“As more and more of our people devoted themselves to the law, the law had to become more complex to justify them all.” – This quote comes from an episode of the sci-fi TV Show “Farscape” (on air in the year 2000) in which an alien described his planet’s perverted legal system.
Shit, even aliens and entertainment writers know that the legal profession is a perverted contrivance designed to efficiently aggravate people and situations and penalize those who can least afford to pay.
Once the court sets a trial date for your case you can be sure you’ll have to run an obstacle course to get there.
The defendants don’t want you to go to trial and neither do the courts. That’s why, after the summary judgments, they have the MANDATORY Settlement Conference. Anyone left standing after summary judgment is now hauled before a mediator judge then blindfolded and shot. Just kidding.
Our Mandatory Settlement Conference (MSC) was scheduled the same day (Jan. 25, 2013) as the summary judgment hearing for “PMS”, the property management company. “PMS” had won. So, it was a little hard going into the MSC after really being shot … down.
All that remained to negotiate were just one issue of trespass against the trash out company and our entire case against the realtor, oh, and whether or not we were going to appeal all the summary judgment/adjudication rulings. I’m pretty certain at that point I had every intention of appealing but since it was a mandatory conference and I had little choice but to attend, I thought I’d give it a whirl.
No So Great Expectations
I didn’t know what to expect but was pleasantly surprised when we were escorted into the judge’s chambers and allowed to spill our guts about what had happened and what we’ve been up against with the “vicious”, “abusive”, “nasty”, “stupid”, “arrogant”, “rude”, “blockheaded” defendants and their attorneys. The judge listened. Hey, I like this guy! Finally, someone was listening to us. Of course, he was being paid to listen to the “vicious”, “abusive”, “nasty”, “stupid”, “arrogant”, “rude”, “blockheaded” defendants and their attorneys, also.
I liked that this judge was wearing a suit and not that stupid black robe. He came across as a regular guy, someone I could relate to and who could relate to me, unlike that devil-robed lady trial court judge with the tats of a bloody dagger that snaked around her neck and the letters “f” and “u” under each eye.
The only parties not present at the MSC were the banks, the entities that started the whole mess, but were clever enough to have kept a distance from the legal fray by simply hiring goose-stepping goons to do their dirty work. When I gazed out the window from the judge’s chambers I thought I saw the banks’ attorney waving at me from what looked like the official “Bank Mobile” but it was just a taco vendor in his elaborate food truck.
We made our case to the mediator judge, even showed him some evidence like this warning sign we had displayed in our window at the time the trash out company showed up.
I forgot to mention earlier that another one of the trash-out company’s versions of the incident was that they thought the home was vacant which, according to them, would have given them carte blanche to break in.
After we finished imparting our tales of woe, we all broke for lunch, after which the judge began meeting separately with the defendants and their attorneys. I was really pissed that they got to sit in the same chairs in his nice office that we had. He should have taken them down to the dungeon. I’m sure the court has one. From what I heard from the bailiff, it’s called the “cafeteria”.
The judge finally got through the lot of them and when he met with us again he told us that we were his favorites. Just kidding. It’s just that after having been so abused by the defendants, their attorneys and then the trial court judge, it was nice to have someone on our side, at least that’s how I imagined it.
By the end of the very long day the judge had managed to hammer out some kind of agreement palatable on some level between all the parties only to have the lunatic realtor and her blockhead attorney throw a monkey wrench into it. How much more damage was the banks’ bimbo bitch going to inflict upon us?
The judge announced we had a deal albeit with a “wrinkle” that definitely needed ironing out. I wondered if perhaps we couldn’t just borrow the giant dumpster from the trash-out company to roll over the wrinkle and bury her body under the pine cones.
We were ordered back the following week to continue hashing out a settlement. You know what they say about settlements? … ‘the only good settlement is one in which no one is happy’. Bullshit, again. Big bully banks and their big goose stepping goons get exactly what they want and they’re happy as pigs in a blanket.
Feb. 1, 2013, Day 2 MSC
So here we were again waiting in the courtroom for the judge to call us in. The courtroom temperature was very chilly to match the atmosphere of the parties forced to attend the mediation. Every party “allegedly” wants their disputes to end. “Allegedly”, I love that word. It holds myriad meanings, such as “maybe”, “supposedly … or … “not a chance in hell”.
This time our case was not the only one being negotiated by the judge; he was juggling at least four others, running back and forth among the parties like a whirling dervish. Good exercise for him. By the looks on some of those attorneys faces, I figured they were in the “not a chance in hell” category.
While we waited the bailiff regaled us court-sitters with dining suggestions and cell phone charging options and helpful products. I wanted to regale them with excerpts from my legal blog.
The realtor’s second attorney made a big issue of not being allowed to bring her cell phone charger through courthouse security. The bailiff cited security reasons. They have a point. You could use the cord to strangle your opponent. By the same token, laptops are heavy enough to whack someone effectively in the head. Still nothing works better than papering someone to death. It’s slow and methodical, just the way those guys like it.
Just the week before, Ms. Slime’s main squeeze attorney told a joke loud enough for everyone in the court to hear, outside the presence of the mediator judge, though. It had to do with a drowning kid and a molester priest. It would have been something I’d expect to hear on “Real Time With Bill Maher”, not in a courtroom. Chuckles all around the realtor’s camp.
It once again came time to break for lunch. The judge was obviously keeping our jolly bunch for last. Bore people to death – torture by mediation. I knew what he was doing.
Then, after the break, the judge ensconced each party in my case in different rooms; we plaintiffs had to stay seated in the shitty courtroom while the others were in his chambers or in the jury room. I’ve never seen a jury room. I felt deprived. The judge had strapped on his roller skates and was breezing from room to room, looking like he was having way too much fun, while the rest of us, no doubt, were suffering upset stomachs from the cafeteria food.
We were all playing a version of “Let’s Make a Deal” and one was indeed struck. The judge popped on his devil robe to make it official. I hated that part. It’s when you have to agree to the deal .. which always seems to be a slightly different version than what you thought it was going to be.
A second realtor wrinkle reared its ugly head. She actually sat there in front of the mediator judge and lied repeatedly and we plaintiffs seemed to be the only ones who noticed. The banks’ bimbo bitch couldn’t tell the truth if she were being waterboarded by “24”‘s Jack Bauer himself.
We were all given until March 22, 2013 to seal the deal. That’s when we have to appear in court to tell dagger lady that we’ll be out of her hair for good.
Why am I worried?
Just one day after posting the above, I get a letter from the realtor’s blockheaded attorney saying “there will be no settlement”. They’re pathological liars. I just can’t figure out if it’s the dog wagging the tail or the other way around. Does the realtor approve of her attorney’s belligerent nonsensical tactics? What I do know is that they should all be institutionalized, preferably at “American Horror Story: Asylum”. Maybe “Bloody Face” can set them straight.
MSJ stands for Motion for Summary Judgment. It’s a way for a party to an action to claim that there are no issues at hand thus no need for a trial. What it really is the legislature’s and court’s way to cheat citizens of their constitutionally-guaranteed right to a fair trial. From my perspective as a non attorney litigant, I’ll break this down the way any reasonable person would, that there is absolutely no justice in this so-called “justice system” and it should never be referred to as such. It’s simply a legal system and a poor one at that. Still, you shouldn’t compare it to some of the more medieval systems you see around the world. We are, after all, a civilized nation, even though we allow big bully banks and some of our largest corporations to get away with murder literally and figuratively. If you’re just popping into my legal blog with this chapter, I urge you to go back to the top starting with Part 1 to understand the issues of my case.
As promised, the banks’ attorney filed his motion for summary judgment against us mid October 2012 which was about a month and a half after the ludicrous deposition grilling of me and my partner plaintiff by all the attorneys in this lawsuit. And just as he promised, he would win. The hearing took place on January 14, 2013. Here’s how this debacle played out no thanks to the judge at one California Superior Court.
First, throughout my chapters on these motions for summary judgment, keep in mind this important legal citation: “If the plaintiff opposing summary judgment presents evidence demonstrating the existence of a disputed material fact, the motion must be denied. Throughout the process, the trial court “must consider all of the evidence and all of the inferences drawn therefrom.” The moving party’s evidence is strictly construed, while the opponent’s is liberally construed. It comes from Aguilar v. Atlantic Richfield Co., a case that’s supposed to be some kind of legal bible when it comes to summary judgment matters.
In my case the two banks were the “moving parties” … the pushers of the papers. I like to think of them kinda like drug pushers … because they don’t care who they hurt: seniors, veterans, the mentally ill … I’ve read about foreclosure situations involving all these categories of people. “Get off my property you old, retarded, PTSD-afflicted veteran, TRESPASSER!” — That’s the wording they use in a letter the banks now include in every mortgage modification denial they send out.
Matter of Fact, Matter of Law
The defendants kept proclaiming that as a “Matter of Law” they were entitled to summary judgment in their favor without benefit of trial. A legal dictionary explains this concept: Matter of law is distinguished from matter of fact. All questions concerning the determination of fact are for the jury, though a judge may determine the facts if a jury trial is waived or is not permitted under the law. Further, ‘courts rule on all matters of law, including pretrial motions. Their decisions are based on statutes, rules of evidence and procedure, and the body of relevant case law. When the facts in a civil action are NOT in dispute, one or both of the parties may request a court to make a summary judgment. Summary judgment is purely a matter of law; the court accepts the relevant facts as presented by the party opposing (in this case, ME) summary judgment and renders a decision based on the applicable legal principles. But, do matters of fact ever interpose themselves upon matters of law such that a trial becomes imperative?
The defendant banks kept saying I was a “trespasser” the second they foreclosed on my landlord. Apparently case law supports that contention. Apparently, also, the courts are not the least bit concerned with the particular circumstances surrounding a case. That’s like someone saying “You shot the Sheriff” to which you respond “NO, I DIDN’T.” and you explain why and the court then rules, as a “Matter of Law”, that anyone who shoots a sheriff should be hanged by the neck until dead because that’s what the penal code and relevant case law says.
Issue 1: Trespassers versus Tenants
According to the banks it doesn’t matter if you had a lease and lived on a property for 20 years. It’s as if you just walked in off the street and set up camp on their property and interrupted one of their foreclosure gang-bangs.
The banks cited one case that supported that contention and I cited others to support my claim that I had been a tenant with a long-term lease who had no knowledge of foreclosure and was never ordered to leave by anyone.
Even though there’s a federal law, the Protecting Tenants at Foreclosure Act of 2009, that attempts to safeguard some rights for tenants, and numerous California laws protecting tenants and citizens in general from invasion of privacy and trespass, the trial court judge sided with the banks. Now, that I was an official “trespasser” and there are no laws in the entire state of California to protect any of my rights, according to the banks and the court, my case fell apart like a stack of dominoes. Didn’t see that coming. Shit, even illegal immigrants in this country have more rights than I do.
Remember, I didn’t own the property; I wasn’t privy to mortgage and foreclosure actions; there was no unlawful detainer against me; there was no notice to vacate; the big bully bank didn’t perfect its title to the property until nearly two months after acquiring it at an auction sale. I pointed out all these facts in my opposition papers, of course, but being a mere pro per (self represented party), the great unwashed that dare enter the hallowed halls of (in)justice, I was ignored and derided.
The judge seemed more interested in what was on her computer and what the two attorneys at the back of the court room were saying to each other rather than listening to me while I made my oral arguments against the motion. I kept waiting for her to admonish those idiots for speaking while she was on the bench. After all, there’s a big “Keep Quiet” sign for all to see. But it never happened.
When I got home I wanted to kick myself for not having the guts to have said something myself. I’m confident that one day I’ll get to play one of those kick-ass attorneys on TV like James Spader did in “Boston Legal”. Maybe then I’ll get some tiny bit of revenge by tearing that actor-judge a new asshole. I may have to write myself a show, but I’m game. I’m already planning a book on this whole case. Any literary agents out there reading this? It’d make a good movie too. I think Meryl Streep would be excellent playing me. I’m “Legally Blonde” and loving it, but we blondes only have more fun when we go into kung fu mode.
By the way, as if being fucked by the judge’s rulings aren’t bad enough, I checked the court’s website for confirmation of the Jan. 14th hearing and saw this little tidbit: “PARTIES STIPULATE TO WAIVE THE CLERK TAKING DOWN THE STIPULATION VERBATIM AND WILL RELY ON THE REPORTER’S TRANSCRIPT.”
I called and pointed out to the judge’s clerk that at the hearing, I was never asked and never stipulated to anything. She swore up and down that both parties had. Now I see that same statement appears on the Jan 24th MSJ hearing for more of my defendants. I don’t know what kind of game these people are playing, but as I said pro pers get no respect. I got the defendants lying; I got the attorneys lying and now the court clerk. Christ almighty.
Throughout my case, I’ve argued that I was menaced and threatened by some of these defendants who also tried to break into my home, after trespassing and invading my privacy … and that all defendants engaged in a series of negligent and intentional acts (lying, concealment, harassment, termination and interruption of utilities), all resulting in severe emotional distress. Yet in his motion and in oral arguments before the judge, the banks’ attorney said ‘the only thing Marin claims is that someone came to her property, a few words were exchanged and then they left.’ Huh? What’s this, part of the blooper reel from “While You Were Sleeping”? Maybe I should have used sign language and semaphore to get my points across.
Meanwhile, the little wheels in my head keep coming back to those cute little phrases: Throughout the process, the trial court “must consider all of the evidence and all of the inferences drawn therefrom. The moving party’s evidence is strictly construed, while the opponent’s is liberally construed.” Oh, please … it’s bigger bullshit than what I faced during Discovery.
Issue 2: Liability:
The banks argued that everyone they hired was an independent contractor responsible for their own illegal actions and the banks could not be held liable for anyone else’s behavior. Not true. Principals can be held liable under certain circumstances. It has to do with how much control the principal has over the contractor, thus making him or her an agent/representative, or if the hiring of that contractor was negligent. I had laid out a bevy of charges against my defendants and stated in my complaint that if defendants had not sent the trash out company to my home, Plaintiffs would not have suffered severe emotional distress. Apparently the court was unable to “liberally construe” that the sending of menacing and abusive, privacy invading scumbags constituted negligent hiring. She ruled that the banks had no responsibility for them or the realtor who was under the complete control of the banks as to when to offer and how much to offer for a cash-for-keys arrangement to get us to vacate quickly.
Issues 3 and 4: Negligence and Infliction of Emotional Distress: Because the court ruled we were trespassers and that the bank had no liability for the actions of the scumbags they hire, the banks therefore were not negligent for having our utilities interrupted and terminated or for the threats, menacing, invasion of privacy and trespass. And because all these causes of action were sunk in the biggest pile of manure I’ve seen since my days as an equestrian, I couldn’t have a claim for punitive damages (Issue 6) left standing even though these two banks do the shitty things they do on a daily basis. There is no punishment for their standard operating procedure. They are free to bounce around the country, kicking people out of their homes, suing them, rolling over them with dumpster driving thugs and lying realtors.
If YOU feel your home is in danger of being invaded such as mine was, do not, I repeat, do NOT, under any circumstances, set booby traps on your property to catch the goose stepping slugs they send. If the slugs get hurt because you’ve dug a deep, deep hole and covered if over with pine cones, you’ll be the one carted off and imprisoned. Here’s what you should do instead — write a blog!
What else should you do?
You must immediately scream at the slugs to “HALT” (or “I’ll shoot”) and “LEAVE” the second you see their tank and dumpster roll onto your property.
What else could you do?
After consulting with experts in the field of home protection against goose-stepping slugs, I was told that you could set up video surveillance to catch the slugs in the act. They also suggested that you take down the slugs’ license plate number, bring your camera and take pictures. Of course, if you really feel threatened and if you’re in a remote area like I was, calling the sheriff or police and expecting them to show up in time is usually not an option. These experts then suggested that you sic your German Shepherd or Doberman on them. Even tiny yappers may do the trick. They pointed out that the dogs will be considered independent contractors so you won’t be held liable for their actions. And since you didn’t actually negligently hire the dogs, they can’t get you there either. And when all else fails, they suggested that you throw the very same pine cones at them that you were thinking of using to cover over that deep dark hole you almost dug.
Make Room for Yogi (on the left) I wanted to bring my cat Yogi to the hearing in a little travel bag reminiscent of “Legally Blonde”’s Bruiser but Yogi’s a Siamese and very vocal. He might have disrupted the proceedings with howls of protest as the judge ruled against me.
The banks’ summary judgment motion was adjudicated in their favor originally on all issues except for negligence with respect to its hiring of the property management firm I affectionately refer to as “PMS”. I pointed out to the judge that the bank attorney, in his oral arguments, had conveniently left out the fact that the banks had simultaneously hired the realtor to determine occupancy of my home. The judge then said she’d take the issue of negligent hire under advisement and get back to us. When her ruling came down a week and a half later she proclaimed that the realtor was an independent contractor and there was no mention of the property management company at all. The banks hired two parties simultaneously to do the same thing and neither knows or cares what the other one is doing and the banks hold no responsibility?
Not only did the judge declare that the realtor was an independent contractor but she managed to totally ignore my evidence which showed that the realtor was supposed to have overseen the actions of the property management company. The banks hired one negligent “independent contractor” to oversee the actions of another. So much for liberally construing my evidence that the banks were negligent in their hiring. Maybe this judge has ADD or something. I mean I wouldn’t want to be in her courtroom for anything really “serious” such as the murder cases she tries. I pity the poor felons whose lives are on the line.
What’s a national trust company? You’d think it would have something to do with trust or national security. Let’s get one thing straight right now. Trust and security, national or otherwise, are not what these entities are about. They are private investor arms securely attached to a bully bank. I found this description at Findlaw: “National Trust Company. The Office of the Comptroller of the Currency (“OCC”), which charters and regulates national banks, may authorize the creation of a “national trust company,” i.e., a bank that limits its activities to the exercise of trust powers.” Yeah … trust powers … is that like trust plunders?
The sole purpose of my bully bank defendant, apparently, is to maintain incestuous relationships with mortgage servicing companies so that they can easily locate properties that are going to be foreclosed and then gobble them up at auction for a fraction of what the mortgage servicing companies were trying to get from the poor under water owner. It’s a really neat game they all play.
Think about it. Someone owns a house and defaults for whatever reason such as losing his or her job in this crap economy. The idiot mortgage servicing company tries to get blood (money) from a stone (the poor owner). The mortgage servicing company tells the owner it won’t modify the mortgage or jerks him around for months on end. In many cases the servicer just ignores the owner’s pleas for help. Owner has no money so, eventually, bye-bye home.
The home gets popped onto the “auction block” where lo and behold bank vultures swoop out of the treetops and buy it up (allegedly). And what did they pay for it? About one-half to one-third of what was due on the loan by the prior owner. Isn’t that interesting? So you have to ask, how did the bully bank get such a sweet deal? Why didn’t the mortgage servicing company simply modify the loan and let the owner keep his home?
The state and federal governments can’t possibly be so stupid that they don’t know what’s going on with this hideous scam. No, our governments are just letting these corporate scum get away with stealing, plain and simple.
I was merely the renter in a house that was foreclosed but I’ve been going through hell over how the “event” was handled (please refer to Part 1).
The attorney working on behalf of the bully bank defendants in my case said to me after my deposition that everyone’s suing his client. He said this to diminish my importance. When you have agencies around the world suing you what’s one little lady gonna do? Step to the back of the line, of course.
I don’t for one minute think the banks will ever come to their senses, play fair or care one iota about the harm they’ve caused to me or anyone else. They simply have no conscience. Nor do their attorneys. Everyone’s out to make a buck as you will see as I continue this series discussing the other lazy-ass defendants.
If you’re in a lawsuit and going to be deposed, keep this in mind: the attorneys questioning you are not interested in the truth. They are there to size you up, learn all they can about your weaknesses and your thinking process so they can devise ways to get around your truth come trial time.
They will ask you questions about things they have no business asking, that have no bearing on the case whatsoever, and will demand that you answer them. Why? Because they can.
If you’re there representing yourself, they will establish early on that they are the big bullies in the room and that you must, by law, dance to their tune. Sometimes they bring their clients to stare you down while you testify. Sometimes those clients, as in my case, will behave like an ass, snickering as she (the realtor) huddles with her attorney and making strange noises like an elephant. Don’t let it bother you. There’s worse to come.
The deposition is the playground of attorneys, maybe more so than the trial itself. At least at trial you have a monitor, the judge, demanding that you all play nice. Though, to tell you the truth, I don’t expect much fairness at trial either. When the cards are stacked against you every step of the way, thanks to a preposterous legal system, all you can do is tread water until you drown.
Four Against One
I received notice of my deposition from one attorney, the one handling the case on behalf of both bully banks. When I arrived at the deposition, lo and behold, three other opposing counsels were there to interrogate me. None of them had provided me with the required prior written notice per California civil code.
One of the attorneys for the defendants who came to my home and threatened me and tried to break in said they (the attorneys) are allowed to break this law. Why am I not surprised?
A Simple Courtesy … How Nice
The law offices were fairly comfortable, considering; coffee, water and soft drinks were set up on a sideboard. I realized this was more for the benefit of the attorneys than for the persons being interrogated. How do I know this? The attorneys always get validated parking while deponents get grilled then bounced out the door. The attorney running the deposition was kind enough to agree to give us validated parking after my partner said we wouldn’t show up without it, only fair considering how far we had to drive.
During the interrogation I did have a cup of coffee to refresh my weary brain. I half-way expected them to dust for fingerprints after I left the building, so I made sure to wipe the cup clean after use.
Grilled, Medium Rare
First to take a crack at me was the host attorney for the banks.
I drank lots of water and coffee and then took lots of breaks to eliminate said water and coffee. It seemed a prudent course of action to remain cool, calm and collected given that all that was missing from this inquisition was a rack and the screams from other inmates in adjoining conference rooms.
Ms. Slime, the realtor defendant who was present, made her elephant noises and chuckles as I testified. She exhibited the same disrespectful behavior toward me as what caused this whole lawsuit to develop in the first place. And, not a single attorney admonished her for her behavior. Now that I think about it, maybe she was the RACK and I was supposed to scream in agony as she stared me down. I guess even she couldn’t stand it after awhile; she left right at the lunch break.
The banks’ interrogation was extensive, at least on one level. An extraordinary amount of time was spent NOT questioning me about what actually happened, but rather on who was writing funny and nasty things about his clients on the Internet. I’ve seen the stuff to which he was referring and countless other material from frustrated people all over the country. This Big Bully Bank is definitely an entity that deserves whatever people are dishing out against it. As far as I’m concerned, however, I started my legal blog long after my deposition. It seemed the right thing to do, given how abusive the bully banks have been toward me over quite a long period of time.
Acting School Deposed
The second attorney questioning me was the one for the property management company I refer to as “PMS”, the banks’ agent, that issued orders for the local trash company to descend on my home. He seemed particularly fascinated with my acting career and spent nearly the whole time allotted to him questioning me about my theories and process of acting and discussing roles I had done and how I prepared for them. The excuse he gave was that he had an interest in the profession. I think he was really interviewing me to see if I was good enough to perform at one of his kid’s birthday parties.
After about twenty minutes of this nonsense, my co-plaintiff slipped me a note:
Attorney #1: Mr. “B” just handed you a note. What does it say?
Me: I’ll let him tell you.
Attorney #2: No. He’s not on the record.
Me: (reading) “He is fucking with you. Stay relaxed.”
Afterwards, I told him I wished I had an agent as interested in my career as he seems to be. Even though we’re on opposite sides in this stupid lawsuit, I think I’ll invite him to my next show, whenever that may be. Who knows, maybe he can introduce me to a competent, go-getter of an entertainment attorney who will also be interested in my career. Is that too much to ask?
One Honk Too Many
Next up was the obnoxious attorney for the elephant noise making realtor. That would be the blockhead. He had the nerve to have called us Plaintiffs “arrogant” (and rude) in case management papers filed with the court. I’ll tell you what’s arrogant, defending a lying obnoxious fiend of a client, lying in court papers, lying and refusing to properly answer discovery demands, ignoring letters seeking to resolve issues of discovery. That’s ARROGANT. He asked me a question and after I answered it, he belligerently asked it again … and again until I finally got fed up with him and dared raised my voice … to wake him the hell up. If I had an apple available I could have hit him in the noggin with it, although I doubt he would have had any “Eureka” moments even if he had been struck with a cannon ball.
No Truth, Just Foul
The attorney for the trash out company was next to toss questions at me. Actually, most attorneys really weren’t that interested in learning the truth of events that played out; they’re only interested in how much money you can prove that you lost. So if it’s emotional damage you’re claiming and you didn’t admit yourself to the local psych ward and get bundled up in a straight jacket for months or years on end while being pumped with anti-psychotics, they don’t believe you have a claim against their clients.
They all ended their respective question sessions with “So tell me, what is it you think my clients did to you?” My mind went totally blank for a long time because I kept thinking “Were you not paying attention for the last two years?”
I eventually came to and answered that question to the best of my ability.
The defendants trespassed, attacked, threatened, lied, cheated, concealed, then they lied, cheated, concealed even more. It’s just that now it’s their attorneys doing the attacking, threatening and concealing. I so look forward to trial. It’s gonna be a hell of a show.
When we left the law office, I noticed the lead attorney on his knees drawing a chalk outline where I last STOOD.