Friends

Now that I'm retired, and coincidentally my friend and most recent (and last) running buddy, John, moved to the Southwest, I don't interact regularly with many people. I have lunch with my former colleague, mentor and friend Steve once a month so we keep up.

We and a third lawyer did a two-week trial together in Reno in the nineties and had several memorable moments, such as Steve having to go on the penultimate night of the trial to the casino hotel where our star witness, due to testify on the last day, was staying to co-sign for his impending hotel bill because the witness had racked up too many expenses in the casino. Our expert, scheduled to testify first the next morning to open the trial, had showed up in town late the night before dead drunk and incapable of undergoing any meaningful witness prep.

That was the trial where, famously at my agency and infamously generally, we demanded the opposition's witness list during the five-minute recess at the conclusion of our case-in-chief, just before they proceeded with their defense, and the lead defense counsel, a former U.S. Attorney, took out a casino matchbook, scribbled the defendants' names on it, added "rebuttal witnesses"on it as an afterthought, tore the half-cover off and handed it to us as his "witness list." The outrageous but funny incident was later recounted in the February 2001 issue of Regardie's Power magazine as part of its cover story.

It is important to make a concerted effort to keep up with friends after you have moved on, like Steve does by scheduling a monthly lunch. I'm keeping up with my friend John because I'm planning on taking a driving trip to the Southwest during the winter.

Also, for instance, I recently had an enjoyable lunch with a former colleague and friend on the new waterfront in the District earlier this month to catch up with this busy lawyer, trying to juggle work and three children. I remember I was lead attorney on a case with this woman, trying to reach settlement with a young, pro-se, destitute defendant containing a judgment amount in five-figures, representing full disgorgement of his ill-gotten gains which would be fully suspended under an inability-to-pay theory, provided he provided us with a sworn financial statement verifying his claimed impoverished state.

We were getting nowhere after multiple negotiations with this young man, a student actually, because he couldn't timely provide us with sworn financial statements due to, you know, the fire, the move out of state, the flood, the bailment, the repossessed car. My colleague finally interjected pointedly during another interminable discussion with him about his excruciating difficulties that he'd just have to owe the full amount then.

Bingo, the defendant readily agreed to being responsible for paying the full amount (he obviously had an IRS problem and feared a perjury charge). Case settled.

The eventual effect upon the judgment would in reality be the same, dischargability of the amount as unpaid versus suspension of it based upon inability to pay. I love it when a lawyer cuts through all the endless, highfaluting, legal mumbo jumbo with a pithy, common-sense solution.