cannot be entirely trusted, and that not all those who seemed to have goodwill actually did. Even the best of them had small weaknesses, corruptions, and lapses in judgment that made them unreliable. Ben Corbin, for instance, seemed to be a good lawyer and a good man, but he had obviously completely missed the legal significance of Nicki Zinoviev’s death. What else had he missed?
Dr. Ivanovsky wondered whether he had made a mistake in not handling the case himself. Then he thought of the Byzantine procedural intricacies that Ben negotiated so effortlessly. No, he decided, he could no more represent himself than he could have removed his wife’s tumor. But he could be more involved. Ben’s performance at the TRO hearing had given him a false sense that everything was under control. Now he knew that it wasn’t—and that he’d have to keep a shorter leash on his lawyer.
Ben stuck his head in the conference-room doorway. “Let’s go.”
Dr. Ivanovsky, who had never taken off his overcoat, quickly grabbed his papers and met Ben in the lobby.
“What’s that?” Ben asked, looking at the pad of paper Dr. Ivanovsky held in his hand. It was completely covered by numbered paragraphs of scribbled Russian.
“I have some things to ask you while we walk.”
There were a lot of questions. “We’re only going a little over a block.”
“Okay. I will start now and ask quickly. What is the chance to win? And why?”
The elevator came and they got in. “Less than fifty percent. Why? Because the law in Illinois more or less supports Simeon’s position and he’s a good lawyer.”
“Okay. I read Mr. Simeon’s motion, but I still do not understand. Why should this Dead Man’s Rule apply to my case when I am not dead?”
“Because the idea behind the rule is that dead men should be protected,” explained Ben.
“Yes, but they are dead. How to protect them?”
They stepped out of the building and into the teeth of a cold November wind. Ben pulled up his collar against the blast. “Maybe it’s more accurate to say that their heirs need protecting. Dead men make bad witnesses in court, so it would be easy for someone to come in and say, ‘I had a contract with Mr. Dead Man to buy his Ferrari for $5,000, but he died before we could write it down.’ Mr. Dead Man can’t testify, so it will be hard for his heirs to prove there was no contract. The people who made up the Dead Man’s Rule hundreds of years ago didn’t think that was fair, so they made a rule that prohibits people from testifying about oral agreements they claim they had with dead people.”
“But this rule is not fair either!” Ivanovsky objected.
“I know. The law is full of rules that are supposed to make it fairer but do the opposite.”
Dr. Ivanovsky said something, but Ben couldn’t hear him over the whistle of the wind. “What was that?”
“Why did not you tell me of this rule before last night?” he repeated, watching Ben closely from under his knit hat, which he wore pulled down to his unruly eyebrows.
Ben stared ahead as they walked and didn’t answer right away. “Because I didn’t think of it,” he said candidly. “It doesn’t come up often, and I’ve never run into it before. It’s a pretty obscure rule.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up without doing more research.”
Dr. Ivanovsky nodded. “I forgive you. All persons make mistakes.” They were crossing Daley Plaza now, and Dr. Ivanovsky hurriedly scanned through his questions. “What happens if we lose this motion?”
“We’re done,” Ben replied as they walked into the building and got in line to go through a metal detector. “The case is over for all practical purposes. We could try appealing, but it would be virtually impossible to keep that safe-deposit box frozen in the meantime. And from what you’ve said in the past, I assume you wouldn’t want to bother with an appeal under those circumstances.”
Dr. Ivanovsky
Dr. Ivanovsky wondered whether he had made a mistake in not handling the case himself. Then he thought of the Byzantine procedural intricacies that Ben negotiated so effortlessly. No, he decided, he could no more represent himself than he could have removed his wife’s tumor. But he could be more involved. Ben’s performance at the TRO hearing had given him a false sense that everything was under control. Now he knew that it wasn’t—and that he’d have to keep a shorter leash on his lawyer.
Ben stuck his head in the conference-room doorway. “Let’s go.”
Dr. Ivanovsky, who had never taken off his overcoat, quickly grabbed his papers and met Ben in the lobby.
“What’s that?” Ben asked, looking at the pad of paper Dr. Ivanovsky held in his hand. It was completely covered by numbered paragraphs of scribbled Russian.
“I have some things to ask you while we walk.”
There were a lot of questions. “We’re only going a little over a block.”
“Okay. I will start now and ask quickly. What is the chance to win? And why?”
The elevator came and they got in. “Less than fifty percent. Why? Because the law in Illinois more or less supports Simeon’s position and he’s a good lawyer.”
“Okay. I read Mr. Simeon’s motion, but I still do not understand. Why should this Dead Man’s Rule apply to my case when I am not dead?”
“Because the idea behind the rule is that dead men should be protected,” explained Ben.
“Yes, but they are dead. How to protect them?”
They stepped out of the building and into the teeth of a cold November wind. Ben pulled up his collar against the blast. “Maybe it’s more accurate to say that their heirs need protecting. Dead men make bad witnesses in court, so it would be easy for someone to come in and say, ‘I had a contract with Mr. Dead Man to buy his Ferrari for $5,000, but he died before we could write it down.’ Mr. Dead Man can’t testify, so it will be hard for his heirs to prove there was no contract. The people who made up the Dead Man’s Rule hundreds of years ago didn’t think that was fair, so they made a rule that prohibits people from testifying about oral agreements they claim they had with dead people.”
“But this rule is not fair either!” Ivanovsky objected.
“I know. The law is full of rules that are supposed to make it fairer but do the opposite.”
Dr. Ivanovsky said something, but Ben couldn’t hear him over the whistle of the wind. “What was that?”
“Why did not you tell me of this rule before last night?” he repeated, watching Ben closely from under his knit hat, which he wore pulled down to his unruly eyebrows.
Ben stared ahead as they walked and didn’t answer right away. “Because I didn’t think of it,” he said candidly. “It doesn’t come up often, and I’ve never run into it before. It’s a pretty obscure rule.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up without doing more research.”
Dr. Ivanovsky nodded. “I forgive you. All persons make mistakes.” They were crossing Daley Plaza now, and Dr. Ivanovsky hurriedly scanned through his questions. “What happens if we lose this motion?”
“We’re done,” Ben replied as they walked into the building and got in line to go through a metal detector. “The case is over for all practical purposes. We could try appealing, but it would be virtually impossible to keep that safe-deposit box frozen in the meantime. And from what you’ve said in the past, I assume you wouldn’t want to bother with an appeal under those circumstances.”
Dr. Ivanovsky
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