Gray Mountain: A Novel(101)

But while he was chatting up the guard, he asked about other guards who had worked there, other guys on the ramp who may not be around now. He got one name, a man who quit before Christmas, and he was tracking him down now.

She closed her eyes and told him to be careful. She also knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to find the men who killed his brother.


The thrill of litigation was tempered somewhat two days later when Samantha accompanied Mattie to a black lung hearing before an administrative law judge (ALJ) in the federal courthouse in Charleston. The miner, Wally Landry, was fifty-eight years old and had not worked in seven years. He was hooked to oxygen and confined to a wheelchair. Fourteen years earlier, he had filed a claim for black lung benefits based on a doctor’s report that he was suffering from complicated black lung disease. The district director of the Department of Labor awarded him benefits. His employer, Braley Resources, appealed to the ALJ, who suggested to Mr. Landry that he find an attorney. Mattie eventually agreed to represent him. They prevailed before the ALJ, and Braley appealed to the Benefits Review Board (BRB) in Washington. The case bounced back and forth between the ALJ and the BRB for five years before the BRB issued a final ruling in Landry’s favor.

The company appealed the ruling to the federal Court of Appeals where it sat for two years before being remanded back to the ALJ. The ALJ requested additional medical evidence and the experts went to war, again. Landry had started smoking at the age of fifteen, quit twenty years later, and as a smoker got hammered with the usual barrage of medical opinions stating that his lung problems were caused by tar and nicotine and not coal dust.

“Anything but coal dust,” Mattie said over and over. “That’s always their strategy.”

Mattie had worked on the case for thirteen years, had 550 hours invested, and if she ultimately prevailed would have to fight to get approved at $200 an hour. The fee would be paid by Braley Resources and its insurance company, whose lawyers charged far more than $200 an hour. On those rare occasions when the clinic collected a fee in a black lung case, the money went into a special account that helped cover the expenses of future black lung cases. As of now, that fund had about $20,000 in it.

The hearing took place in a small courtroom. Mattie said it was at least the third time they had all gathered there to rehash the contrasting medical opinions. She and Samantha sat at one table. Not far away, a fashionable gang of sharply dressed lawyers from Casper Slate busily unpacked their thick briefcases and went about their work. Behind Samantha was Wally Landry, shriveled and breathing through a tube in his nose, his wife at his side. When Wally first filed his claim fourteen years earlier, he’d been entitled to $641 a month. The legal fees paid by Braley at that time amounted to at least $600 an hour, according to Mattie’s off-the-cuff calculations, but don’t try and make sense of it, she said. The legal fees paid by coal companies and their insurers far exceed the benefits they’re fighting to avoid, but that’s beside the point. The hurdles and delays discourage other miners from filing claims, and they certainly scare off the lawyers. In the long run, the companies win, as always.

A slick-rick in a black suit sauntered over to their table and said, “Well, hello, Mattie. Nice to see you again.” Mattie reluctantly got to her feet, offered a limp hand, and said, “Good morning, Trent. Always a pleasure.”

Trent was about fifty with graying hair and confident looks. His smile was drippy and fake, and when he said, “So sorry about your nephew. Donovan was a fine lawyer,” Mattie quickly withdrew her hand and snapped, “Let’s not talk about him.”

“Sorry, of course not. And who is this?” he asked, looking at Samantha. She was on her feet and said, “Samantha Kofer, an intern with the clinic.”

“Ah, yes, the brilliant investigator who dug through the Ryzer records. I’m Trent Fuller.” He extended a hand but Samantha ignored it.

“I’m a lawyer, not an investigator,” she said. “And I represent Mr. Ryzer in his claim for black lung benefits.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” The smile vanished as his eyes narrowed and flashed with hatred. He actually pointed a finger at her as he spoke. “We deeply resent the allegations made against our law firm by your client in his ill-fated lawsuit. Don’t make that mistake again, I’m warning you.” His voice increased in volume as he lectured her. The other three suits from Castrate froze and glared at her.

Samantha was stunned, but there was nowhere to hide. “But you know the allegations are true,” she said.

He took a step closer, jabbed his finger in her face, and said, “We’ll sue you and your client for libel, do you understand?”

Mattie reached forward and gently shoved his hand away. “That’s enough, Trent, go back to your box.”

He relaxed and offered the same drippy smile. He kept glaring, though, and with a lower voice said to Samantha, “Your client caused us great embarrassment, Ms. Kofer. Even though that lawsuit has been dismissed, it still stings. His black lung claim will get the full treatment in our firm.”

“Don’t they all?” Mattie snapped. “Hell, this one’s been on the docket for fourteen years and you’re still fighting it tooth and nail.”

“That’s what we do, Mattie. That’s what we do,” he said proudly, backing away and returning to his fan club.

“Take a breath,” Mattie said as they sat down.