For months, Jesse had been badgering Judge Oliphant, both in proper filings and off-the-record discussions, to allow him to pursue a claim of punitive damages. The strategy of the big insurers had been laid bare in open court: deny all legitimate claims, ignore the policy holders and bully them into submission, then hide behind the best lawyers money could buy. The strategy reeked of bad faith and was grounds for punitive damages. Give Jesse a shot or two at ARU’s executives and things might change.
Judge Oliphant was a traditional jurist with conservative views on damages. He had never allowed punitives and was repulsed by the idea of allowing lawyers to dig into a company’s assets to extract more than what had been lost. Nor did he believe that punitives would ever deter future bad conduct. But he was sickened by the actions of the insurance companies and had great sympathy for their policy holders who were being mistreated. He finally acquiesced and gave Jesse the green light.
Simmons Webb was shocked, and threatened to file an interlocutory appeal with the state supreme court. Punitive damages were unheard-of in Mississippi.
Judge Oliphant convinced him that would be a mistake.
The case was another one Jesse had filed against ARU and it involved damages more serious than most. The home was uninhabitable and the contractor estimated its repairs at $16,400. Jesse wasted no time in drawing blood. The claim’s first adjuster was on the stand, and Jesse walked him through a series of enlarged photos of the damage to the home. The young man had evidently been lucky enough to avoid courtrooms, but his lack of experience did not serve him well. He initially adopted the strategy of sparring with his examiner, and Jesse fed him enough rope to hang himself. In photo after photo, the adjuster identified damaged walls, floors, and doors as being flooded with the storm surge, then Jesse asked him to explain the water damage when it had been proven that the surge never quite made it to the house. It became apparent the adjuster would say anything his boss wanted to hear.
His boss, the district manager, was next and was visibly uncomfortable from the moment he swore to tell the truth. ARU had sent three denial letters to Jesse’s client, and he asked the district manager to read all three to the jury. In the third letter, the claim was being denied because of “obvious water damage.” Jesse took that phrase and beat him over the head with it until Judge Oliphant asked him to stop. It was clear that the jury loved the annihilation.
An ARU vice president, one who apparently drew the short straw, took the stand to defend the honor of his company. In a blistering cross-examination, one which Simmons Webb tried to stop with repeated interruptions, Jesse finally drilled down deep enough to find the truth. When Camille hit, ARU had 3,874 homes insured in Harrison, Hancock, and Jackson counties. Almost 80 percent of the homeowners, or 3,070 to be exact, had filed claims to date.
“And of that number, sir, how many claims have been settled by your company?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d have to check the records.”
“You were told to bring the records.”
“Well, I’m not sure. I’ll check with counsel.”
Judge Oliphant, who had long since abandoned his role as an impartial arbiter, snarled, “Sir, I’m looking at the subpoena. You were instructed to bring all records related to claims filed since the storm.”
“Yes sir, but you see—”
“I’ll hold you in contempt.”
Simmons Webb stood but appeared to be tongue-tied. Jesse quickly decided to help matters by practically yelling, “It’s okay, Your Honor, I have the records.”
He waved a thin manila file, legal size. The courtroom became deathly still and Webb fell into his chair. With perfect dramatic flair, Jesse approached the witness and said, “Your Honor, I have in this file copies of all of the legitimate claims that have been paid and settled by ARU.”
He turned, faced the jury, and opened the file. It was empty. Nothing fell out.