Lawyers in Hell (48 page)

Read Lawyers in Hell Online

Authors: Janet Morris,Chris Morris

At this announcement, confused looks appeared on faces in the crowd and several people looked around to see if they had heard correctly.

Foreman, the big Texan, grinned maliciously.  “That’s right, and if you practiced criminal law, whether in defense or prosecution, our Mr. Belli here, who was known as the ‘King of Torts,’ will handle
your
assignments.

“This is how it works down here:  every newly-damned lawyer has to serve a probationary period working for the Administration, in whatever field of law he or she knew the
least
about on earth.  How well you learn the material, find convenient loopholes for the Administration
and
how quickly you pick up on the way things function in hell, will determine how long it is before you can go into private practice for yourself or join an existing firm…  That is, if you don’t get killed and have to start over at the bottom, so to speak.”  Foreman and Belli guffawed loudly, giving each other high-fives, while their audience members looked either appalled or outraged.

Melvin Belli took the podium, an imposing figure in his custom-tailored suit, Italian shoes, silk tie and polished cotton shirt when compared to Foreman in his ill-fitting, off-the-rack outfit.

The newly-damned lawyers were already beginning to fawn, hoping to influence their placement:  they greeted Belli with a smattering of polite applause.

Belli began, “A rare treat is in store for today’s class.  We have a visiting lecturer from on high:  Mister Justice Benjamin Cardozo, who replaced Oliver Wendell Holmes on the U.S. Supreme Court, where he served thereafter until nineteen thirty-eight.  Some of his decisions and opinions regarding corporate responsibility and negligence created the tort laws that made
me
so famous… and rich!

“He will attempt to enlighten you on things you might have done to avoid this place.  Who knows?  Maybe if you pay attention, you might someday –
way
down the line – become eligible for manumission by Altos, Hell’s own volunteer angel (his friends call him Just Al), who is escorting Justice Cardozo today.  But don’t count on it.

“Justice Cardozo was renowned for his emphasis on the purpose of law, his insightful descriptions of the relationship between the policy and the practice of law, and especially noted for his concern for fairness in justice – something we don’t have to worry about down here.  Benjamin Cardozo was considered a ‘lawyer’s lawyer’ and later a ‘judge’s judge,’ with good reason, so you might want to pay attention.”

As befitting the occasion, Belli composed his face into its most humble expression (one with which he was not particularly familiar) and raised his voice:  “All rise for the Honorable Justice Benjamin Cardozo.”

His audience rose simultaneously, each having learned on earth to spring to his or her feet like a jack-in-the-box at the words ‘all rise.’  They stood quietly while the distinguished, white-haired Cardozo was escorted into the room by an ethereal being in a glowing white robe, with the most beautiful face any of them had ever seen.  The scent of a soft summer day wafted into the room as the two newcomers entered.

“Thank you, Altos,” said Cardozo as he stepped to the lectern, “I’ll keep this brief so the elevator doesn’t have to wait too long.”

“Not at all, sir.  Take your time – we have a lot of it,” said Altos, smiling.

*

“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen,” began Justice Cardozo.  His piercing gaze swept across the room and into each soul among the convened newly-damned lawyers.

“In nineteen twenty-one, I wrote: ‘The law has outgrown its primitive stage of formalism when the precise word was the sovereign talisman, and every slip was fatal.  It takes a broader view today.’  I see no reason to change my opinion, even after all these years.

“From reading the Register listings for some of today’s attendees, it appears many of you never were exposed to my lecture series from Yale University.  You believed the purpose of practicing law was to make sure
your
client would be able to get the upper hand in any dispute, by manipulating language to ensure a ‘win’ – whether your client actually deserved to win or not – and, not incidentally, make sure your client could afford your enormous fees.”

Shaking his dignified head he continued, “I believed that, whenever possible, courts should attempt to instill fairness in an unclear dispute by analyzing and interpreting it to cover situations the parties may not have provided for specifically, in order to ensure a
fair
result.  What seems to have happened, since my time, unfortunately, is that particular legal philosophy has become unimportant to some jurists and generally denigrated by the legal profession.”

There commenced a shuffling of feet, ducking of heads, crossing of legs, shifting of chairs, whispers and other indications of unease in the audience.

Justice Cardozo raised his voice slightly, “But
you
people – you each made it your life’s work to revise wording in contracts, laws, legislation and court documents; you made use of every loophole you could find or create and took advantage of, for instance, every
‘may’
that should have been a
‘shall’
or other ambiguous wording, to ensure triumph for whoever paid you, without regard for the inherent ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ of the situation.  Well,
that is why you’re here
 – that and your consistent disavowal of the principles of fairness.  You will now learn humility by seeing how it feels to lose, again and again – especially if you continue your previous behavior in
this
realm.  While it may have benefited you financially and materially in your time on earth, things just don’t work the same way in hell.

“In fact, it is my understanding that
nothing
works very well down here, so those gizmos you rely on – your hellphones, hellpads, and portable computers – may work sometimes; they may not work at others or, even worse, may
appear
to work, but give you erroneous results.  You will be better served by doing due-diligence research yourself, in the actual books of the law, which will, I sincerely hope, instill in you some respect for how the law came into being.”  This time when he paused, there was total silence from the audience.

“As an agnostic in life, I wasn’t convinced of the reality of ‘heaven’ or ‘hell,’ or of the precepts of Judaism – even though I was born a Sephardic Jew – or Christianity or any of the other world religions.  I simply believed I should be as honest and fair as I possibly could in rendering my judgments, and live my life by the same principles, while treating my fellow man with dignity.  Apparently, I succeeded well enough to be granted an afterlife in a more comfortable realm than this one.

“My message to you today is this:  learn from your mistakes.  You should be able to determine why you were sent here, if you think back on your life.  The probation you must serve – aside from supporting His Infernal Majesty…” Cardozo looked up at the ceiling fifteen stories above their heads and shuddered, “…may expose you to the practice of law at all levels, introducing you to the dregs of hell’s society.  It may cause you to focus exclusively on the minutest differences of wording of laws and regulations.  You will have to learn new laws and figure out how to deal with different loopholes than those with which you are acquainted.

“And my advice to you is:  during and after your probationary period (however long that may last) try to atone for your behavior in life.  Do something good for someone else’s benefit, just because it’s the right thing to do.  I understand that good behavior is frowned upon down here, but it will give you the best chance of earning a somewhat less agonizing afterlife one day –
if
you gain an understanding of why you are here, sincerely regret your unworthy behavior while on earth, and try to recover the goodness and innocence you lost somewhere along the way.  I thank you for your time and attention.”

Not a single head rose from contemplation of a single lap as he finished.  After a moment, Justice Cardozo turned to Altos, sighed and said, “Well, I hope it did someone some good….”  Altos patted Justice Cardozo’s arm and drew him out of the Library toward the elevator.

*

“That was quite a speech,” Demetrius breathed to Makalani.  “For one of the new dead, that one has the mind and understanding of a great philosopher like Aristotle, my old teacher,” he said, as he dabbed at his eye with the sleeve of his robe.  “But it was probably wasted on that rabble down on the floor.

“Oh, but let me show you the most wonderful scroll of the Hammurabi era, which I found behind a broken wall panel while I was sealing another leak yesterday!”  And Demetrius led his assistant firmly into another part of the Library.

*

“Well, people, I’d call that an inspiring address by Justice Cardozo.  It’s up to you whether you take it to heart or not,” said Melvin Belli as he stepped up to the rostrum.

“Now I want all the criminal defense lawyers and former prosecutors to follow me to the other end of the room so we can get started.  I’ll leave the rest of you civil practitioners to Percy, here.”  With a malevolent smile, Belli strode to the lectern at the far end of the room and turned to wait for his victims who were just making their halting way to the empty chairs facing him.

At each end of the room, a babble of questions and offended oratory rose in volume.  After a moment, Percy Foreman picked up a stone tablet and slammed it on the desk next to where he stood.  He shouted:  “All right, y’all settle down. 
Now!”

Many in the audience gasped in shocked indignation.  No one dared yell at them – ever.  They were the cream of the crop, the best of the best, the wealthiest, most influential lawyers ever to have practiced civil law.  And no hick Texas Criminal shyster (regardless of his incredible record of fifteen hundred acquittals to sixty-four convictions, one execution) was going to tell
them
anything!

A similar confrontation was taking place with the group gathered in front of Mr. Belli.  Why should they listen to some slick, polished civil lawyer, even if he
had
single-handedly created Class Action Lawsuits and won six-hundred million U.S. dollars in awards in some of the biggest trials ever?  They had collected fees in the millions of dollars themselves, representing the richest scumbags ever arrested.  The former prosecutors hadn’t been as wealthy a group, unless their jurisdiction afforded them regular access to bribes and perks, but they had wielded a tremendous amount of power they were loath to give up.

Each group believed it preposterous to require them to practice a type of law they’d avoided like a plague when alive.  Who did Foreman and Belli think they were?

A better question would have been,
who did Foreman and Belli work for?

When it looked like total insurrection was going to break out, and the noise level rose toward its peak, with men and women standing, red-faced and shouting at the Seminar Chairmen and each other, a bolt of lightning crackled from the highest floor of the Hall of Injustice, spearing the center of the meeting room floor, with a resounding crash.

Once again, all the lights in the Library flickered and popped, as the lightning played havoc with the electricity.

The loudest voice they had ever heard boomed: 
“This is hell, you idiots!  This is not Burger King.  You don’t get it your way – you do what you’re told!  The Undertaker must be slipping if none of you understands this yet.  Now shut up, pay attention and take notes.  Then get to work before I have to make a personal appearance….”

As the smoke cleared from the room, silence reigned.  The seminar chairmen shook their heads.

“If I may proceed now,” Foreman drawled, “I will begin handing out assignments.”  A pen fell to the floor from someone’s lap, and the woman sitting next to the miscreant let out a small yelp.

“Well, I guess we can start with you, sir,” said Foreman as he pointed to the blond, too-perfectly tanned gentleman with most unnaturally white teeth, dressed in ultra-expensive ‘business casual,’ who was just picking up his pen.  Consulting the Register of Preeminently Damned Lawyers on his hellpad, Foreman continued, “So, you practiced entertainment law in Hollywood, is that right?”  Tall, Blond and Tan stood up and said with a supercilious smile, “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I was the highest paid…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s who I thought you were,” interrupted Foreman.  “We have a great opening in night Demon’s Court for a Public Defender.  I think you’ll fit right in….  It’s a real pest-hole, in the worst area of Pandemonium City.”

The room was treated to a clearer view of those extra-white teeth as the first appointee’s mouth dropped open in horror.

Foreman chuckled:  “Of course, not
all
of your indigent clients will be demons.  Some will be succubi or incubi, or your garden-variety thieves or hookers.  I’m
sure
it will be a refreshing change from your previous clientele.”  He smiled broadly.  “And just so we’re clear:  either get really good at your job, really fast, or you
will
stay there until someone more deserving comes along … or until one of your clients doesn’t like the terms of a plea-bargain you arranged.  Some of those folks in the lower echelons of Pandemonium society are quick to take offense if they feel slighted – real
personal
offense, if y’know what I mean.  But don’t worry.  If that happens you won’t be in the Undertaker’s hands more than another few weeks.  Then you’ll be right back here, so you’d better learn fast.  You have a good time, now, y’hear?”

That gorgeous tan was a sickly gray by the time the gentlemen in question disappeared with a small “pop” of displaced air.  Percy Foreman, grinning, looked back at his list, ignoring the whimpers from his audience.

At the far end of the room, Melvin Belli was going through his own hellpad Register entries.  “You,” he said, pointing to a rather nondescript man in a cheap suit and run-down shoes who was attempting to make himself very small and unnoticeable by slouching behind a broad-shouldered, heavily-built mob lawyer.

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