“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be sitting where you are and you certainly have better things to do. I shouldn’t be standing here addressing you. My client, Mr. Thomas Luna, seated over there in the blue shirt, should not be living in a house with no roof and only a plastic tarp as protection against rain, wind, storms, cold, heat, and insects. He should not be living in a house with black mold growing on the walls. He should not be living in a house with almost no furniture. Same for Mr. Oscar Lansky, that gentleman in the white shirt. He lives two doors down from Mr. Luna, on Butler Street, a half mile north of here. As for my third client, Mr. Paul Nikovich, he shouldn’t be living in a barn owned by his uncle up in Stone County. All three of these families should be living in their homes, where they’re still paying mortgages I might add, with all the comforts and amenities they enjoyed before Camille, homes damaged over six months ago, homes properly insured with policies written by ARU, homes still sitting forlornly under blue tarps and patched up with sheets of plywood.”
Jesse took a deep breath and a step back. He raised his voice and continued, “And they would be living normal lives in their homes but for the despicable actions of Action Risk Underwriters.” He pointed to Fred McDaniel, a senior adjuster for the company, seated snugly next to Simmons Webb. McDaniel flinched but did not take his eyes off a file lying on the table in front of him.
“We shouldn’t be here but we are. So, since we’re forced to gather in this courtroom let’s make the most of our time. In a few hours you’ll get the opportunity to tell Mr. McDaniel and his big company from up in Chicago that folks here in Harrison County believe a contract is a contract, an insurance policy is an insurance policy, and there comes a time when greedy corporations have to pay up.”
Simmons Webb was caught off guard by Jesse’s brevity and shuffled papers for a moment. Judge Oliphant said, “Mr. Webb.”
“Sure, Judge, I’ve just found the policy.” He got to his feet and walked to the jury box with a phony grin from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is the homeowner’s policy issued by my client to the Luna family. It’s basically the same as the ones issued to the Lanskys and the Nikoviches.” He held the policy up and made a show of flipping pages. “Now, here on page five the policy clearly states, and I quote: ‘Excluded from all coverages stated herein are damages to the principal residential structure as well as appendages such as porches, carports, garages, patios, decks, and outbuildings such as utility sheds, tool sheds, et cetera, caused by floods, rising waters, rising tides, or surges as a result of hurricanes and/or tropical storms.’？”
He tossed the policy onto his table and stood before the jury. “Now, this case is not as cut-and-dried as it seems. Storm damage is often complicated because in almost all big storms there are homes that get hit by wind and flooded with water.” Webb began rambling about the difficulty of ascertaining what exactly caused damage to a certain structure, and told the jury that he would present expert witnesses, men trained in the field, who would show the jurors what happens in a major storm. He feigned great sympathy for all of the “fine folks down here” who were hit by Camille and claimed that he and his client were there to help. This drew some skeptical looks from the jurors. He got lost a few times and it became apparent, at least to Jesse, that Webb was attempting the old strategy of “If you don’t have the facts, then try to confuse them.”
“One minute,” Judge Oliphant finally said.
When Webb sat down, Jesse was almost giddy. His opponent represented the largest insurance companies doing business in the state and was known as a tough negotiator. However, it was obvious that he settled cases but didn’t try them. His opening statement was not impressive.
The first witness was Thomas Luna. Jesse led him through the preliminaries and asked him to describe for the jury the horror of riding out a hurricane with winds estimated at 200 miles an hour. Luna was well prepared by his lawyer and a gifted storyteller. He and his twenty-year-old son stayed behind and several times during the night were in a closet, clutching each other as the house shook violently, certain that it was about to be blown away. The house across the street was lifted from its foundation and scattered for blocks. The storm surge came to within fifty yards of their home. Mr. Luna described the passing of Camille, sunlight, calm winds, and the unbelievable damage on his street.