Chapter Thirty-Three
Tucker
Before I knew it, I was waiting for my turn to speak to the Committee. The corridor was packed with people as I paced outside the courtroom under the amused eye of the bailiff posted at the door. I passed her again and she chuckled and held up a hand for me to stop.
“Hargrave, I don’t know why you’re fretting so much,” the sheriff’s officer chided me. “How many times have we been in court together? And never have I seen you so close to wearing a hole in the floor.” I glanced down and laughed.
“Well, today is tied to a case that’s being decided tomorrow. I just don’t want things to go sour for her, because of me.” I glanced at my watch. “And, I still have ten minutes to wait before I go in.” I sighed, tempted to call Libby just to hear her voice. She didn’t care what happened tomorrow. I knew I shouldn’t either. But what kind of provider could I be, if I couldn’t even get her and Olivia what was theirs by law to begin with? I glanced at my watch again, and Officer Stout snorted.
“Go get a soda down the hall,” she suggested. “By the time you get the machine to work and get back, it will be your turn. Now, get. You’re giving me a migraine.” I ducked my head and got out of her sight, even though I knew she wasn’t nearly as pissed as she pretended to be. She was a great officer, and I knew that she’d still be out in the field if she hadn’t been hurt in the line of duty. If getting out of her way helped her feel less frustrated about door-duty, I was all for it.
The machine was as tetchy as she’d predicted, and as I walked up with a can of Dr. Pepper in hand, she smirked at me and opened the door, its slow, wide swing almost menacing. I handed her the soda and continued past her, and as I entered the room, my jaw hit the floor.
Every row behind the barrier was filled with people I knew. Snell and Wilmer partners and associates sat shoulder to shoulder with the folks from Cripke, Cripke, and Stokes, including my former secretary and Cynthia, sitting next to one another. Libby smiled tearfully at me from the front row, holding hands with Kristy and her teacher-friend, Paul, from the preschool. Even her gaudily dressed boss sat behind her, placing her hand on Libby’s shoulder as I drifted past, trying to get my bearings. Officer Stout set the Dr. Pepper down on the table in front of my chair and sat down to one side, and the courtroom bailiff held the barrier gate open for me.
I spread my hands in front of me to the five-member panel in confusion and a greeting. The chairperson nodded in reply and I turned around and considered the courtroom from the vantage of the front.
“There are a lot of people who seem to care about what we think of you, Mr. Hargrave,” the chairwoman intoned drily as I slowly turned back to face her.
“Yes, ma’am,” I managed to reply. She indicated for me to take my seat, and I did, grateful Officer Stout had opened the soda so I didn’t have to make any extra noise with such a large audience.
The charge I had made was read, and I answered to it in the affirmative. I did believe that Carl Jameson had acted unethically towards his own client, placing her, Kristy Peele, in such a dangerous state of mind that she had harmed herself. I heard sniffling behind me, and resisted the urge to look back at her to see if she was okay. Libby had to take care of her, now.
The chairwoman then read Jameson’s response, which denied a conscious effort to undermine her, and used Andrew’s well-known divorce and treatment of Libby as evidence that she had been emotionally compromised before she became his client, due to Andrew’s paranoid behavior and deteriorating health. I scoffed and shook my head, but bit my tongue until she was finished.
“Did he really use our case against him in his own defense?” I heard Libby whisper, close to the back of my head. I nodded slowly, and heard her growl softly behind me. “Somebody needs to run that boy over with a truck.” She hissed, and I covered my surprised smile with my hand.
The chairwoman then asked if I had a rebuttal to his defense, or any other evidence to add. I spread my notes in front of me and picked through all the cases I’d found with suspicious activity, such as witnesses recanting suddenly, charges being dropped before the case was decided—and then I had an epiphany: Libby was right. I had just heard him worm his way around pushing a young woman to suicide. There was nothing more I could do to right the wrong, except protect her.
That’s what Libby meant when she wanted to move forward. Not hiding from the truth like I had so long, out of loyalty to my firm, or attacking Carl, even though he was a bully. I’d told the truth. I wasn’t going to become as obsessed with him as he was with Libby or Kristy or whoever he’d set his sights on now.
“Madam Chair, Committee members, I believe I gave you my best and truest understanding of the situation that put Kristy Peele in the hospital after watching her decline in court for weeks. I am not here to provide unqualified testimony or judgement. Whatever the Committee decides, I will abide by, unless at some later date, I am presented with evidence so damning and irrefutable that I cannot stay silent.” I glanced back at Kristy and she half-smiled at me through her tears.
“Mr. Hargrave, is that all?”
“No. I want to apologize for my part in Mrs. Peele’s hardship. I came into court to defend my client at all costs. I don’t believe that was in the best interest of my client. What she wanted was simply what she was owed under the law, not for herself, but for her child. I let my hatred of a man I see as a bully and a manipulator cloud my judgment. I should have let the widow and my client decide the matter through moderation, and done everything in my power to convince the opposing council of the wisdom of doing so.”
I sat in my wooden chair with a heavy thump that echoed the hollow feeling I had in my stomach. It wasn’t until I was sitting there, in front of people I had wanted to admire and respect me, that I admitted the truth. Carl wasn’t the only one responsible for Kristy hurting herself. She was lost, scared, alone and grieving. I had assumed she was like her mother-in-law and her attorney, when I should’ve seen more of Libby in her.
The three men and two women at the front of the room whispered among themselves, manicured hands over their microphones so we couldn’t hear what they were saying. Libby sighed, and I slid my chair back against the barricade and turned sideways to hold her hand. I was shocked when Kristy took it first.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she held my hand. “You did the best you could. You and Libby made me care about Olivia, and that made me brave.” She let go and Libby got to touch me briefly, before the Chairwoman tapped the gavel to call order. A low hum rumbled through the courtroom as people whispered to their neighbors, and she used the gavel again, banging it harder to restore silence in the courtroom.
“Mr. Hargrave, I, and the Committee applaud your willingness to take blame for your part in the weakening of the system you swore to uphold, but we cannot fault you for your actions, certainly not on a criminal level. We do understand that your court case hinged on the result of this complaint. On that matter, after considering the events leading up to the contestation of the will of Andrew Peele we refer to the general decline in health and mental aptitude of a patient with a cancerous brain lesion, and forfeit his last will and testament in favor of a lawful division of assets among the surviving family members.”
The room buzzed again almost as though the attorneys from both sides were wagering on the decision as she spoke. She glared, her eyes roaming the room until everyone was quiet again, and I held up my hand.
“Not wishing to postpone the decision, but both the plaintiff and the defendant in the case are present,” I announced. The Committee allowed the women to join me at the table, and the chairwoman continued.
“As the deceased made erratic changes to his will at a time when his own council has admitted his mentally capacity was diminished, we are declaring the decision of Judge Gaines, who has permitted us to read it now.” She cleared her throat and asked for Libby and Kristy to stand. “To Mrs. Libby Peele, and daughter Olivia. The divorced wife of the deceased is awarded forty percent of all Mr. Peele’s assets, not including the house, which she rescinded any right to in her divorce. This will be used for the care and upbringing of Olivia Peele until she is eighteen years of age, when she will be eligible to withdraw from her trust. Said trust will be created in her name for a total of ten percent of her father’s assets.”
Libby grasped Kristy’s hand and they clung to each other. They were a united front set against a backdrop of the opposing sides that had brought them together. I barely heard the chairwoman speaking, and tuned back in when Kristy gasped, just to hear her read that the girl would receive forty percent of all assets, and the house she and her husband had lived in until his passing. To his mother, they gave a ten percent cut, on a stipend, to assist her. That gave Libby and Olivia over six hundred thousand dollars to help them make a new life for themselves, and Kristy would end up with more, if she sold the house.
Veronica, his mother, had been squatting in the house sine Kristy had gone into the hospital. It made me hope she sold it right out from under the old parasite. For a split second, I was disappointed that Veronica wasn’t there to hear the judgment. The courtroom stayed hushed as the chairwoman finished discussing. I wanted to ask about Jameson. Had he been reprimanded, was he going to be disbarred?
I realized that was why they called him in first, and released him before I was called before the Committee. As far as they were concerned, it was none of my damned business. By reading Judge Gaines’ decision the Committee had as much as told me to leave it alone and walk away. Which meant I’d be buying Steve Piper a beer as soon as his schedule allowed.
The chairwoman asked Libby and Kristy to be seated, and for me to stand, which I did, a cold sweat running down my back.
“Mr. Hargrave, you are cleared to work and use or renew your license to practice law in the state of Texas without restriction. It is the hope of this Committee that you strive to refrain from the all-too familiar pitfall of those of us who defend the law. The law is not meant to create heroes and villains, but to protect and serve the people who live under it.” She looked down at me over her glasses with disapproval clear in her eyes.
“Ma’am?” I asked, when she didn’t continue.
“It is still unclear to me whether you attempted to use the Ethics Committee as your personal witch hunt. While it was not proven, I suspect Mr. Jameson was not the only attorney in this complaint with a personal ax to grind. It will not happen again.” She raised her eyebrows and waited for a response.
“No, ma’am, it will not happen again.”
“Good. We’re not your personal attack dogs, Mr. Hargrave. You want to beat bullies, do it in the courtroom, and stay away from my office. This hearing is adjourned.” Cheers went up behind me from current and former colleagues. Looking around, I was astonished how many people were there, and now I couldn’t deny they were there to support me.
“Well, I guess Libby proved you can’t underestimate the power of a good phone tree, huh?” Cynthia hugged me and bumped my shoulder. “We were all going to be here anyway, but then she had to go get your old firm involved. I was afraid we all wouldn’t fit.”
Henry Wilmer and two other senior partners pushed their way through bodies and shook my hand. Henry reminded me that I had a very full case load to get back to, then strode off while I was left weak-legged from relief that I still had a job.
Cynthia promised to double check that we weren’t still on Judge Gaines’ docket for the next morning. I shook several dozen hands as my coworkers headed out to various bars for early happy hour networking or back to their offices. When the courtroom cleared out and we three were the only ones left, Kristy offered to head back to the ranch alone so Libby and I could celebrate.
It was Libby who said that we’d just ride back to the ranch together, so that the family could celebrate together. I felt her ring in my pocket, where I had kept it since she’d given it to me. I wasn’t ready for marriage yet, but the ferocity of my emotions where she and Olivia were concerned told me I was a liar. Even my father had seen what I had been unwilling to.
Libby had pulled away from a relationship with me because to her, that meant marriage and promises of forever. If I was going to claim her, she wanted me to do it the right way. Olivia needed a mother and a father, not a mother and her boyfriend. Suddenly, I felt like a heel for pushing Libby so hard, when she was right. We hadn’t talked about babies, or marriage, or schools for Olivia. I slipped the ring to the first knuckle, as far as it would go.
We had some talking to do, for sure. But I couldn’t imagine being more proud or wanting anyone more than I did Libby. She was every woman I’d ever dreamed of having and she was real, and more like the girl I’d met when I was a dumb kid, every day. I was never in love with my best friend’s wife. I wanted the woman she was meant to be, before he made her second guess every breath she took.
A lot of weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Although I knew Veronica wouldn’t be satisfied, none were left to suffer from someone else’s greed. That was all Libby had wanted. I was glad that my poor judgment hadn’t won out. Kristy was a good person and deserving of everything she’d been given, no thanks to me.
I was never more proud of the law, than when Andrew’s only surviving family had been treated fairly and correctly despite the stupid feud between Jameson and me. To let that continue would mean still caring about Sara Abbott, and his relationship with her. I let it all go, breathing easier with every slight, real or imagined, that I chose to forget. They flew out the window as the breeze rushed in to tousle Libby’s long golden hair into loose curls at her neck.
If he came back around for Libby or for Kristy, I would deal with him then. But no longer would I let him dictate my happiness or how I lived my life. I was done with him, and I hoped, though I might never know for sure, that he had received the wakeup call he needed to get his own life right. I had no more time or energy to waste on him, when everything I’d ever wanted was right here in my hands.
I slid the ring off my finger so I could switch steering hands and threaded Libby’s fingers through mine. She wanted me, not to take care of her, but to help her achieve her best. If putting a ring on her finger guaranteed that she’d keep pushing me to be my best, I was more than ready to make her mine.