My jaw flexed. Her attacker was probably already lawyered up through the nose. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was working on a motion to be filed for the case to be dismissed on technical or procedural grounds. However, from my experience, hedge fund princes were fond of settling out of court. Their victims, too, weren’t too hot on lamenting their most sensitive and shameful moments in a room full of strangers only to get ripped apart by lawyers afterward. Problem was, I didn’t want to settle out of court. If he was who I thought he was, I wanted to put him on the chopping block and make meatballs out of him for everyone to see.
And I wanted to make him my means to an end. My prized win, when I finally got the partnership.
“Have you thought this through?” I rolled the stress ball along my palm.
She nodded. “I’ve seen him get away with too much. He’s wronged so many women along the way. Women who, unlike me, weren’t in a position to complain. They went through things much harsher than what I had to deal with. I’m ready to put an end to this.”
“What are you looking to get out of this? Money or justice?” I asked. Usually, I’d butter my client up to go for the former. Not only because justice was an elusive, subjective goal, but also because, unlike money, it wasn’t guaranteed.
She shifted in her seat. “Both, maybe?”
“The two are not always mutually exclusive. If you settle, he walks away unscathed and continues abusing women.”
Let the record show that this wasn’t just the out-for-blood monster sitting in the pit of my stomach that was speaking, or fourteen-year-old Nicky, but also a man who’d met enough sexual harassment victims to know a predator’s pattern when he recognized one.
“And if I go to court?” She blinked fast, trying to absorb it all.
“You might get your payday, but then . . . you might not. But even if we lose, which—no promises—I don’t think we would, he’d hopefully become more wary and potentially have a harder time getting away with this sort of behavior.”
“And if I choose to settle?” Her teeth sank into her lower lip.
“Then I cannot, in good conscience, take the case.”
This was Nicky speaking. I couldn’t see myself sitting with this man in an air-conditioned room, running numbers and meaningless clauses, while knowing he’d get away with another atrocity against humanity. I leaned forward.
“So let me ask you again, Ms. Gispen—money or justice?”
She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there was thunder in them.
“Justice.”
My fingers squeezed the ball more firmly, adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream.
“It’s going to be hard. It’ll force you to step out of your comfort zone. And I mean leave its zip code completely. Assuming we can get past their inevitable motion to dismiss, we’ll move into the discovery phase. During discovery, his lawyers are going to serve interrogatories and requests for production with the sole objective to dig up dirt and drag your name through the mud a hundred different ways. There’ll be depositions and evidentiary hearings, and even after all of that, your former boss will certainly file a summary judgment motion to try and get the case dismissed without a trial. It’ll be painful, and perhaps long, and definitely mentally draining. And when you come out of this, on the other side, you will change the way you look at the human race as a whole.”
I felt like an ambitious frat boy covering all his bases before getting someone into bed—was she sober enough? Willing enough? Did she have a clean health sheet? It was important to align our expectations before getting started.
“I’m aware,” Amanda said, sitting a little straighter, tipping her chin up. “Trust me, this isn’t a hasty reaction, nor a power trip to get back at a former employer. I want to go through with this, Mr. Miller, and I have plenty of evidence.”
Three and a half billable hours and two canceled meetings later, I knew enough about Amanda Gispen’s sexual harassment case to understand I had a good shot at this. She had time stamps and call logs aplenty. Witnesses in the form of the flight attendant and a receptionist who’d been let go earlier that year, and damning text messages that would make a porn star blush.
“Where do we go from here?” Amanda asked.
Straight to hell, after the amount of ethical rules I’m about to break.
“I’ll send you an engagement letter. Claire will help you with gathering all the information and prepare for filing a complaint with the EEOC.”