“You seem angry, David.”
“No, Wally, it’s not anger; it’s just the need to rant, to bitch, to blow off some steam.”
“Then go right ahead.”
“I asked for a continuance, and I think Seawright would have considered it, but why? No one could say when you might be able to come back. Oscar, probably never. We agreed to go forward and get it over with.”
“I’m sorry, David.”
“So am I. I feel like such a fool sitting there with no case, no clue, no weapons, nothing to fight with. It’s so frustrating.”
Wally lowered his chin to his chest as if he might start sobbing. Instead, he began mumbling, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Okay, look, Wally, I’m sorry too. I didn’t come here to beat you up, okay? I came to check on you. I’m worried about you, so are Rochelle and Oscar. You’re sick and we want to help.”
When Wally looked up, his eyes were wet, and as he spoke, his lip quivered. “I can’t keep doing this, David. I thought I had it whipped, I swear I did. One year, two weeks, two days, then something happened. We were in court Monday morning, I was nervous as hell, terrified really, and I was overcome with this vicious desire for a drink. I remember thinking, you know, a couple of drinks will do the trick. Two quick beers and I’ll settle down. Alcohol is such a liar, such a monster. As soon as we broke for lunch, I scooted out of the building and found a little café with a beer sign in the window. I got a table, ordered a sandwich, drank three beers, and, wow, it tasted so good. And felt even better. Back in the courtroom, I remember thinking, you know, I can do this. I can drink and it’s no problem. I got it whipped, you know? No problem. Now look at me. Back in rehab and scared shitless.”
“Where’s your car, Wally?”
He thought about it for a long time and finally gave up. “I have no idea. I blacked out so many times.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find the car.”
Wally wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, then wiped his nose with a sleeve. “I’m sorry, David. I thought we had a chance.”
“We never had a chance, Wally. There’s nothing wrong with the drug. We joined a stampede that was going nowhere, and we didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“But the trial’s not over, is it?”
“The trial’s over but the lawyers are still at it. The jury gets the final word tomorrow.”
Nothing was said for several minutes. Wally’s eyes cleared, but he had trouble looking at David. Finally, he said softly, “Thanks for coming, David. Thanks for taking care of me, and Oscar and Rochelle. I hope you won’t be leaving us.”
“Let’s not talk about that now. You get good and detoxed. I’ll check you out next week, then we’ll have another firm meeting and make some decisions.”
“I’d like that. Another firm meeting.”
CHAPTER 45
Emma had a rough night, and both parents walked the floor in alternating one-hour shifts. When Helen handed her off at 5:30 and headed back to bed, she announced her career as a paralegal was mercifully over. She had enjoyed the lunches, but little else, and besides, she had a sick baby to deal with. David managed to quiet Emma with a bottle and, as he fed her, went online. Varrick’s stock had closed at $40 a share Thursday afternoon. Its steady rise throughout the week was even more evidence that the Klopeck trial was going badly for the plaintiff, though no additional evidence was really needed. Out of his usual morbid curiosity, David checked in with the Hung Juror, who wrote:
In what has to be the most lopsided trial in the history of U.S. jurisprudence, things continue to go from bad to worse for the estate of the late and now much maligned Percy Klopeck. As Varrick Labs’ defense team continues to steamroll over the hapless and grossly incompetent lawyer for Klopeck, one almost feels sorry for the underdog. Almost, but not quite. The question that screams to be answered is, how did this dog of a case manage to get into court, stay in court, and stumble its way to the jury? Talk about an obscene waste of time, money, and talent! Talent, that is, for the defense. Talent is sorely lacking on the other side of the courtroom, where the clueless David Zinc has adopted the unique strategy of simply trying to become invisible. He has yet to cross-examine a witness. He has yet to make an objection. He has yet to make a single move to help his case. He just sits there for hours, pretending to take notes, swapping little messages with his new paralegal, a hot thing in a short skirt brought in to show some leg and try to divert attention from the fact that the plaintiff has no case and the lawyer is incompetent. Unknown to the jury, the new paralegal is actually Helen Zinc, wife of the idiot sitting in front of her. This bimbo is not a paralegal and has no training or experience in the courtroom, so she fits in nicely with the clowns from Finley & Figg. Her presence is obviously a clever ploy to catch the eye of the male jurors and counterbalance the overwhelming presence of Nadine Karros, who is perhaps the most effective courtroom advocate this Hung Juror has ever watched.
Let’s hope this dog is put to sleep today. And maybe Judge Seawright has the guts to grant sanctions for such a frivolous case.
David flinched so hard he squeezed Emma, who momentarily stopped working the bottle. He closed his laptop and cursed himself for looking at the blog. Never again, he vowed, not for the first time.
With the verdict solidly in hand, Nadine Karros decided to push a bit harder. Her first witness Friday morning was Dr. Mark Ulander, Varrick’s senior vice president and director of research. Working from a script, they quickly laid the groundwork. Ulander had three graduate degrees and had spent the past twenty-two years supervising Varrick’s vast development of myriad drugs. Krayoxx was his proudest achievement. The company had spent over $4 billion bringing it to market. His team of thirty scientists had labored for eight years to perfect the drug, to make certain it worked to lower cholesterol, to take no chances with its safety, and to gain FDA approval. He detailed the rigid testing procedures used, and not just for Krayoxx but for all Varrick’s fine products. The company’s reputation was on the line with every drug it developed, and the Varrick reputation for excellence pervaded every aspect of his research. With Nadine’s skillful direction, Dr. Ulander painted an impressive picture of a diligent effort to produce the perfect drug, Krayoxx.
With nothing to lose, David decided to roll the dice and join the action. He began his cross-examination with “Dr. Ulander, let’s talk about all of those clinical trials you just mentioned.” The fact that David was at the podium seemed to catch the jurors off guard. Though it was only 10:15, they were ready to deliberate and go home.
“Where did the clinical trials take place?” David asked.
“For Krayoxx?”
“No, for baby aspirin. Of course for Krayoxx.”
“Sorry, of course. Let’s see. Well, the clinical trials were extensive, as I said.”
“Got that, Dr. Ulander. The question is rather simple. Where were the clinical trials?”
“Yes, well, the initial trials were done with a test group of high-cholesterol subjects in Nicaragua and Mongolia.”
“Keep going. Where else?”
“Kenya and Cambodia.”
“Did Varrick spend $4 billion developing Krayoxx to reap dividends in Mongolia and Kenya?”
“I can’t answer that, Mr. Zinc. I’m not involved in marketing.”