Gray Mountain: A Novel(60)

As always, Lonerock Coal appealed the order and refused to begin payments.

Mattie, who’d dealt with black lung for fifty years, scribbled away and shook her head. She could write this story in her sleep.

Samantha said, “They appealed?” The case seemed clear-cut.

“They always appeal,” Mattie said. “And about that time you folks met the nice boys at Casper Slate, right?”

Both heads dropped at the very sound of the name. Mattie looked at Samantha and said, “Casper Slate is a gang of thugs who wear expensive suits and hide behind the facade of a law firm, headquarters in Lexington and offices throughout Appalachia. Wherever you find a coal company, you’ll find Casper Slate doing its dirty work. They defend companies who dump chemicals in rivers, pollute the oceans, hide toxic waste, violate clean air standards, discriminate against employees, rig government bids, you name the sleazy or illegal behavior and Casper Slate is there to defend it. Their specialty, though, is mining law. The firm was built here in the coalfields a hundred years ago, and almost every major operator has it on retainer. Their methods are ruthless and unethical. Their nickname is Castrate, and it’s fitting.”

Buddy couldn’t help but mumble, “Sons of bitches.” He didn’t have a lawyer; thus, he and Mavis were forced to battle it out with a horde from Casper Slate, lawyers who had mastered the procedures and knew precisely how to manipulate the federal black lung system. Buddy was examined by their doctors—the same doctors whose research was being funded by the coal industry—and their report found no evidence of black lung. His medical condition was blamed on some benign spot on his left lung. Two years after he applied for benefits, his award was reversed by an administrative law judge who relied on the reams of medical evidence submitted by Lonerock’s doctors.

Mattie said, “Their lawyers exploit the weaknesses in the system, and their doctors search for ways to blame the condition on anything but black lung. It’s no surprise that only about 5 percent of the miners who have black lung get any benefits. So many legitimate claims are denied, and many miners are too discouraged to pursue their claims.”

It was after 6:00 p.m. and the meeting could last for hours. Mattie took charge by saying, “Look folks, we’ll read through your materials here and review your case. Give us a couple of days and we’ll call you. Please don’t call us. We will not forget about you, but it’ll just take some time to plow through all this. Deal?”

Buddy and Mavis smiled and offered polite thanks. She said, “We’ve tried lawyers everywhere, but nobody’ll help us.”

Buddy said, “We’re just glad you let us in the door.”

Mattie followed them to the front, with Buddy gasping for air and tottering like a ninety-year-old. When they were gone, she returned to the conference room and sat across from Samantha. After a few seconds she said, “What do you think?”

“A lot. He’s forty-one and looks sixty. It’s hard to believe he’s still working.”

“They’ll fire him soon, claim he’s a danger, which is probably true. Lonerock Coal busted its unions twenty years ago, so there’s no protection. He’ll be out of work and out of luck. And he’ll die a horrible death. I watched my father shrink and shrivel and gasp until the end.”

“And that’s why you do this.”

“Yes. Donovan went to law school for one reason—to fight coal companies on a bigger stage. I went to law school for one reason—to help miners and their families. We’re not winning our little wars, Samantha, the enemy is too big and powerful. The best we can hope for is to chip away, one case at a time, trying to make a difference in the lives of our clients.”

“Will you take this case?”

Mattie took a sip through a straw, shrugged, and said, “How do you say no?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s not that easy, Samantha. We can’t say yes to every black lung case. There are too many. Private lawyers won’t touch them because they don’t get paid until the very end, assuming they win. And the end is never in sight. It’s not unusual for a black lung case to drag on for ten, fifteen, even twenty years. You can’t blame a lawyer in private practice for saying no, so we get a lot of referrals. Half of my work is black lung, and if I didn’t say no occasionally, I couldn’t represent my other clients.” Another sip as Mattie eyed her closely. “Do you have any interest?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to help, but I don’t know where to start.”

“Same as your other cases, right?”

They smiled and enjoyed the moment. Mattie said, “Here’s a problem. These cases take time, years and years because the coal companies fight hard and have all the resources. Time is on their side. The miner will die eventually, and prematurely, because there’s no cure for it. Once coal dust gets in your body, there’s no way to remove or destroy it. Once black lung sets in, it gets worse and worse. The coal companies pay the actuaries and they play the odds, so the cases drag on. They make it so difficult and cumbersome it discourages not only the miner who’s sick but his friends as well. That’s one reason they fight so hard. Another reason is to frighten away the attorneys. You’ll be gone in a few months, back to New York, and when you leave you’ll leave behind some files, work that will be dumped on our desks. Think about that, Samantha. You have compassion and you show great promise for this work, but you’re only passing through. You’re a city girl, and proud of it. Nothing wrong with that. But think about your office and the day you leave it, and how much work will be left undone.”