“Neither can I,” she said.
“I hate it when he’s in trial,” Kirk said as he fell into an oversized leather chair.
“I hate it when he loses,” she said. “It’s okay when he wins, as I seem to recall.”
“No word from the courtroom?”
“No. My mole can’t use a phone in the courtroom. He or she should text me shortly.”
“Look, Diantha, I know tomorrow is my day to visit the old man, but I can’t go. Rusty went last month, and besides, he’s tied up with the trial.”
She gave him a look and asked, “Why can’t you go?”
“Because I have an appointment with my divorce lawyer.”
“Kirk, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d found a good therapist.”
“We’ve found all the best therapists, Diantha, but nothing can save us. It’s over. Or, I suppose it’s just beginning. It won’t be easy.”
“I was just hoping…”
“Yes, so were we. The truth is, we’ve known for a long time. Things just keep getting worse and we’re worried it might be affecting the kids.”
“I’m so sorry, Kirk.”
“I know. Thanks. Chrissy plans to file next week.”
“On what grounds?”
“She hates my guts. I can’t stand the sight of her. That good enough?”
“Depends on your lawyer. Who’d you hire?”
“Bobby Laker. A hundred thousand bucks for the initial retainer.”
“Who did she hire?”
“Scarlett Ambrose.”
“Wow. This should be a doozy. You guys have lawyered up with the two nastiest pit bulls in town. Can I come watch the trial?”
“Maybe. We might sell tickets.” He closed his eyes as if in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose. About a year earlier he had first confided in Diantha that the wheels were coming off at home. He felt she should know because it would eventually affect the firm. At his direction, she had informed Rusty, who, with three divorces under his belt, had no sympathy whatsoever.
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, offered her a fake smile, and asked, “Can you go see the old man?”
“Why me?”
“Because there’s no one else. It’s my turn and Rusty wouldn’t dare offer to pinch-hit, even if his trial is over. I could put it off a week, I guess, but you know how he is about the visits. He’s trying to control the firm from a prison cell.”
She frowned and studied a wall.
He continued, “Look, it’s a huge favor, okay? So I’ll owe you one. I swear I’ll pay you back in some marvelous fashion.”
She shook her head and mumbled, “You certainly will.”
（12）
Luther Bancroft buttoned the top button of his fine black linen jacket as he walked to the jury box. He didn’t bother with phony smiles or gushing praise for jobs well done. Instead, he went straight to the heart of the matter.
“Mr. Malloy here has you, the jury, confused with an ATM. He’s standing before you, smiling, dreaming, having far too much fun pushing buttons and waiting for a pile of cash to suddenly appear. He wants, let’s say, a million bucks for this, and a million bucks for that. He pushes some more buttons, more cash spits out. It’s all fun and games, free and easy money. Pain and suffering? How about five or ten million? Just push a button. Future medical expenses? How about five or ten more? How beautiful it is, growing on trees, just waiting to get picked. And the biggest one of all—punitive damages! The sky is the limit. Eighteen million has a nice ring to it, so push that button. And what’s the grand total? How much cash will the plaintiff’s ATM fork over? Thirty-five million! Isn’t this fun?”
The jurors absorbed this, at least three with some semblance of a smile.
Bancroft turned and took two steps toward Trey, and looked down at him with great compassion. He shook his head, looked to be on the verge of tears, and said to the jurors, “Ladies and gentlemen, who does not have great sympathy for this young man and his family? Their ordeal is ongoing and heartbreaking. Yes, they need a lot of money, for care and living expenses and everything else Mr. Malloy mentioned. Sure, Trey needs money, and lots of it.”
He paused and returned to the podium. “But, sadly, Trey Brewster is in the same boat with his lawyer. Neither has an ATM card. Neither has the right to expect GateLane to hand over a fortune. Why not, you ask?”
He let the question rattle around the courtroom for a second or two, then walked to the defense table and rather ceremoniously yanked up a pile of papers, which he waved at the jurors. “These are called jury instructions. This is the law, as agreed upon by both parties and the judge. In just a moment, when the lawyers are finally finished and we all sit down, the judge will read the law to you. And you took an oath to follow the law. And the law here is quite simple. Before you can consider damages, or in my terminology, before you can start having fun with the ATM, you must first determine liability. You must first decide that my client, GateLane Hospital, was negligent and deviated from the standard of care. Without liability, there can be no damages.”