"Yes."
"So Mr. Sanders's behavior at the second meeting, where he contradicted you, could not have been relevant to your decision to speak to Mr. Blackburn. Because you had already spoken to Mr. Blackburn by the time that meeting took place."
"As I say, I was confused."
"I have no more questions of this witness, Your Honor."
Judge Murphy closed her notepad. Her expression was bland and unreadable. She looked at her watch. "It's now eleven-thirty. We will break for lunch for two hours. I'm allowing extra time so that counsel can meet to review the situation and to decide how the parties wish to proceed." She stood up. "I am also available if counsel wish to meet with me for any reason. Otherwise, I'll see you all back here at one-thirty sharp. Have a pleasant and productive lunch." She turned and walked out of the room.
Blackburn stood and said, "Personally, I'd like to meet with opposing counsel, right now."
Sanders glanced over at Fernandez.
Fernandez gave the faintest of smiles. "I'm amenable to that, Mr. Blackburn," she said.
The three lawyers stood beside the fountain. Fernandez was talking animatedly to Heller, their heads close together. Blackburn was a few paces away, a cellular phone pressed to his ear. Across the courtyard, Meredith Johnson talked on another phone, gesturing angrily as she talked.
Sanders stood off to one side by himself, and watched. There was no question in his mind that Blackburn would seek a settlement. Piece by piece, Fernandez had torn Meredith Johnson's version apart: demonstrating that she had ordered her assistant to buy wine, to buy condoms, to lock the door when Sanders was there, and to cancel later appointments. Clearly, Meredith Johnson was not a supervisor surprised by a sexual overture. She had been planning it all afternoon. Her crucial reaction-her angry statement that "You can't leave me"-had been overheard by the cleaning woman. And she had lied about the timing and motivation of her report to Blackburn.
There could be no doubt in anyone's mind that Meredith was lying. The only question now was what Blackburn and DigiCom would do about it. Sanders had sat through enough management sensitivity seminars on sexual harassment to know what the company's obligation was. They really had no choice.
They would have to fire her.
But what would they do about Sanders? That was another question entirely. He had the strong intuition that by bringing this accusation, he had burned his bridges at the company; he would never be welcomed back. Sanders had shot down Garvin's pet bird, and Garvin would not forgive him for it.
So: they wouldn't let him back. They would have to pay him off.
"They're calling it quits already, huh?"
Sanders turned and saw Alan, one of the investigators, coming up from the parking lot. Alan had glanced over at the lawyers and quickly appraised the situation.
"I think so," Sanders said.
Alan squinted at the lawyers. "They should. Johnson has a problem. And a lot of people in the company know about it. Especially her assistant."
Sanders said, "You talked to her last night?"
"Yeah," he said. "Herb found the cleaning woman and got her taped. And I had a late night with Betsy Ross. She's a lonely lady, here in a new town. She drinks too much, and I taped it all."
"Did she know that?"
"She doesn't have to," Alan said. "It's still admissible." He watched the lawyers for a moment. "Blackburn must be shitting staples about now."
Louise Fernandez was stalking across the courtyard, grim-faced, hunched over. "Goddamn it," she said, as she came up.
"What happened?" Sanders said.
Fernandez shook her head. "They won't make a deal."
"They won't make a deal?"
"That's right. They just deny every point. Her assistant bought wine? That was for Sanders. Her assistant bought condoms? That was for the assistant. The assistant says she bought them for Johnson? The assistant is an unreliable drunk. The cleaning lady's report? She couldn't know what she heard, she had the radio on. And always the constant refrain, `You know, Louise, this won't stand up in court.' And Bulletproof Betty is on the phone, running the whole thing. Telling everybody what to do." Fernandez swore. "I have to tell you. This is the kind of shit male executives pull. They look you right in the eye and say, `It never happened. It just isn't there. You have no case.' It burns my ass. Damn it!"
"Better get some lunch, Louise," Alan said. To Sanders he said, "She sometimes forgets to eat."
"Yeah, fine. Sure. Eat." They started toward the parking lot. She was walking fast, shaking her head. "I can't understand how they can take this position," she said. "Because I know-I could see it in judge Murphy's eyes that she didn't think there'd be an afternoon session at all. Judge Murphy heard the evidence and concluded it's all over. So did 1. But it's not over. Blackburn and Heller aren't moving one inch. They're not going to settle. They're basically inviting us to sue."
"So we'll sue," Sanders said, shrugging.
"Not if we're smart," Fernandez said. "Not now. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. They got a lot of free discovery, and we got nothing. We're back to square one. And they have the next three years to work on that assistant, and that cleaning lady, and anything else we come up with. And let me tell you: in three years we won't even be able to find that assistant."
"But we have her on tape . . ."
"She still has to appear in court. And believe me, she never will. Look, DigiCom has huge exposure. If we show that DigiCom didn't respond in a timely and adequate fashion to what they knew about Johnson, they could be liable for extremely large damages. There was a case on point last month in California: nineteen point four million dollars, found for the plaintiff. With exposure like that, take my word for it: the assistant will be unavailable. She'll be on vacation in Costa Rica for the rest of her life."