The clerk led Gerry Sinton along the same anonymous corridor to Knox’s chambers. She let us in and then left. With a frustrated and tired sigh, Gerry sat in one of Judge Knox’s fine chairs that faced his desk. It was just us in the room. He didn’t speak a word, just sat there and ignored me. He’d never appeared in front of Knox, didn’t know that sitting in that chair without permission was likely to give Knox an aneurysm.
I saw my first play and decided to keep my mouth shut.
After five minutes I heard Judge Knox mumbling as he made his way along the corridor. I filled a cup of water from the dispenser and hung at the back of the room. As the door opened, Gerry stood, then sat down in tandem with Knox. I saw the look. The judicial eyebrows rising and Knox’s teeth taking a bite at his lower lip.
“Gentlemen, I don’t like lawyers arguing among themselves in my courtroom. It’s not seemly. If you want to argue, you do that when I call your case. Now, what seems to be the problem? Mr. Flynn appears on my docket as counsel of record for Child. What’s the issue, Mr. Sinton?”
A bulky agreement appeared from Gerry’s briefcase, and he placed it reverently beneath the judge’s gaze. Sinton sat a little taller in his chair and buttoned his jacket. His tone changed as he spoke to the judge; it was lighter, warmer.
“Your Honor, this is a retainer signed by Mr. Child in 2013. It empowers my firm and only my firm to act for him in all legal matters. If Mr. Child wishes to change counsel, he must first give us thirty days’ notice. If he chooses not to provide such notice, this agreement gives us a lien on any files and documents created in that relationship. Basically, this clause gives the exclusive right to act for Mr. Child. Before signing this agreement, this clause was specifically read to the client and he was provided with separate legal advice on its implications. Any retainer signed by Mr. Child today is invalid. Mr. Flynn has breached a preexisting attorney-client relationship; he has illegally solicited my client, and I intend to convene an emergency state bar committee this afternoon and have Mr. Flynn suspended pending disciplinary action.”
Sinton leaned back, crossed his long, thick legs, and delicately placed his hand on his lap. His delivery was polished and clean. His deep voice sounded like pebbles falling into a velvet-lined hat; it was rich, with a pure tone and, underneath, a little grit. Nothing of the cold executioner now remained. Judge Knox skimmed the relevant sections, then dropped the paper on his desk, rubbed his chin, and looked at me as I leaned against his bookcase at the back of the room. I straightened up just before he addressed me.
“What do you say to this, Mr. Flynn? Have you read this document?”
“No,” I said.
Knox waited for me to say more. I said nothing.
“Would you like to read it? Mr. Sinton’s making some pretty serious allegations.”
I drained my water from the plastic cup, tossed it in the trash.
“Mr. Sinton was not here when Mr. Child’s case was called. I was. I spoke to Mr. Child and he practically begged me to help him. He signed a retainer with me, and one of the detention officers witnessed the signature. What would’ve happened if Mr. Child’s arraignment went ahead without Mr. Sinton being present? To me, that would be inefficient representation of counsel. You have to actually be here to represent your client.”
The judge shot Sinton a look. He hated people being late in his court. If you arrived late, you lost. Simple as that.
“If Mr. Sinton pushes this argument, I could persuade my client to lodge a complaint with the Bar Standards Committee about Mr. Sinton’s tardiness. My retainer is the most relevant, as it deals with criminal allegations, and it’s signed and witnessed today. My guess is Mr. Sinton can’t handle the fact that he’s been fired,” I said, placing my hands on the back of the chair next to Sinton.
“Your Honor,” said Sinton, leaning forward in his chair, shaking his head.
“Your ass, Mr. Sinton,” said Judge Knox.
“Excuse me?” said Sinton, with a little more surprise and indignation than was good for him.
“I can’t hear you, Mr. Sinton,” said the judge.
“I said…” began Gerry, loudly.
“I wasn’t talking about your volume. I was referring to your ass. These chambers and offices are an extension of my courtroom, Mr. Sinton. No lawyer has ever addressed me unless they are standing on their feet. You are the first to ever address me while lounging in my chair. And who gave you permission to sit, by the way? No one sits without my permission. If you had any experience in this court, you might’ve known that.”
The skin pulled tight on Sinton’s forehead. He knew I had let him sit down; he knew I’d let him piss off the judge. And Judge Knox knew it, too, as I could see a little smile playing around those twin slugs that passed for lips.
With a dead smile, Gerry stood, buttoned his jacket, and straightened his tie. The affable pretense disappeared—the shark was back in the room.
“Your Honor, the defendant is my client legally. I was with him in the precinct when he was interviewed. I caught this case first. If you endorse Mr. Flynn’s argument, you are endorsing this illegal solicitation.”
This was Gerry’s big point. He’d probably hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it, that the judge would do him a favor. Knox wasn’t in the business of doing favors, and threatening him wouldn’t work. He needed finessing. He turned toward me.
“Your Honor, Mr. Sinton is making a legal argument. I think he’s correct that this is a matter of legal interpretation. No matter what you decide, you’re likely to be appealed. I’ve said enough. I’ll let you consider the matter.”
Judge Knox rubbed his hands together, placed his elbows on his desk, and stared into space. While Knox had pretty good common sense and was just on the right side of severe for a criminal judge, he was piss-poor on any kind of legal question. On the rare occasions when he’d had no choice but to make a decision based on the law, he’d been heavily criticized by the appellate court judges. His disdain for the criminal defendants who appeared in his court was well known, and he didn’t care if he was criticized by a higher court for being too harsh—or not recognizing their rights—but having an appellate court judge tell him he got the law wrong was too much for him. Knox didn’t want that. He avoided these situations. Anything not to have to make a decision.
So I gave him a way out.
“Before you decide, Your Honor, I’d just like to apologize for the scene in your courtroom earlier. It’s a shame that Mr. Sinton felt the need to bring this issue before you. We should have been able to resolve this between us.”
I could almost see the lightbulb go off in Knox’s head.
“Mr. Flynn, may I say how unhappy I am that this matter has gotten this far. Two experienced attorneys bickering over a client does not reflect well on either of you. So I’m going to give each of you another chance to resolve this yourselves. Gentlemen, I have the power to appoint the public defender as counsel. I think that might just be the way forward here. So both of you step outside for two minutes. Either you both come back in here with an agreed way forward, or Mr. Child goes to the PD’s office and the both of you can sue each other in some other damn court.”
“Your Hon—” began Gerry.
“Not another word, Mr. Sinton. Go outside and talk this over.”
And with that, Judge Knox wiped his hands and smiled to himself.