Gray Mountain: A Novel(68)

“I’ll think about it. I’ve never taken more than 40.”

“Well, it may be difficult to arrange funding if we’re not at 50. That’s just the way it is. So we line up the money, now what about the manpower? Casper Slate will throw an army of lawyers at you, their best and brightest, meanest and slickest, and if you think they cheat now, just wait until their own necks are on the line and they’re trying to hide their dirty underwear. It’ll be a war, Donovan, one like we seldom see.”

“You ever sue a law firm?”

“No. I was too busy suing airlines. Believe me, they were tough enough.”

“What was your biggest verdict?”

Samantha almost said, “Please, come on.” The last thing they needed was Marshall Kofer onstage telling his war stories. Without the slightest hesitation, he gave that smug smile and said, “I popped Braniff for forty million in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in 1982. Took seven weeks.”

She wanted to ask, Great, Dad, and was that the fee you kept offshore and tried to bury until Mom got wind of it?

Marshall continued, “I was the lead lawyer, but there were four of us, and we worked our tails off. My point, Donovan, is that you will need some high-powered help. The fund will scrutinize you and your team before it commits the money.”

Donovan said, “I’m not worried about the team, or the preparation, or the trial. I’ve spent my career looking for a case like this. The lawyers I bring in are all veteran trial lawyers and they know the terrain. This is our backyard. The jurors will be our people. The judge, we can only hope, will be beyond the reach of the defendants. And on appeal, the verdict will be in the hands of federal judges, not state judges elected by the coal companies.”

“I realize this,” Marshall said.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jeff said, almost rudely. “How much do we give up in exchange for the funding?”

Marshall shot him a hard look, then instinctively smiled and said, “Depends. It’s negotiable. That’s my job to arrange the deal, but, just guessing, I’d say the fund I have in mind would ask for a fourth of the attorneys’ fees. As you know, it’s impossible to predict what a jury might do; therefore it’s impossible to project what the fees might be. If the jury gives you, say, ten million, and the expenses are two, then the expenses come off the top and you split eight with your client. He gets four million, you get the same. The fund gets a quarter of that. You get the rest. Not a great deal for the fund, but not a loser either. A 50 percent return. Needless to say here, fellas, but the bigger the verdict the better. Personally, I think ten million is low. I can see a jury getting highly agitated with Casper Slate and Lonerock Coal and going for blood.”

He was quite convincing, and Samantha had to remind herself that he once extracted huge sums from juries.

“Who are these guys?” Donovan asked.

“Investors, other funds, hedge funds, private equity guys, you name it. There is a surprising number of Asians who have discovered the game. They’re petrified by our tort system but also captivated by it. They think they’re missing something. I have several retired lawyers who struck gold in their day. They know litigation and are not afraid of the risks. They’ve done quite well in this business.”

Donovan seemed unsure. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is all new to me. I’ve heard of litigation funds but I’ve never been near one.” Marshall said, “It’s just old-fashioned capitalism, but from our side of the street. Now a plaintiffs’ lawyer with a great case but no money can take on corporate thugs anywhere and level the field.”

“And they review the case and predict the outcome?”

“That’s my job, really. I consult with both sides—the trial lawyer and the fund. Based on what Samantha has told me, and a review of the pertinent documents, and especially because of your growing reputation in the courtroom, I have no hesitation in recommending this case to one of my funds. It will approve one to two million bucks in short order, and you’re in business.”

Donovan looked at Jeff, who looked at Marshall and asked, “Back in your prime, Mr. Kofer, would you take this case?”

“In a heartbeat. Big law firms make lousy defendants, especially when you catch ’em red-handed.”

Donovan asked Samantha, “Do you think Buddy Ryzer is up to the challenge?”

She replied, “I have no idea. All he wants are his benefits, present and past. We haven’t discussed a lawsuit like this. In fact, he doesn’t even know all the stuff I found in his medical records. I was planning on meeting with him next week.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“You want my gut feeling about something I know nothing about?”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes. He’s a fighter.”





They walked down the street to a sports bar with five screens all showing college football. Donovan was a Hokie from Virginia Tech, rabid as all of them, and was keen to find scores. They ordered beers and gathered around a table. After the waiter placed four tall mugs in front of them, Marshall said to Donovan, “Your name popped up online last night. I was looking at contamination cases in the coalfields—sorry but that’s how I spend my reading time—and I came across the Peck Mountain sludge pond and the Hammer Valley cancer cluster. According to a story in the Charleston paper, you’ve been investigating the case for some time. Anything in the works?”