CATHERINE LOCKHART’S FOUR-ROOM storefront law office is on Clark Street a couple of miles north of Chicago’s Loop. She has what is commonly referred to as a neighborhood practice—wills, trusts, real estate transactions, criminal defense, personal litigation matters—all in sharp contrast to the high-profile, institutional clients she served when she worked for Walter Jenkins.
At precisely three o’clock, a young woman with curly black hair, large expressive brown eyes and a bounce in her step opens the door to Catherine’s office. She holds it open for her companion, an elderly woman in a wool suit with fashionably styled white hair and perfect posture.
“You must be Ms. Fisher and Mrs. Stein,” the receptionist says. “My name is Gladys Valenzuela. I am Catherine’s assistant. It is nice to meet you both. Catherine is expecting you. Please follow me back to the conference room.”
Catherine enters the conference room moments later with a brown file folder, which she lays upon the table. Emma extends her hand. “I’m Emma Fisher and this is my grandmother, Britta Stein.”
Catherine warmly takes their hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She gestures to her file folder. “I asked Gladys to run down to the courthouse and pick up a copy of the lawsuit that was filed against you today, Mrs. Stein. As you no doubt recall, Mr. Sparks threatened to file it first thing this morning.”
Britta sits erectly in her chair. She does not seem at all nervous. She nods her understanding. “I haven’t seen the lawsuit yet,” she says matter-of-factly. “I bet it’s a doozy.”
Catherine lifts her eyebrows. “Yes, I’m afraid it is a doozy, Mrs. Stein. It alleges that on six separate occasions you trespassed upon Mr. Henryks’s property for the purpose of defacing his building by painting scathing insults concerning Mr. Henryks, harming him in his good name, his business, his health and his reputation.”
“Hmph,” Britta interjects. “Reputation indeed.”
“Bubbe, hush,” Emma says. “Let Ms. Lockhart finish.”
“On each of the six occasions, the complaint alleges that you intentionally wrote false and defamatory declarations on the outside walls of his restaurant. Further, that your illegal and tortious conduct followed the announcement that Mr. Henryks was to be honored by the Danish-American Association.”
“Honor?” Britta says. “He deserves no such thing.” She dismissively brushes away the accusations as though they do not affect her. “Who are they anyway, this make-believe association? As far as I am concerned this Danish-American nonsense is just an excuse for young men to congregate for the sole purpose of drinking beer. For them to bestow an honor upon a traitor only means that the members of the association have been hoodwinked. I’m sure it must be the younger ones; they wouldn’t know any better. They probably want an occasion to honor a popular personality and have it shown on TV, as if that would bring them some credibility. Silliness, is all…”
Catherine taps her finger on the lawsuit. “Let’s focus on the complaint-at-law, shall we, Mrs. Stein? Are the allegations correct? Did you intentionally paint those words on the side of Henryks’s building?”
“Yes, I painted those words on the side of his building. And of course it was intentional. I don’t see how one could possibly paint those words unintentionally. But, Ms. Lockhart, the words were not false nor were they defamatory. The words were and are true.”
“Why, Mrs. Stein? Why did you go over there and paint those words at all?”
Britta lifts her chin. “I am a Danish lady; I can’t abide the charade. He is no hero. He is nothing but a liar and a coward. Worse, he’s a traitor.”
Catherine turns the pages of the lawsuit to the page listing the painted statements, which she reads one at a time. “Liar. Informer. Traitor. Nazi collaborator. Nazi agent. Betrayer. Is the list correct? Did you write all of those?”
“He is a liar and a traitor and all those things and more, and I’m not the least bit sorry that the truth is there for all to see.”
Catherine sits down. “Mrs. Stein, this lawsuit is not to be taken lightly. It charges you with ‘defamation per se.’”
Britta shrugs. She is impassive, as though they were talking about someone else.
“Defamation per se means that the words you have used accuse Mr. Henryks of criminal conduct, crimes of moral turpitude and of coalescence with the Nazi Party. As such, the words themselves are innately harmful.” She lays her pen down. “And actionable in a court of law, with serious consequences.”
“What about the First Amendment?” Britta says. “My freedom of speech.”
“Freedom of speech is not absolute, Mrs. Stein. You are not free to use words that wrongfully defame another person.” Catherine extracts another document from her folder and places it on the table. “This is an order of protection; a temporary injunction which was entered this morning against you by Judge Obadiah Wilson. It strictly prohibits you from coming within fifty yards of The Melancholy Dane or Ole Henryks’s residence on Lake Shore Drive.”
“Nobody notified me of any court hearing,” Britta says defiantly. “How could a judge enter an order against me if I wasn’t even there? What about due process?”
Catherine rolls her eyes. “It’s a temporary injunction. The order was entered ex parte, in your absence, because it was presented as an emergency to prevent you from committing further unlawful conduct. The language of the order recites that a video of you spray-painting on Mr. Henryks’s building was shown to the court.”
Britta looks at the order, sets it down and scoffs. “Fifty yards! Does that mean I can’t take a taxi down Clark Street or Bryn Mawr? I guess if my taxi driver decides to drive along Lake Shore Drive, the both of us are going to jail, right? Does Ole Henryks now own the streets? Such nonsense. I will go where I choose. It’s a free country.”
“Bubbe!” Emma pleads. “Listen to Ms. Lockhart. You can be jailed for willfully violating an injunction.”
“She’s right, Mrs. Stein. I wouldn’t test Judge Wilson’s mettle. You can be sure that Mr. Henryks will immediately call the police if he sees you anywhere near his establishment or his condominium building. A willful violation of an order of protection could subject you to fines or even punitive incarceration. And I know Judge Wilson. He’s not one to fool with.”
“Listen to your lawyer, Bubbe. Don’t go anywhere near The Melancholy Dane or Henryks’s apartment. You don’t need to paint any more signs; you’re bound to have accomplished what you set out to do. The whole world knows what you think about Mr. Henryks.”
Britta leans forward and raises her index finger. “It’s Hendricksen, not Henryks. He even lies about his name. I wrote the truth.” Turning to Catherine, she says, “You called the order temporary. Does that mean it expires? There are additional statements I have in mind.”
Emma’s head flops forward. “Bubbe, Bubbe. No! No more painting!”
Catherine slowly shakes her head. “Definitely no more painting. Believe me, you’ve done enough. More than enough. The order is temporary because you weren’t there. Judge Wilson scheduled a hearing for all sides next Thursday to consider whether the injunction should be extended, and I’m fairly certain it will.”
“You’ll go with her to the hearing, right?” Emma says. “I mean, she needs to take a lawyer with her, doesn’t she?”
Catherine holds up her palm. It’s a stop sign. “She does, but Emma, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I told Walter I would agree to meet with the two of you and we would talk. There is a lot to consider before deciding how a lawyer can defend a case like this. Or whether I am the right person to defend your grandmother. I don’t have a handle on this. Mrs. Stein, you must have expected that there would be serious consequences when you painted all those harmful statements.”
Britta clamps her lips. She inhales deeply through her nose. Finally, she says, “Consequences? You mean the kind of consequences where people learn the truth about an evil person? Those kind of consequences?” Tears fill her eyes. “I pray for those consequences, Ms. Lockhart.”
Emma gently lays her hand on her grandmother’s arm. “I think that Ms. Lockhart is referring to the criminal charges and the five-million-dollar lawsuit against you, Bubbe. What is my grandmother going to do about these charges, Ms. Lockhart?”
“I don’t think she has much of a choice. She’ll pay the fine and she’s going to have to defend herself in the civil case in some way. Ole Henryks and Sterling Sparks are not going to disappear. They want vindication. Henryks wants his reputation repaired. He wants his pound of flesh and he’s hired the right lawyer to pursue it. Sparks is an aggressive publicity hound. That’s why they call him Six-o’clock. I think you can look forward to months of contentious hearings and depositions. Sparks would like nothing better than to play out this drama in front of a jury and the evening news. He’ll call numerous witnesses who will all say they heard about or read about the statements which caused them to question Mr. Henryks’s character. Henryks will claim that his reputation has been irrevocably damaged. I’m sure that Henryks’s doctor will testify that Henryks has suffered and continues to suffer extreme and pervasive mental and physical trauma. It will be a bitter battle. A nightmare for you, Mrs. Stein.”
“Bubbe, what she’s saying is that the lawsuit will be very stressful for you and, no doubt, very expensive.”
Britta stares straight ahead. “I can handle the stress,” she mutters. “I’ve been through worse.” She opens the clasp on her leather purse and takes out her checkbook. “I don’t have a lot of money. I can give you three hundred dollars to get started.”
Catherine shuts her eyes. When she opens them, she is smiling. It is a warm smile that one would show to a child who has acted in a simple but unrealistic manner. Catherine gently reaches over and closes Britta’s checkbook. “I appreciate your offer, Mrs. Stein, truly I do, but money is only a secondary consideration. As Emma correctly pointed out, the most important thing for you to consider is your health. You are ninety-two years old. I’ve seen much younger people lose their balance in such a contentious proceeding. Mr. Sparks’s attacks can and will be very cruel.”
“What are you suggesting, Ms. Lockhart?” Emma says. “You said she has no choice but to defend herself.”
Catherine reaches out and pats Britta’s hand. “Look, Mrs. Stein, the lawsuit is really not about the money. They know you don’t have five million dollars. There may be another way to resolve this; a nonmonetary way. Mr. Henryks may be amenable to a consent decree. If you agree to publicly apologize, admit that your accusations were in error, and agree never to insult him again, maybe he would drop the suit. Or agree to a judgment of a small amount, perhaps one hundred dollars.”
Britta’s jaw begins to quaver. Her eyes widen. “Error? But there was no error, Ms. Lockhart. Why should I apologize to Hendricksen for writing the truth? I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m ever going to do that. I grew up in Denmark during the war. I was there. I know what ordinary people did, and I know what Hendricksen and his family did. Ordinary people were the heroes, and the Hendricksens were not. Quite the contrary. They were no better than the Nazis; maybe worse, because they helped the Nazis. Ole Hendricksen can file his lawsuit, and he will soon learn what a true Dane will do in times of adversity. A true Dane will stand her ground and fight.”
Emma squeezes her grandmother’s hand. “I know there were terrible tragedies that happened to the Danish people and to our family, Bubbe. Nothing can reverse that. I respect your resolve, but I don’t want to see you get sick. Henryks is not worth it. You should listen to Ms. Lockhart and let her try to settle the case.”
Britta’s jaw is set. “Emma, the truth is always worth it. I’m not going to quit and I’m not going to apologize. I’m sorry if that means you won’t take my case, Ms. Lockhart.”
Catherine is moved. Rarely do her clients show such dedication, and there is something about Britta’s steadfastness that appeals to Catherine. “I think I understand you, Mrs. Stein, and I’ll take your case. But you have to help me here. How do I make a defense for you?”
“Isn’t truth a defense to a lawsuit for defamation? Aren’t I allowed to speak or write the truth no matter how hurtful it may be?”
Catherine nods and answers softly, “In theory, yes, you are, Mrs. Stein. Truth is an absolute defense to a suit for defamation.”
Britta gives a sharp nod of finality. “Then we will prevail.”