It had struck me as odd at the time that Dave had to call me back to arrange a time and place for the meeting. Why couldn’t we have worked those details out while we had each other on the phone? But it wasn’t something I could stop to worry about then. A meeting to discuss settlement may seem a simple enough idea, and in many cases it is – indeed, Dave and I had been through this process together a number of times before – but not in this case. In this case, there was a huge amount of work to be done in the three days that remained to us, and that work would involve the whole team.
First, there was the question of the vote on whether to accept any offer the government might make. This was a class action, and it wasn’t up to Sam alone. Every plaintiff had a vote. It was our job to set up a secure system to enable them to make their choice. Our victory on the summary judgment motion had brought in a late surge of new plaintiffs, who had probably been holding off committing their fifty dollars until they knew we were at least in with a chance. With the late surge, the total was now slightly more than 5500. That was not as many as I had expected when I first took the case. Statistically, the number of descendants from each of seven brothers over a period of more than 200 years should have been a lot bit bigger. Perhaps, despite all the publicity and all our efforts to reach out, there were people out there who had no idea that they were van Eyck descendants, and to whom it had never occurred that they might be.
There was nothing we could do about that now. In any case, 5500 was more than enough, administratively speaking, and I had a shrewd suspicion that, if we did reach an agreement, the government would ask us to close the door to new applicants within a tight time frame. Arlene had kept immaculate records, and she had set us up to contact all of the plaintiffs by email, or in the mercifully few cases of family members who hadn’t quite caught up with the whole email thing, by phone or fax. With Powalski and Jenny, she was now working on our secure voting system. We would notify the plaintiffs of any offer made, and they would then have a limited time to vote whether to accept or reject it. I had taken an executive decision that a simple majority would be enough.
I guess I should be honest about it. Yes, it was the plaintiffs’ decision, but it was one I was determined to make for them if I could. It was a decision that needed to be made by someone who knew what was going on. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for democracy in general; but there’s a time and place for democracy, and this wasn’t it. It wasn’t just a question of what the government might offer. It was also a question of what came next if we turned it down. Yes, we had won so far in front of Judge Morrow. But the Court of Appeals was a very different animal from Judge Morrow. I suspected that with the Court of Appeals, the law would weigh more heavily than Alexander Hamilton, and there was a real prospect that they would go with the statute of limitations. On the other hand, it wasn’t a foregone conclusion, and the government knew that. They were worried too; otherwise, they wouldn’t be talking to us. How far would they go? It was a delicate balance, and it was vital to get it right.
So Arlene was also drafting letters for me to send out, recommending acceptance or rejection, as the case might be, and I had told her to make them strong letters. I’d also called Ed van Eyck and Jeff Carlsen, who agreed to back me up by sending out similar letters when the time came. Even leaving aside Mary Jane Perrins and three other residents of Boston, Massachusetts, this was a divided family. There would be waverers, and those who thought they should get more money, and those who just wanted publicity, and those who just wanted to be a nuisance and disagree for the sake of it. It was my job to build a majority to override all those people.
While all that was going on, Sam and I had to figure out what sum of money we thought the government might be prepared to budget to buy itself out of a high-stakes gamble. We didn’t really know where to start. Dave and Ellen would be telling them that they had a great chance on appeal, and they shouldn’t be too nervous about it. Those who actually held the nation’s purse strings would be responding that so far the government had been on the losing side, and maybe it was time for some damage limitation. Sam was pondering how much it would cost the government to put up a respectable statue in Philadelphia. She had spent a considerable time online, and had even spoken to an old college friend who was a sculptor and had done some public work, but we still weren’t confident we could put an accurate figure on it.
In the end, we decided not to try. The statue was the one non-negotiable plank of our demand. The government knew that, and the government had done this kind of thing before. They would be able to cost a project like this out, and they probably already had. If they agreed to the statue, two things would happen. First, I would recommend that we accept the offer, and I had every reason to think that the plaintiffs would react favourably. Recognition of Jacob was one of the few things they all seemed to agree on. But second, the government would deduct the likely cost of the statue from the financial offer, and that too might make a difference. It would be important for all the family members who had signed up to feel they were receiving some worthwhile tangible compensation. Late on the Wednesday night we decided on an absolute floor of $5000 per plaintiff, in addition to the statue, plus reasonable travel expenses to attend the unveiling. And attorney’s fees; I wasn’t about to forget that detail.
I was so focused on our preparations that I’d forgotten about the outstanding question of the logistics of the meeting, and it wasn’t until Dave called late on Thursday afternoon that it registered with me that I had no idea where and when we were supposed to meet the next day. Remarkably, I would still be in the dark after we had spoken.
‘Hi, Kiah, how’s it going? I’m calling about the arrangements for tomorrow.’
‘Right, Dave, good. What time do you guys want?’
‘How would ten o’clock be?’
‘That would be fine. Your offices at ten?’
He didn’t reply immediately.
‘Kiah, a car will pick you up in front of your building at nine,’ he said hesitantly. It was Dave’s indecisive voice; I’d heard it before. ‘Just you and Sam.’
‘A car?’ I replied as soon as I could; it took a few seconds for what he had said to compute. ‘What car? What are you talking about? We don’t need a car. We can find our way to the Justice Department.’
‘I know you can, Kiah. But tomorrow, we would like to offer you a car. Your driver’s name will be Alfred, and it has to be nine sharp outside the front entrance of your building.’
I shook my head. It had been a long day, and I was getting irritated.
‘You’re kidding me, right?’
‘No. I’m not kidding.’
‘Look, Dave, I don’t know whether this is a joke, or some feeble attempt to patronise us, or whether it’s some screwed up way you guys think you have of messing with our minds, but Sam and I are both big girls, and we can get ourselves to the damn Justice Department without the government providing transportation.’
I heard him sigh into the phone.
‘It’s not a joke, Kiah, and this is not coming from me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m out of the picture at this point unless and until the case needs a lawyer again. I’m just the messenger now. Whatever is happening with the settlement is happening way up the food chain from me.’
‘OK, but I still don’t understand,’ I replied. ‘What are you saying? Are you saying there’s no meeting unless we get picked up by, what’s his name, Alfred?’
‘That’s the deal.’ He paused. ‘Hey, how bad can it be? It will be great car, I promise. I wish they’d take me to work that way. Alfred will probably have coffee and donuts –’
‘Dave, knock it off, for goodness’ sake –’
‘Kiah, don’t fight me on this, OK?’ His mood had changed. His usual voice had returned. ‘I can’t tell you any more. If I could, I would, but I can’t. Just be there, please. Nine o’clock outside your building.’
He hung up.
I called an impromptu team meeting and told everyone what Dave had said.
‘They’re just trying to butter us up,’ Sam weighed in at once. ‘They’re going to treat us nice and hope we’ll be nice to them. They think they can buy us off with coffee and donuts? They’re pathetic.’
‘If y’all ask me,’ Arlene said, ‘this ain’t got a damn thing to do with being nice. These guys are about as nice as a copperhead with a headache and the bayou drying up. They’re fixin’ to kidnap y’all’s asses and dump y’all in some field in West Virginia, where they ain’t never gonna find y’all. Lord have mercy.’
Powalski laughed.
‘I don’t think so, Arlene. If that was the plan, they wouldn’t call ahead of time to warn us about it.’
‘So, what do you think?’ I asked.
‘I’d take it at face value,’ he offered. ‘It’s coming from someone high up. For some reason, they want to give you the VIP treatment. That’s the way they do things when you get up to a certain level in government. It’s your tax dollars at work. It’s got nothing to do with you guys specifically. It’s just how things are done.’
‘So we should go with it?’
‘Yeah, go with it.’
I must still have been looking doubtful. He smiled.
‘Look, just to be on the safe side, I’ll be outside the building from eight thirty onwards. I’ll be watching, and I’ll have my car nearby. If anything seems off to me, I’ll follow you. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Focus on the meeting. That’s what matters. And enjoy the coffee and donuts on the way.’