Maritime, only the driver will be left and he doesn't have the money to pay for Mrs. Elliot's bills. She's paralyzed. You know Northwest Maritime is liable.'
Peter stopped. The judge could not look him in the eye and Lyle Compton looked sick, like a child who has played a successful practical joke and now feels guilty about it.
'Mr. Hale,' judge Pruitt said, 'there is nothing I can do in this case. You did not prove that Northwest Maritime is a corporation. No reasonable jury could conclude it was from the facts in evidence and the jurors may not go outside the evidence produced in court. If I deny Mr. Compton's motion, he will appeal and the court of appeals will reverse me. They have upheld motions of this sort in seven reported cases I have found.
My hands are tied.'
judge Pruitt turned toward Lyle Compton and Peter sank onto his seat. His head was spinning. He had no idea what he should do. He thought he might be sick.
'I'm granting your motion, Mr. Compton. A verdict 'II be directed for Northwest Maritime. The case wi against Mr. Hardesty will proceed.'
Peter felt the wheels of Mrs. Elliot's wheelchair bumping against his chair. -What is it? What is she asked, her slurred voice trembling with panic and fear. With each repetition, Mrs. Elliot grew louder and more strident and everyone in the courtroom looked at Peter to hear the answer he would give to this poor, crippled woman who would not receive one cent for the anguish and horror she had been through. Peter wanted to answer her, but he could not speak. He could only sit, eyes staring straight ahead, as his world went up in flames.
After court, Peter staggered back to Hale, Greaves in a daze. Martin Strobridge was one of the most eloquent attorneys in the state of Oregon, but he was struck dumb by Peter's account of his attempt to try Elliot v. Northwest Maritime. When Strobridge recovered his senses, he issued an order that no one was to tell Richard what had happened for fear of sending him into another cardiac arrest. Then, he suspended Peter from all his duties at the firm until a committee reviewed his conduct. Strobridge had no idea how grateful Peter was for the opportunity to stay away from the firm where he would be the object of derision as soon as the office grapevine spread the news of his disgrace.
Peter drove directly from his office to the hospital. He was allowed into the intensive care unit for only a few minutes. Richard's doctor assured Peter that his fathers condition was not serious and that Richard would be out of the hospital within the week, but the shock of seeing his father hooked up to IV drips and blinking machinery was as great as the trauma of losing Elliot.
Though he had never seen him play, Peter's image of his father always involved football. He thought of Richard Hale as a man of boundless energy who crashed through lines and smashed into opponents. The Richard Hale who stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes was old and frail and his speech was barely coherent. Peter tried to smile. He made a few feeble attempts at conversation.
Then, he stumbled out of his father's room before his allotted time was up, grateful that the drugs his father had been given prevented him from thinking clearly enough to ask about the outcome of the Elliot case.
In the intervening days between his debacle and the inevitable summons to the offices of Hale, Greaves, Peter hid in his apartment trying to imagine a scenario in which his life would go on as before. Thankfully, Priscilla had flown off to some unknown destination leaving him alone with his despair.
Peter knew that there would have to be some consequences for his actions, but by the time the phone call came requesting his appearance at the firm Peter had created a fantasy in which he apologized and promised to never do anything so foolish ever again, and all was forgiven.
On one of Peter's visits to the hospital, his father had asked about Elliot and Peter had answered that everything, was taken care of. As soon as he entered his father's massive, corner office on the day he was summoned, Peter knew that someone had finally broken the news of Peter's disgrace to his father. The man who slumped down across from Peter behind the vast oak desk was tired. He studied Peter with weary eyes. He had lost weight in the hospital and his ruddy complexion was now pasty. After a moment, Richard shook his head slowly and sadly.
'Sit down, Peter,' Richard said, indicating a highbacked leather chair. Peter sat.
'I never imagined that it would come to this.'
Peter wanted to protest, to defend himself, but there was a lump in his throat the size of an apple and he could only look down at the polished desktop.
'You wanted to be lead counsel in a big case. That's why you did this, isn't it?'
Peter nodded.
'I know how much you resented me for denying you your chance.' Peter looked up, surprised. He had no idea he was.so transparent. 'But I could not permit it.'
Richard sighed. He looked defeated.
'I've tried to fool myself about you, Peter, but what you've done has forced me to face the truth. You are a highly intelligent young man. I have your scores on IQ tests to prove it. But you have never lived up to your potential. You didn't apply yourself in high school, so I had to use my pull to get you into a good university, where you partied for four years, achieving grades that were s o low that I had to call in every chip I could find to get you into law school. Then I did the same thing to get you a job with this firm, hoping against hope that you would finally change into a responsible adult.
'In part, I blame myself for your failures. I know I wasn't around as much as I should have been when you were growing up, because I was working so damned hard to build this firm. And when I was around, I tried to make up for my absences by spoiling you rotten. With the wisdom of hindsight, I see now that you would have been better off getting through life without so much of my help. Maybe, if you had been forced to deal with failure, you would have developed the toughness moral fiber..
Richard's voice trailed off. He closed his eyes and rubbed the lids. When he opened them he looked sad and resigned.
'Well, it doesn't matter now. Regardless of who's to blame, you are who you are and that is why I could not let you try Elliot. I know you possess the intelligence to be a good lawyer, but you are lazy and self-centered.
You have always taken the easy way out. You have never given one hundred percent of yourself to anything.
For you, trying Elliot was an opportunity to show off your trial skills and gain advancement in the firm, but this case was Mrs. Elliot's life. Your arrogance and your thoughtlessness have deprived that poor woman of the money she needs for medical care and her children. You have destroyed her future and her children's future and, the saddest thing for me, as your father, is that I don't believe you care.'
'Dad, I Peter started, but Richard shook his head.
'There is nothing left to say, Peter. Mrs. Elliot will sue this firm for malpractice and I will have to tell her lawyers that you disobeyed my direct order to ask for a mistrial, that you misled judge Pruitt so you could have your day in the sun and that your conduct was a blatant example of malpractice. Naturally, under the circumstances, you can no longer remain here. As a favor to me, the firm will give you the option of resigning. That, however, is the last favor you will ever get from me.'
Richard leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands.
'It pains me to say this, but I must be blunt with you, for your own good. This may be your last chance to be saved. I've thought about what I am going to say long and hard and I hope and pray that I'm doing the right thing. First, I've changed my will to disinherit you. Second, I will never give you another penny. You have not earned the way you live. From now on, you must live according to what you earn.'
The words hit Peter like a hammer and he could only stare, open mouthed. His father was turning his back on him, his law firm was taking away his job.
Not one more penny, Richard had said. How would he meet his payments on the Porsche and the condo? How would he pay his debts? And the will. Disinherited, Richard had said.
'Dad,' Peter managed, 'I know I was wrong. I'm sorry. I ... It's just -.'
Richard shook his head. 'Save your breath, Peter. I love you, but I can't stand the sight of you anymore.
You have no idea how hard it is for me to admit to myself that my only child is a failure. I had such high hopes for you. But you let everyone down. Me, the firm, Mrs. Elliot.'
'You can't do this. You can't cut me out of your life.'
'No, I can't. I'm going to give you one, last chance to make something of yourself.'
Peter collapsed with relief, feeling like a hiker lost for days in the forest, near death and bereft of hope, who
