Blackmail?
Yahoo! We won! Justice Théberge accepted Martin Simard’s evidence. And deemed Tom Paradis’ actions to be fraudulent despite his legal claims.
Justice Théberge’s ruling reads: “Evidence has been adduced that the lyrics to ‘Live in the Dark’ were first written on February 4th. Consequently, we can assume that the music was composed during that same period or over the ensuing months. Since Mr. Tom Paradis’ legal registration is dated October 24 of that same year, with official receipt on October 26th, the text was registered over eight and a half months after it was written by Alexandre de Vertefeuille.
“The defendant’s lawyer was unable to show beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Paradis wrote ‘Live in the Dark’ prior to February 4th. I conclude, therefore, that Mr. de Vertefeuille is well and truly the author of the song ‘Live in the Dark.’”
The judge added, “It can therefore be deduced that Mr. Paradis obtained a copy of the song in a fraudulent manner and made use of a creation that did not legally belong to him.
“In that regard, he is guilty of misappropriation, irrespective of the fact that no one was able to identify the young boy who recorded the songs during the basement concert. That evidence, which I deemed inadmissible, in no way changes the fact that Alexandre de Vertefeuille wrote the song ‘Live in the Dark’ prior to the defence’s counterclaims.”
Justice Théberge concluded his ruling by stating that “henceforth all rights to the song revert to Nexxtep.” He added, “Mr. Paradis will be obliged to hand over all royalties and income received to date for the song and to renounce all claim to future revenue. Furthermore, as requested by the prosecution, Mr. Paradis is compelled to pay exemplary damages to the tune of $10,000, failing which he will be sentenced to a one-year prison term.”
Mr. Biron was so happy with the ruling that he invited us all out for dinner.
We barely had time to take a seat at our table at the Grandiflora, Rue Querbes, when reporters showed up asking for an interview and to take our picture. We were surprised until Mr. Biron explained that he had hired a publicist to get the word out. Her name is Nicole Pépin.
“The trial is a bombshell. Newspapers everywhere will be all over the story if we play our cards right. Nicole and I have arranged for the news to be broadcast to both the written and spoken press.”
It does seem like we’re the “it” stars. Just imagine: U2 covering a young band’s songs. Nicole Pépin already told Mr. Biron The Musician wants to do a story on us. Fame awaits! More contracts than we know what to do with. Considering the desert we could have crossed, I figure there must be someone up there looking out for us.
With our picture making front pages, I can’t help teasing my dad. Wasn’t he the one harping at me not to write songs in English? He must be eating his words right now. “Me and my songs, we managed to bring down a man a whole lot bigger than you.”
After some ribbing, my dad has had enough. “Careful your big head doesn’t get so big it blows up, like the frog that wanted to be as big as an ox. What if I proved to you that I’m the author of ‘Live in the Dark’? If I can ... you and your bandmates will give us a little something from your windfall to help pay off the mortgage on the house you call home.”
“Your evidence better be admissible in a court of law!”
“I’m sure you’d accept it if it’s as valid as your own.”
“You bet!”
“So the battle’s on: Quebec lit prof vs. Anglophile songwriter.”
“The stakes are even simpler than that: my brilliant idea vs. your pseudo-brilliant idea.”
“Are you in or not?”
“What happens if you lose?”
“I ... I’ll have to sing your song, in English, on stage, in front of a rock ’n’ roll crowd.”
“Done!”
We shake hands, then Dad leaves. He comes back a few minutes later holding a sheet of paper and smirking. He holds it out to me.
A quick glance at the document clearly shows that my dad wrote “Live in the Dark” almost six months before me. How did my dad one-up Martin Simard?
“How did you do it?!”
“I removed the AAA battery that’s only used for the calendar clock in older computers. With the dates back at zero, I put the battery back and entered a date six months earlier, then saved the lyrics. Finally, I removed the battery a second time, entered the current date and everything was set.”
“But what made you think to do that?”
“After the trial, I suddenly remembered reading the instructions when I first got the computer. About what to do when the battery dies.”
“But what about Mr. Simard?”
“I phoned him as soon as the idea came to me. He’s so used to working with more modern, sophisticated machines that the thought never crossed his mind.”
“We could have lost!” I say wonderingly.
“But we didn’t.” A pause. “You haven’t forgotten our bet?”
“No.”
“High five?”
That’ll teach me to try to be as big as an ox, to sell the bear’s skin before I’ve killed the beast, to be the hare instead of the tortoise or the oak tree instead of the reed. Mom was right, I should have spent more time studying La Fontaine’s fables instead of massacring Shakespeare’s language.
So our band’s earnings have just experienced a slight dip. I can hear Mélanie already.
But what does it matter? I’ll just have to tell Nexxtep, “Hey, gang, all this means is we’ve got to get back to what we do best. Writing songs. The next one’ll be worth millions!”