Crimes, Torts, and Trials

A few minutes later, my cell rang, interrupting not only the music but an approach to another physical release. The phone was on the vanity, so I couldn't see its display. I let the call go to voicemail. Six seconds later, it rang again.

I tapped the stem of an AirPod to answer it.

"Marquette Investigations," I frustratedly spoke.

"That's not how you usually answer when I call. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Oh! Hey, Donny! I couldn't see my screen, so I didn't know it was you. I think I need to set a custom ringtone for you," I said with a laugh and wide grin. "I was just thinking about you. I wish we could've spent a little more time together this morning before I was hustled away."

"Yeah. Um … about that," he slowly said. "This is like the first chance I've had to talk to you because it's been a wickedly busy day."

The bath was warm, but the tone of his voice seemed to lower my body temperature.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Damn it. How do I say this?"

That didn't help.

"Donny, what is it?"

"River, first⁠—um, ugh ! I don't know where to start. The kiss we shared this morning was very, very welcome, okay? You're an incredibly beautiful woman. You really are, and the kiss was nice. I mean, it … um …"

I found myself scrunching my eyes closed. My right hand was clutching my glass as tightly as my left was clutching the edge of the tub. I put it on the ledge fearing I might break it.

"Just say it, Donny,"

"River, I don't want to hurt you, please believe me. But … I just didn't … feel it, you know? I mean I felt it, of course, but⁠—"

"No fireworks?"

"No," he said quietly. "I swear to god I wanted⁠—it … it wasn't there. It's been bugging me all day. I'm sorry if I've hurt you, River, but⁠—"

"Don't worry about it. Look. Real life isn't always like fairy tales or movies. I have to admit it felt pretty awesome for me, but … well … never mind. You're like the greatest guy I've ever met. I think any other guy would have taken advantage of the fact I was the one to initiate and … it's okay, Donny."

"And you're like the nicest woman I've ever met because … you just are. I thought about kissing you at the get-together you hosted a few weeks ago, and I thought about it again last night but I decided to wait until your life became less complicated. I didn't want to add any confusion or be a distraction, you know?"

If only , I thought to myself, then another rammed into my slightly tipsy mind.

"Dennis Swanson was arrested today."

"Whoa! What ?"

"Yeah. I was planning on camping in my office overnight, but I came home as soon as I got the news. That's why I'm chilling out by steaming in a hot bath. I was probably a bit ripe when I kissed you this morning. Sorry. Maybe that had something to⁠—"

"You said you liked our kiss?"

"I most certainly did."

"And you're … like right now … you're naked?"

I laughed. "Well, yeah ! I'm in the bathtub!"

"Oooph . The thoughts I'm having. I'm going to hang up as soon as I tell you I'm off at eight. It'll take me some time to scrub myself, but … fair warning, I might still smell like work when I come to your office at, what … say nine o'clock, because I need a second chance ."

I laughed so hard when I heard the disconnect tone that I knocked my glass into the tub.

DONAGH
Wednesday, October 30, 2019, 8:19am

I showered at the station after my shift ended, then went home and took another before putting on fresh clothes. While I was making the bed, I brought one of the pillows to my face and inhaled its scent. I could smell River's hair and felt myself smiling.

Fifteen minutes later, I entered the lobby of her building and walked down the corridor which led to her office suite. I saw her through the glass door at its entrance, and also through the opened door between an empty reception area through to her office. I tapped on the glass. She looked upward from her computer to see me standing there, smiled broadly, and gestured me in. She rose from her desk as I opened the door and walked to meet me.

"Good morning," she said with a smile.

Heart racing, I said nothing.

I grasped her slender waist, pulled her close, and kissed her softly.

"Mmm," she softly hummed.

I kissed her again with a little more intensity. I felt kind of lightheaded. It felt amazing.

"River," I whispered before opening my eyes. "Thank you. That was … yeah. That was it."

"Wow," she said with a very pleasant expression. "Fireworks."

I smiled. "Not for me. That was something even better."

She brushed the nape of my neck with her fingernails and goosebumps soared down my back. She encouraged another kiss from me by closing her eyes and parting her lips. I'm almost certain we didn't speak for minutes.

"Just … mercy," she said again when we finally took a break.

"Yeah," I said, drying my face with the back of my hand.

She laughed. "Too wet?"

"Hell no. God, River. I'm sorry for what I said last night. I should've kept my mouth shut. Now that I⁠—I think maybe yesterday morning I wasn't in the right state of mind to feel it. Will you forgive me?"

"Donagh," she said, pronouncing it perfectly, "there's no need to ask for forgiveness. Think about it. If you hadn't said what you did, the conversation would have been different, right? You wouldn't have asked, and I wouldn't have told you I was stark naked in a soothing bubble bath without a stitch of clothing on my completely bare body, enjoying a rare bourbon along with thoughts of a certain incredibly handsome man."

"Oh, god," I whimpered, actually hearing the tremble in my voice when I realized she was referring to me. "Can I shut this door?"

She nodded, so I did. I enveloped her in my arms, and she wrapped her own around me. Tongues united.

RIVER
Friday, November 1, 2019, 1:14pm

"All rise! The 447th Judicial District Court of Cook County is now in session, The Honorable Grace McWhirter presiding."

"Please be seated," the judge said. "Bailiff, next case?"

"That would be 19-09300116. Parties to case ending in 0116, please rise. Again," he added with a chuckle.

His levity lightened the mood of the room⁠—well, at least my mood. Even the judge laughed lightly.

"Mr. Waters, where is your client?"

"She's in physical therapy, Your Honor. I have a signed affidavit attesting her permission to proceed with this hearing in her absence."

"Very well. Are you ready to proceed, Mr. Reid?"

"More than," my attorney answered.

"Okay. Let's get moving. Mr. Waters, you're up."

He spent two minutes outlining his case for the summary judgment, speaking in foreign argot I could barely keep up with. My attorney listened stoically, writing scribbles on a legal pad when he wasn't doodling in its margins. I hoped he was paying attention.

I looked over my shoulder at Donny. He'd met me at the courthouse, and, catching my eyes, subtly smiled, and nodded at me.

"Mr. Reid?" the judge spoke when Mr. Waters had finished.

"Your Honor, my esteemed colleague quite sufficiently outlined his interpretation of Illinois so-called Good Samaritan statutes, and I have no argument against his interpretations.

"I would, however, like to call Your Honor's attention to act five of section forty-nine, which reads, in summary, 'No person who gives emergency instructions through a system established under the Emergency Telephone System Act⁠—' 911 falls into that category, by the way, '⁠—to persons rendering services in an emergency at another location, nor any person following the instructions in rendering the services, shall be liable for any civil damages as a result of issuing or following the instructions, unless issuing or following the instructions constitutes willful or wanton misconduct.'

"Your Honor, that section immunizes from civil liability both a 911 operator for giving instructions and a civilian which is acting on said instructions. I have requested the audio from the call my client made to 911. At this time, I do not yet have it but shall for trial. I am, however, prepared to call Ms. Marquette to testify she was, in fact, provided instructions.

The judge said, peering over her reading glasses, "This is only a hearing on a motion. There's no need to call her as a witness when I can just ask.

"Ms. Marquette, did the 911 operator, in fact, give you instructions?"

"Indirectly, Your Honor. The operator asked me exactly what I was doing, and I told him. I can't remember his exact words, but it was something to the effect of, 'Good. Keep doing what you're doing until EMS gets there and takes over.'"

"Are you confident the transcripts of the call will bear your testimony out?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And, when you did what you did, were you trying to harm Ms. Waters or cause her to lose her leg?"

"No, Your Honor. Absolutely not," I answered. "I was trying to keep her from bleeding to death."

"Mr. Waters, any objection?"

His shoulders slumped. "I withdraw the motion Your Honor. But I reserve the right to reintroduce it if the transcript is in conflict."

"Very well. Now. Wasn't that easy?" she said. "The motion is dismissed without action. We will be proceeding to trial."

"Thank you, Your Honor," my attorney acknowledged, "and, again, my client requests a short date."

"Gentlemen, any other business?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said, withdrawing a small group of papers from his briefcase. "I have three individuals I would like to call as witnesses. I've prepared summonses for your review."

The bailiff took the papers to the judge who rifled through them.

"Can you tell me how they're related so I don't need to spend time in session reading these?" she asked.

"Of course. The first is one of the paramedics who responded to the scene that evening. He's the one who interacted the most with my client. Next is the vascular surgeon who treated Ms. Waters."

"This last one?" the judge asked, holding one up.

"She is an individual with some practical and personal experience in the matter at hand."

"Very well, your summonses are approved. You're free to have them served. Mitzie, have you found us a date?"

"Can you both manage Wednesday the twenty-seventh?" the clerk asked.

"That's the day before Thanksgiving," the judge advised. "The slot just came open because the parties in⁠—"

"Forgive me, Your Honor, but may I be permitted to have a word in private with opposing counsel?" Counselor Waters interjected.

Stunned by the interruption, the judge removed her reading glasses and glared at him.

"You'd better make this worth my while, Peter. This case is in recess until two o'clock," she said, banging her gavel. "Bailiff, what's next?"

Once again, we collected our things and departed the room. Donny took my hand in his when he joined me in the gallery. The other attorney held open the first set of doors and gestured us into an unoccupied small conference room off the vestibule of the courtroom. Donny decided to wait in the hall and passed through the second set of doors.

"Peter, this isn't at all like you. You're better than this," Alex challenged.

He held up his hands in deference. He turned to face me.

"Ms. Marquette, I wish to express to you my sincerest regrets and apologies for putting you through this. I also need you to know I did this to save my sister's life."

"What? I don't understand."

"She wasn't listening to her doctors. She should have had her leg amputated weeks before she finally consented, and she only did when I threatened her with a power of attorney. Then, for somewhere around a month and a half after that, she hovered in a state of almost complete depression and despair. Her fiancé was very attentive to her up until the time of her surgery, then he ghosted her. She wouldn't do her exercises, and she was dealing with phantom pain in a calf or foot which no longer existed.

"The only thing that seemed to shake her out of it was when I agreed to represent her and bring this case. But I did so conditionally, predicated on her following every instruction regarding her care, recovery, and rehabilitation. Every instruction."

"Peter, please tell me you're not deliberately under-representing her. I could have you brought before the ethics review board and have you disbarred for telling me that!"

"Alex, do you think I have any prayer of winning?"

He was silent for several moments before he answered.

"With all due respect, no. I don't believe you stand a chance. Hell. I'm surprised Grace didn't throw your case out when I quashed your motion with an indisputable affirmative defense! With the number of Instagram and Twitter videos I'm prepared to show a jury of how my client acted in your client's best interest, no, counselor, I don't think for a single solitary minute you're going to be able to win this."

Mr. Waters was quiet for a number of seconds.

"Neither do I. Neither do any of my peers. They believe it's an embarrassment I brought it in the first place. Once again, ma'am, please forgive the charade. It was the only thing I could come up with to get my sister to cooperate."

"How is she?"

He smiled slightly. "She's turned a corner. Physically, at least, she's doing better. Emotionally, though, she's still in a pretty dark place. She was all ramped and ready to run the Chicago Marathon a couple of weeks ago."

"I know how she feels. So was I," I said before thinking how it'd come across. I hadn't read the room and regretted saying it.

"No, ma'am, I can't imagine you do!" Peter Waters challenged firmly. "You're walking without so much as a limp . I'm sure you'll be spooled up and anxious to run next year, though, won't you?"

I was embarrassed at myself and remained silent.

"Well. She's convinced her life is over. Running was her passion. Since we lost our parents, it was her laser focus."

"I read a newspaper article from a while back about her running it her first time. I think it said she was only sixteen."

"That's correct. She placed in the top ten percent of her age tier."

"Are we just going to sit here and shine each other's shoes? Where are you taking it next?" Alex asked.

"Can I see your copies of the summonses you gave the judge, so I don't have to wait for them to come online?"

Alex sat his briefcase on the table, withdrew the documents, and handed them to him.

"Marisol Jamil? I don't know the name. Is she the person you said has personal experience in the matter?"

"She is."

"How?"

"She was the first female double amputee to complete the Chicago Marathon. She did it four years ago," I said.

"And why would you have her testify in this case? What does she have to do with anything?"

"Because I'm expecting you to argue loss of function, and thus income potential, as part of the monetary damages, and I'm going to have Mrs. Jamil demonstrate it to be far from the case. Ms. Marquette brought her to my attention. She's a fan, so-to-speak. She reached out to her."

"So, this is a woman who was as equally athletic as Candace was?"

"I don't think that's accurate," I said. "First, she's probably twice your sister's age. She's close to fifty years old. She lost her legs when she was younger than your sister. She didn't start training to run a marathon until something like ten years had passed. She didn't wait that long because of her recovery, she simply decided at some point it was a goal she wanted to work on, and she did it."

"Do you think she'd be willing to sit down with Candace and have a chat?"

"If she was prepared to spend a day or two in a courtroom testifying under oath, I can't imagine she'd object to a conversation in a comfortable conference room instead," my attorney said.

Peter Waters sat in one of the chairs at the small table and stared at his folded hands for a few moments.

"Ms. Marquette, bear with me. How much money do you have in your checking account right now?"

"What business is it of yours?" Alex challenged.

"Offer to settle with us for ten percent of whatever your balance is. We'll shake hands, and consider this case settled if you are also willing to have Mrs. Jamil have a candid discussion with my sister."

I looked at my attorney.

His eyebrows were arched high, and he nodded, hardly subtly.

I removed my phone from my handbag and opened my banking app. I pulled up the balance of my accounts and grabbed a screenshot. I used the photo editor to crop everything else out, because the man had only asked about my checking account. I showed the screen to my attorney, and he nodded, writing a note on a scrap piece of paper sitting on the table.

He wrote four names next to it. Candace and Peter Waters, plus mine and his own. He looked at me, tacitly asking if I agreed. I nodded.

"Counselor Waters, my client, River Marquette, would like to tender a counteroffer in an attempt to settle this case."

"Proceed."

"Ms. Marquette is prepared to offer, without any implied acceptance of culpability, negligence, or liability to your client's claim of personal injury, the sum of four hundred fifty-two US dollars and zero cents."

"Counselor Reid, on behalf of my client, Candace Waters, I accept your offer."

Alex handed him the ersatz written agreement, then Peter shook my hand and stood.

I began to follow him out, but Alex said, "Peter, we'll be in there momentarily. River, please hang back a second."

Peter shut the door behind him.

"Seriously? It's over just like that?" I asked Alex.

"Well, paint me surprised. I'm definitely including this case in a book I'm writing. I'm keeping real names out of it, of course."

"You didn't answer my question."

"We're going to go back in there. The judge will ask Mr. Waters if he's ready to schedule the trial, at which time he will tell her there's no need, because his client and mine have reached a settlement. She will then ask me if I concur. I will answer in the affirmative. She will ask him to write up the terms of the settlement, and all parties will sign it in front of a notary. I will then ask him to provide me a receipt for the cashier's check you will have your bank prepare payable to Candace Waters. He will have already prepared it. Copies will be made of everything, then he will file it all electronically with the court clerk. The clerk will notify the judge, at which time she will close the case.

"So, yes. Other than a few more words and some paperwork, it is over. Just like that."

I couldn't help myself. I hugged the man. I saw his hands, but I think he second-guessed himself, because he only patted my shoulder timidly.

"Thank you, counselor," I said.

"I barely did anything. This was a crazy weird case."

"Yeah, but yes, you did. You stood in there, did your thing, and I think you scared the crap out of the guy a little."

He laughed. "Sometimes it works that way. But hey. Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Who's the man who came with you?"

"His name is Donny McHugh. He's a firefighter. I met him the night Ms. Waters was injured. His unit was the one which responded. His truck got a hole in it just like me."

"Donagh McHugh ? Declan McHugh's son?"

"You know his father?" I asked.

He laughed. "I more than know him. Declan and I went to college together. We both majored in criminology at SIUC. I did it for pre-law. He was there on the GI bill and went from there straight into the academy. We play golf every now and then. Are you two …"