Gray Mountain: A Novel(34)

“Did you ever consider working with him?”

“No, never. He’s impossible, or at least he was back then. Massive ego, total workaholic, pretty much of an ass. I wanted no part of his world.”

“Then he crashed himself.”

“Indeed he did.” She stood and walked to another photo, one of a mangled car. Rescue personnel were trying to remove someone trapped inside.

Donovan kept his seat and chewed on a chip. He said, “I tried that case in Martin County, West Virginia, three years ago. Lost.”

“What happened?”

“A coal truck came down the mountain, overweight and speeding, and it veered across the center line and ran over that little Honda. The driver was Gretchen Bane, age sixteen, my client, and she died at the scene. If you look closely, you can see her left foot at the bottom there, sort of hanging out the door.”

“I was afraid of that. Did the jury see this?”

“Oh yes. They saw everything. For five days I laid it all out for the jury, but it didn’t matter.”

“How’d you lose?”

“I lose about half of them. In that case, the truck driver took the stand, swore to tell the truth, then lied for three hours. He said Gretchen crossed the center line and caused the wreck, made it sound as though she was trying to kill herself. The coal companies are clever and they never send down one truck at a time. They travel in pairs, so there’s always a witness ready to testify. Trucks hauling coal that weighs a hundred tons, racing across old, twenty-ton bridges still used by school buses, and absolutely ignoring every rule of the road. If there’s an accident, it’s usually bad. In West Virginia, they’re killing one innocent driver per week. The trucker swears he was doing nothing wrong, his buddy backs him up, there are no other witnesses, so the jury falls in line with Big Coal.”

“Can’t you appeal?”

Donovan laughed as though she’d nailed her punch line. He took a swig of water and said, “Sure, we still have that right. But West Virginia elects its judges, which is an abomination. Virginia has some screwed-up laws, but at least we don’t elect judges. Not so over there. There are five members of the West Virginia Supreme Court. They serve four-year terms and run for reelection. Guess who contributes the big money to the campaigns.”

“The coal companies.”

“Bingo. They influence the politicians, the regulators, the judges, and they often control the juries. So it’s not exactly an ideal climate for us litigators.”

“So much for a fair trial,” she said, still looking at the photos.

“We win occasionally. In Gretchen’s case, we got a break. A month after the trial, the same driver hit another car. Luckily, no one was killed, just a few broken bones. The deputy on the scene got curious and took the driver in for questioning. He was acting weird and finally admitted he’d been driving for fifteen hours straight. To help matters he was drinking Red Bull with vodka and snorting crystal meth. The deputy turned on a recorder and quizzed him about the Bane accident. He admitted he’d been threatened into lying by his employer. I got a copy of the transcript and filed a bunch of motions. The court finally granted a new trial, one we’re still waiting for. Eventually, I’ll nail them.”

“What happened to the driver?”

“He became a whistle-blower and spilled the beans on Eastpoint Mining, his employer. Someone slashed his tires and fired two shots through his kitchen window, so he’s now in hiding, in another state. I give him cash to live on.”

“Is that legal?”

“That’s not a fair question in coal country. Nothing is black-and-white in my world. The enemy breaks every rule in the book, so the fight is never fair. If you play by the rules, you lose, even when you’re on the right side.”

She returned to the table and nibbled on a chip. She said, “I knew I was wise to avoid litigation.”

“I hate to hear that,” he said, smiling, his dark eyes absorbing every move she made. “I was thinking about offering you a job.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m serious. I could use some research, and I’ll pay you. I know how much you’re earning over at the legal clinic, so I figured you might want to moonlight as a research assistant.”

“Here, in your office?”

“Where else? Nothing that would interfere with your internship, strictly after hours and on weekends. If you’re not already bored here in Brady, it won’t be long.”

“Why me?”

“There’s no one else. I have two paralegals and one is leaving tomorrow. I can’t trust any other lawyer in town, nor anyone from any law office. I’m paranoid about secrecy, and you obviously haven’t been here long enough to know anything or anybody. You’re the perfect hire.”

“I don’t know what to say. Have you talked to Mattie?”

“Not about this, no. But if you’re interested, I’ll have a chat with her. She rarely says no to me. Think about it. If you don’t want to, I’ll understand completely.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. But I’ve just started one job and wasn’t planning on looking for another, not so soon anyway. Plus, I really don’t like litigation.”

“You won’t have to go to court. Just hide in here, do the research, write the briefs, work the long hours you’re accustomed to working.”