement Branch actually administered this drug, whatever it is, to the accused."
"Does counsel for the defense wish to respond?"
"Perhaps I should rephrase my conclusion in strict accordance with the facts, Your Honor. Sclopsclertin A is a persona-altering drug. Only the government—in particular, the FBI, the CIA, and the Enforcement Branch of DOE—has access to the drug. My client has no access to this drug. After DOE interrogation and incarceration, my client showed traces of Sclopsclertin A. Even two months of restoration treatments have not reversed certain personality changes generated by the drug.
"These facts show that a massive dosage was given at a single time, and that no other drug has identical effects. Again, not even illicit sources, according to DOE's own agents, could account for such a dosage. Therefore, no other conclusion is possible. Government drugs were used. Since the accused was in government custody at the time, the government is responsible.
"Since the Enforcement Branch claims national security privilege and will not relinquish its original drug logs indicating stock withdrawals, I feel it is only fair and just to give the benefit of any doubt remaining to the defendant and conclude that, in fact, he was subjected to what amounts to a chemical invasion of privacy. Our entire case, however, is not based on this single point—"
"Objection!" Garrity was late.
"Overruled," stated Lerata dryly. "Counsel for the defense may continue "
"... but on the fact that the spectacular evidentiary findings in previous trials have obscured the basic legal questions created by the Oil Import Acts. Compounding this has been the financial pressure exerted by the government in previous cases, since a settlement with the government was usually less expensive for the defendant than even winning a long and drawn-out legal test."
The argument itself was dry. Darrow kept the questions to his limited list of witnesses as brief as possible, referred to the cites in his brief as much as he dared, and tried to keep the actual presentation in the courtroom as short as possible while conveying the impression of massive Constitutional weight, long overlooked, behind his simple points.
Eventually, he had to get to the end.
"To sum it all up, the thrust is simple. First, the treatment of the defendant violated his basic rights, as detailed earlier. Second, the provisions of Sections 503, 801, and 803(b) do in fact constitute a duty or impost which is
not uniform under any definition, and are thus unconstitutional. Third, the processes by which these Acts are enforced do violate the long-accepted standards for due process. Fourth, the enforcement process and the Acts are designed explicitly to treat individuals with identical property differently, and that is discrimination under any definition, which has long been recognized as unconstitutional."
Darrow couldn't help overhearing Garrity's loud whisper, since it was designed to carry through the courtroom.
"That's a Constitutional argument?"
Darrow held back a grin. He hoped the judge had heard it also. The courtroom began to clear, and Darrow was packing up his files into the two cases he'd brought.
"Very nicely done, Mr. Bryan. Very nice." He looked up to see Jim Fiori.
"Oh, thank you. I hope the judge will see it that way."
"So do we," Fiori smiled politely. "But I'm sure he will. We all owe you a great deal, and I'm sure you'll be rewarded. If not, perhaps we'll be able to get together for lunch one of these days."
Darrow smiled back.
"Well ... I thank you. But let's see how the verdict turns out." Fiori, impeccable in his pinstripes, smiled again, showing white teeth against dark tan, turned, and left. Darrow shivered.
Judge Lerata took a month to announce the verdict.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm not going to waste time with unnecessary verbiage. The Court finds for the defendant. The details are in the opinion."
The fax reporters were swarming outside the doors.
"Mr. Eastwood, Mr. Bryan! Do you know the basis for the opinion?"
"Why did you avoid a jury trial?"
"What effect will this have on attempts to cut oil imports?"
Eastwood smiled and said nothing, as Darrow had suggested.
"I haven't had a chance to study the opinion," said Darrow to the directional cones focused on him. "I can only surmise that the judge accepted our arguments that the laws are unconstitutional..."
"Why no jury?"
"The question was not one of facts subject to question, but one of law. Judge Lerata has a fine legal mind." Let the damned masses stew over that.
Darrow walked into Jonathon Fairley's spacious corner office, feeling the tension behind the bared white teeth and the too-hearty backslap.
"Have a seat, Darrow. Would you like a vintage 79 cola? Don't brew them that way any longer, you know."
"That would be nice."
Fairley went to the corner cooler and fished out a frosty bottle, opened it with a flair, and gently poured the liquid into a large snifter. He presented the glass to Darrow, who nodded in return.
The honorable senior partners, Jonathon Fairley and Henry Forefront, perched on the edge of Fairley's massive desk like vultures.
"Now tell us, Hank and me, that is, what prompted you to take the tack you did. Darcy's mentioned some of it, but we'd like to hear it straight from you."
"I didn't have much choice. From the beginning it was obvious that the evidence was stacked against Eastwood from one end to the other. Not only that, but someone had been messing with his mind. If he'd had to take the stand, he was probably conditioned to make a basket case out of himself. No jury in the country would have declared him anything but an oil profiteer, particularly with all the government propaganda—pardon me—media emphasis against American oil companies.
"I mean, it was cut-and-dried—forbidden oil importer, guilty, next case. So I figured I couldn't lose by waiving the jury." "Why did you go with a purely legal defense?"
"That was based on what I had to work with. I was assigned Judge Lerata. According to the computer, he likes facts, plain facts, and plain law. Doesn't go much for rhetoric. If he has a choice, he'll opt for facts, but if he's pushed a little and reminded of his legal duty, he'll go for law, especially references to the Constitution."
