The Big Tilt by Dan Flanigan

Author:Dan Flanigan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arjuna Books
Published: 2020-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

THE FEDERAL COURTHOUSE had been constructed fifty years before, during the Great Depression, using limestone from Indiana and concrete from local suppliers who had contributed to the right political campaigns, or better yet, hired the right relatives or friends of the local politicos. It made up for its ugliness with a promise of solidity and eternal life. O’Keefe, Harrigan’s lawyer Ben Leclair, and a young male associate brought along to carry Ben’s briefcase and take notes climbed the few steps from the sidewalk to the front doors of steel and tinted glass that continued the ugly-but-indestructible architectural theme. The Feds had recently installed extra security, including a metal detector, after an enraged client extracted a long-bladed knife from his briefcase and brandished it at the opposing lawyer who had just savaged him on cross-examination.

The chief U.S. Attorney, Ken Lord, had summoned them to a meeting and had bluntly suggested that Harrigan not attend. “He can come if he wants,” Lord had said, “but I think we’ll all be better off, especially him, if he doesn’t.”

“Seems to me a sign of weakness there,” Leclair said when transmitting the message at a meeting in Leclair’s office. “I recommend you let me handle it.”

“Okay,” Harrigan said, “but can Pete go?”

Leclair gave Harrigan a “so you don’t trust me” look but said, “no problem.”

As Harrigan later explained to O’Keefe, “It’s not that I don’t trust Ben. But I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any lawyer, including me, not to be pursuing their own agenda, even if they think it’s for the client’s own good. So any time that getting a different perspective is possible, it’s worth it. Especially a layman’s perspective, and a layman that I’m certain has my best interests at heart. Which would be you, get it?”

Lord did not make them play a waiting game. His secretary led them right in to his spacious office, the walls covered with diplomas, plaques of commendation, and photos of Lord with various local and national politicians including two different Attorneys General and President Reagan himself. Lord was photogenic handsome, tall and trim, streaks of gray in his black hair. He had the look of a United States Senator, which seemed to many, especially himself, to be his certain destiny.

A little birdlike man sporting orangeish horn-rimmed glasses and a yellow tie sat on Lord’s right. O’Keefe recognized him as Max Trainer, which gave O’Keefe comfort. Harrigan had pointed Trainer out to him one day in the courthouse and said he considered Trainer a friendly acquaintance if not an actual friend. Max had never tried a case after his famously disastrous maiden performance long ago. He harbored not one theatrical bone in his sparrow’s body, and his voice squeaked like a mouse under torture. But he was considered the best around town, and far beyond town, at preparing a case for trial. Lord did not rise to greet them while Trainer at least made a rising-from-his-seat gesture toward them, then sat abruptly back, as if trying to concede both to general courtesy and his boss’s lack thereof.

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