Sherwood frowned at the thought and nodded. “You know what makes our system work?”
“Sir?”
“Do you know what makes our criminal justice system work? What allows juries to get it right most of the time?”
Jason could think of a thousand things-the presumption of innocence, the right to confront one’s accusers, a jury of one’s peers-but he wasn’t sure where Sherwood was headed. “I haven’t really thought about it in those terms,” Jason admitted.
“The adversarial nature of it,” Sherwood responded, as if the answer was obvious to any idiot. “When two equally matched and well-prepared advocates zealously represent their clients in front of an unbiased decision maker, the truth generally wins out.”
He rotated the envelope in his hands, zeroing in on Jason. “Now, what screws the system up? When does it not work?”
“When lazy or incompetent lawyers get involved. When the juries or judges are biased.”
“Right,” Sherwood said. “There’s an old adage about the definition of a jury. It’s twelve men and women from the local community who come together to decide which client hired the better lawyer. When exceptional lawyers with enormous resources outwork and outsmart their adversaries, they win. But in the process, justice loses.”
Three years of law school and two years of practicing law, and Jason had never heard it expressed quite that way. Sherwood had a reputation for cutting to the core issues.
“That’s what happened in the Van Wyck mock trial,” Sherwood continued. “You out-lawyered Austin Lockhart. You pulled out a conviction when the evidence demanded an acquittal. You cost a few hedge fund managers millions of dollars.”
Jason didn’t quite know what to say. It felt like he was being accused and congratulated at the same time.
“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” he managed.
“That’s what Andrew Lassiter said. And I listened. It cost me a lot of credibility, Jason. It cost my clients a lot of money.”
Jason squelched the desire to apologize. What had he done wrong?
“It’s not your fault,” Sherwood said, as if reading Jason’s mind. “We told you on day one that we wanted your best efforts in every case. The only way this works is when both lawyers go all out.” Sherwood flashed a quick smile, almost a wink. “Unfortunately, your best efforts are too good.
“I’ve never fired anyone for being too good at their job, Jason. But there’s always a first time.”
Sherwood twisted his neck back and forth, casually stretching his neck muscles as if he fired someone every day.
Am I hearing this right?
The CEO put down the envelope and stood, his bulky frame hovering over the table. He walked to his credenza and pulled out a box of cigars. He held them toward Jason, a surreal gesture that made Jason realize this moment would become part of Justice Inc. folklore. His friends wouldn’t believe this! He was getting fired for doing his job too well-and then offered a celebratory cigar as if he and Sherwood had just won the NBA championship.
“No, thanks,” Jason said.
Sherwood set the box on the table and unwrapped one for himself. He bit off the end and spit it into a trash can. He placed the cigar in his mouth without lighting it and chewed on it as he talked.
“I’ll pay you for the remainder of your two-year contract,” he said, sliding the envelope toward Jason. “I would probably pay you a bonus for exceptional performance if you hadn’t set the company back a year or two by winning a case you should have lost.”
Jason bit his tongue and eyed the big man curiously. It was hard to know whether Sherwood was being sarcastic or serious.
Sherwood shrugged and gave Jason a knowing smile. “I know this sounds stupid. But it’s like a college football player declaring early for the draft. You’re better prepared to try a big case than 90 percent of the litigation partners at the largest law firms in this city.” He chewed a little more on his cigar. “You’ve got a knack, Jason. And I want to help you land at the right place.”
Sherwood paused, as if he was spontaneously thinking this up. But Jason knew better. “You’re licensed in Virginia, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t call me ‘sir.’ We went over this before.”
“Right.”
“I’ve got some friends at a few of the larger D.C. firms. Starting salaries are about one-fifty.” Sherwood went to his desk and grabbed two manila folders and plunked them on the table in front of Jason. “I’ve already made a few calls if you’re interested.”
Jason looked at the names on the folders-two prestigious K Street firms. Not bad for a guy who graduated from the University of Georgia Law School.
“I appreciate it,” Jason said. He pulled the folders toward him and stacked them neatly together. “But I’ve actually thought about starting my own practice. Criminal defense. Plaintiff’s contingency fee work. I’m not sure I’d be happy working at a big firm where I’d spend my first five years in the library.”
Sherwood chewed on his cigar, studying Jason as if he were some kind of lab experiment.
“I’m a courtroom lawyer, Mr. Sherwood, not a desk jockey.”
“It’s Robert. And I knew that.” He grinned. He walked to his phone and hit the speaker button, summoning Olivia into his office. “Can you get Jason the contact information for Dr. Rivers?” he asked. “And bring me the Jacobsen and Bakke files.”
He turned back to Jason after Olivia left. “Dr. Rivers just retired as the chief toxicologist for the Commonwealth of Virginia. She’s setting up a consulting firm in Richmond, Virginia, to work the defense side of the aisle. She knows all the skeletons in the closets, Jason, all the places the bodies are buried, so to speak. But she’s just an expert. She needs to team up with a really good trial lawyer.”
Richmond, Jason thought. Far enough from Atlanta to escape the past. Big enough to make a name for himself.
“I’ve already talked to Rivers about you,” Sherwood said. “She’s working two major criminal cases right now that will hinge on hair testing evidence. Maybe you move to Richmond. Maybe you and Rivers become the go-to team for cases involving hair evidence.”
It sounded good to Jason, almost too good. But things were moving pretty fast. From New York to Richmond. From mock trials at Justice Inc. to real cases with lives on the line. Was he really ready to try a major criminal case just two years out of law school?
Of course you are, he said to himself. He had watched a lot of mediocre lawyers on the actual cases that Justice Inc. had been tracking. They were afraid to take risks. How could he do any worse? After all, he’d just been fired for being too good.
Sherwood gave Jason that look that said he knew exactly what Jason was thinking. “Make sure you get sizable retainers up front,” Sherwood advised. “That’s the first and most important rule for criminal defense attorneys.”
His own practice. Two new clients. A top expert witness as a partner.
Jason cast a disdainful look at the blue chair. “Maybe I will have a cigar,” he said.
10
Jason spent nearly an hour in Sherwood’s office, by far the longest amount of time he had ever spent with the CEO of Justice Inc. He learned that Sherwood had served nearly ten years as managing partner of a large New York law firm, and Jason soaked in law management tips, at one point even asking to borrow a legal pad and pen so he could get it all down. The conference ended only after Olivia interrupted again, reminding Sherwood of his next appointment.
