“Moving on to the nonspecifics, I’ve listed the kid’s loss of enjoyment of life and the emotional distress of the family. I know these are vague areas, but they are compensable damages under Illinois law. I suggest the sum of $1.8 million.”
David folded his hands together and waited on a response. No one seemed surprised.
“A tidy sum of $5 million,” Carl LaPorte said.
“What about attorneys’ fees?” Dylan Kott asked.
“Gee, almost forgot about those,” David said and everyone smiled. “My fee is not taken from what the family gets. It’s extra. Thirty percent on top of what you’re looking at there, or $1.5 million.”
“That’s a nice payday,” Dylan said.
David almost mentioned the millions each of the three had earned the previous year in salary and stock options, but let it pass. “I would like to think I could keep it all, but that will not be the case.”
“Six and a half million dollars,” Carl said as he laid down his copy of the report and stretched his arms.
“You guys seem intent on doing what’s right,” David said. “Plus, you don’t want bad publicity, just like you don’t want to roll the dice with an unsympathetic jury.”
“Our image is very important,” Carl said. “We don’t pollute rivers or make cheap handguns or deny insurance claims or bilk the government on bad contracts. We make toys for kids. It’s just that simple. If we get the reputation for harming children, we’re dead.”
“Can I ask where you found these products?” Dylan asked.
David told the story of Soe Khaing purchasing the first set of Nasty Teeth a year earlier, and of his search high and low in Greater Chicago for similar packages. Carl described the company’s efforts to track them down too and admitted that Sonesta Games had settled two other similar cases within the past eighteen months. They were cautiously hopeful that all lead-painted samples had been removed from the market and destroyed, but not certain. They were at war with several factories in China and had moved most of their production to other countries. The purchase of Gunderson Toys had been a costly blunder. Other stories followed, as if both sides needed a break to think about the settlement proposal on the table.
After an hour, they asked David to step outside so they could huddle in private.
David drank a cup of coffee with his clients, and after fifteen minutes the same assistant asked him to return to the conference room. She closed the door behind him, and David was ready to cut the deal or walk away.
When they were situated and poised, Carl LaPorte said, “We were prepared to write a check for $5 million and put this matter to rest, David, but you’re asking for a lot more than that.”
“We will not accept $5 million, because the case is worth twice that much. Our number is $6.5 million, take it or leave it. I’ll file the lawsuit tomorrow.”
“A lawsuit will take years. Can your clients afford to wait?” Dylan asked.
“Some of our federal judges use this Local Rule 83:19, nicknamed the Rocket Docket, and believe me, it works. I can have this case before a jury in a year. The last case was far more complicated, and it went to trial ten months after it was filed. Yes, my clients can survive until the jury brings back the verdict.”
“You didn’t win that case, did you?” Carl asked with his eyebrows arched, as if he knew everything about the Klopeck trial.
“No, I did not, but I learned a lot. I had a lousy set of facts. This time, I own the facts. By the time the jury hears everything, $6.5 million will seem like a bargain.”
“We’ll offer $5 million.”
David swallowed hard, glared at Carl LaPorte, and said, “You’re not hearing me, Carl. It’s $6.5 million now, or a lot more a year from now.”
“You’re turning down $5 million for these poor Burmese immigrants?”
“I just turned it down, and I’m not negotiating. Your company is well insured. The $6.5 million is not coming off your bottom line.”
“Maybe, but the insurance premiums are not cheap.”
“I’m not haggling, Carl. Deal or no deal?”
Carl took a deep breath and exchanged looks with Dylan Kott and Wyatt Vitelli. Then he shrugged, smiled, surrendered, and offered a hand. “A deal.” David grabbed his hand and shook it firmly.
“On the condition that this is extremely confidential,” Carl said.
“Of course.”
Dylan said, “I’ll get our guys in Legal to prepare an agreement.”
“Not necessary,” David said as he reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a file, removed four copies of a document, and passed them around. “This is a settlement agreement that covers everything. It’s pretty straightforward and includes all manner of language about confidentiality. I work for a tiny law firm, but it has some complicated problems. It’s in my best interests to keep this quiet.”
“You had a settlement agreement prepared at $6.5 million?” Carl asked.
“You got it. Not a penny less. That’s what this case is worth.”
Dylan said, “This settlement has to be approved by the court, right?”
“Yes. I’ve already established a guardianship for the kid; his father is his legal representative. The court must approve the settlement, and over the years it will supervise the money. I’m required to prepare an annual accounting and meet with the judge once a year, but the file can be sealed to ensure secrecy.”
They reviewed the agreement, then Carl LaPorte signed it on behalf of his company. David signed it, then Soe and Lwin were brought into the room. David explained the terms of the settlement to them, and they signed under his name. Carl apologized again and wished them well. They were shell-shocked, overcome with emotion, and unable to speak.
As they were leaving the building, Dylan Kott asked David if he could have a moment to discuss a matter. The Khaings moved on and waited by David’s SUV. Dylan deftly slid a white unmarked envelope into David’s hand as he said, “You didn’t get this from me, okay?”
David placed it inside his coat pocket. “What is it?”
“A list of other products, mainly toys, with histories of lead poisoning. Most were made in China, but there are some from Mexico, Vietnam, and Pakistan. Made somewhere else, but imported here by U.S. companies.”
“I see. And might these companies be your competitors?”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
“Good luck.”
CHAPTER 50
Finley & Figg’s last firm meeting took place late that afternoon. At David’s insistence, they waited until Rochelle was gone. Oscar was exhausted and cranky, a good sign. His girlfriend and driver had been sent away at 3:00 p.m., and David promised to drive his senior partner home after the meeting.
“This must be important,” Wally said as David locked the front door.
“Indeed it is,” he said, taking a seat at the table. “You guys remember that lead-poisoning case I mentioned back a few months ago?” There were vague recollections, but so much had happened since then. “Well,” David said smugly, “there has been an interesting development.”
“Do tell,” Wally said, already anticipating something pleasant.
David went through a lengthy narrative of his activities on behalf of the Khaings. He placed a set of Nasty Teeth on the table as he slowly spun his story toward its delightful climax. “This morning, I met with the CEO and other top executives from the company, and we reached a settlement.”