Gray Mountain: A Novel(66)

She nodded and said, “It was very emotional.”

Jeff finished his call and joined them. “What’s taking so long?” he asked Donovan.

“Relax. They had a nice lunch, courtesy of the county. Now they’re walking through the evidence. I’d give them another hour.”

“Then what?” Mattie asked.

“A big verdict,” he said with another smile. “A record for Hopper County.”

Jeff said, “Strayhorn offered $900,000 when the jury retired. Perry Mason here said no.” Donovan looked at his brother with a sneer, as if to say, “What do you know? Just hang on, I’ll show you.”

Samantha was struck by the sheer recklessness of Donovan’s decisions. His client was a poor woman with little education and dim prospects for a better life. Her husband was in prison for selling drugs. She and her two sons had been living in a small trailer deep in the hills when the tragedy happened. Now she was alone with nothing but a lawsuit. She could walk away right now with at least half a million dollars in cash, more than she had ever dreamed of. Yet her lawyer had said no and rolled the dice. Blinded by the dream of striking gold, he had laughed at the chance of getting a decent sum. What if the jury marched off in the wrong direction and said no? What if the coal company managed to silently exert pressure in places never to be known?

Samantha could not imagine the horror of Lisa Tate walking out of the courtroom empty-handed, with nothing to show for the deaths of her little boys. Donovan, though, seemed unconcerned, even cocky. He certainly appeared calmer than anyone else in their little group. Her father had always said trial lawyers were a strange breed. They walked a fine line between big verdicts and catastrophic failures, and the great ones were not afraid of the risks.

Mattie and Samantha couldn’t hang around. The Bookers were waiting. They said good-bye and Donovan invited them to stop by his office later to celebrate.

Pamela Booker preferred the trailer. She had spoken to the owner and negotiated the rent down to $500 a month for six months. Mattie said the clinic could swing the first three, but after that the rent was all hers. When they picked the kids up from school, Pamela told them about their new home, and they drove straight over to see it.


The call came at 5:20, and the news was great. Donovan had his million-dollar verdict; three million to be exact, the amount he asked from the jury. A million for each child, a million in punitive damages. An unheard-of verdict for that part of the world. Jeff told Mattie the courtroom was still packed when the verdict was read, and the crowd applauded wildly before the judge calmed things down.

Samantha was in the conference room with Mattie and Annette, and all three reveled in the verdict. They high-fived, fist-pumped, and chatted excitedly as if their own little firm had done something great. It wasn’t Donovan’s first million-dollar verdict—he’d had one in West Virginia and one in Kentucky, both coal truck collisions—but it was his largest. They were happy, even giddy, and no one was really sure if they were more excited over winning or relieved at not losing. It didn’t matter.

So this is what litigation is all about, Samantha thought. Maybe she was beginning to understand. This was the rush, the high, the narcotic that pushed trial lawyers to the brink. This was the thrill that Donovan sought when he refused to settle for cash on the table. This was the overdose of testosterone that inspired men like her father to dash around the world chasing cases.

Mattie declared that they would throw a party. She called Chester and snapped him into high gear. Burgers on the grill in their backyard, with champagne to start and beer to finish. Two hours later, the party materialized perfectly in the cool evening. Donovan proved to be a graceful winner, deflecting congratulations and giving his client all the credit. Lisa was there, alone. In addition to the hosts and Samantha, the crowd included Annette with Kim and Adam; Barb and her husband, Wilt; Claudelle and her husband; Vic Canzarro and his girlfriend; and Jeff.

In a toast, Mattie said, “Victories are rare in our business, so let’s savor this moment of triumph, good over evil and all that jazz, and wipe out these three bottles of champagne. Cheers!”

Samantha was sitting in a wicker patio swing chatting with Kim when Jeff asked if she needed a top-off. She did, and he took her empty glass. When he returned, he looked at the narrow empty spot beside her, and she invited him to have a seat. It was very cozy. Kim got bored and left them. The air was cool, but the champagne kept them warm.





21


Her second adventure in the Cessna Skyhawk was not quite as thrilling as the first. They waited at the Noland County Airfield an hour for some weather to move on. Perhaps they should have waited longer. Donovan at one point mumbled something about postponing the trip. Jeff, also a pilot, seemed to agree, but then saw a break in the front and thought they could make it. After watching them study a weather screen at the terminal and fret over “turbulence,” Samantha was secretly hoping they would cancel. But they did not. They took off into the clouds, and for the first ten minutes she thought she might be sick. From the front, Donovan said, “Hang on,” as the small plane was tossed about. Hang on to what, exactly? She was in the rear seat, which was cramped even for her. She had been relegated to second class and was already promising herself she would never do this again. Bullets of rain pecked vigorously at the windshield.

At six thousand feet the clouds thinned considerably and the ride became smooth. Up front both pilots seemed to relax. All three on board had headsets, and Samantha, breathing normally, was fascinated by the radio. The Skyhawk was being handled by Washington air traffic control, and there were at least four other aircraft on the same frequency. Everyone was terribly excited about the weather, with pilots calling in the latest updates based on what they had encountered. Her fascination, though, soon led to boredom as they hummed along, bouncing slightly on top of the clouds. She could see nothing below, and nothing on either side. An hour in and she almost nodded off.